THE “Leap of Death” implements were being carried from the ring, and Jim turned away to superintend their loading. Performers again rushed by each other on their way to and from the main tent. Polly stood in the centre of the lot, frowning and anxious. The mere mention of the pastor's name had made it seem impossible for her to ride to-night. For hours she had been whipping herself up to the point of doing it, and now her courage failed her. She followed Barker as he came from the ring. “Mr. Barker, please!” He turned upon her sharply. “Well, what is it NOW?” “I want to ask you to let me off again to-night.” She spoke in a short, jerky, desperate way. “What?” he shrieked. “Not go into the ring, with all them people inside what's paid their money a-cause they knowed yer?” “That's it,” she cried. “I can't! I can't!” “YER gettin' too tony!” Barker sneered. “That's the trouble with you. You ain't been good for nothin' since you was at that parson's house. Yer didn't stay there, and yer no use here. First thing yer know yer'll be out all 'round.” “Out?” “Sure. Yer don't think I'm goin' ter head my bill with a 'dead one,' do you?” “I am not a 'dead one,'” she answered, excitedly. “I'm the best rider you've had since mother died. You've said so yourself.” “That was afore yer got in with them church cranks. You talk about yer mother! Why, she'd be ashamed ter own yer.” “She wouldn't,” cried Polly. Her eyes were flashing, her face was scarlet. The pride of hundreds of years of ancestry was quivering with indignation. “I can ride as well as I EVER could, and I'll do it, too. I'll do it to-morrow.” “To-morrow?” echoed Barker. “What do you mean by that?” “I mean that I CAN'T go into that ring TO-NIGHT,” she declared, “and I won't.” She was desperate now, and trading upon a strength beyond her own. He looked at her with momentary indecision. She WAS a good rider--the best since her mother, as he had often told her. He could see this meant an issue. He felt she would be on her mettle to-morrow, as far as her work was concerned, if he left her alone to-night. “All right,” he said, sullenly. “Yer can stay off to-night. I got the crowd in there, anyway, and I got their money. I'll let Eloise do a turn on Barbarian, but TO-MORROW you'd better show me your old act.” “I'll show you!” she cried. “I'll show you!” “Well, see that you do.” He crossed into the ring. Polly stood where Barker had left her, white and tense. Jim came toward her from the direction of the wagons. He glanced at her uneasily. “What's he been a-sayin' ter you?” “He says I can't ride any more.” Her lips closed tightly. She stared straight ahead of her. “He says I was no good to the people that took me in, and I'm no use here.” “It's not so!” thundered Jim. “No; it's not!” she cried. “I'll show him, Jim! I'll show him--to-morrow!” She turned toward the dressing tent; Jim caught her firmly by the wrist.