“There’s a hossery down the road, and a mannery, too, all run by old Fyles.” “Crack ’em down, gents,” rasped the parrot. “Twenty can play as well as one.” The man under the chaise-top pricked up his ears and cast a rather startled look at the plug hat in the yard. Plug hat in the yard seemed suddenly to recognise some affinity or comradeship in plug hat under the chaise-top. The Squire saw only another of those fantastic wanderers who occasionally went dragging through the village, peddling their wares. He backed slowly to the porch and sat down. His brother trudged out into the road and walked around the outfit, his nose elevated with a curiosity that was almost canine. At last he planted himself in the highway before the man of the chaise-top, his knuckles on his hips, his eye flashing under brows wrinkled with thought, and stared long and silently. “Who be I?” he demanded at last. The stranger surveyed him for a long time, his head drooping lower and lower, until it was hugged between his shoulders. “You,” he huskily ventured, “so I should jedge, though I ain’t seen you for a good many years, you--I should say--you----” “Well, up and out with it!” “You are Look’s Leviathan Circus and Menagerie, H. Look, Proprietor.” “You win a cigar,” assented Hiram, with a snap of his head. “And as for you, you’re Sime Peak, billed as Mounseer Hercules, and I’m glad you called when you came along.” There was a grim significance under his words that made the stranger flinch. “Let’s see!” pursued Hiram, his eyes narrowing, “it’s quite a while to remember back, but didn’t you throw up your job with me kind o’ sudden?” The man on the van scratched a trembling forefinger through a cheek tuft. “I don’t exactly recollect how the--how the change came about,” he faltered. “Well, I do!” Hiram came close and wagged a forefinger up at the man. “You ducked out across country the night of that punkin freshet, when I was mud-bound in that pennyr’yal settlement and the elephant was afraid of the bridges. And you took my dancin’, turkey outfit and a cage of monkeys and a few other things that didn’t belong to you, and--_her!_” He almost shouted the last word, and then looked around with sudden apprehension that he was overheard by his brother. But the Squire sat on the porch without apparent interest. “What became of her, Sime Peak?” demanded Hiram, hissing the words at him. He seized a spoke of the old, dished wheel and shook the vehicle impatiently. The spoke came away in his hand. “Never mind it,” quavered the man. “It ain’t nothin’. We’re all comin’ to pieces, me and the whole caboodle. But don’t hit me with it.” He was eyeing the spoke in Hiram’s clutch. “What did you steal her for, Sime Peak?” “There isn’t anything sure about her goin’ away with me,” the other protested weakly. Hiram yanked away another spoke in the vehemence of his emotions.