As for the open space between the little white tent and all the bigger circus tents—for the tents were all a part of Spangleland—there was no sign of life. True, there were gayly dressed men scattered about here and there—and women, too. But all were fast asleep. Some lay back in low, canvas chairs strung in a row in the shadow of the tents. Some, with their chins propped in their hands, were perched like pigeons on the tongues of wonderful red and golden wagons; while still others lay at full length on the cool, green grass. The lap of one was covered by a newspaper and that of another held an open book, just as if their owners had grown weary of reading and dozed off to sleep, square in the middle of a sentence. So there was no sign of life, except the jiggling of the wall of the round, white tent that stood in the center of all the bigger tents. Meantime the day was fast making ready for bed. Indeed, the sun was just on the point of slipping out of sight behind the very largest of all the bigger tents when, far off in the sky to the west, there appeared—a tiny black speck. And at this the wall of the round white tent began to jiggle more violently than before, while a wee little eye appeared, peeking through a wee little hole in its wall. And, as the wee eye watched, the speck grew in size and then began to describe little curves, as if it were bounding up and down as it came. And, for that matter, so it was. For the speck was a bird on the wing, and it was headed straight for the tents of Spangleland. On it came, until it had reached the very edge of the circus town. And then it began to bound up and down even more than before, and to circle this way and that, as if to make sure of some certain thing of which it alone knew the secret. But it flew more slowly now, so that one might have seen—had any been there to see—that its color was a wondrous blue and of so gorgeous a hue that the red and golden wagons—which were just at that moment struck by the sun’s parting rays—must have felt very much ashamed of themselves. Finally, as if no longer in doubt, the bird fixed its eyes on the little white tent, and flew straight to the wee hole in its wall. And, as it reached the tent, it began to call, in the softest voice imaginable: “O, Dan, Dan, Diggeldy Dan! O, Dan, Dan, Diggeldy Dan!” While from behind the wall of the round white tent came the merriest of voices in reply, singing, almost as softly: “Here’s Dan, Dan, Diggeldy Dan; Here’s Dan, Dan, Diggeldy Dan!” “Then,” said the bird, who had by this time perched itself on the nose of one of the little round poles that stuck out near the caves of the round white tent, “come forth at once, sir.”