The face of this debonair knight of Vagabondia was curiously attractive, though not what you would call handsome. The features were too pronounced, the lips too prone to twist into satirical grimaces. His dark hair grew rather low on his wide forehead; it always looked straight and damp. The nose was long and pointed. When he whistled--which was almost incessantly--the tip of it appeared to protrude at least half an inch farther out from his face and to assume a new elevation. His chin was square and his neck was long. Swift-moving gray eyes twinkled good-humoredly under a frank, open brow. "Are you going to be with the show the rest of the summer?" asked David hesitatingly, at one stage of their conversation. "I don't know," said the other, pursing his lips. "I can't say that I like Braddock's greedy ways. He wants too much in the divvy. There's plenty of shows nowadays that don't ask anything off of us. But Brad's got to have a slice of it. See? I've been thinking a little of Barnum or Van Amberg." Ernie spoke up shrilly. "You bet your life he ain't going to leave the show." Dick turned pink about the ears. "Never mind that, kid," he said uneasily. David instinctively knew that there was a girl in the balance. Dick had the wonderful knack of "spotting" a policeman two blocks away. At times this quality in him was positively uncanny. "I can see 'em through a brick wall," he said to David. "I guess it must be second sight." "It's second smell," said Ernie briefly. They came at length to the show grounds. Here, to David's amazement, every one they met greeted the tall youth with a shout of joy. He shook hands with all of them, from the hostler to the manager, from the "butcher" to the highest-priced performer, without any apparent distinction. "Hello, Dick, old boy!" was the universal greeting. "Hello, kid!" was his genial response, to young and old alike. Women, sunning themselves, waved their hands gayly at him; some of them wafted kisses--which he gallantly returned. Old Joey Noakes took his pipe out of his mouth, crinkled his face up into a mighty smile, and exclaimed: "It's good for sore eyes to see you again, Dicky. How was it this time?" "I liked the stone pile better than the chuck they gave us. Gee whiz, I'll never get pinched in that burg again." David turned away for a moment to speak to some one. When he looked again, Dick Cronk had disappeared. "Where is he?" he asked of old Joey. "He's 'arf-way uptown by this time," said the clown quizzically. "Who is he, Joey?" Joey looked surprised. "Don't you know Artful Dick Cronk?" he demanded. "Why, Jacky, he's the slickest dip--that's short for pickpocket--in the United States. He's the king of all the glue-fingers, that boy is. My eye, 'ow he can do wot he does, I can't for the life of me see." He then went into a long dissertation on the astonishing accomplishments of Artful Dick Cronk. "And you all associate with him?" cried David, openly surprised.