"Yes, something peculiarly weak. A good-sized lemon will make half a dozen glasses, and perhaps more. But there is something cheaper still, and that is citric acid. I remember one hot day in an Ohio town. The thermometer stood at 99 degrees and there wasn't a drop of spring or well water to be had, for we had cornered it. All who were thirsty had to drink lemonade, and it took a good many glasses to quench thirst. I made a harvest that day, and so did the other candy butchers. If we could have a whole summer of such days, I could retire on a small fortune in October." "Do you like the circus business?" "Sometimes I get tired of it, but when the spring opens I generally have the circus fever." "What do you do in the winter?" "It is seldom I get anything to do. I am an expense, and that is why I find myself in debt when the new season opens. Last winter I was more lucky. A young fellow--an old circus acquaintance of mine--has a store in the country, and he offered to supply me with a stock of goods to sell on commission in country villages near by. In that way I filled up about three months, making my expenses, but doing nothing more. However, that was a great thing for me, and I start this season only two hundred dollars in debt, as I think I told you a few minutes ago." "Is it the same way with performers?" "No; they have a better chance. Next winter, if you try, you can probably make an engagement to perform at some dime museum or variety hall, in New York or elsewhere. I once got the position of ticket seller for a part of the winter." "I don't think I should like to perform in a dime museum," said Kit. "What's the odds, if you are well paid for it?" "I don't intend to make my present business a permanent one." "That's different. What will you do next fall?" "I may go to school." Harry Thorne whistled. "That will be a novelty," he said. "I haven't been to school since I was twelve years old." "Wouldn't you like to go now?" "No; I'm too old. Are you much of a scholar?" "I'm a pretty good Latin scholar, and know something of Greek." "I'll bet there isn't another acrobat in the country that can say that. What salary do you get, if you don't mind telling?" "Twenty-five dollars a week." "You're in luck. How came Barlow to give you so much?" "I think he took a liking to me. Perhaps he wanted to pay me for facing the lion at Smyrna." "Were you the boy who did that? I thought your face looked familiar. You've got pluck, Kit." "I hope so; but I'm not sure whether it is I or the snuff that is entitled to the most credit." "Anyhow it took some courage, even if you did have the snuff with you." "Do you know what is to be our route this season?" "I think we are going West as far as St. Louis, taking all the larger towns and cities on our way. We are to show a week in Chicago. But I don't care so much for the cities as the country towns--the one-night places." "Does Mr. Barlow go with us?"