The circus tent was nearly ready for the regular performance. Kit and Dan regarded the sawdust arena with the interest which it always inspires in boys of sixteen. Already it was invested with fascination for them. Two acrobats who performed what is called the "brothers' act" were rehearsing. They were placarded as the Vincenti brothers, though one was a French Canadian and the other an Irishman, and there was no relationship between them. At the time the boys entered, one had climbed upon the other's shoulders, and was standing erect with folded arms. This was, of course, easy, but the next act was more difficult. By a quick movement he lowered his head, and grasping the uplifted hands of the lower acrobat, raised his feet and poised himself aloft, with his feet up in the air, sustained by the muscular arms of his associate. "That must take strength, Kit," said Dan. "So it does." "No one but a circus man could do it, I suppose?" "I can do it," said Kit quietly. Dan regarded him with undisguised astonishment. "You are joking," he said. "No, I am not." "Where did you learn to do such a thing?" asked Dan, incredulous, though he knew Kit to be a boy of truth. "I will tell you. In the town where I attended boarding school there is a large gymnasium, under the superintendence of a man who traveled for years with a circus. He used to give lessons to the boys, but most contented themselves with a few common exercises. I suppose I should also, but there was an English boy in the school, very supple and muscular, who was proud of his strength, and ambitious to make himself a thorough gymnast. He persuaded me to take lessons in the most difficult acrobatic feats with him, as two had to work together." "Did you pay the professor extra to instruct you?" asked Dan. "He charged nothing. He was only too glad to teach us all he knew. It seems he was at one time connected with Barnum's circus, and prepared performers for the arena. He told us it made him think of his old circus days to teach us. At the close of last term we gave him five dollars apiece as an acknowledgment of his services. He assured us then that we were competent to perform in any circus." "Could you really do what the Vincenti brothers are doing?" "Yes; and more." "I wish I could see you do it." The boys were seated near the sawdust arena, and the last part of their conversation had been heard by the acrobats. It was taken as an illustration of boyish braggadocio, and as circus men are always ready for practical jokes, particularly at the expense of greenhorns, they resolved that there was a good chance for a little fun. One tipped the wink to the other, and turning to Kit, said: "What's that you're saying, kid?" "How does he know your name?" said Dan, mistaking kid, the circus name for boy, for his friend's nickname. "He said kid, not Kit," answered our hero. "Do you think you can do our act?" continued the acrobat. "I think I can," replied Kit.