"What in the world can Carden be looking at?" he thought. "There can't be anything to steal in that old barn. At any rate he's up to some mischief, I'll bet a hat. I'll tell—let me see—I'll tell Anak, and ask what he thinks about it." It was 6 o'clock when Charlie returned to the circus tent, and he broached the subject at once to the Norwegian giant. Anak was a shrewd fellow, and he guessed the truth. "There's something valuable there on which Carden has some designs, but he isn't likely to do anything till late to-night. Meet me after the performance, and we'll take a stroll over that way." CHAPTER XIX. A FARCE AND A TRAGEDY. The circus was nearing the close of its stay in Crampton. Of course, though it was a large town, it was not large enough to warrant the show in staying so long, but for the large number of visitors who were attracted from neighboring towns. Both by rail and by carriages of all sorts, from farmers' wagons to top buggies and carryalls, hundreds of people flocked to see the wonders it contained. Many a young heart was stirred with ambition to pursue the noble profession of circus performers, considering that the circus clown was as illustrious a personage, not perhaps as the President of the United States, but at least as a member of the Cabinet, or a Congressman. The time would come of course when these admiring youngsters would learn that the halo which invested the circus performer was unreal, but, for the time being, any one connected with the circus was a great, illustrious and envied personage. One day Robert Rudd and Charlie Davis were standing outside the tent, near the lemonade stand, when a boy of sixteen or seventeen, clad in rustic attire and "with hayseed in his hair," approached them, and, though evidently somewhat awed by the idea that he was standing in the presence of two circus performers, ventured to ask: "Do you two belong to the circus?" "Yes," answered Robert. "You bet we do," said Charlie, vivaciously. "The circus would have to shut up shop but for us." Robert smiled, but the visitor didn't. He was too much in earnest. "I seen you ridin' last evenin'," he said, next. "Then you were at the performance?" "Yes; I told dad I wanted to go, and he let me have the money I earned weedin' corn, tho' he said I better keep it to buy somethin' useful." "I hope you enjoyed the evening," said Robert, courteously. "It was splendid! I don't see how you fellows can ride so." "It's all in the training." "How long have you been a circus actor?" asked the young rustic. "Five or six years; I began when I was very small." "I began as soon as I could walk," said Charlie, who liked to romance a little when he had an opportunity. "You don't say so?" "Fact!" asserted Charlie. "Did you ride on a hoss then?" "No, I rode on a Newfoundland dog. When I got older I tried a pony. Now Rob and I are the champion boy-riders of Europe and America."