"Can you ride that?" asked the clown. "Oh, yes, I can ride a bigger hoss than that." "Mount, then, and away!" Charlie held the mule, which stood very quiet and demure, while the boy was getting on. But no sooner was the boy on his back than he lifted his ears and dashed round the ring in such a lively way, making sudden turns and curves, that Jotham was soon clinging to him as pale as a sheet, with his arms closely clasped about the mule's neck, in momentary expectation of being thrown off. At this most critical point the clown shouted, "Now get up and stand on his back!" Instead of doing this Jotham roared, "Stop him; take me off," in an extremity of terror. At a signal the mule threw up his hind legs and the rider measured his length, more frightened than hurt, on the sawdust. As he picked himself up Charlie came up to him. "Have another lesson, Lorenzo!" "I guess I'll go back to farmin'," answered Jotham, picking himself up and finding to his relief that none of his limbs were broken. "Oh, nonsense! Try it again!" "No, I guess not; I never would make a rider," and the boy left the tent completely cured of his wish to be a rider. He had received a rough but a wholesome lesson. In the evening the performance began at the usual time. There was no change in the bill, and everything was expected to go on as usual. In due time Robert came out for his equestrian act. In the course of it he had to jump through a hoop and over a banner. While he was doing this, suddenly a stone, as large as a base ball, hurled from the spectators' seats, struck the horse, and he swerved. The result was that Robert, instead of lighting on his back, fell to the ground in such a way that he turned his ankle, while the horse dashed by. He was picked up, his face pale with the pain in his ankle, and was helped from the ring by some of the attendants. "Shame! Shame! Lynch him!" rose from fifty indignant spectators. "Where's the man that threw the stone?" But no one knew, except one. In one of the rear seats sat Carden, the discharged canvas man, smiling with malignant triumph at the mischief he had done. "I said I'd be even with him," he muttered. "I hope he's badly hurt." Among the spectators were Sidney Grey and his father, Dr. Grey, a skilful physician. Both hurried to the ring. "Are you much hurt, Robert?" asked Sidney, anxiously. "I am in considerable pain, but I don't think I am seriously hurt," said Robert, attempting to smile. "I will take the boy to my house," said Dr. Grey to the manager. "I am a physician, and I will see that he receives every attention." "Thank you, doctor, I accept your offer gratefully," said Mr. Coleman. "I am attached to the boy, and I will bear all his expenses." "There will be none, while he is at my house," said the doctor. "My son has taken a liking to young Rudd, and he will be a welcome guest."