"We are ready for work."
There was a proud ring in Phil Forrest's voice as he made the
announcement.
"Very well, boys. Hand your baggage over to the man at the
baggage wagon. If there is anything in either of your grips that
you will want during the night you had better get it out, for you
will be unable to get into the wagon after the show is on the
road. That's one of the early wagons to move, too."
"I guess there is nothing except our tooth brushes and combs that
we shall need. We have those in our pockets."
"Better take a couple of towels along as well."
"Yes, sir; thank you."
"The cook tent is open. Go over and have your suppers now. Wait
a moment, I'll go with you. They might not let you in. You see,
they don't know you there yet."
Mr. Sparling, after closing and locking his trunk, escorted the
lads to the cook tent, where he introduced both to the manager of
that department.
"Give them seats at the performers' table for tonight," he
directed. "They will be with the show from now on. Mr. Forrest
here will remain at that table, but the other, the Tucker boy, I
shall probably turn over to you for a coffee boy.
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