They knew
no other. It was there that they unpacked their trunks--there
that during their brief stay they pinned up against the canvas
walls the pictures of their loved ones, many of whom were far
across the sea. A bit of ribbon here, a faded flower drawn from
the recess of a trunk full of silk and spangles, told of the
tender hearts that were beating beneath those iron-muscled
breasts, and that they were as much human beings as their
brothers in other walks of life.
Much of this Phil understood in a vague way as he watched them
from day to day. He was beginning to like these big-hearted,
big-muscled fellows, though there were those among them who were
not desirable as friends.
"I guess it's just the same as it is at home," decided Phil.
"Some of the folks are worthwhile, and others are not."
He had summed it up.
Sometime before the evening performance was due to begin Phil was
made up and ready for his act. As his exhibition came on at the
very beginning he had to be ready early. Then, again, he was
obliged to walk all the way to the menagerie tent to reach his
elephant.
Throwing a robe over his shoulders and pulling his hat well down
over his eyes, the lad pushed the silken curtains aside and began
working his way toward the front, beating against the human tide
that had set in against him, wet, dripping, but good natured.
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