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"What's the matter with the little fellow?" Ted asked the giant.
"Oh, he ain't got real good sense," rumbled the giant. "His brain
stopped growing with his body, I reckon. But you can teach him tricks
the same as you can a dog or a monkey, and he'll do them all right. I
reckon he's afraid of you. He is of some people, the boss in
particular."
"How long have you been with the boss?"
"Not very long. He just took the show over from the old boss a month
ago. We were going to pieces over to Cheyenne, and he come along and
bought us. He's been a showman in his time, but says he hasn't been in
the biz for several years. He knows the biz, though, and has scads of
money. We are well fed and get our salaries regular. Him and Prince
Carl, that's the midget, are great pals. The midget sleeps in his tent,
and the boss seldom lets him out of his sight."
"Say, Bellows, how many times have I got to tell you not to stand there
gassing with patrons of the show? Every one don't want to bother with
your theories and troubles.


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