Andy pocketed the find and was about to move away from the spot, when the flap of the performers’ tent moved apart.

A man came out, all arrayed in tights and spangles for the circus ring.  He wore a loose robe over his show costume and big slippers on his feet.  His hair was nicely combed and his face powdered up for the performance.

He looked very anxious and excited.  Andy at once saw that he was looking for something in great haste and suspense.

The man walked all around outside of the performers’ tent, eagerly scanning the ground.  Then he enlarged the scope of his survey and search.

“Hey, Marco!” sang out another man, sticking his head past the flap of the tent.  “Time to get in line.”

“Wait a minute,” retorted the other.  “I’ve lost something, and I won’t go on till I find it.”

The speaker looked positively distressed as he continued a disappointing search.  A sudden idea struck Andy, and he drew the handkerchief and its belongings from his pocket.

Just then the circus performer nearly ran against him.  He looked up and made a forward jump.  He seized the handkerchief and the two odd objects it contained with a fervent cry that astonished the bewildered Andy.

“Give them to me,” he exclaimed eagerly.  “They’re mine.  Where did you find them?  Boy, you’ve saved my life!”

CHAPTER VI

CIRCUS TALK

Andy knew that the circus actor’s vehement statement was an exaggeration, still there was no doubting the fact that he was intensely pleased and grateful.

“I found those things in the handkerchief over near the dressing tent,” explained Andy.

“I must have dropped them there, or they got kicked out under the flap in hustling the baggage around,” cried the man.  “Here, kid.”

The speaker made a motion towards his side, as if reaching for a vest pocket.

“I forgot,” he laughed.  “I have my ring togs on.  Come along, I’ll borrow some coin for you.”

“Oh, no,” demurred Andy, “I don’t want any pay.”

“Don’t?” propounded the man in astonishment.  “I want to do something for you.  I’m the Man with the Iron Jaw, and that hard rubber device is what I hold in my mouth when I go up the rope, see?”

“And that rabbit’s foot?” insinuated Andy, guessing.

“Hoodoo.  Don’t grin, kid.  If you were in the profession you’d understand that a fellow values a charm that has carried him safe over Fridays, thirteenths, rotten trapezes and cyclones.  We’re a superstitious bunch, you know, and I’m no wiser than the rest.  Why see here, of course you want to see the show, don’t you?”

“I just do,” admitted Andy with alacrity—­“if it can be arranged.”

“Come with me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Andy readily followed after his gymnastic acquaintance.  A word at the door flap of the performers’ tent admitted them without challenge.