“Must have been Ham Spink and his crowd,” murmured Whopper.  “It would be just like them to do that.”

In spite of the color in his cheeks the young hunters could see that the circus lad was far from strong.  He was nervous, and evidently needed plenty of food and a rest.

Having heard the runaway’s tale, Snap and the others told something about themselves.  Tommy listened with keen interest, and presently his eyes showed considerable enthusiasm.

“I wish I was going with you,” he said.  “Such an outing would suit me down to the ground.  I can cook some, and I could wash the dishes and cut wood and keep the camp in order, and all that.  But I don’t suppose you’d want me along in these old duds.”  And he looked sadly at his torn and faded suit, so much too big for him.

“Oh, we might fit you out with a sweater and a cap,” said Snap.  The more he saw of the circus boy the better he liked the young fellow.  “But I don’t know,” he added hastily, looking at his chums.

“We didn’t expect to take anybody,” said the doctor’s son slowly.  “But you might stay with us for a day or two, anyway—–­and we can talk it over.  We ought to be better acquainted before we make a bargain.”

“He could help us take our outfit to the mountains,” said Giant.  “We could pay him for the work.”

“I don’t want any pay.  Just give me my meals, and it will be all right.”

“We can settle the whole thing later,” said Shep.  “But you can stay for the present.”

“Wasn’t it queer?” cried Whopper.  “We found your dog and you found our boat!”

“It was queer—–­but I’m glad of it, for it kind of squares up,” answered the circus boy.  “I don’t know how much you think of your boat, but I think a whole lot of Wags.”

“If we hadn’t got the boat back our outing would have been spoiled,” said the doctor’s son.  “But come; if we are going fishing, let us start at once.  We can do the rest of our talking after our lines are in.”

CHAPTER XIII

SOME FINE FISHING

The four boy hunters were soon down at the lake shore preparing their hooks and lines.  Tommy Cabot went along, and while they fished he sat and watched them.

“This beats being with a circus all hollow,” said the young acrobat.

“I always thought circus life was fine,” declared Giant.

“It is—–­on the outside.  But on the inside!  No more of it for me!”

“Did they pay you much?” questioned Whopper.

“I was supposed to get ten dollars a week, but I didn’t.  Every time payday came around they’d deduct something for extras I had had and things they said I had broken, or torn, or lost, so I usually got two or three dollars, and that I had to spend on clothing, shoes—–­and eating, for the meals weren’t heavy at the show.  Then, one night, some scamp stole my suit, and I had to buy these from one of the workmen.  I got ’em cheap, but they aren’t much good,” and Tommy smiled grimly as he surveyed the dilapidated garments.