“Yes, to be sure I am, missy,” said Uncle Ben, taking another deep draught from his big glass of stout.  “What’s the ‘only,’ little miss?”

“Let’s pertend,” said Diana.

“Pretend what, missy?”

“That after Orion has done it, after he has wode G’eased Lightning, he may go ’way.”

“Go away, missy?”

“Yes, let’s pertend it.  If he thinks he’s going away after he has done it, why, there’s nothing he won’t twy to do, ’cos, you see, he’s longing to go.  Let’s say this to him:  ’Orion, you’s good boy, you’s darlin’ boy, and when you has done what I want you to do, you shall go way’—­then he’ll do it beaut’ful.”

“But he aint a-going,” said the man, “he’s my property.  I has bought him; I has bought you both.  You are sort of slaves to me.”

“No, I aren’t a slave to nobody,” said Diana, whose fierce little blood could not brook this word.

“Well, you are a very good little gal, and so I am to pretend to Orion that he’s going away; but now, when I don’t mean him to go, that seems sort of cruel.”

“Oh, you leave it to me!” said Diana; “let him think he’s going away and I’ll manage.  Tell Susan to tell him, and tell Aunt Sawah to tell him, and you tell him, and I’ll tell him, and then he’ll be as good as good, and as bwave—­as bwave as a big giant.”

“Well, my dear, manage it your own way,” said Uncle Ben; “but, all the same, it seems a shame.  I aint what’s called a very soft sort of man, but it seems a shame to deceive a little kid; only you manage it your own way, little missy.”

“I’ll manage it my own way,” echoed Diana.  “I’m awfu’ ’bliged.”

She tripped gayly out of the room.

CHAPTER XXI.

POLE STAR.

The next day, at an early hour, the different performers had a grand rehearsal of their parts.  It was a dress rehearsal.  Holt was in high spirits, and Aunt Sarah, who stood just in front of the circus, petted and encouraged both Diana and Orion as much as possible.  Orion felt shaky and looked very white, but the delicious thought that, after he had gone through those few minutes of agony, he might really be free to run away, to leave the dreadful, terrible circus forever, sustained him wonderfully.  Diana had assured him that this could be managed.  She had told him that Uncle Ben had promised that if he was a brave boy and sat well on Greased Lightning, and stood up when necessary, and, in short, went through the ordeal set him to do, without a murmur, he should be allowed to leave the circus that evening.  It mattered nothing at all to little Orion that he did not know where he was to go, that he was a penniless and very small, very ignorant boy.  The one object on which all his hopes were centered was the desire to get away from Uncle Ben and the terrible horses which he was forced to ride.

“Now, ’member, you is to be bwave,” said Diana; “you isn’t to be fwightened.  If you’s fwightened, Uncle Ben won’t let you go.  You just be as bwave as possible, and never mind nobody.  Now, then, it’s your turn.  Come ’long.”