“I’ve got pretty heavy expenses, with a wife in the hospital,” said the clown in a subdued tone, “but I’ll try and make half salary do.”

“Miss Starr?”

The kind-hearted equestrienne smiled brightly.

“Take care of the others first, Mr. Scripps,” she said.  “While I have these, we won’t exactly starve.”

Miss Stella Starr shook the glittering diamond pendants in her pretty pink ears.

“Thank you,” bowed the manager, choking up a trifle.  “Andy Wildwood?”

“I’m a mere speck in the show,” said Andy, “but I’ll stick if there isn’t a cent of salary.  It’s the last ditch for my good, true friends, Mr. Scripps.”

The manager turned aside to hide his emotion.

“Friends,” he resumed an instant later, “you break me all up with this kind of talk.  You’re a royal, good lot.  I’ve wired Mr. Harding that he must help us out.  Stick to your posts, and no one shall lose a dollar.”

There was not a dissent to his proposition as he completed calling the list of performers.  Andy’s action shamed some into coming into the arrangements.  The manager’s words encouraged others.  While some few answered grudgingly, the compact was made unanimous.

“There’s a crowd of hard roughs trying to make trouble,” concluded Mr. Scripps.  “Leave that to the tent men.  Give the best show you know how, try and please the crowds, and I guess we’ll win out.”

Every act went excellently at the evening performance up to about the middle of the programme.

Andy did his level best.  He won an encore by a trick somersault old Benares had taught him.

Billy Blow was at his funniest.  He had the audience in fine, good humor.  Little Midget over-exerted himself to follow in his father’s lead.

Marco was a pronounced success.  Miss Stella Starr made one of her horses dance a graceful round to the tune of “Dixie,” and the audience went wild.

Andy, in street dress, came into the canvas passageway near the orchestra as the trick elephants were led into the ring.  The manager nodded to him.  Andy saw that he was pleased the way things were going.

For all that, he observed that Mr. Scripps kept his eye pretty closely on a rough crowd occupying seats near the entrance.

They seemed to be of a general group.  They talked loudly and passed all kinds of comments on the various acts.

Finally one of their number shied a carrot into the ring, striking the elephant trainer.

The latter caught his cue instantly at a word from the ringmaster.  He picked up the vegetable, made a profound bow to the sender, juggled it cleverly with his training wand, one-two-three, and turned the tables completely as the smart baby elephant caught it on the fly.

Cat calls rang out derisively from a lot of boys, directed at the group of rowdies from the midst of whom the carrot had been thrown.

Then a man arose unsteadily from that mob and stumbled over the ring ropes.