shivering, crept into the protected nook which marks the junction of
the circus and dressing tops. Here it was comparatively dry; the wind
did not send its thin mist into this canvas cranny. Not so dark as he
may have desired, if one were to judge by the expression in his
feverish eyes as he peered back at the darkness out of which he had
slunk, but so cramped in shadow that only the eye of a ferret could
have distinguished the figure huddled there. Chilled to the bone, wet
through and through, this white-faced lad, with drooping lip and
quickened breath, crouched there and waited for the heavy footstep and
the brutal command of the canvasman who was to drive him forth into
the darkness once more.

He had watched his chance to creep into this coveted spot. When the
men were called to work at the horse tent he found his chance. It
looked warm in this corner; a pleasant light on the inside of the two
tents glowed against the damp sidewalls: here and there it glimmered
invitingly under the bottom of the canvas. He knew that his tenancy
must end in an hour or two: the big top would be leveled to the
ground, rolled up and spirited away into the stretches that lay
between this city and the next one, twenty miles away. But an hour or
two in this friendly corner, close to the glare of the circus lights,
almost in touch with the joyous, bespangled world of his ambitions,
even though he was a hated and hunted creature, was better than the
sopping roadside or the fields.

He knew that he was being hounded and that those who sought him were
close behind. Once in the forest, far back in the hills, he had heard
them, he had seen them. Off in other parts of the country men were
looking for him. In the cities throughout Virginia and the adjoining
states there were placards describing him ere this, and rewards were