“Thanks!” Pant gripped his hand warmly. “Take these two bonds you got from that fat fellow and sell them to-morrow to some dealer in bonds on La Salle street. You bought them for $39, did you not?”

“Yes.”

“You should get $45. Good little gain, eh?”

Johnny grinned. He knew Pant too well to think for a moment that he would engage in a small business of trading in bonds two or three at a time. What his real game was, he was unable to guess.

“All right, old man. See you to-morrow,” he said, rising and tucking the bonds away in his inner pocket. “I’ll hurry back now. I think I’m going to box the fellow who boxes the bear, though how I am to arrange it, I can’t quite tell.”

Johnny wandered back to the big top. It was late morning. Many of the circus people would be in the big tent going through their stunts.

His hope of finding the boxer of the bear in one of the rings was not in vain. He was, at the moment of Johnny’s entrance, in the act of putting the bear through his mock heroic battle.

With an air of apparent indifference, Johnny leaned against a center tent pole and watched him. Allegretti hated being watched, Johnny knew. That was why he lingered.

The Italian stood his scrutiny for three minutes, then with an angry glare in his eye, he cried:

“Go ’way, you bum!”

Johnny’s only reply was a grin.

“Go ’way! No can box-a da bear when you all time loafin’ here.”

The Italian was dancing with rage.

“You can’t box anyway, so what’s the difference?” Johnny grinned again.

“No can box?” The Italian stormed, “No can box? You wan’na see?”

“Sure, show me,” Johnny grinned.

An extra pair of gloves lay near by. Allegretti kicked them toward him. “Putta dem on. ‘No can box,’ he says. Allegretti show dat bum!”

 Prev. P 37/98 next