The Crimson Flash
“Johnny, Johnny Thompson.”

Whirling about, he found himself facing the millionaire twins. They were riding astride their ponies, and were dressed as if ready for their turn in the ring.

“Wha—where’d you come from, and who let you in?” he gasped.

“We came from our grandfather’s to join the circus,” piped Marjory.

“Yes, and to think,” Margaret fairly wailed, “we got here too late for the parade!”

Johnny looked at them for a moment, then laughed a good natured laugh.

“Got let down, didn’t you?” he smiled. “Well, so did I a minute ago, mighty sudden, too. But perhaps we can get you into a part yet, since this is positively your first and last appearance.”

“Oh, no, Johnny,” exclaimed Marjory, “not the last! We’ve come to stay as long as you do.”

“Then I don’t stay long,” laughed Johnny. “Circus is no place for millionaire twins. You wait right here. I’ll be back.”

By dint of much persuading, Johnny succeeded in getting the twins a place on the program. At the end of the races came a pony race. The ponies were ridden by monkeys. It was arranged that the two little girls, on their own ponies, were to race the monkeys on their circus mounts.

It was a wilder and more genuine race than is usually pulled off in the circus, for the twins were dead in earnest about winning it, and so were the monkeys. The monkeys and their ponies had played at racing so long, however, they were not able to get seriously down to business. When the twins were riding neck and neck, three lengths ahead of their nearest rivals, they delighted the throng by leaping upon their feet and riding in this manner around the last sweeping circle and out of sight.

“That’s fine,” exclaimed the manager, rubbing his hands. “Who are they, friends of yours? Can we book ’em for the rest of the season?” He was speaking to Johnny.

“Can’t book them for another show,” groaned Johnny. “And I’ll get skinned alive for letting them in on this one. They’re the daughters of Major MacDonald, the steel magnate. Ran away from their grandfather’s, and they go back to-night.”

The manager whistled. “Too bad to spoil perfectly good circus 
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