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“There’s nary a piece left, that greedy boy et it orl up.” Yet they had already stopped, turned, and driven quickly to the house, hurried by the frenzy in the boy’s tones. Everything was going smoothly when suddenly a catastrophe stopped short the circus, and left Moses greatly distressed. He inwardly complained that never yet was he “havin’ a good time but some orful thing happened to put a cloud over the sun.” The hens and chickens that had been pressed into the ranks of the circus performers were crowding round a swill-bucket which Moses had left tilted at a precarious angle on an upturned soap-box. In its zig-zag gyrations round the yard, the ostrich, to avoid the ubiquitous fowl, ran against the bucket and the odoriferous contents were splashed over the yellow-draped circus lady. The contents of the swill-pail trickled down Betty’s finery and dropped sadly from the pink headgear of the ostrich..

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“Is theh faywies wound heah, Betty? Can they see us?” inquired the little boy in awe-struck tones. The Sheriff was a small man with fair, curly hair like a girl’s; but there was that in his eye that reinforced his pistol, made the big fellow quail, the other mutter a low warning. The two lifted the chest by its strong handles and stepped out. “All right. I’m off!” “Never mind yer notes, Ebenezer, jist you sarve the pork.”.