"
"Ye bet yer life they can't. Ye ain't no chicken!" exclaimed his
hard-faced friend. "Say, let's liquor up once more before we go to see
the elephant."
With these two followed a boy of some thirteen years, freckled faced and
solemn, slim and wiry of body, who was anxiously striving to drag his
father away from one of the drinking booths that dotted the circus
grounds, and towards the big tent; but the father had been already a
too frequent visitor at the booth to be quite amenable to his son's
pleading. He, in a glorious mood of self-appreciation, kept announcing
to the public generally and to his hard-faced friend in particular--
"My name's Tom Haley; ye can't come over me!"
"Come on, father," pleaded Tim.
"No hurry, Timmy, me boy," said his father. "The elephants won't run
away with the monkeys and the clowns can't git out of the ring."
"Oh, come on, dad, I'm sure the show's begun."
"Cheese it, young feller," said the young man, "yer dad's able to take
care of himself."
"Aw, you shut yer mouth!" replied Tim fiercely. "I know what you're
suckin' round for."
"Good boy, Tim," laughed his father; "ye giv' 'im one that time. Guess
we'll go. So long, Sam, if that's yer name. Ye see I've jist got ter
take in this 'ere show this morning with Tim 'ere, and then we have got
some groceries to git for the old woman.
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