"Thank you very much," said Dene. "I'll take your tip. I'm not fond of

arguing myself."

When he had disposed of his supper, he made his way to Mr. Bloxford's

cabin and knocked at the door. He was bidden to enter in a sharp,

falsetto voice, like that of a phonograph when it is on the high note.

The manager was still enveloped in his fur coat, but his hat had been

thrown aside, revealing a head apparently completely hairless. A lighted

cigar was now between his teeth, and a bottle of champagne stood on the

table. Mr. Bloxford looked up from a paper that he was reading, and eyed

Dene with that suppressed impatience which is peculiar to all managers

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of theatres and circuses.

"Well, what do you want?" he demanded. "Tub isn't sinking already, is

she?"

"I've come to ask you to take me on, to let me join your company, Mr.

Bloxford," said Dene, going straight to the point.

The manager stared at him. "Take you on! Why, aren't you one of the

hands? Then what the blank are you doing here?"

"No, I'm not engaged at present," replied Dene; and he explained how he

had been caught up in the turmoil and had remained on board. While he

was speaking, Mr. Bloxford had been eyeing the tall, well-made figure,

the pleasant, handsome face, and, being a man of the world--and a circus

manager to boot--he had no difficulty in seeing that the young man,

standing so modestly, and yet so easily, before him, was a gentleman.

"I suppose you know that you're a stowaway, that I could have you

chucked overboard, or put into irons or something," he said, furiously,

his eyes snapping.

Dene smiled merely.

"Well, now you're here, I'll have to take you on, I guess," said Mr.

Bloxford. "You seem to be handy with horses."

"I'm fond of them," said Dene.

"That's all right," rejoined Mr. Bloxford. "I suppose there's nothing

you can do in the professional way? You'd make a good acrobat, or--well,

you'd shape into several things." He looked the figure up and down

again, just as he would have examined an animal offered for his

inspection. "But we'll see about that later on. Thirty bob a week. How

will that suit you?"

"It will suit me very well; and I'll try to earn it," said Derrick.

Mr. Bloxford stared at him. "Here, don't startle me; I've got a weak

heart," he observed, with a grin. "You say it as if you meant it. Here,

what's your name?"




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