“Come in and behold Melba, the most beautiful woman snake-charmer in the world!” cries the barker outside the side-show.
“Your royal giblets,” says Ready, “didst ever see Weary Wiggins? Nay? Then be careful of thy statements, for he is something of a snake-charmer himself.”
“G’wan!” retorts the barker. “Wot yer givin’ us! You wouldn’t know a snake-charmer if you saw one. Now, honest, did yer ever see one?”
“Well, you are very nearly the first I’ve ever seen,” Ready answered breezily. “Your nose is your own advertisement, sir. You can provide your own snakes with a pint of bug-juice.”
“T’ink ye’re smart, don’t yer!” retorted the fellow angrily. “Some time yer’ll get yer face dented if you shoots off yer lip so free. If I had time, I’d ’tend to der job meself.”
“I am very sorry you haven’t the time. I’d like to go out behind the big tent and soothe you to sleep. I am a very soothing chap.”
To this the barker made another angry retort, and Jack and his friends laughed, bought tickets, and entered the tent.
When they were inside Jack began to lecture on the “wonders” there assembled. He gave them a little “game of talk” about the tattooed man, the Chinese giant, the “armless acrobat,” the fat woman, and other freaks on exhibition. When, however, he started in to call attention to a long-whiskered farmer from the country he came near getting into trouble.
“You sassy young cub!” roared the old farmer, clenching his fists and glaring at Jack, “I’d good mind to smash ye!”
“Honestly?” he gasped. “You wouldn’t do that to a poor orphing bhoy, would you?”
“Think ye’re funny tellin’ folks about the wind blowin’ through my whiskers, don’t ye?” snorted the farmer. “When you have more whiskers, mebbe ye’ll hev some more brains to go with ’em!”
“That’s right, by gum!” agreed Gamp, sidling up to the farmer. “Give it to him, mum-mister. He’s sassed mum-most everybuddy.”
This made the old farmer fiercer than ever, and he shook his fist under Jack’s nose, roaring:
“Dang my boots! but I believe I will smash ye!”
His wife, a mild little woman with an umbrella, now grabbed him by the arm, timidly crying:
“Don’t ye git into a row, Joel! The last time you was to town you got into trouble with these here college chaps, an’ they made the perlice believe ye was crazy. Came nigh puttin’ ye inter a ’sylum.”