As the boys came up he stirred and tried to
rise.
"He's off his nut," said Ricks, starting to pass on; but Sandy
stopped.
"Get a fall?" he asked.
The strange boy shook his head. "I guess I fainted. I must have
ridden too hard. I'll be all right in a minute." He leaned his head
against a tree and closed his eyes.
Sandy eyed him curiously, taking in all the details of his
riding-costume down to the short whip with the silver mounting.
"I say, Ricks," he called to his companion, who was inspecting the
horse, "can't we do somethin' for him?"
Ricks reluctantly produced the short bottle.
"I'm all right," insisted the boy, "if you'll just give me a lift to
the saddle." But his eager eyes followed the bottle, and before Ricks
had returned it to his pocket he held out his hand. "I believe I will
take a drink if you don't mind." He drained the contents and then
handed a coin to Ricks.
"Now, if you'll help me," continued the stranger. "There! Thank you
very much."
"Say, what town is this, anyway?" asked Ricks.
"Clayton," said the boy, trying to keep his horse from backing.
"Looks like somethin' was doin'," said Ricks.
"Circus, I believe."
"Then I don't blame your nag for wantin' to go back!" cried Sandy.
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