He won, as the saying is, on
form. It was decided by practically a unanimous vote, he alone
dissenting, that he should crawl under and see how the land lay
inside. If everything was all right he would make it known by
certain signals and we would then follow, one by one.
Two of us lifted the canvas very gently and this Thompson boy started
to wriggle under. He was about halfway in when--zip!--like a
flash he bodily vanished. He was gone, leaving only the marks where
his toes had gouged the soil. Startled, we looked at one another.
There was something peculiar about this. Here was a boy who had
started into a circus tent in a circumspect, indeed, a highly cautious
manner, and then finished the trip with undue and sudden precipitancy.
It was more than peculiar--it bordered upon the uncanny. It was
sinister. Without a word having been spoken we decided to go away
from there.
Wearing expressions of intense unconcern and sterling innocence
upon our young faces we did go away from there and drifted back in
the general direction of the main entrance.
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