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“Don’t go near her!” she cried. “Don’t even look at her!”

“You are a fool, Maggie,” he said. “I want to speak to the boy.”

She turned suddenly toward me as though she had not noticed me before.

“Where did you come from?” she said. Then she laughed. “It don’t matter. I know where you are going.”

And she went out toward the entrance to the circus tent, following the big white horse that carried the fairy.

White said only a few words to me when she was gone.

“Hang along with the circus; we have got straight dope on that Mexican money and we’ll pick it up in a few days.”

I traveled with the circus as one might travel with a fairy caravan. Everything was of the deepest and newest interest.

But the greatest wonder was the girl who rode the white horse. The little, determined, black-haired woman was always with her. I saw her only when I helped her into the saddle and took away the horse.

She stood between the girl and everybody.

There was no exception, but she did not seem to consider me. Once or twice I saw her looking curiously at me when I brought the horse to help the girl into the saddle.