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Sometimes she talked with Mooney.

I suppose a week passed in this fashion; then one evening, as I was helping to bed down the horses, White came into the tent. The evening performance had ended and it was perhaps midnight.

“We are going to take a little motor ride,” he said. “Come along.”

I went with him.

We made a detour of the circus field and came into the border of the town. It was a residence street of the better class of houses. It was late and the lights of the street had been put out. We stopped finally before a garage in a lot between two houses. The door to the garage was locked and White turned the lock with some implement which I could not see.

Then we went inside and carefully pushed the car out into the street.

White locked the door again behind us. We pushed the car along the street for perhaps a hundred yards before we got in. The man understood the motor perfectly and we slipped along the street and out of the town.

At a bridge on the outskirts we picked up Mooney. He had his bundle as on our first adventure.