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I had been greatly interested and had drawn a little closer. And when I looked up, the eyes of the big mechanic were on me; he had a hard, determined face and a sharp, piercing eye. I felt that he easily summed me up and had the measure of me. The little man in the canvas chair spoke as the mechanic turned away.

“White,” he said, “who’s it goin’ to be?”

“I don’t know yet,” replied the mechanic. “I’ll look ’em over.”

Then he disappeared under the circus tent.

I realized now that I was very close to the man in the canvas chair, and I stepped back across the green alley. A little group of tent hands were speaking as I came up.

“I wonder why they stick,” one of them was saying. “They can’t get much out of the boss for fixing these jimcracks.... The big one’s an expert mechanic and the dope Jimmy’s a wizard.”

It was late in the afternoon when I again saw the big mechanic.

The crowd from the circus was scattering. I had nowhere to go and was standing idly in the road when the man came up. He looked me over very carefully.