CHAPTER XXI

AT THE FAIR

"Quick! Hand me some more paper!" exclaimed Ned.

Bart passed him a wad. Without stopping to put oil on it Ned lighted the twisted torch. As the flame grew in brightness he held it above his head to cast a glow over the water. But there was no canoe in sight save the one trailing behind their own boat.

"He's gone!" exclaimed Fenn.

"Well, we found out who it was," remarked Ned, "and that's something."

"It would be more to find out why he was following us," came from Frank.

"Maybe he's camping around here," suggested Bart.

"If he is, he was quite a way from camp," put in Ned. "I'd been hearing soft paddling behind us for the last two miles and I determined to see who it was."

"Guess he didn't want to be seen, by the way he disappeared in such a hurry," Fenn remarked.

"We'll have to keep watch to-night," said Bart. "We don't want Sandy or any of his friends sneaking around."

"That's right," assented Ned.

They lighted the lantern and, by the gleam of it, and by that from a fire they kindled on shore, they made their camp. A hasty meal was prepared and then the shelter tent was put up. A big pile of brushwood was collected for the fire and, dividing the night into four watches, of which Bart took the first, they spread out the blankets and the other three prepared to sleep.

But the weather, which had favored them all their trip, turned against them now. It began to rain about ten o'clock and from then, until morning, there was a steady downpour.

However they made the best of it, though the tent did leak, and the fire refused to do anything more than smoulder. It was rather a cheerless breakfast they had, for the coffee was only lukewarm and the bacon half done. But they made jokes about it and soon were on their way down the river.

"Guess it was too wet for Sandy," observed Bart, as he tilted his hat so the rain would not drip down his neck.

They left the canoe at Riverton and made the best time possible to Darewell. Wet through, but happy in spite of it all they reached their homes, fully satisfied with their trip.

The next morning as Fenn was taking a short cut across lots to get to Frank's house, he heard a noise as though two birds were calling to one another in a little clump of bushes. The notes came clear and sweet and Fenn paused to catch a sight of the songsters. As he did so something in the bushes moved, a robin flew out and John Newton came into view. As he did so Fenn realized that John was one of the "birds."

"What were you doing?" asked Fenn, who was once more on friendly, if not intimate terms with John.

"Practicing that robin call."

"What for?"

"I'm learning to imitate all kinds of birds," replied John.

"Thought you were working as special delivery messenger at the postoffice?"

"I was but I gave it up. Too much inside. I want to get out where I can hear the birds. I can imitate twenty different kinds now."

"What good is it?"

"Maybe I can get a job on the stage some day, and it will come in handy. I heard a fellow in a theater orchestra try to imitate a bird once, and it wasn't anything as good as I can do."

"If you get on the stage I'll come and see you," said Fenn, little thinking that his promise was some day to come true.

"Thanks," replied John, as he walked off across the field, looking for more birds to practice with, while Fenn went on to Frank's house.

That afternoon Ned and Fenn went over to Bart's house and found him cleaning a small rifle.

"What's up?" asked Fenn.

"Getting ready to go frog hunting," said Bart. "Dad likes their hind legs fried in butter and I said I'd get him a mess."

"Where you going?" asked Ned.

"Over to Ducker's pond. There's lots of 'em there."

"Want any company?" inquired Fenn.

"Sure, come along. Get your rifles. There's a boat over there. Tell Frank and we'll make a day of it."

"They ought to be out plentiful after the rain," remarked Ned. "I'd like to get some for my father. He is fond of 'em."

The boys found frog-hunting great sport. As they walked home in the twilight they passed a field in which a crowd of men were gathered about numerous wagons. Here and there tents were being raised.

"What's this?" asked Bart.

"Why it's the traveling fair," replied Ned. "Don't you remember, it's been advertised for the last two weeks? It must have just gotten in. Come on over."

Ned's surmise proved correct. A large traveling show and fair combined had reached Darewell, where it was to remain for three days. There had been a delay, caused by a break-down of some of the wagons, and, instead of arriving in the early morning, they had only now reached the grounds.

A throng had been attracted by the show, and scores of the boys of the town were offering their services to help put up the tents. The burly men in charge, however, went about their business systematically, and, working by the glare of gasolene torches, soon had some of the tents raised, though the main one would not be in place until morning.

In one part of the grounds the cooking wagon with its portable ranges was in full operation, and hungry men and women performers were making a hasty meal.

"Let's take these frogs home and come back after supper," proposed Bart. "We can have some fun."

This the lads did. They found a bigger crowd than before at the fair grounds, more wagons having arrived with the exhibits.

"Out of the way there!" yelled a hoarse voice as a big vehicle, drawn by four horses, approached where the chums were standing. As they moved out of its path they saw, painted on the side of the wagon in large letters, that showed plainly in the flaring torches, the word:

BALLOON.

"That's so, there's going to be a balloon ascension every day," said Ned. "We'll have to take this in to-morrow."

"That's what we will," replied Bart. "I've never seen a balloon go up."

"You'll have a chance to go up in one if you want to," put in Fenn.

"How?"

"Why this is a captive balloon. It's fast to the ground by a rope. They let persons go up in it for a half dollar apiece."

"Then we'll go up," decided Frank. "I've always wanted a ride in one."