his cousin away from the spot, so fascinated was he.

The whole of the next day Den was kept a prisoner indoors by way of punishment; but he was not unhappy. He spent the time very pleasantly looking over his picture scraps. One of these represented a golden eagle. This was torn up without the least hesitation and thrown out of the window; for, as he observed very justly, it did not deserve to be called by the name. It was not at all like those grand birds at Standbeck.

CHAPTER VII.

THE WILD BEAST SHOW.

LARRY'S life had a wider and brighter range than that of Denzil; he saw more of the world beyond their own; in fact, any outside pleasures that came in Den's way were sure to come through this cousin.

One Saturday afternoon he came to the marsh house in a state of great excitement, and getting Den outside, gave him the wonderful piece of news that Wombwell, the prince of showmen, of whom the boy had heard with wonder and bated breath, was actually coming to a neighbouring town.

Larry himself had never seen a wild beast show, and he was full of eagerness and delight about it. He had managed to secure a long poster from a billsticker, which he had brought carefully rolled up in

his pocket. This he unfolded for the benefit of Den, who, with flushed cheeks, devoured every item in it.

Wombwell's menagerie was at that time something of note. It was the only thing of its kind travelling in England, and one great feature about it was the really beautiful paintings on the outside of the large

vans.

They were painted by men who afterwards made a name for themselves, and were well worthy of admiration from more experienced eyes than those of our two boys.

Over the illustrated poster the cousins held a long and earnest consultation. Could it be possible that all these wonderful creatures were alive? How had they been caught and secured? and what did they live on? Did the lions and tigers roar loudly as they did in their native jungle and forests? Here were snakes as thick as a man's leg. Was it all real? They discussed and wondered over the matter until they had fairly exhausted themselves.

Larry informed Den that his father was going to drive him over himself to see the show. Boys could go inside for sixpence, the bills said; but Den had never been the happy possessor even of twopence, at the same time, in all his young life.

He left Larry with a mournful countenance; the more he thought of it, the less likely it seemed that he could possibly secure the means of going to the show. His kinsman had not offered to take him, and his parents, he knew, would not dream of granting him this gratification.

He went to bed that night in a troubled state of mind; that long wonderful poster would not suffer him to sleep. The difficult question where and how he could get hold of so much money, kept his mind on the stretch till the morning.

It was a long tramp to the town, but he would easily manage that if he could only procure the sixpence. And then, if he did get it, perhaps they would not trust him to go; they looked on him as such a little fellow, he thought sorrowfully. No, there was nothing to be expected from his father and mother, where shows were concerned, he knew. He decided to hunt up Scoot and Winder in the morning, and talk it over with them.

Next day he came upon the pair as they were expressing their joy over the news of the wild beast show by executing a double shuffle with their bare feet on the pavement outside their homes. They

were both going, and had already got their sixpences in their pockets for the purpose.

"You're comin' with us, Reed-bird, of coorse ye are ?"

"But I ain't got no money," said Den, dolefully.

"Why, ask yer mother for it," said the sagacious Scoot, "an' ef she sez no, fust off like, jest you worrit her fur it, same as Winder an' me did ours. goin', an' ye'll jest cum tu."

We're

The boy could get no further suggestions out of either Scoot or Winder. "Worrit yer mother," echoed Winder, and the two went on with their double shuffle in a way that quite exasperated Denzil. He was not in the least inclined to follow their advice, and went home again, wearing a very dejected air. As the time for the show's coming drew nearer, Den moped about the house in a most miserable fashion; he could do nothing but turn over his scraps continually.

At last his mother noticed his restless, sad looks, and asked him if he was feeling ill, or what was the

matter.

This made the tears flow down Den's cheeks