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Updated: May 19, 2025
While Billy was putting the finishing touches to his toilet he conversed with Andy, congratulating him on his success in getting a job with the show. "Wait about half-an-hour till the parade gets off the grounds," he advised Andy. "Scripps, the manager, will be busy till then. You'll find him in the paper tent."
"Hammer the big triangle there till two. Then let me see again. Know how to ride a horse?" "Oh, yes," replied Andy eagerly. "All right, at two o'clock report for the jockey ring section at the horse tent. They'll hand you a costume." Scripps wrote a number on a red ticket and handed this to Andy his pass as an employee.
We'll remember that, later." Scripps glanced over a pasteboard sheet on his desk, first asking Andy his name and age, and writing his answers down in a big-paged book. "Half-a-dollar a day and keep, for the present," he said. "All right," nodded Andy "it's a start." "Just so. Let me see. Ah, here we are. Report to the Wild Man of Borneo side top at twelve." "Yes, sir."
The applicants for work were ordered to appear at Tipton, two days later. Several were after an advance on their salary. Some farmers appeared with claims for foraging done by circus hands. Finally Andy got to the front and tendered the card Mr. Harding had given him. "All right," shot out Scripps sharply, giving the lad a keen look. "You're the one who blocked the game on Benares? Good for you!
But as that's the smallest boy in the lot I'll take him for my fraction. I think that's fair. Step forward, there, you boy on the left." "All right Captain," laughed Capt. Scripps. "You've got the pick of the men, and I'm glad of it. "I know you have, for I've been watching that Corporal of yours. I know him of old.
It's the last ditch for my good, true friends, Mr. Scripps." The manager turned aside to hide his emotion. "Friends," he resumed an instant later, "you break me all up with this kind of talk. You're a royal, good lot. I've wired Mr. Harding that he must help us out. Stick to your posts, and no one shall lose a dollar."
There were village merchants with bills, newspaper men after free passes and persons seeking employment. They were called in turn up the steps of the wagon that constituted the manager's office. Mr. Scripps was a rapid talker, a brisk man of business, and he disposed of the cases presented in quick order. Andy saw four or five dissipated looking men discharged at a word.
From end to end it is one man journalism, and each of the papers is run for the benefit of the one man who is its proprietor. The Tribune is owned by Joe Medill, the Times-Herald and Post are owned by H. H. Kohlsast, the Record and News are owned by Victor Lawson, the Journal is owned by the McRae- Scripps league and the Chronicle is owned by John R. Walsh, a banker.
"Fine-looking lot of youngsters," he remarked. "They'll make good soldiers." "Every one o' them true-blue, all wool and a yard wide. Captain," said Si. "You'll play fair, now, Captain, won't you, and choose for yourself?" said Capt. Scripps. "I've no doubt they're all good boys, but there's a choice in good boys, and that Sergeant of yours has learned where the choice is.
He worked with a gang hoisting the main tent until nearly noon. "Hi, Wildwood!" hailed a friendly voice, as Andy was leaving the cook's tent an hour later. The speaker was Marco. He made a few inquiries as to how Andy was getting along. Then he said: "I saw Miss Stella Starr this morning. You know the manager, of course?" "Mr. Scripps yes," nodded Andy.
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