"Stop him, catch him," cried the ringmaster; but there was no one present to do his bidding.
"Well, if he isn't a slippery little devil! But I guess we have seen the last of him. He will get out of here lively, or I miss my guess.
"He has no mind to sleep in the calaboose. He was poisoning Sir Wilton, did you say?"
"Yes," replied Freckles. "Look here in the manger."
They stepped to the box wherein Dapples's oats had been placed, and Freckles removed his cap from over the pony's supper.
The ringmaster stooped and looked critically for a few seconds.
"I guess you were just in time, boy," he said at last. "It is Paris green, and no mistake. You have saved Sir Wilton this time. Come out to the light and let me see if he hurt you much."
"Oh, I am all right," said Freckles.
