After this adventure the river was soon crossed, and an hour later Leo and Carl found themselves installed at another hotel but a short distance from the mansion at which they were to perform.

While they were taking a stroll through the village, Carl's eyes were suddenly arrested by a huge poster stuck on the side of a barn.

"Look, Leo, what do you think of that?" he cried.

The poster referred to ran as follows:

Wampole's Trans-Continental Specialty Company.

Reorganized!

Better and Brighter than Ever!

See Leo, the Wonderful Clown and Gymnast!

Don't Miss Carl Ross, The Greatest Juggler and Magician The World Has Ever Produced!

30-Other Artists-30!

At Pelham's Hall To-night!

Admission 15 and 25 Cents.

"If that ain't cheeky!" burst out Leo. "What right has he to advertise us when we are no longer with him?"

"That is what I would like to know," returned Carl.

"We ought to stop him."

"We certainly can," said the young juggler. "He hasn't any more right to use our names than the president's."

"What shall we do?"

"I wonder where we can find him?"

"Most likely at Pelham's Hall, wherever that is."

The two made inquiries and soon located the hall, which was situated over the general store.

Going upstairs, they met a tough-looking individual coming down.

It was Bill Gormley, one of the Wampole Company.

He was put down on the bills as Ricardo, the Great German Impersonator.

He could do one or two things fairly well, but the majority of his acts were decidedly poor. More than that, he was a heavy drinker, and had on several occasions appeared on the stage when he could hardly stand.

"Hullo, Ross!" he called out. "Hullo, Dunbar! so you've decided to rejoin, eh?"

"Hardly," replied Carl. "Where is Wampole?"

"Back of the stage. But you ain't going to join us, you say?"

"We are not," answered Leo.

"You had better. We are going to make a big thing of the show now."

"Wampole was always going to do that," laughed Carl.

They pa.s.sed up the dingy stairs and into the hall. Nathan Wampole stood on the empty stairs rehearsing a boy of twelve in a funny dialect part.

"That ain't right!" he roared. "Do it this way! You ain't worth your salt! Come now, or I'll crack you with this club!"

"Wampole!" called out the young gymnast.

"Leo! And you, too, Carl! Delighted to see you!" Nathan Wampole's face took on a smile, and the boy was forgotten. "So you thought you would join us again. I was on the point of sending for you."

"We are not going to join, and we want to know by what right you are advertising us," said Carl firmly.

Nathan Wampole's face instantly took on an ugly look.

"Not going to join eh?" he muttered.

"No."

"And we demand that you take our names from your bills," added Leo.

"What! Not much!"

"Then we'll compel you."

Nathan Wampole's face grew white.

"You will not. On the other hand, I'll compel you to perform in my company. I have your signatures, remember."

"That old contract doesn't count-you broke it yourself," returned Carl.

"It was never broken." Nathan Wampole smiled maliciously. "I've been to a lawyer and he says you must perform with me."

"The lawyer that said that is a fool," cried Leo.

"No, he's not-he's a smart man. You will perform with me and nowhere else. If you don't--"

"If we don't?" queried Carl.

"If you don't I'll have you arrested."

"You can't do that."

"Yes, I can."

"On what charge, pray?" asked Leo.

"On a charge of breaking up my former company and running off with some of my things," replied Nathan Wampole, triumphantly. "I've got witnesses to prove that you two fellows are thieves."

Scarcely had he uttered the words when both Leo and Carl leaped forward.

Two quick blows landed Nathan Wampole flat on his back.