"She told me that you and her wasn't ever goin' ter see each other agin," roared Strong. "If I'd a-knowed she was goin' to keep on with this kind o' thing, you wouldn't er got off so easy."

"So! That's it!" cried Douglas. It was all clear to him now. He recalled everything, her hysterical behaviour, her laughter, her tears. "It was you who drove that child back to this." He glanced at Polly. The narrow shoulders were bent forward. The nervous little fingers were clasping and unclasping each other. Never before had she seemed so small and helpless.

"Oh, please, Mr. John, please! Don't make him any worse!"

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

"It would have done no good," she sobbed. "Oh, why--why won't you leave me alone?"

"It would have done all the good in the world. What right had he to send you back to this?"

"I had every right," said Strong, stubbornly.

"What?" cried Douglas.

"It was my duty."

"Your duty? Your narrow-minded bigotry!"

"I don't allow no man to talk to me like that, not even my parson."

"I'm NOT your parson any longer," declared Douglas. He faced Strong squarely. He was master of his own affairs at last. Polly clung to him, begging and beseeching.

"Oh, Mr. John! Mr. John!"

"What do you mean by that?" shouted Strong.

"I mean that I stayed with you and your narrow-minded congregation before, because I believed you needed me. But now this girl needs me more. She needs me to protect her from just such injustice as yours."

"You'd better be protectin' YOURSELF. That's my advice to you."

"I can do that WITHOUT your advice."

"Maybe you can find another church with that circus ridin' girl a-hangin' 'round your neck."

"He's right," cried Polly. "You couldn't." She clung to the pastor in terrified entreaty. "You COULDN'T get another church. They'd never, never forgive you. It's no use. You've got to let me go! you've GOT to!"

"Listen, Polly." He drew her toward him. "G.o.d is greater than any church or creed. There's work to be done EVERYWHERE--HIS work."

"You'll soon find out about that," thundered Strong.

"So I will," answered Douglas, with his head thrown high. "This child has opened a new world to me; she has shown me a broader, deeper humanity; she and I will find the way together."

"It won't be an easy one, I'll promise you that." Strong turned to go.

"I'm not looking for the easy way!" Douglas called after him, then he turned to draw Polly's arm within his; but Polly had slipped from his side to follow the deacon.

"Oh, please, Deacon Strong, please!" she pleaded. "You won't go away like that. He'll be all right if you'll only wait. I'm NOT coming back.

I'm not--honestly. I'm going on with the show, to-night, and I'm going this time FOREVER."

"You are going to stay here with me," cried Douglas.

"No, no, Mr. John. I've made up my mind, and I won't be to blame for your unhappiness." She faced him firmly now. "I don't belong to your world, and I don't want to try any more. I'm what he called me--I'm a circus riding girl. I was born in the circus, and I'll never change.

That's my work--riding, and it's yours to preach. You must do your work, and I'LL do MINE."

She started toward the ring. Eloise and Barbarian were already waiting at the entrance.

"Eloise!" She took one step toward her, then stopped at the sound of Barker's voice.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he called. "Although we are obliged to announce that our star rider, Miss Polly, will not appear to-night, we offer you in her place an able subst.i.tute, Mademoiselle Eloise, on her black, untamed horse, Barbarian."

Eloise put her hands on the horse's back to mount.

"No! No!" cried Polly.

The other girl turned in astonishment at the agony in her voice.

"Polly!"

"Wait, Eloise! I'M going to ride!"

"You can't, not Barbarian! He don't know your turn."

"So much the better!" She seized the bridle from the frightened girl's hand.

"Polly!" shouted Douglas. He had followed her to the entrance.

"I must! I will!"

She flew into the ring before he could stop her. He took one step to follow her.

"You'd better let her alone and get out o' here," said Strong. His voice was like a firebrand to Douglas. He turned upon him, white with rage.

"You drove her to this." His fists were clenched. He drew back to strike.

Jim came from behind the wagons just in time to catch the uplifted arm.

"Leave HIM to ME, this ain't no parson's job." The pastor lowered his arm, but kept his threatening eyes on the deacon's face.

"Where's Poll?" asked Jim.

"In there! Douglas pointed toward the main tent without turning his head. He was still glaring at the deacon, and breathing hard.

"What?" cried Jim, in alarm. He faced about and saw Eloise. He guessed the truth. A few quick strides brought him to the entrance curtains. He threw them back and looked into the ring.

"My G.o.d! Why don't Barker stop her?"

"What is it?" called Douglas. He forgot the deacon in his terror at Jim's behaviour, and Strong was able to slip away, unnoticed.