They walked along the grassy side of the concrete road that split the panorama right down the middle all the way down to where it vanished among the hills. It was so old that Red’s father couldn’t tell Red when it had been built. It didn’t have a crack or a rough spot in it.
Red said, “Can you keep a secret?”
“Sure, Red. What kind of a secret?”
“Just a secret. Maybe I’ll tell you and maybe I won’t. I don’t know yet.” Red broke a long, supple stem from a fern they passed, methodically stripped it of its leaflets and swung what was left whip-fashion. For a moment, he was on a wild charger, which reared and champed under his iron control. Then he got tired, tossed the whip aside and stowed the charger away in a corner of his imagination for future use.
He said, “There’ll be a circus around.”
Slim said, “That’s no secret. I knew that. My Dad told me even before we came here—”
“That’s not the secret. Fine secret! Ever see a circus?”
“Oh, sure. You bet.”
“Like it?”
“Say, there isn’t anything I like better.”
Red was watching out of the corner of his eyes again. “Ever think you would like to be with a circus? I mean, for good?”
Slim considered, “I guess not. I think I’ll be an astronomer like my Dad. I think he wants me to be.”
“Huh! Astronomer!” said Red.