"Still, when you unleashed that first roar and the crowd began to collect, I confess I thought you'd busted something vital and were yelling for help." Don glanced at this clothes.

The summer show had freed him from the mended rags he hated.

Shirt and trousers, hat and shoes were as near like Brian's as they could be.

So was the coat upon his arm and the knapsack on his back.
"Whenever you tell me I can do a thing," he said, "and hang around to see me do it, I can always somehow seem to make myself do it.

Look!" he broke off with a boyish grin, pointing at a farmhouse on a distant hill.