Jo flared up. “I’m not! I can keep a secret!”

“All right, fire-eater,” said Dick with a grin. He looked at his watch. “It’s too soon to go yet.”

“I’ll go and help Mr. Slither with his snakes,” said Jo. “Anyone else coming?”

“Mr. Slither! What a marvellous name for a man who keeps snakes,” said Dick. “I don’t mind coming to watch, but I’m not keen on the way they pour themselves up and down people.”

They all went to Mr. Slither’s caravan except Anne, who said she would much rather clear up the breakfast things.

The snake-man had both his snakes out of their box. “He is polishing them,” said George, sitting down near by. “See how he makes their brown bodies shine.”

“Here, Jo — you mop Beauty for me,” said Mr. Slither. “The stuff is in that bottle over there. He’s got those nasty little mites again under his scales. Mop him with that stuff and that will soon get rid of them.”

Jo seemed to know what to do. She got a rag, tipped up the bottle of yellow stuff and began to pat one of the snakes gently, letting the lotion soak round his scales.

George, not to be outdone, offered to help in the polishing of the other snake. “You hold him then,” said Mr. Slither, and slid the snake over to George. He got up and went into his caravan. George hadn’t quite bargained for this. The snake lay across her knees, and then began to wind round her body. “Don’t you let him get a hold of you with his tail,” Jo warned her.

The boys soon got tired of seeing Jo and George vying with one another over the pythons, and went off to where Bufflo was practising spinning rope-rings. He spun loop after loop of rope, making wonderful patterns in the air with it. He grinned at the boys.

“Like a try?” he said. But neither of them could do anything with the rope at all.

“Let’s see you snap off something with the whip-lash,” said Dick. “I think you’re a marvel at that.”

“What do you want me to hit?” asked Bufflo, picking up his magnificent whip. “The topmost leaves on that bush?”

“Yes,” said Dick. Bufflo looked at them, swung his whip once or twice, lifted it — and cracked it.

Like magic the topmost leaves disappeared off the bush. The boys gazed in admiration. “Now pick off that daisy-head over there,” said Julian, pointing.

Crack! The daisy-head vanished. “That’s easy,” said Bufflo. “Look, you hold a pencil or something in your hands, one of you. I’ll pick it out without touching your fingers!”

Julian hesitated. But Dick dived his hand into his pocket and brought out a red pencil, not very long. He held out his hand, with the pencil between finger and thumb. Bufflo looked at it with half-closed eyes, as if measuring the distance. He raised his whip.

Crack! The tip-end of the lash curled itself round the pencil and pulled it clean out of Dick’s hand. It flew up into the air, and Bufflo reached out his hand and caught it!