In the center of the "big top," which sheltered the mammoth three-ring circus, brass horns blared to the rhythmic beat of a huge bass drum. Eight trained elephants, giant actors of the sawdust ring, patiently stood in line, awaiting the command to make way for the tumblers, trapeze performers, bareback riders and the queen of the circus. The twins, Marjory and Margaret MacDonald, just past ten years of age, and attending their first circus, stood pressed against the rope not an arm's length from the foremost elephant. Suddenly the gigantic creature reached out a beseeching trunk for a possible peanut. Sensing danger, Johnny Thompson, the one-time lightweight boxing champion, who, besides their maid, stood guard over the millionaire twins, sprang forward. Quick as he was, his movement was far too slow. Marjory jumped back; there was an almost inaudible snap. The elephant stretched his trunk to full length-then in apparent anger uttered a hollow snort. A broad bar of sunlight shooting over the top of the canvas wall was cut by a sudden flash. The flash described a circle, then blinked out at the feet of three waiting young women performers. With a cry of consternation on his lips, Johnny Thompson sprang over the ropes. Bowling over an elephant trainer in his haste, he bolted toward the three girl acrobats at whose feet the miniature meteor had vanished. Again his agile movement was far too slow. Six pairs of rough hands tried to seize him. Johnny's right shot out. With a little gurgle, an attendant in uniform staggered backward to crumple in the sawdust. A ring-master, leaping like a panther, landed on Johnny's back. Dropping abruptly, Johnny executed a somersault, shook himself free and rose only to butt his head into the stomach of a fat clown.