It seemed to him the finest Priests of Pallas parade he had ever seen. Come to think about it, there hadn’t been a Priests of Pallas parade in a good many years. Must have revived it just for this.
That was like Kansas City-a grand town. He didn’t know of any he liked as well. Possibly Seattle. And New Orleans, of course.
And Duluth-Duluth was swell. And so was Memphis. He would like to own a bus someday that ran from Memphis to Saint Joe, from Natchez to Mobile, wherever the wide winds blow.
Mobile-there was a town.
The parade was past now, with a swarm of small boys tagging after it. He hurried across.
The lady was not there, neither she, nor the dog. He looked quite thoroughly. No dog. No lady with a dog.
He wandered off, his eyes alert for marvels, but his thoughts on the dog. It really had been a great deal like Bindlestiff . . . and he wanted to know the lady it belonged to-anyone who could love that sort of a dog must be a pretty good sort herself. Perhaps he could buy her ice cream, or persuade her to go the midway with him. Martha would approve he was sure. Martha would know he wasn’t up to anything.
Anyhow, no one ever took a little fat man seriously.
But there was too much going on to worry about it. He found himself at St. Paul’s Winter Carnival, marvelously constructed in summer weather through the combined efforts of York and American. For fifty years it had been held in January, yet here it was, rubbing shoulders with the Pendleton Round-Up, the Fresno Raisin Festival, and Colonial Week in Annapolis. He got in at the tail end of the ice show, but in time for one of his favorite acts, the Old Smoothies, out of retirement for the occasion and gliding as perfectly as ever to the strains of Shine On, Harvest Moon.
His eyes blurred again and it was not his lack of glasses.
Coming out he passed a large sign: SADIE HAWKINS DAY-STARTING POINT FOR BACHELORS. He was tempted to take part; perhaps the lady with the dog might be among the spinsters. But he was a little tired by now; just ahead there was an outdoor carnival of the pony-ride-and-ferris-wheel sort; a moment later he was on the merry-go-round and was climbing gratefully into one of those swan gondolas so favored by parents. He found a young man already seated there, reading a book.
“Oh, excuse me,” said Johnny. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” the young man answered and put his book down. “Perhaps you are the man I’m looking for.”
“You are looking for someone?”
“Yes. You see, I’m a detective. I’ve always wanted to be one and now I am.”
“Indeed?”
“Quite. Everyone rides the merry-go-round eventually, so it saves trouble to wait here. Of course, I hang around Hollywood and Vine, or Times Square, or Canal Street, but here I can sit and read.”
“How can you read while watching for someone?”
“Ah, I know what is in the book-” He held it up; it was The Hunting of the Snark. “-so that leaves my eyes free for watching.”
Johnny began to like this young man. “Are there boo-jums about?”
“No, for we haven’t softly and silently vanished away. But would we notice it if we did? I must think it over. Are you a detective, too?”
“No, I-uh-I travel in elephants.”
“A fine profession. But not much for you here. We have giraffes-” He raised his voice above the music of the calliope and let his eyes rove around the carousel. “-camels, two zebras, plenty of horses, but no elephants. Be sure to see the Big Parade; there will be elephants.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it!”
“You musn’t. It will be the most amazing parade in all time, so long that it will never pass a given point and every mile choked with wonders more stupendous than the last. You’re sure you’re not the man I’m looking for?”
“I don’t think so. But see here-how would you go about finding a lady with a dog in this crowd?”