TOD SLOAN 



Things went on until there was a very important 

 period of boyhood. There was a " Professor " A. L. 

 Talbot, a sort of aeronaut who went about the country 

 going up in his balloon and with all sorts of side 

 shows, including ringing the sticks and pocket knives. 

 He had booths for various things. He had one big 

 balloon on a dray drawn by a team of horses which I 

 always used to admire when they came into " Doc " 

 Callaway's yard. 



" Professor " Talbot saw more in me than others 

 had done. We had struck up an acquaintance some 

 time previously, and this time I went along with him. 

 We travelled around and made our own balloons, and 

 when the game got slack we had to hustle and earn 

 our board by making toy balloons for kids. It was 

 my business to go round and peddle them. I tell you 

 I was some salesman, and often think I could have 

 managed a department store if father had taken me 

 by the back of the neck and forced me into business. 



I shall never forget the first place we struck — 

 Legrange, Indiana. I was a mite walking beside the 

 hefty fellow that the " Professor " was, and a boy sang 

 out : " Hallo, Talbot, where did you get this one ? " 

 Certainly I must have looked a bit comic carrying a 

 big chunk of meat while Talbot had an armful of 

 bread. 



The "Professor" shouted back, "Don't you ask 

 sassy questions ; he can lick you anyway," and then he 

 looked towards me. But I didn't want to fight and 

 I was making myself look smaller than ever, when 

 Talbot said, " Look here, you, if you don't lick him I'll 

 lick you." So there I was on a hiding to nothing 

 anyway. Well, I sized up the other chap and saw he 

 wasn't much bigger than me. I went for him sharp 

 and, having been a bit of a wrestler among the boys 



12 



