From the two booths were sold drinks and bloody brown hamburgers and cotton candy.
He had been hired as a machinist, but gradually the range of his duties widened. His coarse, bawling voice called out through the noise, and continually he was lounging from one place on the show grounds to another. Sweat stood out on his forehead and often his mustache was soaked with beer. On Saturday his job was to keep the people in order. His squat, hard body pushed through the crowd with savage energy. Only his eyes did not share the violence of the rest of him, Wide gazing beneath his massive scowling forehead, they had a withdrawn and distracted appearance.