PGCC Collection eBook: The Circus Boys In Dixie Land, Or Winning the Plaudits of the Sunny South, by Edgar B P Darlington
http://www.Gutenberg.us - Project Gutenberg Consortia Center Collection, a member of the World eBook Library, bringing the world's eBook collections together.
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or full complete details are online at: http://gutenberg.net/license.
Here are 3 of the more major items to consider:
- The eBooks on the PG sites are not 100% public domain, some of them are copyrighted and used by permission and thus you may charge for redistribution only via direct permission from the copyright holders.
- Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark [TM]. For any other purpose than to redistribute eBooks containing the entire Project Gutenberg file free of charge and with the headers intact, permission is required.
- The public domain status is per U.S. copyright law. This eBook is from the Project Gutenberg Consortium Center of the United States.
The mission of the Project Gutenberg Consortia Center is to provide a similar framework for the collection of eBook collections as does Project Gutenberg for single eBooks, operating under the practices, and general guidelines of Project Gutenberg. The major additional function of Project Gutenberg Consortia Center is to manage the addition of large collections of eBooks from other eBook creation and collection centers around the world.
The Circus Boys In Dixie Land
Or
Winning the Plaudits of the Sunny South
by Edgar B. P. Darlington
January, 2001 [eBook #2476]
PGCC Collection eBook: The Circus Boys In Dixie Land, Or
Winning the Plaudits of the Sunny South, by Edgar B P Darlington
eBook file: 03tcb10.htm or 03tcb10.pdf
Corrected EDITIONS, 03tcb11.htm.
Separate source VERSION, 03tcb10a.htm.
Prepared by Greg Berckes
The Circus Boys In Dixie Land
Or
Winning the Plaudits of the Sunny South
by Edgar B. P. Darlington
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I UNDER CANVAS AGAIN
II IN THEIR HOME TOWN
III THE CIRCUS MAKES A CALL
IV A FRIENDLY AUDIENCE
V TAKEN BY SURPRISE
VI IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY
VII SHIVERS AND HIS SHADOW
VIII A RIVAL IN THE FIELD
IX PHIL MAKES A DISCOVERY
X THE CIRCUS BOY IS RECOGNIZED
XI ON SULLY'S PRIVATE CAR
XII LOCKED IN THE LINEN CLOSET
XIII THROUGH RINGS OF FIRE
XIV A DASH FOR FREEDOM
XV OUTWITTING THE PURSUERS
XVI THE BATTLE OF THE ELEPHANTS
XVII MONKEYS IN THE AIR
XVIII TEDDY TAKES A DROP
XIX THE CIRCUS ON AN ISLAND
XX DISASTER BEFALLS THE FAT LADY
XXI ON A FLYING TRAPEZE
XXII IN A LIVELY BLOW-DOWN
XXIII THE LION HUNT
XXIV CONCLUSION
The Circus Boys in Dixie Land
CHAPTER I
UNDER CANVAS AGAIN
"I reckon the fellows will turn out to see us tomorrow
night, Teddy."
"I hope so, Phil. We'll show them that we are real circus
performers, won't we?"
Phil Forrest nodded happily.
"They know that already, I think. But we shall both feel proud
to perform in our home town again. They haven't seen us in the
ring since the day we first joined the show two years ago, and
then it was only a little performance."
"Remember the day I did a stunt in front of the circus billboard
back home?"
"And fell in the ditch, head first? I remember it," and
Phil Forrest laughed heartily.
"You and I weren't circus men then, were we?"
"No."
"But we are now."
"I guess we are," nodded Phil with emphasis. "Still, we have
something to learn yet. We are a couple of lucky boys, you and
I, Teddy Tucker. Had it not been for Mr. Sparling we might still
have been doing chores for our board in Edmeston."
"Instead, we are getting our envelopes with sixty dollars
apiece in them from the little red ticket wagon every Tuesday
morning, eh?"
"Just so."
"I never thought I'd be able to earn so much money as that in a
whole year," reflected Teddy.
"Nor I."
"Do you think we'll get any more 'raises' this season?"
"I haven't the least idea that we shall. You know our contracts
are signed for the season at sixty dollars a week. That surely
should be enough to satisfy us. We shall be able to save a whole
lot of money, this year; and, if we have good luck, in five years
more we'll be able to have a little show of our own."
Teddy agreed to this with a reflective nod.
"What kind of show?"
"Well, that remains to be seen," laughed Phil. "We shall be
lucky to have most any kind."
"Do you know what sort I'd like to have?"
"No. What kind?"
"Wild West show, a regular Buffalo Bill outfit, with wild
Indians, cowboys, bucking ponies and whoop! whoop! Hi-yi-yi!
You know?"
Teddy's eyes were glowing with excitement, while a dull red glow
showed beneath the tan on his face.
"I wouldn't get so excited about it," answered Phil,
highly amused.
"How'd you like that kind?"
"Not at all. It's too rough. Give me the circus every time,
with its life, its color, it's--oh, pshaw! What's the use
talking about it? Is there anything in the world more attractive
than those tents over there, with the flags of every nation
flying from center and quarter poles? Is there, Teddy?"
"Well, no; I guess that's right."
For a moment the lads were silent. They were sitting beneath a
spreading maple tree off, on the circus lot, a few rods from
where the tents were being erected. A gentle breeze was stirring
the flags, billowing the white canvas of the tents in slow,
undulating waves.
"And to think that we belong to that! Do you know, sometimes I
think it is all a dream, and I'm afraid I shall suddenly wake up
to find myself back in Edmeston with Uncle Abner Adams driving me
out of the house with a stick."
Phil's face grew solemn as those unhappy days under his uncle's
roof came back to him in a flood of disquieting memories.
"Don't wake up, then," replied Teddy.
"I think perhaps we had better both wake up if we expect to get
any breakfast. The red flag is flying on the cook tent, which
means that breakfast is ready--in fact, breakfast must be pretty
well over by this time. First thing we know the blue flag will
suddenly appear in its place, and you and I will have to hustle
downtown for something to eat. It will be parade time pretty
soon, too."
"Breakfast? Say, Phil, I'd forgotten all about breakfast."
"There must be something wrong with you, then, if you forget when
it's meal time. As for myself, I have an appetite that would put
the Bengal tiger to shame. Come along."
"I'm with you. I'll show you whether my appetite has a reef in
it or not. I can eat more than the living skeleton can, and for
a thin man he's got anything stopped for appetite that I ever
saw," answered Teddy Tucker, scrambling to his feet and starting
for the cook tent.
Yes; Teddy Tucker and Phil Forrest are the same boys who, two
seasons before, began their circus career by joining a road show,
each in a humble capacity. It will be remembered how in "THE
CIRCUS BOYS ON THE FLYING RINGS," Teddy and Phil quickly rose to
be performers in the ring; how Phil, by his coolness and bravery,
saved the life of one of the performers at the imminent risk of
losing his own; how he saved the circus from a great pecuniary
loss, as well as distinguishing himself in various other ways.
In "THE CIRCUS BOYS ACROSS THE CONTINENT," the lads won new
laurels in their chosen career, when Phil became a bareback
rider, scoring a great hit at his first performance. It will be
recalled too, how the circus lad proved himself a real hero at
the wreck of the dining car, saving the lives of several persons,
finally being himself rescued by his companion, Teddy Tucker.
The Great Sparling Combined Shows had been on the road a week,
and by this time the various departments had gotten down to
fairly good working order, for, no matter how perfect such an
organization may be, it requires several days for the show people
to become used to working together. This extends even to the
canvasmen and roustabouts. After being a few weeks out they are
able to set the tents in from half an hour to an hour less time
than it takes during the first two or three stands of the season.
The next stand was to be Edmeston, the home of the two
Circus Boys. The lads were looking forward with keen
expectation to the moment when, clad in tights and spangles,
they would appear before their old school fellows in a
series of daring aerial flights.
The lads had spent the winter at school and now only one year
more was lacking to complete their course at the high school that
they had been attending between circus seasons, practicing in
their gymnasium after school hours.
"I'd like to invite all the boys of our class to come to the show
on passes. Do you suppose Mr. Sparling would let me?"
"I am afraid you had better not ask him," laughed Phil. "If you
were running a store do you think you would ask the crowd to come
over and help themselves to whatever they wanted?"
"Well, no-o."
"I thought not."
"But this is different."
"Not so much so. It would be giving away seats that could be
sold and that probably will be sold. No; I guess the boys had
better pay for their seats."
Teddy looked disappointed.
"Don't you think it is worth fifty cents to see us perform?"
queried Phil.
Teddy grinned broadly. The idea appealed to him in a new light.
"That's so. I guess it's worth more than fifty cents, at that.
I guess I don't care if they do have to pay, but I want them to
come to the show. What do you suppose I've been working two
years for, if it wasn't to show off before the fellows?
Haven't you?"
"No."
"What then?"
"Why, what do you think?"
"I don't think. It's too hot to think this morning."
"All right. Wait till someday when the weather is cooler; then
think the matter over," laughed Phil, hurrying on toward where
breakfast was waiting for them in the cook tent.
The lads were performing the same acts in which they had
appeared the previous season; that is, doing the flying rings
as a team, while Phil was a bareback rider and Teddy a tumbler.
Something had happened to the bucking mule that Teddy had
ridden for two seasons, and the manager had reluctantly been
forced to take this act from his bill.
"I'm thinking of getting another mule for you, if we can pick up
such a thing," said Mr. Sparling at breakfast that morning.
Teddy's eyes twinkled. He had in mind a surprise for the
manager, but was not quite ready to tell of his surprise yet.
All during the winter the lad had been working with a donkey that
he had picked up near Edmeston. His training of the animal had
been absolutely in secret, so that none of his school fellows,
save Phil, knew anything about it.
"All right," answered Teddy carelessly. "Wait till we get to
Edmeston and see what we can pick up there."
Mr. Sparling bent a shrewd, inquiring glance on the impassive
face of the Circus Boy. If he suspected Teddy had something in
mind that he was not giving voice to, Mr. Sparling did not
mention it. By this time he knew both boys well enough to form a
pretty clear idea when there was anything of a secret nature in
the wind.
"We'll never get another mule like Jumbo," he sighed.
"Hope not," answered Teddy shortly.
"Why not?"
" 'Cause, I don't want to break my neck this season, at least
not till after we've passed Edmeston and the fellows have
seen perform."
"So that's it, is it?"
"It is. I'm going to show myself tomorrow, and I don't care who
knows it."
"If I remember correctly you already have shown yourself pretty
thoroughly all the way across the continent."
"And helped fill the big top at the same time," added Teddy, with
a shrewd twinkle in his eyes.
Mr. Sparling laughed outright.
"I guess you have a sharp tongue this morning."
"I don't mean to have."
"It's all right. I accept your apology. What's this you say
about the fellows--whom do you mean?"
"He means our class at the high school," Phil informed
the showman.
"Oh, yes. How many are there in the class?"
"Let me see--how many are there, Teddy?"
"Thirty or forty, not counting the fat boy who's the anchor in
the tug of war team. If you count him there are five more."
"I presume they'll all be wanting to come to the show?"
questioned Mr. Sparling.
"Any fellow who doesn't come is no friend of mine."
"That's the way to talk. Always have the interest of the show in
mind, and you'll get along," smiled the owner.
"We-e-l-l," drawled the lad. "I wasn't just thinking about the
interest of the show. I was thinking more about what a figure
I'd be cutting before the boys."
Mr. Sparling laughed heartily.
"You are honest at any rate, Master Teddy. That's one thing
I like about you. When you tell me a thing I do not have to
go about asking others to make sure that you have told me
the truth."
"Why shouldn't I? I'm not afraid of you."
"No; that's the worst of it. I should like to see something you
really are afraid of."
"I know what he is afraid of," smiled Phil maliciously.
"What?" demanded Mr. Sparling.
"He is afraid of the woman snake charmer under the black top.
He's more afraid of her than he is of the snakes themselves.
Why, you couldn't get him to shake hands with her if you were
to offer him an extra year's salary. There she is over there
now, Teddy."
Teddy cast an apprehensive glance at the freak table, where
the freaks and side show performers were laughing and chatting
happily, the Lady Snake Charmer sandwiched in between the
Metal-faced Man and Jo-Jo the Dog-faced Wonder.
"I've been thinking of an idea, Mr. Sparling," said Teddy by way
of changing the subject.
Phil glanced at him apprehensively, for Teddy's ideas were
frequently attended by consequences of an unpleasant nature.
"Along the usual line young man?"
"Well, no."
"What is your idea?"
"I've been thinking that I should like to sign up as a dwarf for
the rest of the season and sit on the concert platform in the
menagerie tent. It wouldn't interfere with my other
performance," said Teddy in apparent seriousness.
Mr. Sparling leaned back, laughing heartily.
"Why, you are not a dwarf."
"No-o-o. But I might be."
"How tall are you?"
"A little more than five feet," answered the lad with a touch of
pride in his tone.
"You are almost a man. Why, Teddy, you are a full twenty inches
taller than the tallest dwarf in the show."
Teddy nodded.
"Don't you see you could not possibly be a`dwarf?"
"Oh, yes, I could. All the more reason why I could."
"What kind of a dwarf would you be, may I ask?"
"I could be the tallest dwarf on earth, couldn't I?" asked Teddy,
gazing at his employer innocently.
Everyone at the table broke out into a merry peal of laughter,
while Teddy Tucker eyed them sadly for a moment; then he too
added his laughter to theirs.
"If you were not already getting a pretty big salary for a kid,
I'd raise your salary for that," exploded Mr. Sparling.
"You can forget I'm getting so much, if you want to," suggested
Teddy humorously.
CHAPTER II
IN THEIR HOME TOWN
"Hey, Phil!"
"What is it, Teddy?"
"Wake up! We are in the old town again."
Phil Forrest pulled aside the curtain and peered out from his
berth into the railroad yards, the bright May sunshine flooding
the old familiar scenes at Edmeston. Far off he could just make
out the red brick chimney of his Uncle Abner's home.
What recollections it brought back to Phil Forrest--recollections
that went back still further to a sweet face and laughing eyes
his mother!
Phil dropped the curtain and lay face down in the pillow for
a moment.
"I say, Phil."
"What is it?" demanded the lad in a muffled voice.
"Guess who's out there?"
"I don't know."
"The gang's out there."
"Who?"
"The gang. The whole high school crowd."
"Oh!"
"They're looking for us. Lucky we're on the last section, for
if it was dark, we couldn't make much of a splurge getting off
the train. Aren't you going to get up?"
"Yes."
Phil slowly pulled himself from his berth, then began drawing on
his clothes. Teddy was already up and nearly dressed, full of
expectation of what was before him. For Phil there was something
that tinged his joy with sadness, though he could not make up his
mind why it should be so. His reverie was broken in upon by the
voice of Teddy Tucker.
"Come, hurry up!"
"I am all ready now," answered Phil. "Have you washed?"
"You bet. I always wash the first thing in the morning."
Together the Circus Boys stepped out on the platform.
There, lined up by the side of the track, were their
companions and school fellows waiting to welcome them.
The high school boys uttered a shout when they espied Phil
and Teddy.
"How'dy, fellows!" greeted Teddy, posing on the car platform for
a moment, that they might gaze upon him admiringly.
Phil was already on the ground, hurrying toward the boys with
both hands outstretched. A moment more and the two lads had been
grabbed by their schoolmates and literally overwhelmed, while a
crowd of villagers stood off against a pile of lumber, laughing
and calling out greetings to the Circus Boys.
Phil and Teddy, as soon as they were able to get away, hurried to
the circus lot for their breakfast. There they found a great
crowd of people whom they knew, and for a few minutes they were
kept busy shaking hands, after which the boys with faces wreathed
in smiles, proudly entered the cook tent. Teddy glanced up
quizzically when they got inside.
"Well I guess we're some, eh, Phil?"
"I guess so. I hope everything goes all right today. I should
die of mortification if anything were to happen to our acts.
You want to keep your mind right on your work today. Don't pay
any attention to the audience. Remember a whole lot of people
are coming to this show today just because they are interested
in you and me."
"I guess I know how to perform," sputtered Teddy.
"I haven't said you do not. I know you do, but I don't want you
to forget that you do."
"Look out for yourself. I'll take care of myself,"
growled Teddy.
"I'm going to."
Having finished their breakfast the boys started for the
village, to call on Mrs. Cahill, their guardian and the
custodian of their earnings. As they were leaving the
grounds, Phil paused suddenly.
"Look there," he said, pointing to Mr. Sparling's office tent.
"Well, if it isn't Billy Ford, the president of our class,"
breathed Teddy. "I didn't see him at the train when we came in
this morning; did you?"
"No. He wasn't there."
"Now, what do you suppose he is doing in Mr. Sparling's tent?"
"I haven't the least idea unless he is trying to find out where
we are. Hey, Billy!"
Billy Ford paused at the sound of the familiar call; then the
Circus Boys hurried toward him. Billy went suddenly red in the
face as if he were very much embarrassed.
"What you doing in there?" demanded Teddy.
"Why--why--perhaps I was trying to join the show,"
stammered Billy.
"We wouldn't have you. You and I couldn't travel in the
same show. They'd fire us both."
"Why?" questioned Billy, now regaining his presence of mind.
" 'Cause, between us we'd put the show out of business."
"I believe you would," nodded Phil.
"Where you going, boys?"
"Mrs. Cahill's."
"Then I'll walk down that way with you. What time do you get
through at night?"
"We finish our last act about ten o'clock," answered Phil.
"Why?"
"Oh, nothing much. I just wanted to know."
Phil shot a swift, suspicious glance at the schoolboy, but
Billy's face bore an expression as serene as the May morning
of that very day.
Mr. Sparling hailed the lads as they were leaving the lot.
"You may be excused from parade today, both of you. You no doubt
will want to spend all the time you can with your friends."
"Thank you," smiled Phil. "There's the finest man a fellow ever
worked for."
"Worked? Do you call performing in a circus work?"
"Well, at least it is a pretty good imitation of work, Billy."
"I used to think just like you do," added Teddy rather ruefully.
"Is it really work then?"
"Oh, no; it's just play. Come to the show and you will see
us play."
"By the way," inquired Phil, "the fellows are all coming this
afternoon, I suppose?"
"Yes, but not this afternoon."
"Evening?"
"Yes."
"That will be fine. We have a short run tonight, so the boss
will not be in any hurry to move the show. You'll see it all."
"Why, don't you always give it all?"
"No. Sometimes, when the weather is bad, or when we have a
long run before us, Mr. Sparling cuts some of the acts out
entirely, and shortens others. But, of course, the audience
doesn't know this."
"Is that so?" wondered the surprised Billy.
"Yes. Are you boys all going to sit together?"
"Yes. We'll be where we can see you. And the girls are going
to be there, too. I reckon the whole school will be on hand."
"How about Uncle Abner--will he go to the show, do you think?"
"I know where you'll find him," spoke up Teddy.
"Where?"
"You'll find him hiding behind the hen house watching the parade
go by. He won't dare show himself after the way the clowns had
fun with him when the show was here before."
"Poor Uncle Abner! I must go over and see him after we have
called on Mrs. Cahill."
Arriving at Mrs. Cahill's, they found her out in the yard,
arrayed in her best dress in honor of their coming, and it was
a joyful meeting between the three. In a short time, however,
Teddy grew restless and decided that he would wander about town
and call on his other friends.
"I'll tell you what let's do, Teddy," suggested Phil.
"What?"
"You come back before parade time and we three will sit on the
front door step and watch the parade go by, just as we used to
do before we went into the show business. I'll run over to see
Uncle Abner in the meantime, and we will both be back here by
half-past ten. The parade will not get along before then."
"Yes, do, boys," urged Mrs. Cahill. "I'll have a lunch for you
after the parade. You will like that, will you not?"
"I should say we shall," laughed Phil. "But, I had rather
thought you might like to eat with us under the circus tent."
"Oh, my, my! Eat with the circus?"
"Not with the animals, he doesn't mean," corrected Teddy.
"He means we should like to have you eat with we performers."
"Yes, with the performers," grinned Phil.
"Can I eat there with you just as well after the
afternoon performance?"
"Surely."
"Then we will have our noon meal here. I have some fresh
molasses cookies already baked for you."
"Cookies?" Teddy's eyes brightened.
"Yes; do you want some now?"
"I always want cookies. Never knew a time when I didn't. I want
'em when I'm awake, and I want 'em when I'm asleep."
He got a double handful in short order.
"Well, I'm off!" announced Teddy.
"How about the parade? Will you come back and see it from here?"
"Yes; I guess that would be some fun. I can make faces at the
other performers who have to work. Yes; I'll come back."
"Don't forget about the donkey," called Phil. "When are you
going to take him over to the horse tent?"
"I'm not going to give myself away by leading that fright through
the streets. I've fixed it with one of the hostlers to smuggle
him over to the stable tent," grinned Teddy.
"Taking him in this afternoon?"
"Not I. Saving that for a grand surprise tonight. What are you
going to do to surprise the fellows?"
"I hadn't thought. Nothing quite so sensational as your feat
will be, I guess," laughed Phil.
In the course of an hour both lads had returned to Mrs. Cahill's
humble home. But while they were away from the show grounds, the
owner of the show, without the knowledge of the lads, had paid a
visit to the principal of the school and was back on the lot in
time to head the parade when it finally started.
"Kinder wish I had gone in the parade," regretted Teddy.
"Why?"
"Good place to show off."
"You have a much better one."
"Where?"
"In the ring. Anybody can ride a horse in a parade, but not
everyone can perform on the flying rings and leap over elephants
to boot."
Teddy instinctively threw out his chest.
"You're right, at that. Hark!"
"Yes; they are coming. I can hear Billy English blow the
big bass horn. You could hear him over three counties, I
really believe."
Laughing and chatting, the boys settled themselves on Mrs.
Cahill's hospitable doorstep to await the arrival of the parade
which could be heard far off on the other side of the village.
Now and then the high, metallic notes of the calliope rose
above all the rest, bringing a glint of pride to the eyes of
Teddy Tucker.
"I just love that steam music machine."
"Well, I must say that I do not admire your taste," laughed Phil.
"It's the most hideous discord of noises I ever heard. I never
did like the steam piano, but a circus wouldn't be a circus
without it."
"Nope," agreed Teddy with emphasis.
Down the street a gorgeously colored rainbow slowly reached
around a bend and began straightening away toward the
Cahill home. The parade was approaching.
As the gay procession drew nearer the boys began to evince some
of the enthusiasm that they had known before they themselves had
become a part of the big show.
"Remember the parade two years ago, Phil?" asked Mrs. Cahill.
"I could not very well forget it. That was a red letter day in
my life, the day when I fell into the show business."
"And that wasn't all you fell in either," added Teddy.
"What else did I fall in?"
"In a ditch when you stopped the runaway pony."
Phil did not laugh. He was thinking.
"That was a lucky fall, too."
"Why?"
"Because it was the means of giving you and me our start in the
circus business."
"Hurrah! Here they come. Now see me make faces at them when
they go by," said Teddy.
The Cahill home was near the outskirts of the village, and as the
golden chariot of the band, glistening in the bright morning
sunlight, approached, the lads could not repress an exclamation
of delight.
"I used to think the band wagon was solid gold," breathed Teddy.
"When did you find out differently?"
"That day, two years ago, when I scraped off some of the gold
with my knife and found it was nothing but wood," grunted Teddy
in a disgusted tone.
"What is that band wagon trying to do?" demanded Phil suddenly.
"Guess they are going to turn around," said Teddy.
The six white horses attached to the band wagon slowly drew out
of the line just before reaching the Cahill home, and pointed
toward the roadside fence. The boys could not understand what
the move meant. An instant later the leaders straightened out
and began moving along the side of the road close to the fence.
They slowly drew up to the door yard, coming to a stop at the
far end of it.
"Wha--wha--" stammered Teddy.
"They are going to serenade us," cried Phil. "That's Mr.
Sparling all over. What do you think of that, Mrs. Cahill?
You never were serenaded by a circus band before, were you?"
"N-n-no," answered the widow, a little tremulously.
The band wagon drew up a few feet further, coming to a stop again
just to the left of the dooryard gate, so as not to interfere
with the party's view of the parade.
"There's Mr. Sparling," shouted Phil, as the owner in his
handsome carriage drawn by four black horses, came abreast
of the yard.
Both boys sprang up and cheered him in their enthusiasm, to which
the showman responded by taking off his hat, while the band
struck up "Yankee Doodle."
It was a glorious moment for the Circus Boys, and they were
even more surprised and gratified by what followed a few
moments later.
CHAPTER III
THE CIRCUS MAKES A CALL
While the band played, the clown wagon came to a halt and
the whole body of funny men sang a song in front of Mrs.
Cahill's house, while the widow and her two young guests
applauded enthusiastically.
As the clown's wagon drew on, a horse ridden by a young woman was
seen dashing straight at the dooryard fence, which it took in a
graceful leap, causing the Widow Cahill to gasp her amazement.
The rider was none other than Little Dimples, the star bareback
rider of the Sparling Shows, who had chosen this way to pay
homage to her young associates and to Mrs. Cahill as well.
It was an unusual procedure in a circus parade, but though it had
been arranged by Mr. Sparling out of the kindness of his heart,
he shrewdly reasoned that it would make good business for the
show as well. That the people lined up along the street agreed
with his reasoning was evidenced by their shouts of applause.
"Mrs. Cahill, this is our very good friend, Mrs. Robinson,
otherwise known as Little Dimples," announced Phil proudly.
Mrs. Cahill bowed and smiled, not the least bit embarrassed.
"You haven't introduced my pony, Phil. The pony is part of
little me, you know."
"I beg pardon, Mrs. Cahill; let me introduce to you Mrs.
Robinson's pony, Cinders, who, though he cannot talk, comes
pretty close to it," said Phil, with great dignity.
Cinders bowed and bowed, the bits rattling against his teeth
until it sounded to the little gathering as if he were trying
to chatter his pleasure at the introduction.
"Now, shake hands with Mrs. Cahill, Cinders," directed
Little Dimples.
Cinders extended a hoof, which Mrs. Cahill touched gingerly.
She was not used to shaking hands with horses. Teddy and Phil,
however, each grasped the pony's extended foot, giving it a good
shake, after which Phil thrust a lump of sugar into the waiting
lips of Cinders.
"Naughty boy!" chided Little Dimples, tapping the neck of her
mount with the little riding crop she carried. "You would spoil
him in no time. I must be going, now. I hope we shall see you
at the show this afternoon, Mrs. Cahill," smiled Dimples, her
face breaking out into dimples and smiles.
The widow nodded.
"This afternoon and tonight. She is going to dine with us under
the cook tent this afternoon," Phil informed the rider.
"That will be fine."
Dimples nodded, tossed her whip in the air and clucking to
Cinders, went bounding over the fence. A moment more and she
had taken her place in the line and was moving along with the
procession, bowing and smiling.
"That's what I call right fine," glowed Mrs. Cahill. "Did you
say that little thing was Mrs. Robinson?"
"Yes."
"Why, she looks like a young girl."
"That's what I thought when I first saw her. But she has a son
as old as I am."
"Land sakes!" wondered Mrs. Cahill. "You never can tell about
these circus folks, anyhow."
Phil laughed heartily, but Teddy was too much interested in what
was going on outside the fence to indulge in laughter. The band
was still playing as if its very existence depended upon keeping
up the noise, while the white horses attached to the band wagon
were frantically seeking to get their heads down for a nibble of
the fresh green grass at the side of the road.
"There come the bulls," called Teddy.
"Yes, I see them."
"The bulls?" wondered Mrs. Cahill. "I didn't know they had bulls
in the circus."
"That's what the show people call the elephants," laughed Phil.
"Teddy is talking show-talk now. We have a language of our own."
"I should say you do?" grumbled the widow.
"What's the bull in front got on his trunk, Phil?"
Phil shaded his eyes and gazed off down the street.
"That's my friend Emperor. I don't know what it is he
is carrying. That's queer. I never saw him carrying
anything in parade before, did you?"
"No."
For a moment both lads directed their attention to making out
what it was that Emperor was carrying along.
"It looks to me like a basket of flowers," finally decided Phil.
"Has somebody been handing him a bouquet," grunted Teddy.
"It certainly looks that way."
"Why, I really believe he is coming in here."
"Coming here--an elephant coming into my front yard? Mercy me!"
exclaimed Mrs. Cahill, starting up.
"Why, Mrs. Cahill, Emperor wouldn't hurt a little baby. I hope
he does come in. Sit still. Don't be afraid."
"He'll spoil my flower beds--he'll trample them all down and
after I've worked four weeks getting--"
"Yes; here he comes," exulted Phil.
At that moment Emperor, with his trainer, Mr. Kennedy, swung out
of line and entered the garden gate. Turning to the left they
headed directly across the lawn. The precious flower beds lay
right in his path.
"Oh, my flowers! They're ruined," moaned the widow.
"Watch him and you'll see," answered Phil, his face wreathed
in smiles.
She did, and her eyes opened wider when Emperor cautiously raised
one ponderous foot after another until he had stepped clear of
the first bed of flowers. The same thing happened when he got to
the second bed. Not even the imprint of his footfalls was left
on the fresh green grass of the lawn.
Mrs. Cahill's eyes were large and wondering. A sudden impulse
stirred her to spring up and flee into the house.
Phil, noting it, laid a restraining hand lightly, on her arm.
"Don't be afraid," he reassured. "Emperor will not harm you.
You see how careful he is of your lawn and your flower beds.
I think he is coming here for some purpose."
Emperor and his trainer came to a half right in front of the
porch, the elephant's little eyes fixed upon the slender form
of Phil Forrest.
"Good boy, Emperor!" breathed Phil. "Did somebody present a
basket of flowers to you?"
It was a big basket, and such a handsome collection of
flowers did it contain as to cause Mrs. Cahill to open her
eyes in wonder. A card was tied to the handle of the basket
with a big pink ribbon. Phil began to understand the meaning
of the scene, and he felt sure the name on the card was that
of Mrs. Cahill.
A low spoken command from the trainer, and Emperor cautiously got
down on his knees, keeping those small eyes on Phil Forrest all
the time.
"Mrs. Cahill, Emperor has been commissioned by the Great Sparling
Combined Shows to present a basket of flowers to you in the name
of Mr. Sparling himself, and the show people, too. He has
carried it all the way from the lot this morning," declared
Mr. Kennedy.
The people on the street were now pressing closer, in order
to see what was going to happen. Phil was smiling broadly,
while Teddy was hugging himself with delight at Mrs.
Cahill's nervousness.
"Emperor, give the flowers to the lady," commanded the trainer.
Slowly, the big elephant's trunk stretched out, extending the
basket toward her inch by inch, while the widow instinctively
shrank far back in her chair.
At last the trunk reached her.
"Take it," said Phil.
She grasped the basket with a muttered, "thank you."
"Say good-bye, Emperor," directed the trainer.
Emperor curled his trunk on high, coughed mightily, then rising
on his hind legs until he stood almost as high as the widow's
cottage, he uttered a wild, weird trumpeting that fairly shook
the house.
Mrs. Cahill, in her fright, suddenly started back, her chair
tipped over and she landed in a heap on the ground at the end
of the porch.
CHAPTER IV
A FRIENDLY AUDIENCE
The afternoon performance had passed without a hitch.
While there were many town people there the greater part
of the audience, which nearly filled the big tent, was
composed of visitors from the country.
Great applause greeted the performances of Phil Forrest and
Teddy Tucker, but the two Circus Boys were saving their best
efforts for the evening performance when all their friends
would be present.
Mrs. Cahill, after her tumble, had been picked up by the lads
who insisted that she shake the trunk of Emperor before he left
the lawn. And now that she had seen the afternoon show, taking
a motherly pride in the performance of her boys, as she proudly
called them, the kindhearted woman sat down to a meal in the
cook tent, which proved one of the most interesting experiences
of her life.
As the hour for the evening performance approached there was an
unusual bustle in the dressing tent. By this time the whole show
had taken a keen interest in the affairs of the Circus Boys, who
had been known to the performers--at least, to most of them--for
the past two years.
Teddy had paid sundry mysterious visits to the horse tent, and
held numerous confidential conversations with the equestrian
director, all of which was supposed to have been unknown to
Mr. Sparling, the owner of the show.
But, while Teddy was nursing his secret, Mr. Sparling also was
keeping one of his own, one which was to be a great surprise to
the two Circus Boys.
The first surprise was given when the clowns came out for their
first entry. Lining up in front of the reserved seats, where
the high school boys and girls sat, they sang a song in which
they brought in the names of every member of Phil's class.
This elicited roars of laughter from the spectators, while
the school boys and girls waved their crimson and white class
flags wildly.
The whole class was there as the guests of the management of
the show. This was one of Mr. Sparling's surprises, but not
the only one he was to give them that night.
Next came the leaping act, somersaulting from a springboard and
in the end jumping over the herd of elephants. Teddy was so
effectively disguised by his clown makeup that, for some time,
the class did not recognize him. When finally they did, through
some familiar gesture of his own, the boys and girls set up a
perfect howl of delight in which the audience joined with
enthusiastic applause, for Teddy, with all his clumsy ways,
was one of the best tumblers in the show. He had developed
marvelously since the close of the show the fall before.
Never had Teddy tumbled as he did that night. He took so many
chances that Mr. Sparling, who was on the side lines, shouted a
word of caution to him.
"You'll break your neck, if you're not careful."
In answer to the warning, Teddy took a long running start and
did a double turn in the air, over the backs of the elephants,
landing plump into the waiting arms of a bevy of painted clowns,
the spectators evincing their appreciation by shouting out
Teddy's name.
Teddy's chest swelled with pride as he waved his hand and shook
his head as if to say: "Oh, that's nothing! You ought to see me
when I'm really working."
The band played on and the show moved along with a merry medley
of daring deeds and furious fun from the clowns.
At last, in response to the command of the ringmaster's whistle,
the band ceased playing and silence fell over the tent as the
ringmaster raised his hand for silence.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "The next act will be a
bareback riding feat unexcelled in any show in the world.
In ring No. 1 the famous equestrienne, Little Dimples, will
entertain you with her Desperate, Daring Dips of Death that
defy imitation. In ring No. 2 you will recognize a fellow
townsman--a townsboy, I should say. It will not be necessary
for me to mention his name. Suffice it to say that, although
he has been riding for less than a year, he has already risen
to the enviable position of being one of the foremost bareback
riders of the sawdust arena. I think that's all I have to say.
Your friends will do the rest."
The ringmaster waved his hand to the band, which instantly blared
forth and to its music Phil Forrest tripped lightly down the
concourse, being obliged to go three-fourths of its length to
get to the ring where he was to perform.
His journey led him right past the grandstand seats where his
admiring school fellows were sitting, or rather standing. As a
matter of fact, every one of them had risen to his feet by this
time and was shouting out Phil's name.
As he drew nearer they began to chant, keeping time with his
footsteps and the music of the band:
"Phil, Phil--Phillip F! Rah, rah! Siss-boom-ah!"
The Circus Boy grinned happily and waved his whip at them as
he passed.
"I hope I won't make a fool of myself," he thought.
He had no intention of doing so. He had a few tricks that he was
going to show his friends, and incidentally surprise Mr. Sparling
himself, for Phil, who now owned his own ring horse, had been
practicing in secret all winter on the act that he was going to
attempt for the first time in public that evening.
Discarding his slippers and chalking the bottoms of his riding
pumps, Phil began his act by riding standing on the rump of
his mount, to get his equilibrium and his confidence at the
same time.
Then the lad began throwing himself into his work, which
increased in speed as the moments passed, until his supple,
slender body was flashing here and there on the back of the
handsome gray, causing the eyes of the spectators fairly to ache
in their efforts to keep track of him.
The people voiced their excitement by yells of approval and howls
of delight.
"My, but that boy can ride!" muttered Mr. Sparling, who had been
watching the act critically. "In fact, I should like to know
what he cannot do. If he had to do so, he could run this show
fully as well as can I--and perhaps better at that," added the
showman, with a grin.
Now the band struck up the music for the concluding number of
the act.
"I wonder what he has up his sleeve," mused Mr. Sparling
shrewdly, suspecting that Phil was about to try something he had
never done in the ring before. "I hope he won't take any long
chances, for I can't afford to have anything happen to my little
star performer."
As a matter of fact both Phil and Teddy Tucker had become star
performers, and were so featured on the circus bills, where
their pictures had been placed for this, their third season out.
The year before they had appeared on the small bills in the shop
windows, but now they had the satisfaction of seeing themselves
portrayed in life-size on the big boards.
Phil sent his ring horse forward at a lively gait, which grew
faster and faster, as he sat lightly on the animal's rump, urging
it along.
All at once he bounded to his feet, poised an instant, then threw
himself into a succession of handsprings until he resembled a
whirling pink and gold wheel.
This was a new act in the circus world, and such of the other
performers as were under the big top at the moment paused to
watch it.
No one was more surprised than Mr. Sparling himself. He knew
what a difficult feat it was that the Circus Boy had not only
essayed, but succeeded in doing. Phil kept it up at such length,
and with such stubborn persistence, that the owner of the show
feared lest the lad, in his dizziness might get a bad fall.
Doing a series of such rapid handsprings on the level ground is
calculated to make a performer's head swim. But how much more
difficult such an effort is on the slippery back of a moving
horse may well be imagined.
Finally, red of face, panting, breathless, Phil Forrest alighted
on his feet, well back on the ring horse's rump.
"Be ready to catch me," he gasped.
The ringmaster understood.
Phil urged his horse to a run about the sawdust arena.
"Now, what's that fool boy going to do?" wondered Mr. Sparling.
All at once Phil Forrest threw himself up into the air, his body
doubling like a ball as he did so.
One--two--three times he whirled about in his marvelous
backward somersault.
"Let go your tuck!" commanded the ringmaster, meaning that Phil
was to release the grip of his hands which were holding his legs
doubled close against his body.
The lad quickly straightened up, spreading his arms to steady
himself in his descent. Fortunately he was dropping feet first,
due to his instant obedience of the ringmaster's order.
Perhaps that alone saved the Circus Boy from breaking his neck,
for so dizzy was he that he was unable to tell whether he was
dropping feet or head first.
He alighted on his feet and the ringmaster caught him deftly.
"Stand steady a minute, till you get your bearings, Phil."
Phil needed that moment to steady himself, for the big top seemed
to be whirling about on a pivot.
Now he began dimly to hear the thunders of applause that greeted
his really wonderful performance.
"Can you stand alone now?"
"I think so," came the faint reply that was instantly drowned in
the great uproar.
But the lad wavered a little after the ringmaster had released
his grip. Steadying himself quickly, Phil pulled on his slippers
and walked slowly from the ring, dizzy, but happy with the shouts
of his school fellows ringing in his ears.
He heard the voice of Mr. Sparling close by him, saying:
"Great, great, my boy! Finest exhibition ever seen in a
sawdust ring!"
Phil tripped proudly past the grandstand seats, where the boys
were howling like a pack of wild Indians.
But just then something else occurred to attract their attention.
A donkey, long-eared, long-haired, dirty and unkempt trotted into
the ring and spun about like a top for a full minute.
On the ludicrous-looking beast's back sat a boy in the makeup of
a blackface clown. In his mouth was a harmonica, that he played
lustily, as he sat facing to the rear with his back toward the
donkey's head.
At that moment something else was observable. Instead of
traveling head first, as any self-respecting donkey is supposed
to do, this particular donkey was walking backwards. Yes, he was
galloping backwards.
The instant the audience noted that, their cheers changed to
howls of delight. The clown was Teddy Tucker, and the donkey
was the surprise he had been storing up for this very occasion.
While the audience laughed and jeered, Mr. Sparling looked on in
surprise not unmixed with amazement. Here was the very thing he
had been looking for, but had been unable thus far to find.
"It's a winner!" he cried, as Teddy Tucker and his strange mount
ambled by him in a gait such as never had been seen in a sawdust
arena before.
Right around the arena traveled boy and donkey. When opposite
the grandstand seats, where the high school students were
sitting, Teddy nearly drove them wild by drawing out the class
colors which he had been hiding under his coat.
In a shrill, high-pitched voice he gave utterance to the high
school class yell, which was instantly taken up by the class and
eventually by the spectators themselves, until all seemed near
the verge of hysterics.
Phil, instead of proceeding directly to the dressing tent, had
waited by the bandstand to watch the new act of his companion,
and he, with others of the performers, was laughing heartily as
he leaned against the bandstand. Teddy knew he made a funny
appearance, but just how ludicrous he could have little idea.
"Whose donkey is that?" demanded Mr. Sparling, hurrying up just
as Phil and the other circus folks were congratulating the lad.
"He's mine," rejoined Teddy.
"Where did you get him?"
"I bought him. Think I stole him? Been training him all winter.
Like him?"
"It's a great comedy act. He's engaged. Turn him over to the
superintendent of ring stock and tell him to make a place on the
train for the brute."
"I've already done so."
"Oh, you have, eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"Anybody would think you owned this show, the way you give orders
around here."
"I'm willing, and so's the donkey," grinned Teddy.
"For what---to go on at every performance?"
"No; to own the show. We're going on right along, anyway.
Gid-dap!"
"Hopeless!" muttered Sparling, shaking his head.
CHAPTER V
TAKEN BY SURPRISE
"Hurry up, Teddy!"
"What for?"
"Billy Ford is waiting for us out in the paddock."
"Oh, is that so? What does he want?"
"He's going to walk to the train with us, he says."
"That's good. I wonder if any of the other fellows will
be along?"
"No; I think not. I asked him if he were alone, and he said
he was."
"We might give him a feed in the accommodation car,"
suggested Teddy.
"No; you and I are going to bed right quick after we get back to
the train. I, for one, am tired after this strenuous day."
"It has been lively, hasn't it?"
"It has," answered Phil, laying special emphasis on the "has."
"Say, young man, where did you get that freak donkey?" demanded
Mr. Miaco, the head clown, approaching at that moment.
"Drew him in a prize package of chewing gum," called one of
the performers.
"Where did you get him, anyway?" called another.
"You seem to know all about it, so what's the use of my
telling you?" retorted Teddy.
The lads had finished their work for the day, and nothing now
remained to be done except to disrobe, take a quick scrub down
after their severe exercise, don their clothes and take their
time in getting to the train.
There was plenty of time for this, as their sleeper being on the
third and last section of the circus train, they would not leave
for nearly two hours yet, at the earliest.
The baths of the Circus Boys were more severe than pleasant, and
in taking them each one had to perform a service for the other.
The bath consisted of the performer's standing still while his
companion emptied several buckets of cold water over him,
following it with a liberal smearing of soap and then some more
pailfuls of water.
Once a week, over Sunday, the performers were allowed to sleep
at hotels, providing the circus did not have an all day run.
At such times they were able to enjoy the luxury of a hot bath,
but at other times it was cold water--sometimes colder and more
chilling than at others. Yet, they thrived under it, growing
strong and healthy.
Having once more gotten into their street clothes, refreshed and
rested to a degree that would be scarcely believed after their
severe exercise, both lads repaired to the paddock, where they
found the president of the high school class waiting for them,
interestedly watching the scene of life and color always
observable in the circus paddock, a canvas walled enclosure where
performers and ring stock await the call to enter the ring.
"Here we are, Billy," greeted Phil.
"Oh, so quick?" Billy started guiltily.
"That's the way we always do things," answered Teddy. "Have to
do things on the jump, we circus men do."
"So I see. What are you going to do now?"
"Going to the car, of course. We always go right to the sleeper
after the show. Why?"
"Oh, nothing special. I thought maybe you might like to go
downtown and visit with the boys for a while."
"I should like to do so very much, but I do not think it will
be best. We make it a rule to go straight home, as we call our
car, and I've never broken over that rule yet, Billy."
"Very well, Phil; then I will walk along with you. I guess you
know the way."
"That's more than I do every night," laughed Phil. "It's a
case of getting lost 'most every night, especially in the big
towns, for the cars seldom are found at night where we left
them in the morning."
"I shouldn't like that," objected Billy.
"We don't. But we can't help ourselves."
"Here, where you going?" demanded Teddy suddenly.
"Taking the path across the lot here. It is much shorter,"
replied Billy.
"Oh, all right. I had forgotten about the path."
"I should think you would--"
Phil got no further in his remark. He was interrupted by
President Billy, crying loudly:
"Here we are!"
Instantly fifteen or twenty shadowy forms sprang up from the
grass and hurled themselves upon the Circus Boys.
Taken by surprise as they were, Phil and Teddy gave a good
account of themselves. Shadow after shadow went down under a
good stiff punch, for it must be remembered that both boys were
able to make a handsome living because of the possession of well
trained muscles.
Yet no two men could have stood up for long under the onslaught,
and Phil and Teddy very soon went down with their assailants
piling on top of them.
Up to this point not a word had been spoken, nor did either of
the lads have time to speculate as to who their enemies might be.
"Here, you fellow, get off my neck!" howled Teddy. "Let me get
up and I'll clean up the whole bunch of you two at a time, if
you'll give me half a chance."
No reply was made to this.
"Get the blankets!" commanded a deep voice.
A moment later the two lads were quickly wound in the folds of a
pair of large horse blankets. They were then picked up, none too
gently and borne off to the other side of the field, kicking and
squirming in their efforts to escape.
Their captors, however, did not for an instant relax their hold,
and further struggle proved vain.
Reaching the other side of the field, the Circus Boys were dumped
into a wagon. This they knew because they heard the driver give
the directions regarding letting down the tail board.
Placing their burdens on the wagon floor, the captors very coolly
sat down on the boys. Then the wagon started. Never in the old
days of the road show, when Phil and Teddy were riding and
sleeping in a springless canvas wagon, had they experienced a
rougher ride. It seemed as if every stone in the county had been
placed in the path of the rickety old wagon in which they were
being spirited away.
About this time Phil Forrest began to wonder. He could not
understand the meaning of the attack. And what had become of
President Billy? He knew Teddy was lying beside him, but Billy
must have made his escape. If so Billy would give the alarm, and
the show people would quickly overtake the kidnappers.
No such interruption occurred, however, rather greatly to Phil's
surprise, so he lay still and waited for a favorable moment when
he might take a hand in the affair himself.
Teddy's voice could be heard under his blanket, in muffled, angry
protestations, his feet now and then beating a tattoo on the
wagon bottom. Such an act brought down the weight of his captors
upon the offending feet each time.
Once Teddy managed to work the covering from his mouth for one
brief instant.
"Hey, Rube!" he howled lustily, this being the signal known
to circus men the world over, when one or more of them is
in trouble.
But there were no strong-armed circus men to come to
their rescue. All the circus laborers were working off on
the lot striking the tents and loading the show on the wagons.
Teddy was given no further opportunity to protest.
After a journey of what seemed hours, and during which,
Phil Forrest had lost all sense of direction, the wagon
came to a halt.
He could hear the hum of conversation as his captors consulted in
low tones. Then all at once he found himself jerked from the
wagon and plumped down on the ground.
Teddy went through a similar experience, excepting that his fall
was considerably more severe. Teddy struck the ground with a
jolt that made him utter a loud "Wow!"
He was on his feet in a twinkling, only to find himself pounced
upon and borne heavily to earth again.
Fuming and threatening, Teddy was roughly picked up, Phil being
served likewise.
The boys felt themselves being borne up a short flight of steps
and down a long hall. Then came more steps. This time it was a
long flight of stairs, the kidnappers getting their burdens up
this with evident effort.
"I hope they don't drop me, now," thought Phil. "I shall
surely roll all the way to the bottom, though it might enable
me to get away."
Finally an upper floor was reached. The captors bore their
burdens in and placed them on the floor. The Circus Boys
realized, at the same instant, that the vigilance of the
kidnappers had been relaxed for the second.
Throwing, the blankets off Phil and Teddy leaped to their feet
ready for flight. As they did so they met with the surprise of
their lives.
CHAPTER VI
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY
Teddy had squared off, and was landing sledge-hammer blows on the
empty air.
Phil, too, had squared himself prepared to give battle, but his
hands fell sharply to his sides.
"Wha--what--" he gasped.
"Come on!" bellowed Teddy.
They were in a large room, brilliantly lighted, and about them,
in a semi-circle, was a line of laughing faces. From them the
eyes of the astonished Circus Boys wandered to a long table on
which were flowers and plenty of good things to eat.
"Why, it's our old recitation room in the high school, Teddy,"
breathed Phil.
"I don't care what it is. I can lick the whole outfit!" shouted
Teddy Tucker advancing belligerently.
"It's the boys, Teddy, don't you understand?" laughed Phil.
"Well, of all the ways of inviting a fellow to dinner, this beats
anything I ever saw before."
"How does it feel to be kidnaped?" grinned President Billy,
extending his hand.
"So you are the young gentleman who put up this job on us,
are you?" demanded Phil.
"I guess I am one of them. But I wasn't unlucky enough to get a
black eye, like Walter over there. You gave that to him, Teddy.
My, what a punch you have!" laughed Billy.
"That isn't a circumstance to what's coming to you. I'll wait
till I get back to school, next fall, and then I'll take it out
of you. You'll have something coming to you all summer. Did I
paint Walt's eye that way?"
"You did. It's up to you to apologize to him now."
"Apologize?"
"Yes; that's what I said."
"I like that! I have a good notion to apologize by painting the
other eye the same color," growled Teddy.
"But, what does all this mean?" urged Phil, looking about him,
still a bit dazed.
"It means that we fellows wanted to give you and Teddy a
little supper. It isn't much, but there are sandwiches and
cookies and pie and lots of other stuff that you'll like."
"Cookies?" interrupted Teddy, his face relaxing into a
half smile.
"Yes."
"We knew you wouldn't come, so we planned to kidnap you both
and bring you over here by main force. After we eat supper
we'll have a little entertainment among ourselves. Walter is
going to sing--"
"What's that? Walt going to sing?" demanded Teddy, halting on
his way to inspect the table.
"Yes."
"Then I'm going, right now!" answered the lad, turning sharply
and heading for the door.
"Why, why--"
"I've heard him sing before. Good night!"
"Come back here," laughed Phil, grabbing his companion
by the shoulder. "We can stand even Walter's singing if
he can. But really, fellows, we can't stay more than
fifteen or twenty minutes."
"Why not?"
"Because we must get to the train. Were we to be left we might
come in for a fine. Mr. Sparling is very strict. He expects
everybody to live up to the rules. I'm sorry, but--"
"It's all fixed, Phil. No need to worry," President Billy
informed him.
"Fixed? What do you mean?"
"With Mr. Sparling."
"You--you told him?"
"Yes."
"See here, Billy Ford," interrupted Teddy.
"What is it, Teddy?"
"Did you say Boss Sparling was in on this little kidnaping game--
did he know you were going to raise roughhouse with--with us?"
"I--I guess he did," admitted President Billy.
"I'll settle with him tomorrow," nodded Teddy, swelling out
his chest.
"Did you tell him you were going to have a supper up here?"
asked Phil.
"He knows all about it. You need not worry about the train going
away without you. Mr. Sparling said you had a short run tonight,
and that the last section would not pull out until three o'clock
in the morning. That's honest Injun, Phil."
"Well, if that is the case, then we'll stay."
"Hurrah for the Circus Boys!" shouted the class, making a rush
for seats at the table.
"Ready for the coffee," announced the President.
Who should come in at that moment, with a steaming coffeepot, but
the Widow Cahill.
"Are you in this, too?" Teddy demanded.
"I am afraid I am," laughed Mrs. Cahill. "The boys needed some
grown-ups to help them out."
"You're no friend of mine, then. I'll--"
"But you are going to have some of those molasses cookies that I
told you I baked for you--"
"Cookies? Where?" exclaimed Teddy, forgetting his
anger instantly.
"Help yourself. There they are."
"It isn't much of a spread," apologized the president. "We have
a little of everything and not much of anything--"
"And a good deal of nothing," added Teddy humorously.
"Everybody eat!" ordered Mrs. Cahill.
They did. Thirty boys with boys' appetites made the home-cooked
spread disappear with marvelous quickness. Each had brought
something from home, and Mrs. Cahill, whom they had taken into
their confidence two days before the Sparling Shows reached
town, had furnished the rest. Everything was cold except the
coffee, but the feasters gave no thought to that. It was food,
and good wholesome food at that, and the lads were doing full
justice to it.
"Say, Phil, that was a wonderful act of yours," nodded
President Billy, while the admiring gaze of the class was
fixed on Phil Forrest.
"I wish I might learn to do that," said Walter.
"You? You couldn't ride a wooden rocking horse without falling
off and getting a black eye," jeered Teddy, at which there was a
shout of laughter.
"Can you?" cut in Phil.
"I can ride anything from a giraffe to a kangaroo--that is, until
I fall off," Teddy added in a lower voice. "I rode a greased pig
at a country fair once. Anybody who can do that, can sit on a
giraffe's neck without slipping off."
"Where was that?" questioned a voice. "I never heard of your
riding a greased pig around these parts."
"I guess that must have been before you were born," retorted
Teddy witheringly.
"Say, Phil," persisted Walter, this time in a confidential tone.
"Yes?"
"Do you suppose you could get me a job in the circus?"
"I don't know about that, Walt. What do you think you could do?"
"Well, I can do a cartwheel and--"
"Oh, fudge!" interrupted Teddy.
"That's more than Tucker could do when he joined the show.
Do you know what he did, first of all?" said Phil.
"No; what did he do?" chorused the boys.
"He poured coffee in the cook tent for the thirsty roustabouts.
That's the way he began his circus career."
"I didn't do it more than a day or two," Tucker explained,
rather lamely.
"But you did it!" jeered Walter.
"Then his next achievement was riding the educated mule. I guess
you boys never saw him do that."
"Not until tonight."
"This is different. The other was a bucking mule, and Teddy made
a hit from the first time he entered the ring on Jumbo. He hit
pretty much everything in the show, including the owner himself."
Phil leaned back and laughed heartily at the memory of his
companion's exhibition at this, his first appearance in a circus
ring as a performer.
"No, Walt, I wouldn't advise you to join. Some people are
cut out for the circus life. They never would succeed at
anything else. Teddy and myself for instance. Besides, your
people never would consent to it. You will be a lawyer, or
something great, some of these days, while we shall be cutting
up capers in the circus ring at so much per caper. It's a
wonderful life but you keep out of it," was Phil Forrest's
somewhat illogical advice.
"How far are you going this year?" asked one of the boys.
"I can't say. I understand we are going south--to Dixie Land for
the last half of the season. I think we are headed for Canada,
just now, swinging around the circuit as it were. Isn't it about
time we were getting back to the train, Teddy?"
"No, I guess not. I haven't eaten up all the cookies yet.
Please pass the cookies, you fellow up there at the head of
the table."
"We shall have our little entertainment before you fellows go to
your sleeper. We reckon Phil Forrest and Teddy Tucker ought to
do some stunts for us. Isn't that so?" asked President Billy.
"Yes," shouted the boys.
"What, after a meal like that? I couldn't think of it,"
laughed Phil. "Never perform on a full stomach unless you want
to take chances. It might do you up for good."
"Well, it won't hurt Teddy to be funny. Do something
funny, Teddy."
Teddy looked up soulfully as he munched a cookie.
"Costs money to see me act funny," he said.
"Go on; go on!" urged the boys. "You never showed us any of your
tricks except what you did in the ring this evening."
"Do you know, it's a funny thing, but I never can be funny
unless there is a crop of new-mown sawdust under my feet,"
remarked Teddy.
"Nothing very funny about that!" growled a voice at the further
end of the table.
Teddy fixed him with a reproving eye.
"Very well, but you'll be sorry. I will now present to you the
giddiest, gladdest, gayest, grandest, gyrating, glamorous and
glittering galaxy--as the press agent says--that ever happened."
Teddy, who sat at the extreme end of the table, placed both hands
carelessly on the table, then drew his body up by slow degrees,
until a moment later as his body seemed to unfold, he was doing
a hand stand right on the end of the supper table.
The boys shouted with delight and Teddy kicked his feet in
the air.
"Go on! Don't stop," urged the lads.
"You'll be wishing I had stopped before I began," retorted the
lad, starting to walk on his hands right down the center of
the table.
There were dishes in the way, but this did not disturb Tucker in
the least. He merely pushed them aside, some rolling off on the
floor and breaking, others falling into the laps of the boys.
"Here, here, what are you doing?" called Phil.
"This is what I call the topsy-turvy walk."
Teddy paused when halfway down the table, to let his mouth down
to the table, where he had espied another cookie. When he pulled
himself up, the cookie was between his lips, and the boys roared
at the ludicrous sight.
Then, the lad who was walking on his hands, continued right on.
He was nearing the foot of the table when something occurred that
changed the current of their thoughts, sending the heart of every
boy pounding in his throat.
Crash!
It seemed as if the roof had been suddenly hurled down upon
their heads.
Teddy instantly fell off the table, tumbling into the laps of two
of the boys, the three going down to the floor in a heap, finally
rolling under the table. The other boys sprang to their feet in
sudden alarm.
"It's a band," cried Phil. "Don't be afraid."
Then the circus band, that had been waiting in the hall just
outside the dining place, marched in with horns blaring, drums
beating, and took up their position at the far end of the room.
"It's the circus band," cried the lads, now recovering from
their fright. "How did they get here?"
By this time Teddy, his face red and resentful, was poking his
head from beneath the table.
"Hey, Rube!" he shouted, then ducked back again.
Phil understood instantly that this was one of
Mr. Sparling's surprises. But there were still other surprises
to come. No sooner had the band taken up its position than there
was again a commotion out in the hall. The lads opened their
eyes wide when a troop of painted clowns came trotting in,
followed by half a dozen acrobats, all in ring costume. A mat
was quickly spread by some attendants that Mr. Sparling had sent.
Then began the merriest hodge-podge of acrobatic nonsense that
the high school boys ever had seen. The clowns, entering into
the spirit of the moment, grew wonderfully funny. They sang
songs and told stories, while the acrobats hurled themselves into
a mad whirl of somersaults, cartwheels and Wild Dervish throws.
Thus far the boys were too amazed to speak.
All at once some of the performers began to form a pyramid, one
standing on the other's shoulders.
"Here, I'm going to be the top-mounter!" cried Teddy, taking
a running start and beginning to clamber up the human column.
He was assisted up and up until he was standing at the top,
his head almost touching the high ceiling in the room.
"Speech!" howled the delighted high school boys.
"Fellow citizens," began Teddy.
Just then the human pyramid toppled over and Teddy had to leap to
save himself, striking the mat, doing a rolling tumble and coming
up on his feet.
When all the fun making in the hall was over one surprise proved
yet to be in the reserve. The high school boys of Edmeston
turned out with lighted torches. Forming in column of fours they
escorted Phil and Teddy to their car on the circus train. It was
not many minutes later that the boys, tired out but happy,
tumbled into their berths, where they were asleep immediately,
carrying on, even in their dreams, the joyous scenes through
which they had just passed.
CHAPTER VII
SHIVERS AND HIS SHADOW
Half a hundred motley fools came trooping into the sawdust arena,
their voices raised in song and shout.
Mud clown, character clown, harlequin, fat boy, jester, funny
rustic, vied with each other in mirth-provoking antics so aptly
described by the circus press agent as a "merry-hodgepodge of
fun-provoking, acrobatic idiosyncrasies of an amazing character."
And so they were.
Children screamed with delight, while their elders smiled a
dignified approval of the grotesque, painted throng that trooped
gayly down the uneven course.
The music of the circus band stopped short. Then came a fanfare
of trumpets, and far down the line from behind the crimson
curtains near to the bandstand, a dignified figure all in white,
emerged and tripped along the grassy way, halting now and then
to gaze fixedly at some imaginary object just above the heads of
those on the upper row of seats, the very drollery of which gaze
was irresistible.
Shivers, Prince of Clowns, the greatest fun maker and character
clown of all that mad, painted throng, had made his entry.
Shivers had joined out with the Sparling show for the first time
that season. He was known as the leading clown in the business.
>From the first, Shivers had taken a liking to Teddy Tucker, and
shortly after leaving Edmeston he had conceived the idea of
making a full-fledged clown of Teddy. The permission of the
manager had been obtained and this was Teddy's first appearance
as assistant to Shivers. Teddy was considerably smaller,
of course, and made up as the exact counterpart of Shivers
trailing along after him like a shadow, the lad made a most
amusing appearance. Every move that the clown made, Teddy
mimicked as the two minced along down the concourse.
Shivers was a shining model of the clown both in method
and makeup. His stiffly starched bulging trousers disappeared
under the stiff ruffles of a three-quarter waist. A broad
turnover collar of the nurse style was set off with a large bow
of bright red ribbon, and a baker's cap, perched jauntily on one
side of the head, completed his merry makeup. This too describes
Teddy Tucker's outfit.
"Now, be funny!" directed Shivers.
"I can't help but be if I act like you," retorted Teddy, whereat
the clown grinned.
Pausing before the dollar seats the clown pulled out the
ruffles of his snow-white waist, poising with crossed legs on
one toe. Teddy did the same, and a great roar was the reward
of their drollery.
"La, la! La, la, la!" hummed the clown, stumbling over a rope
to the keen delight of those in the reserved seats--the same
rope, by the way, that he had been falling over twice each day
for the past month. Then he blew a kiss to a fragile slip of a
girl who was perched on a trapeze bar far up toward the dome of
the great tent.
Zoraya, for that was her name, smiled down, gracefully swung off
into space, soaring lightly into the strong, sure arms of her
working mate.
Just the suspicion of an approving smile lighted up the face
of the clown for the moment, for he dearly loved this little
motherless daughter of his, who had been his care since she
was a child.
Shivers had taught her all she knew, and Zoraya was the
acknowledged queen of the lofty tumblers.
But the clown half unconsciously caught his breath as the lithe
form of Zoraya shot over the trapeze bar, described a graceful
"two-and-a-half" in the air, and, shooting downward, hit the net
with a resounding smack that caused the spectators to catch their
breath sharply.
The clown shook a warning head at her, and Teddy so far forgot
himself as to stub his toe and measure his length upon
the ground.
"Don't do it, Bright Eyes!" cautioned Shivers, shaking his head
warningly at the girl, as the child bounced up from the impact,
kicking her little feet together and turning a somersault on the
swaying net. "It isn't in your contract. Folks sometimes break
their necks trying kinkers that's not in the writings."
Her answer was a merry, mocking laugh, and Zoraya ran lightly
up a rope ladder to the platform where she balanced easily for
another flight.
"My, I wish I could do stunts like that!" breathed Teddy.
"Just like a bird. La, la, la! La, la, la!" sang the painted
clown, turning a handspring and pivoting on his head for a grand,
spectacular finish.
His refined comedy, so pleasing to the occupants of the reserved
seats, had now been changed to loud, uproarious buffoonery as he
bowed before the blue, fifty cent seats where his auditors were
massed on boards reaching from the top of the side wall clear
down to the edge of the arena.
He took liberties with their hats, passed familiar criticisms on
their families and told them all about the other performers in
the ring, arousing the noisy appreciation of the spectators.
Teddy was put to his wits end to keep up with this rapid-fire
clowning, and the perspiration was already streaking the powder
on his face.
All at once, above the din and the applause, the ears of
the clown caught a sound different from the others--a scream
of alarm. Shivers had heard such a cry many times before during
his twenty years in the sawdust ring, and, as he expressed it,
the sound always gave him "crinkles up and down his spine."
There was no need to start and look about for the cause.
He understood that there had been an accident. But the clown
looked straight ahead and went on with his work. He knew, by
the strains of the music, exactly what Zoraya should be doing at
the moment when the cry came--that her supple body was flashing
through the air in a "passing leap," one of the feats that
always drew such great applause, even if it were more
spectacular than dangerous.
"No, it can't be Zoraya!" he muttered. But the clown cast one
nervous, hesitating glance up there where her troupe was working
in the air. The cold sweat stood out upon him. Zoraya was not
with them. His eyes sought the net. It was empty. He saw a
figure clad in pink, white and gold shooting right through
the net.
Then, too, he saw something else. A slender, pink-clad figure
was darting under the net with outstretched arms.
"It's Phil. He's going to catch her," shouted Teddy jubilantly.
But Phil went down under the impact of the heavy blow as Zoraya
struck him. A throng of ring attendants gathered about them, and
in a moment the two forms were picked up and borne quickly from
the ring.
Once, years before, Shivers had been through an earthquake in
South America, when things about him were topsy-turvy, when the
circus tent came tumbling down about him, and ring curbs went up
into the air in most bewildering fashion.
Now, that same sensation was upon him again, and quarter poles
seemed to dance before his eyes like giddy marionettes, while
the long rows of blue seats appeared to be tilted up at a
dangerous angle. Then slowly the clown's bewilderment merged
into keen understanding, but his painted face reflected none of
the anguish that was gripping at his heart strings.
Teddy brushed a hand across his own eyes.
"I--I guess they're both killed," he said falteringly.
Just then the voice of the head clown broke out in the old
Netherlands harvest song:
"Yanker didel doodle down,
Didel, dudel lanter,
Yankee viver, voover vown,
Botermilk und tanther."
"Poor Zoraya!" muttered the clown under cover of the applause
that greeted his vocal effort. And his associates looked down
from their perches high in the air, gazing in wonder upon the
clown who was bowing so low that, each time he did so, he was
obliged to turn a somersault to gain his equilibrium.
"Dangerously hurt--went through the net head first. Hurry!"
panted a belated clown, running by to his station.
"Boy hurt, too."
"Told you so!" grumbled Teddy.
But Shivers did not flinch, and, as he neared the reserved seats
on the grandstand, his voice again rang out, this time in a
variation of the ancient harvest song:
"Yankee doodle, keep it up,
Yankee doodle, dandy;
Mind the music and the step,
And with your feet be handy."
Never had the show people seen Shivers so uproariously funny.
Under the spell of his merriment, the audience quickly forgot the
tragic scene that they had just witnessed.
Teddy, however, noticed little dark trenches that had ploughed
their courses down through the makeup of the clown's cheeks from
his eyes. Teddy knew that tears had caused those furrows.
As Shivers looked down the long, grassy stretch ahead of him,
that he still must cover before his act would be finished, the
goal seemed far away. He flashed one longing glance toward the
crimson curtains that shut off the view of the paddock and the
dressing tents, vaguely wondering what lay beyond for him and for
little Zoraya. Then Shivers set his jaws hard, plunging into a
mad whirl of handsprings and somersaults, each of which sent him
nearer to the end of that seemingly endless way.
"Here, here, what are you trying to do?" gasped Tucker, unable to
keep up with the clown's rapid progress by doing the same things.
Teddy solved the problem by running. He could keep up in no
other way.
At last Shivers reached the end. With a mighty leap he sprang
for the paddock and the dressing tent. And how he did run!
Such sprinting never had been seen in the big show, even between
man and horse in the act following the Roman chariot races.
Once a rope caught Shivers' toes. He fell forward, but cleverly
landed on his shoulders and the back of his neck, bouncing up
like a rubber man and plunging on.
Shivers had darted through the crimson curtain by the time
Teddy Tucker had succeeded in picking himself up from having
fallen over the same rope.
Stretched out on a piece of canvas in the dressing tent, her head
slightly elevated on a saddle pad, they found Zoraya, her pallor
showing even through the roughly laid on makeup.
Phil was sitting on a trunk holding his head in his hands, for he
had received quite a severe shock.
"If she regains consciousness soon she may live," announced
the surgeon. "If not--"
"No, no!" protested the white-faced clown, dropping on his knees
by the side of the child, folding Zoraya tenderly in his arms.
"She must not die! She cannot die!"
His jaunty baker's cap tilted off and fell upon her tinseled
breast, while groups of curious, sorrowful painted faces pressed
about them in silent sympathy.
Teddy crushed his white cap between his hands twisting
it nervously.
"She isn't hurt. Can't you see? Look, she is smiling now,"
pleaded the clown.
The surgeon shook his head sadly, and Shivers buried his head on
Zoraya's shoulder, pressing his painted cheek close to hers,
while the dull roar of the circus, off under the big top, drifted
to them faintly, like the sighing of a distant cataract.
An impressive silence hovered over the scene, which was broken,
at last, by the quiet voice of the circus surgeon.
"The child is coming back, Shivers. She has fought it out, but
she will perform no more, I am afraid, for bones broken as are
hers never will be quite the same again."
"She don't have to perform any more, sir," snapped the clown.
"I'll do that for her. You put that down in your fool's cap
and smoke it. Yes, sir, I'll--"
"Daddy!" murmured the lips that were pressed close to
Shivers' ear.
It was scarcely a whisper, more a breath that Shivers caught, but
faint as it was, it sent the blood pounding to his temples until
they showed red, like blotches of rouge under powder.
"D-a-d-d-y--y-o-u-r--Zory got an awful--b-u-m-p."
Three harlequins who had been poising each on one knee, chins in
hands, gazing down into the face of the little performer,
suddenly threw backward somersaults in their joy.
"Yes, Phil's quickness saved you," spoke up the surgeon. "Had it
not been for him you would be dead now."
Teddy Tucker, the tears streaming down his cheeks, was hopping
about on one foot, vigorously kicking a shin with the other foot,
trying to punish himself for his tears.
"I'm a fool! I'm a fool! But--but--I can't help it," he sobbed,
wheeling suddenly and dashing into his own dressing tent.
"Call for Shivers!" bellowed the voice of the callboy, thrusting
his head inside the entrance flap. "All the Joeys out for the
round off!"
"Coming!"
Shivers gently laid the broken form of Zoraya back, pressed a
hurried kiss on her painted lips and bounded away to take his
cue, the circus band out there by the crimson curtains swinging
brazenly into the enlivening strains of "There'll Be a Hot Time
in the Old Town Tonight!"
CHAPTER VIII
A RIVAL IN THE FIELD
Zoraya was left behind. She was sent to a hospital where she was
destined to remain many weeks, before she would be able to be
moved to her little home in Indiana. She never performed again.
In the meantime the Great Sparling Combined Shows had moved
majestically along. They had left the United States and were
touring Canada, playing in many of the quaint little French
villages and larger towns, where the Circus Boys found much to
interest and amuse them.
Teddy and Shivers had made a great hit in their "brother" clown
act, which was daily added to and improved upon as the show
worked its way along the Canadian border.
One day Phil, who had been downtown after the parade, where he
went to read the papers when he got a chance, came back and
sought out Mr. Sparling in the latter's private tent.
"Well, Phil," greeted the owner cordially, "what's on your mind?"
"Perhaps a good deal, but possibly nothing of any consequence.
You will have to decide that."
"What is it?" questioned Mr. Sparling sharply.
"Do we show in Corinto?"
"Yes; why?"
"I thought I had heard you mention that we were to do so."
"Why do you ask that question?"
"I'll answer it by asking another," smiled the Circus Boy.
"When do we make that stand?"
The showman consulted his route book.
"A week from next Tuesday," he said. "Anything wrong
about that?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"Nothing except that there is another show billed to play there
the day before."
"What?"
Mr. Sparling bent a keen gaze on Phil's face, to make sure the
lad was not joking.
"Yes, the Sully Hippodrome Circus is billed there for Monday."
"Where did you find that out?"
"I read it in a St. Catharines' paper down at the hotel
this morning. I thought you would be interested in knowing
of it."
"Interested? Why, boy, it will kill our business. So Sully
is cutting in on us, is he? I thought he was playing the
eastern circuit. He threatened to get even with me."
"Even?"
"Yes. Sully was once a partner in this show, but he proved
himself so dishonest that I had to take legal measures to get
him out. He got money from some source last season, and put
a show of his own on the road. He has a twenty-five car
show, I understand. Not such a small outfit at that. But I
hear it is a graft show."
"What's a graft show? I must confess that I never heard of
that before."
"A graft show, my boy, is a show that gets money in various ways.
They frequently carry a gang of thieves and confidence men with
them, who work among the spectators on the grounds before the
show, robbing them and getting a commission on their earnings."
"Is it possible that there are such dishonest people in the
show business?" marveled the lad.
"Not only possible, but an actual fact. I am happy to say,
however, that there are few shows that will tolerate anything
of that sort."
"I'm glad I did not have the misfortune to get with one of them,"
smiled Phil. "Are any of the big shows graft shows?"
"None of them. But about this heading us off?"
"Yes; what will you do about it?"
"We'll be there on Monday, too," decided the showman after a
moment's reflection.
"On Monday?"
"Yes."
"Then--then you intend to skip a date somewhere?"
"We shall have to."
Mr. Sparling was a man of resource and quick action. He made up
his mind in a minute as to what course to follow.
"I'm going to detach you from the show for a few days, if you
don't mind, Phil," decided Mr. Sparling.
"I am glad to serve you in any way that you think I can,"
answered the lad with a flash of surprise in his glance.
"I know that. What I want you to do is to join that show
right away."
"Join them?"
"I do not mean that exactly. I want you to go to the town where
they are playing tomorrow, I will get the name of the town before
the day is over. Follow the show right along from town to town
until next Monday, paying your way when you go in and keeping
your eyes open for their game. You, with your shrewdness, ought
to have no difficulty in getting sufficient evidence to help me
carry out my plans."
"What sort of evidence do you wish me to get?"
"Make a mental note of everything you see that is not regular,
and if they have a route card get a copy of that. It's perfectly
regular, young man," hastened the showman, noting Phil's look
of disapproval. "You are not doing anything improper. I do not
ask you to pry into their private affairs. We have a right,
however, to find out if we can, what their plans are with
relation to ourselves. If they are playing Corinto the day
before we do, just by mere chance, then I shall make no further
objections, but if they are planning to move along ahead of us
and kill our business--well, that's a different matter."
"I see," nodded Phil. "Who will take my place in the ring
work here?"
"We will get along without it, that's all. It doesn't matter so
much in these small towns. I don't care if you do not join out
until we get to Niagara Falls. We'll be playing in the real
country then."
"And working south?"
"Yes. As soon as the weather gets cooler we will head for the
south and stay there until the close of the season. They are
going to have a big cotton crop in the south this fall, and there
will be lots of money lying around loose to be picked up by a
show like ours."
"When do you want me to start?" asked Phil.
"Just as soon as I can get an answer to a telegram that I'm
going to send now. You will be off sometime this afternoon.
But perhaps you can go on in your acts--no, I guess you had
better not. You'll be missed at night if you do."
"Yes; that's so."
"I shall have some further directions for you. So long, for
the present."
Phil turned away thoughtfully. Shortly after the afternoon
performance Mr. Sparling sent for Phil again, the lad having
in the meantime packed a few necessary articles in his bag
preparatory to the journey that lay before him.
"The other show will be at St. Catharines tomorrow.
Are you ready?"
"Yes, sir. What time can I get away?"
"Five o'clock. You will be there in the morning in time to
see them set the tents. Let me warn you that Sully is ugly
and unscrupulous. If he were to know what you are there for
it might get you into a mix-up, so be careful."
"I'll be careful. Have you any further instructions?"
"I want to give you some money. You can't travel without money."
"I have plenty," answered Phil. "I will keep my expense account
and turn it in to you when I get back. Where do you wish me to
join you?"
"Corinto, unless you think best to come back in the meantime.
That is, if you get sufficient information. You know what I want
without my going into details, don't you?"
"I think so."
"Now, look out for yourself."
"I'll try to."
"You have not mentioned to anyone what you are going to do,
of course?"
"Certainly not. Not even to Teddy. Perhaps if you will, you
might make the explanation to him," suggested Phil.
"Yes; I'll do that as soon as you have gotten away. He'll be
raising the roof off the big top when he misses you."
Phil extended his hand to his employer, then turned and hurried
from the tent. First, the boy proceeded to the sleeping car in
which he berthed, for his bag. Securing this he had just time to
reach the station before the five o'clock train rumbled in.
The lad boarded a sleeping car and settled himself for the
long ride before him, passing the time by reading the current
magazines with which he provided himself when the train agent
came through. Late in the evening the lad turned in. Riding in
a sleeping car was no novelty to him, and he dropped asleep
almost instantly, not to awaken again until the porter shook him
gently by the shoulder.
"What is it?" questioned Phil, starting up.
"St. Catharines."
The lad pulled the curtains of his berth aside. Day was just
breaking as he peered out.
"There they are," he muttered, catching sight of a switch
full of gaudily painted cars bearing the name of the Sully
Hippodrome Circus. "They have just got in," he decided from
certain familiar signs of which he took quick mental note.
"Looks like a cheap outfit at that. But you never can tell."
Phil Forrest dressed himself quickly and grasping his bag hurried
from the car, anxious to be at his task, which, to tell the
truth, he approached with keen zest. He was beginning to enter
into the spirit of the work to which he had been assigned, and
which was to provide him with much more excitement than he at
that moment dreamed.
CHAPTER IX
PHIL MAKES A DISCOVERY
"I guess I'll leave my bag in the station and go over to the
lot," decided the lad.
"The stake and chain gang will just about be on the job by
this time."
It is a well known fact in the circus world that there is no
better place to get information than from the stake and chain
gang, the men who hurry to the lot the moment their train gets
in and survey it, driving stakes to show where the tents are to
be pitched, and it is a familiar answer, when one is unable to
answer a question to say: "Ask the stake and chain gang."
That was exactly what Phil Forrest had in mind to do.
He followed a show wagon to the circus lot, where he found the
men already at work measuring off the ground with their
surveyor's chains, in the faint morning light.
"Morning," smiled Phil, sauntering over to where he observed the
foreman watching the work of his men.
"Morning," growled the showman. Phil knew he would growl because
the fellow had not yet had his breakfast.
"Seems to me the circuses are coming this way pretty fast?"
suggested the lad.
"What d'ye mean?"
"I hear that there are to be two over in Corinto within two
days--yours and--and. What's the name of the other one?"
"Sparling's," grunted the foreman.
Phil grinned appreciatively. He had drawn his man out on the
first round.
"That's it. That's the name. I shouldn't think he'd want to
show in the same place the day after you had been there?"
"Why not?"
" 'Cause the folks will all spend their money going to
your show."
The foreman threw back his head and laughed.
"That's exactly what they will do, kid. That's what we want
them to do. We'll make that Sparling outfit get off the earth
before we get through with them. The boss has his axe out for
that outfit."
"Indeed?" cooed Phil.
"Yes. He's going, between you and me, to keep a day ahead of
them all the way over this circuit."
"Smart, very smart," laughed Phil, slapping his thigh as if he
appreciated the joke fully. "Have an orange. I always carry
some about with me when I'm going to visit a circus."
"Thanks, that will taste good at this time of the morning.
It will keep me going until the cook tent is ready. The cook
tent is where we get our meals, you understand. 'Course you
don't know about those things."
"No indeed!"
"Outsiders never do," replied the man.
"I was wondering something a moment ago, when you told me about
getting ahead of the other fellow."
"Wondering?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"Wondering how you know where the other fellow is going?"
"That's a dark secret, kid," answered the stake and chain
foreman, with a very knowing wink.
"But if you know where he is going he must know where you are
billed for at the same time," urged Phil.
"He don't."
"But why not?"
"In the first place we bill ourselves only a few days ahead.
And, in the second, we have a way of finding out where Sparling
is going for the next month or so ahead. Sometimes further
than that."
"Well, well, that's interesting--" The foreman hurried off to
give some directions to his men, slowly returning a few
minutes later.
"I should like to know how you do it?"
"Say kid, there's tricks in the show business just the same as in
any other. Mebby there's somebody with the Sparling outfit who
keeps us posted. Mind you, I ain't saying there is; but that
there might be."
"Oh, I see," muttered Phil, suddenly enlightened. "Then someone
in the other show is giving away his employer's secrets.
Fine for you, but pretty rough on the other fellow."
"Let the other fellow take care of himself, the same way we do,"
growled the foreman, following it with a threatening command to
one of his men.
"That hardly seems fair," objected Phil.
"All is fair in war and the circus business. You seem a good
deal interested in this competition business?" snapped the man
with sudden suspicion in voice and face.
"I am. But where is this--this Sparling show going to--do you
know what towns they are going to play for the next month?
Can you tell that, too?"
"I can come pretty close to it," grinned the showman, whereupon
he named the towns on Phil's route list without so much as
missing one of them. But the stake and chain foreman did not
stop here; he went on and gave a further list that Phil only knew
of as having heard mentioned by Mr. Sparling in his various
conversations with the circus lad.
Phil was amazed.
"Then they must be going west. I see," nodded the boy.
"No, you don't see. You only think you do."
"No?"
"No. If you was a showman and knew your business you'd know that
the Sparling outfit was going to make a sudden turn after a
little, and head for Dixie Land."
"Down south," exclaimed Phil.
"Sure. Why not? You see you lubbers don't know any more about
the show business than--"
"And you are going to follow them?"
"Follow them? No. We're going to lead them. They'll follow us."
"You're like a wildcat train then?"
"Something of the sort."
"Where's the boss?"
"There he comes now. I'll have to hustle the men, or he'll
scorch the grass off the lot with his roars."
The foreman hastened to stir up his surveyors and Phil moved
off that he might get a better look at Mr. Sully, the owner of
the show. Phil found him to be a florid-faced, square jawed man
whose expression was as repulsive as it was brutal. Sully wore a
red vest and red necktie with a large diamond in it. He gave the
Circus Boy a quick sharp look as he passed. "I'll bet he will
know me the next time he sees me," muttered Phil. "But whether
he does or not I have made some discoveries that Mr. Sparling
will be glad to know about, though they will not make him
particularly happy, I'm thinking."
Phil was hungry, and he was anxious to get back to the village to
write a letter, but decided that he would wait until the tents
were up. Then again, he wanted to see the wagons brought on so
he could count them and get a fair inventory of the show and what
it possessed. He soon discovered that the Sully Hippodrome
Circus was no one-horse affair, though considerably smaller than
the one with which he was connected.
Not until the people were getting ready for the parade did Phil
leave the lot. Then he hastened downtown and got his dinner and
breakfast all in one, after which he sat down to write a full
account of what he had learned to Mr. Sparling.
"There, if anything happens to me he is pretty well informed
so far. It's enough to enable him to lay those plans he has
in mind, whatever they may be. I can see him hammering his
desk and getting red in the face when he reads this letter."
Phil was cautious enough not to mention the name of the Sully
show in his letter, and tried to couch it in such terms, that
while Mr. Sparling would understand perfectly, another might not.
Phil took the letter to the post office, then went out on the
sidewalk where he stood leaning against a lamp post to watch the
parade, which he did with critical eyes.
"A pretty good-sized show," he mused. "But all their trappings
are second hand. They have bought them up from some show that
has discarded them. That's one thing the Sparling outfit
never does. All their stuff is new nearly every season.
Sully may have some of our old trappings, for all I know."
The parade was a long one; there were a good many cages, besides
a fair-sized herd of elephants.
"Hm-m-m! Three tuskers among the bulls," muttered Phil.
"Pretty well up to our herd, but I wouldn't trade Emperor
for any two of them, at that."
After the parade had passed, Phil once more strolled over to
the circus lot and hung about until time for the afternoon
performance to begin, when he bought a ticket and entered,
occupying a reserved seat where he could see all that was
going on.
The lad smiled at the thought of how his position had changed.
He was so used to being over there in the ring that it did not
seem quite right for him to be occupying a chair in the audience.
He could scarcely resist the impulse to hurry back to the
dressing tent and prepare for the ring.
The grand entry came on; then his attention was centered on the
performance, which he watched with the keen eyes of an expert,
noting the work of every performer, completely forgetting the
cheering audience in his absorption.
It was really a fair performance. He was forced to admit this,
especially of the aerial acts. But the bareback riding he did
not think compared favorably with his own, especially so far as
the men riders were concerned. One woman rider was very
good, indeed.
Phil drew a long breath when the performance had come to
an end. A circus performance, to him, was a matter of the
keenest interest. The fact that he himself was a circus
performer did not lessen that interest one whit, but rather
intensified it. Yet the glamour of his youthful days had passed.
It was now a professional interest, rather than the wondering
interest of a boy who never had seen the inside of the
dressing tent.
Phil did not hang about the grounds. He went downtown, but was
once more on hand for the evening performance, where he noted
that the show was cut short fully half an hour, and this without
apparent good reason.
He had made the acquaintance of a "candy butcher" during the hour
before the show, and from him had learned some further details
that were of interest to him and his investigation.
The Circus Boy, after watching the striking of the tents,
returned to the railroad station and took a late train for the
town where the circus was to show next day. It was not a long
run, so he took a day coach. In it he saw several familiar
faces--faces that he had noticed about the circus lot that
afternoon, and from their appearance he was forced to conclude
that these men belonged to the shows.
"Those fellows are crooks, as sure as I am alive," decided the
lad, after listening to the conversation of the couple just ahead
of him. "That's what Mr. Sparling told me. I could hardly
believe it. I'll spend part of the time outside tomorrow and
make sure. I shall know those fellows when I see them, if they
are on the grounds."
It had not occurred to Phil Forrest that he might be recognized
also, though he knew full well that circus people had keen eyes,
especially in an outfit such as this.
The next morning he hunted up his friend the candy butcher,
inviting that worthy to take breakfast with him which the lad,
a boy about his own age, was glad to do. From the "butcher"
Phil learned a whole lot of things that added to his store of
knowledge, among them being the fact that Sully's outfit was
even worse than it had been painted.
Mingling with the crowds about the main entrance, before the
doors were opened that afternoon, Phil once more saw the same men
he had observed on the train the previous evening. From their
actions he was more than ever satisfied that he had not been
mistaken in his estimate of them.
"I shouldn't be surprised if they were looking for some
pockets to pick," mused the lad, "but I do not see them
doing anything yet."
As a matter of fact, the men were plying their trade, but
his eyes had not been quick enough to catch them at it.
Phil, however, was more successful just before the
evening show.
Standing among the people massed out in front he saw a man's
hand steal slowly toward the handbag of a well-dressed woman.
Phil traced the hand back until he made out the owner, who was
one of the same men that had come through on the train with him.
A gasoline torch lighted the operation faintly, and Phil gazed
with fascinated eyes while the stealthy hand opened the bag
quickly extracting its contents.
Almost at the instant the woman looked down, perhaps attracted by
the tug at the bag.
"I've been robbed!" she cried.
The words stirred Phil to instant action.
In another second the thief felt a vise-like grip about the wrist
that held the plunder.
"Here's the man that did it, madam. Call an officer," said
Phil calmly.
CHAPTER X
THE CIRCUS BOY IS RECOGNIZED
Giving the wrist of his prisoner a sharp twist, Phil snatched
away the small handful of bills that the fellow had stolen,
returning them to the woman.
By this time the thief had suddenly recovered his wits and sought
to jerk his hand away, seeing that it was merely a boy who had
grabbed him. To the surprise of the crook he found it was not an
easy matter to free himself from that grip. After making several
desperate efforts the fellow adopted other methods.
"Let go of me, I tell you. I'll have you put away for this."
"I'll let go of you when a policeman has hold of you, and not
before," retorted Phil. "You are a thief. I saw you steal that
woman's money."
The man suddenly uttered an angry exclamation and launched a blow
at Phil's head, which the lad avoided, allowing it to pass over
his shoulder.
"Hurry! Get a policeman! This man is a thief," urged Phil, as
he closed with his antagonist.
"Thief! Thief," cried several voices at once. It was a cry that
had been heard before about the Sully shows.
Phil had not struck back at his enemy. Instead the lad, by a
skillful twist, had whirled the fellow about until his back was
toward the boy. Then Phil suddenly let go his hold on the wrist,
clasping the man around the body and pinioning his arms to
his sides.
"You might as well stand still," said the lad coolly. "You can't
get away until I permit you to, and that won't be until something
that looks like a policeman comes along."
In the meantime the captive was struggling and threatening.
All at once he raised his voice in a peculiar, wailing cry.
The Circus Boy felt sure that it was some sort of a signal,
though it was new to him. But he was not to be cowed.
"Police!" shouted Phil.
"Police!" cried many voices.
Half a dozen men came rushing into the crowd, thrusting the
people aside as they ran, looking this way and that to learn from
where the cry for assistance had come.
Phil's captive uttered a sharp cry, and the lad realized what
was going to happen. At first he had thought it was the police
coming, but he was undeceived the moment he caught his prisoner's
appeal to them. The men dashed toward the two, and as they rushed
in Phil whirled his man so that the latter collided violently
with the newcomers. That checked the rush briefly. He knew,
however, that he could not hope to stand off his assailants for
more than a few seconds. Yet the lad calculated that in those
few seconds the police might arrive. He did not know that they
had been well bribed neither to see nor to hear what occurred on
the circus grounds.
A moment more and the lad had been roughly jerked from his
captive and hurled violently to the ground.
Phil sprang up full of fight while the angry fellows closed in
on him. He saw that they were showmen. A sudden idea occurred
to him.
"Hey, Rube!" he shouted at the top of his voice, hoping that the
rest of the show people within reach of his voice might crowd in
and in the confusion give him a chance to get away.
And they did crowd in. They came on like a company of soldiers,
sweeping everything before them. Phil, in that brief instant,
while he was sparring to keep his opponents off, found time to
smile grimly.
The fellow he had first made captive now attacked Phil
viciously, the lad defending himself as best he could, while the
people who had come to attend the show got out of harm's way as
rapidly as possible. Phil could hope for no assistance from
that quarter.
"I guess I have gotten myself into a worse scrape by calling
the rest of the gang," he muttered, noting that he was being
surrounded as some of the first comers pointed him out to
the others.
Suddenly they fell upon Phil with one accord. He was jerked
this way and that, but succeeded pretty well in dodging the
blows aimed at his head, though his clothes were torn and he
was pretty badly used.
Suddenly a voice roared out close behind him.
"Stop it!"
Turning his head a little Phil recognized Sully, the owner of
the show. Sully's face was redder than ever.
"What--what's all this row about? Haven't you fellows anything
more important to do than raising a roughhouse? Get out of here,
the whole bunch of you! What's he done? Turn him over to the
police and go on about your business."
One of the men said something in a low tone to Sully.
The showman shot a keen, inquiring glance at the lad.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"I don't know that it makes any difference. I saw a fellow
robbing a woman, and it was my duty to stop him. I did it, then
a lot of his companions, who, I suppose, belong to your show
pitched into me."
"So, you are trying to run the whole show, are you?"
"I am not."
"Well, you get off this lot as fast as you can hoof it. If I
find you butting in again it will be the worse for you."
"That's the fellow who was hanging around the lot at
St. Catharines yesterday," spoke up someone.
"Yes; I remember now, he was asking me questions," said another,
whose voice Phil recognized as belonging to the foreman of the
stake and chain gang. "I got to thinking about it afterwards,
and realized that he was a little too inquisitive for
a greenhorn. He's been on the lot all day again."
Mr. Sully surveyed Phil with an ugly scowl.
"What are you doing around here, young man?"
"For one thing, I am trying to prevent one of your followers
robbing a woman," answered Phil boldly.
"Who are you?"
"That is my own affair."
"I know him! I know him! I Know!" shouted another.
Sully turned to him inquiringly.
"Who is he, if you know so much?"
"He's a fellow what was with the Sparling outfit last year.
He was always butting in then, and I can tell you he ain't
here for any good now, Boss."
"So, that's the game is it?" sneered Sully. "You come with me.
I've got a few questions I want to ask you."
"I don't have to go with you," replied Phil.
"Oh, yes you do! Bring him along and if he raises a row just
hand him one and put him to sleep."
Two men grabbed Phil roughly by his arms.
He jerked away and started to run when he was pounced upon and
borne to the ground. Phil found himself grasped by the collar
and jerked violently to his feet, with the leering face of Sully
thrust up close to his own.
"I'll see that you don't get away this time," growled
the showman.
Dragging the lad along by the collar further off on the lot, the
showman finally paused.
"Get the carriage," he commanded sharply.
"What you going to do with me?" demanded Phil.
"That depends. I'm going to find out something about you first,
and decide what to do with you later."
"And, when you get through, I shall have you arrested
for assault. It will be my turn to act then," retorted the
Circus Boy. "I have done nothing except to stop a miserable
thief from plying his trade. I understand that's a game you--"
"That will do, young man. Here's the wagon. Now, if you
go quietly you will have no trouble. But just try to call
for help, or raise any sort of a ruction, and you'll see
more stars than there are in the skies when the moon's on
a strike. Get in there."
Phil was thrust into the closed carriage, which the showman used
for driving back and forth between the train and the lot.
Quick as a flash Phil Forrest dived through the open coach window
on the other side, and with equal quickness he was pounced upon
by the driver, who had gotten off on that side, probably at a
signal from Sully.
Had Sully not run around to the other side of the wagon Phil
would have quickly disposed of the driver, strong as was
the latter.
With an enraged cry Sully sprang upon Phil, and raised his hand
to strike.
"If you attempt to do that you'll serve the rest of the season
in jail," dared Phil, taking a bold course. "You know they
don't trifle with brutes like you up here in Canada?"
Sully growled an unintelligible reply, but that he recognized the
truth of the lad's words was evident when he slowly dropped his
clenched fist to his side.
"I'll see that you don't get away this time," he said once more
thrusting Phil into the carriage, this time, however, keeping a
firm grip on the lad's arm.
The driver whipped up the horse and the carriage rumbled away,
soon reaching the village street and turning sharply off into a
side street.
CHAPTER XI
ON SULLY'S PRIVATE CAR
"Where are you taking me?" Phil demanded.
"You'll see in a minute."
"And so will you. There are laws to punish such high-handed
methods as yours, and I'll see that you are punished, and well
punished, too. If I can't do it, there are others who will--who
will see that you get what you deserve."
"Keep on talking. It will be my turn pretty soon,"
answered Sully.
In a short time Phil discovered that they were driving along by
the railroad tracks. He knew that the yards where the circus
train was standing were only a short distance beyond.
"I guess he's going to take me to the train, for some reason
or other," decided Phil, but he could not understand what the
showman's motive might be.
The Circus Boy was not afraid, but he was thoroughly angry.
His grit and stubbornness had been aroused and he was ready to
take any desperate chance. However, he felt that, after all,
this capture might be the means of giving him the further
information of which he was in search. He might possibly be
able to draw some admission from Sully.
They drew up beside the tracks and the carriage halted.
"Now, not a sound!" warned the showman. "If you raise your
voice, or so much as speak to anyone you see, I'll forget that
you are a kid and--"
"I am not afraid of your threats," interrupted Phil. "I know you
are brute enough to do what you say you will, but it won't be
good for you if you do. Go on. I'll follow till I get a chance
to escape."
"You'll not get the chance," retorted Sully, taking firm hold of
the boy's arm.
They made their way through the yards, avoiding the gasoline
torches that flared familiarly here and there among the mass
of cars, then turned toward the station. As the lights of the
latter came into view, the showman halted, looked up and down
the tracks, then led Phil to the platform of a car which the
boy recognized as being one of the show's sleepers.
"That's what I thought he was up to," muttered Phil, watching for
an opportunity to leap off the other side and lose himself among
the cars.
No such opportunity was offered to him, however, and a moment
later the door of the sleeper had been opened, and he was pushed
roughly inside, Mr. Sully following in quickly, slamming and
locking the door behind them.
"Get in there and sit down!"
"Where?"
"In the private office there."
"So this is your private car, is it?"
"Yes."
"Hm-m-m!"
"You seem to know a lot about the show business."
Phil made no reply, but dropped into the owner's chair at the
latter's desk.
"Get out of that chair!"
"I thought you invited me to sit down?"
"I did, but I might have known you wouldn't have had sense enough
to sit where you ought to."
"Where's that?"
"On the floor."
"I am not in the habit of being received that way," taunted Phil,
making no move to vacate the chair.
Sully, with a grunt of disapproval, sat down in another chair,
placing himself so the light would fall fully on Phil's face.
"Now, what's your name?"
"You'll have to guess that," smiled Phil.
"That's where you're wrong. I know it."
"What is my name?"
"Forrest. You're a bareback rider in the Sparling outfit.
You thought you would not be known, but you see you are.
You can't fool a man in the show business so easily. After you
have grown older in the business you will learn a few things."
"I am learning fast," laughed the lad. "I am learning a lot of
things that I wish I did not have to learn."
"What, for instance?"
"That there are such men as you in the show business."
"Be careful, boy. You will go too far, the first thing you know.
Now, what are you doing here?"
"If you know so much I don't see why you should have to ask
that question."
"I'm asking."
"And I'm not telling. I'll answer none of your questions, unless
it is about something that I can tell you without getting others
into trouble."
"You already have admitted that you are with the Sparling show.
You have made several slips of the tongue since I got hold
of you."
"I haven't denied that I am with the Sparling show, neither have
I admitted it. I decline to lie or to give you any information
of any nature whatever."
"When is the Sparling show coming here?"
"I was not aware that it was coming here. Is it?"
"No, I didn't mean that. I mean when are they going to show
in Corinto?"
Phil was silent.
"You might as well make a clean breast of the whole business,
young man. I've caught you red-handed, snooping about the lot
for two days quizzing everybody. Now what's the game?"
"There is no game."
"What is Sparling trying to find out?"
"You will have to ask him, I guess."
Sully surveyed the lad in silence for a minute or two.
"I couldn't understand, at first, why he should send a kid like
you to spy upon us; but I begin to see that you are a sharp
little monkey--"
Just then the showman was interrupted by the entrance of the
foreman of the stake and chain gang.
"Bob, I want you to tell me exactly what questions this cub asked
you yesterday?"
"I thought he was some curious town fellow, so I didn't pay much
attention to his questions. When I saw him on the lot, again
today, and heard him asking other folks, kind of careless like,
I began to smell a rat."
"What did he want to know, I'm asking you?"
The foreman related as well as he could remember, just
what conversation had taken place between himself and
Phil Forrest, omitting, however, the fact that he had furnished
any information. It would have ended his connection with the
show right there, had he let the owner know how much he really
had told.
Phil grinned appreciatively, but it was not for him to get the
foreman into trouble.
"Hm-m!" mused Sully. "You found out a lot, I presume?"
"I can truthfully say that I found out that what I had heard
about the show is true."
"And what's that, if I may ask?"
"Thieves. I happen to know that they travel right along with the
show, and I shouldn't be surprised if you got part of their
stealings, either," Phil boldly flung at the showman.
Sully's face went redder than ever, while his fingers clenched
and unclenched. It was evident that the man feared to let his
anger get the better of him.
"If he ever lets go at me, I'm a goner," thought Phil
understanding that, besides an almost ungovernable temper, the
man possessed great physical strength. "I guess he won't do
anything of the sort, unless I goad him to it. I believe that I
have said about enough."
"Watch him a minute, Bob," directed Sully, rising and stepping to
the other end of the car. He returned a minute later.
"Young man," he said, "if you had been more civil you might have
gotten away with your bluff--"
"I have not tried to bluff you," interjected Phil.
"As it is, I think I'll lock you up until morning, and, if you
are ready then to make a clean breast of the whole affair,
perhaps I shall let you go back with a message to your boss--a
message that he won't like, I reckon."
"You won't send any such message by me," retorted Phil.
"Carry your own messages. Where you going to lock me up?"
"In a place where you will be safe. But I shouldn't advise you
to get red-headed about it. There will be someone nearby to take
all the howl out of you if you try it."
"You had better not!"
"What do you think, Bob? Is it safe to let this fellow go?"
"Well, I suppose you've got to let him go sometime. He'll be
getting us into trouble if you keep him."
"I'll take the chance of that. We can drop him just before
crossing the line back into the United States."
"That's a good game."
"Then the United States authorities can't take any action on
an offense committed across the border. I don't believe they
would, anyway. It is all a part of the show game. I'd like to
drop the spy over the Falls when we get to Niagara," added Sully.
"I might get wet if you did that," grinned Phil.
"You'll be lucky if you don't get worse, which you will unless
you keep a more civil tongue in your head. Yes; I guess that
will be the best plan, Bob."
"You--you don't mean that you will drop him over the Falls?"
gasped the foreman.
"No," laughed Sully. "Not that, much as I'd like to. But it
would serve him right. I'm going to lock him up; that's what
I mean."
"Where?"
"Here."
"But he'll get out."
"Not from where I put him."
The foreman looked about him a puzzled expression in his eyes.
"What do you say to the linen closet?"
"The linen closet?"
"Yes. I have just looked at it. There will be room enough for
him, and there's no opening through which he can call to anyone
on the outside. If he does make an outcry some of us will be
here to look after him."
"That's a good game. I hadn't thought of it before."
"Come along, my fine young bareback rider. You'll wish you'd
stuck to your own business before you get through with us!"
Phil was led down the side passageway of the car and thrust into
a narrow compartment, about three sides of which were shelves
loaded down with the linen used on the car.
There was room for a chair in the compartment and he could
stand upright. However, had he wished to lie down he would
have been unable to do so.
"So this is the prison you have decided to lock me in, is it?"
grinned the lad.
"It looks that way. I guess it will bring you to your senses.
You'll talk by tomorrow morning, I'll guarantee."
"I guess you will have another guess coming," warned Phil.
Without further parley Sully slammed the door and locked it,
leaving Phil in absolute darkness.
"Now I am in a fix, for sure. If Sully hadn't been quite so big
I should have taken a chance and pitched into him. He is strong
enough to eat me alive. I could handle the fellow, Bob, all
right, but not Sully. So I have got to stay here all night?
Fine, fine! I hope I don't smother."
The car soon settled down to quiet again. Phil knew, however,
that he was not alone--that undoubtedly there was someone
watching his prison. He examined the place as well as he could
in the darkness, tried the door, ran his hands over the sides and
up among the piles of linen. There was scant encouragement to be
found, though Phil believed that if he had room to take a running
start he might break the door down.
He decided to remain quiet, and after his exciting experiences he
was quite willing to rest himself for a time. The lad pulled a
lot of the linen down to the floor, and making a bed for himself,
doubled up like a jackknife and settled himself for the night.
It was not a comfortable position, but Phil Forrest was used to
roughing it. In a few minutes he was sound asleep.
CHAPTER XII
LOCKED IN THE LINEN CLOSET
Phil roused himself for a moment.
"We're going," he muttered, realizing that the train was
in motion. Then he dropped off to sleep again.
When next he awakened it was broad daylight, though the lad
did not know it until after he had struck a match and looked
at his watch.
"Eight 'clock in the morning," he exclaimed. "My, how I must
have slept, and on such a bed too!"
The lad was lame and sore from the cramped position in which he
had been obliged to lie all night, but he was just as cheerful as
if he had awakened in his own berth on sleeper number eleven on
the Sparling train. He began to feel hungry, though.
Phil tapped on the door. There was no response, so he rapped
again, this time with more force. Still failing to arouse anyone
Phil delivered a series of resounding kicks against the door.
"If no one answers that I'll know there is nobody here and I'll
see if I can't break the door down."
There was someone there, however, as was made plain a moment
later, when the door was thrown suddenly open, revealing the
grinning face of Sully, the owner of the show.
"Morning," greeted Phil. "I thought maybe breakfast was being
served in the dining car, and I didn't want to miss it."
"You're a cheerful idiot, aren't you?"
"So I have been told. But about that breakfast? If you'll
kindly conduct me to the wash room, so I can make myself
beautiful and prepare for breakfast, I shall be obliged to you."
"Huh!" grunted the showman.
"Where are we?"
"Brant."
"Is this where we show today?"
"Yes, this is where we show today. As if you didn't know that as
well as I do."
"I may have heard something to that effect. I don't just
remember for the moment. But, how about that breakfast?"
"How do you know you are going to get any breakfast?"
"Because I smelled it a few minutes ago."
"That's my breakfast that your keen nose scented, young man."
"Well, I guess I can stand it for once."
Sully was forced to smile at his young captive's good nature.
So he took Phil by the arm and led him to the wash room, where
the showman remained until Phil had completed his preparations
for breakfast. Then Sully led the way to a compartment at the
rear of the car where a small table had been set.
"This looks good to me," grinned Phil, rubbing his
palms together. "You live high in this outfit, don't you?"
The lad ate his breakfast with a will.
"I hope I am not depriving you of your meal?" questioned Phil,
glancing up quickly.
"I've had my breakfast. If there had been only enough for one,
you'd have gone hungry."
"You don't have to tell me that. I know it. That's about
your measure."
"That will be about all from you," snapped the showman.
"The trouble with you is that you can't appreciate
decent treatment. You're just like your boss."
"I'll not hear you say a word against Mr. Sparling," bristled
Phil, then suddenly checked himself.
"So, I caught you that time, did I?" exclaimed Sully, slapping
his thighs and laughing uproariously, while Phil's face grew red
with mortification at the slip he had made. "You are not half as
smart as you think you are, young man. I'll keep at you until I
get out of you all the information I want."
"I'm afraid the show season isn't long enough for you to do
that," was the boy's quick retort.
"You'll find out whether it is or not."
"I shall not be with you that long. Now that I have admitted
that I have been connected with the Sparling show, what do you
think my employer will do when he finds I am missing?"
"Nothing."
"I rather guess he will do something. Wait."
"When does he expect you back?"
Phil looked at the showman, laughing.
"Did I mention that I was expected? I said that when he missed
me there would be an inquiry, and there will."
"Little good that will do him," growled the showman.
"Then you don't know James Sparling."
"How'll he know you are here?"
"Trust him to find out, and then--wow! There will be
an explosion that you can hear on the other side of the
St. Lawrence. Do I take a walk for my health
after breakfast?"
"You do."
"Thank you."
"To the other end of the car, to the linen closet, where you are
to stay until--"
"Until what?" questioned Phil sharply.
"Until you tell me what I want to know."
"What is it that you wish to know?"
"Why were you sent to spy on my outfit?"
"Perhaps for the same reason that you keep a spy in his camp,"
retorted Phil, bending a keen gaze on the face of his jailer.
Sully's face went violently red. Without another word he grasped
Phil roughly by the shoulder, jerked him from the table and
hurried the lad down the corridor.
"Here, here, I haven't finished my breakfast yet," protested
the boy.
"You have, but you don't know it. You will know in a minute."
With that the showman thrust Phil into the linen closet again and
slammed the door.
"M