The lad was not far wrong in his surmise. That Mr. Sparling was angry was apparent at the first glance.
He eyed Phil from head to foot, a fierce scowl wrinkling his face and forehead.
"Well, sir, what have you been up to this afternoon?"
"Practicing in the ring since the afternoon performance closed."
"H-m-m-m! And this forenoon?"
"Not much of anything in the way of work."
"Have any trouble with any of the men?"
"Yes, sir."
"Who?"
"A man by the name of Larry, and another whom they call Bad Eye."
"Humph! I suppose you know it's a bad breach of discipline in a show to have any mixups, don't you?"
"I do. I make no apologies, except that I was acting wholly in self defense. All the same, I do not expect any favoritism. I am willing to take my punishment, whatever it may be," replied the lad steadily.
There was the merest suspicion of a twinkle in the eyes of the showman.
"Tell me what you did."
"I punched Larry, tripped his friend, and—well, I don't exactly know all that did happen," answered Phil without a change of expression.
"Knock them down?"
"I—I guess so."
"H-m-m. I suppose you know both those fellows are pretty bad medicine, don't you?"
"I may have heard something of the sort."
"Larry has quite a reputation as a fighter."
"Yes, sir."
"And you knocked him out?"
"Something like that," answered Phil meekly.
"Show me how you did it?" demanded Mr. Sparling, rising and standing before the culprit.
"It was like this, you see," began Phil, exhibiting a sudden interest in the inquiry. "I was chased by the two men. Suddenly I stopped and let the fellow, Larry, fall over me. During the scrimmage I tripped Bad Eye. I didn't hit anyone until Larry crowded me so I had to do so in order to save myself, or else run away."
"Why didn't you run, young man?"
"I—I didn't like to do that, you know."
Mr. Sparling nodded his head.
"How did you hit him?"
"He made a pass at me like this," and the lad lifted Mr. Sparling's hand over his shoulder. "I came up under his guard with a short arm jolt like this."
"Well, what next?"
"That was about all there was to it. The others came out, about that time, and I ducked in under the big top."
To Phil's surprise Mr. Sparling broke out into a roar of laughter. In a moment he grew sober and stern again.
"Be good enough to tell me what led up to this assault. What happened before that brought on the row? I can depend upon you to give me the facts. I can't say as much for all the others."
Phil did as the showman requested, beginning with the ducking of Teddy by the men when the show was leaving Germantown, and ending with Teddy's having emptied a pail of muddy water over Larry's red head that morning.
He had only just finished his narration of the difficulty, when who should appear at the entrance to the office tent but Larry himself. He was followed, a few paces behind, by Bad Eye.
Mr. Sparling's stern, judicial eyes were fixed upon them. He demanded to hear from them their version of the affair, which Larry related, leaving out all mention of his having ducked Teddy. His story agreed in the main details with what Phil already had said, excepting that Larry's recital threw the blame on Teddy and Phil.
Mr. Sparling took a book from his desk, making a memorandum therein.
"Is that all, sir?" questioned Larry.
"Not quite. If I hear of any further infraction of the rules of this show on the part of either of you two, you close right then. Understand?"
"Yes."
"That's not all; I'll have you both jailed for assault. As it is, I'll fine you both a week's pay. Now get out of here!"
Larry hesitated, flashed a malignant glance at Phil Forrest; then, turning on his heel, he left the tent.
"Don't you think you had better fine me, too, sir?" asked Phil.
"What for?"
"Because I shall have to do it again some of these days."
"What do you mean?"
"That fellow is going to be even with me at the very first opportunity."
Mr. Sparling eyed the lad for a moment.
"I guess you will be able to give a good account of yourself if he tries to do anything of the sort. Let me say right here, though you need not tell your friend so that I think Teddy did just right, and I am glad you gave Larry a good drubbing. But, of course, we can't encourage this sort of thing with the show. It has to be put down with an iron hand."
"I understand, sir."
"Mind, I don't expect you to be a coward."
"I hope not. My father used to teach me not to be. He frequently said, 'Phil, keep out of trouble, but if you get into it, don't sneak out.' "
"That's the talk," roared Mr. Sparling, smiting his desk with a mighty fist. "You run along, now, and give your young friend some advice about what he may expect if he gets into any more difficulty."
"I have done that already."
"Good! Tell it to him again as coming from me. He's going to make a good showman, though he came near putting this outfit out of business with the fool mule this afternoon. I would cut the act out, but for the fact that it is a scream from start to finish. Feeling all right?"
"Yes, thank you. I am perfectly able to go on in the ring act tonight, if you think best."
"Wait until tomorrow; wait until tomorrow. You'll be all the better for it."
The cook tent was open, as Phil observed. The red flag was flying from the center pole of the tent, indicating that supper was being served. In a short time the tent would come down and be on its way in the flying squadron to the next stand.
The show was now less than a day out, but many things had happened. Not a moment had been without its interest or excitement, and Phil realized that as he walked toward the cook tent. He found Teddy there, satisfying his appetite, or rather exerting himself in that direction, for Teddy's appetite was a thing never wholly satisfied.
After supper Phil took the boy aside and delivered Mr. Sparling's message. Teddy looked properly serious, but it is doubtful if the warning sank very deep into his mind, for the next minute he was turning handsprings on the lot.
"Know what I'm going to do, Phil?" he glowed.
"There's no telling what you will do, from one minute to the next, Teddy," replied Phil.
"Going to practice up and see if I can't get in the leaping act."
"That's a good idea. When do you begin taking lessons?"
"Taking 'em now."
"From Mr. Miaco?"
"Yes. I did a turn off the springboard this afternoon with the 'mechanic on,' " meaning the harness used to instruct beginners in the art of tumbling.
"How did you make out?"
"Fine! I'd have broken my neck if it hadn't been for the harness."
Phil laughed heartily.
"I should say you did do finely. But you don't expect to be able to jump over ten elephants and horses the way the others do?"
"They don't all do it. Some of 'em leap until they get half a dozen elephants in line, then they stand off and watch the real artists finish the act. I can do that part of it now. But I tell you I'm going to be a leaper, Phil."
"Good for you! That's the way to talk. Keep out of trouble, work hard, don't talk too much, and you'll beat me yet," declared Phil. "And say!"
"What?"
"Be careful with that mule act tonight. You know Mr. Sparling will be in there watching you. It wouldn't take much more trouble to cause him to cut that act out of the programme, and then you might not be drawing so much salary. Fifty dollars a week is pretty nice for each of us. If we don't get swelled heads, but behave ourselves, we'll have a nice little pile of money by the time the season closes."
"Yes," agreed Teddy. "I guess that's so; but we'll be losing a lot of fun."
"I don't agree with you," laughed Phil.
The lads strolled into the menagerie tent on their way through to the dressing tent. The gasoline men were busy lighting their lamps and hauling them on center and quarter pole, while the menagerie attendants were turning the tongues of the cages about so that the horses could be hitched on promptly after the show in the big top began.
Some of the animals were munching hay, others of the caged beasts were lying with their noses poked through between the bars of their cages, blinking drowsily.
"I'd hate to be him," announced Teddy with a comprehensive wave of the hand as they passed the giraffe, which stood silent in his roped enclosure, his head far up in the shadows.
"Why?"
"For two reasons. Keeper tells me he can't make a sound. Doesn't bray, nor whinny, nor growl, nor bark, nor— can't do anything. I'd rather be a lion or a tiger or something like that. If I couldn't do anything else, then, I could stand off and growl at folks."
Phil nodded and smiled.
"And what's your other reason for being glad you are not a giraffe?"
"Because—because—because when you had a sore throat think what a lot of neck you'd have to gargle!"
Phil laughed outright, and as the giraffe lowered its head and peered down into their faces, he thought, for the moment, that he could see the animal grin.
After this they continued on to the dressing tent, where they remained until time for the evening performance. This passed off without incident, Teddy and his mule doing nothing more sensational than kicking a rent in the ringmaster's coat.
After the show was over, and the tents had begun to come down,Phil announced his intention of going downtown for a lunch.
"This fresh air makes me hungry. You see, I am not used to it yet," he explained in an apologetic tone.
"You do not have to go down for a lunch, unless you want to," the bandmaster informed him.
"Why, is there a lunch place on the grounds?"
"No. We have an accommodation car on our section."
"What kind of car is that?"
"Lunch car. You can't get a heavy meal there, but you will find a nice satisfying lunch. The boss has it served at cost. He doesn't make any money out of the deal. You'll find it on our section."
"Good! Come along Teddy."
"Will I? That's where I'll spend my money," nodded Teddy, starting away at a jog trot.
"And your nights too, if they would let you," laughed Phil, following his companion at a more leisurely gait.
As they crossed the lot they passed "Red" Larry, as he had now been nicknamed by the showmen. Larry pretended not to see the boys, but there was an ugly scowl on his face that told Phil he did, and after the lads had gone on a piece Phil turned, casting a careless look back where the torches were flaring and men working and shouting.
"Red" Larry was not working now. He was facing the boys, shaking a clenched fist at them.
"I am afraid we haven't heard the last of our friend, Larry," said Phil.
"Who's afraid?" growled Teddy.
"Neither of us. But all the same we had better keep an eye on him while we are in his vicinity. We don't want to get into any more trouble—at least not, if we can possibly avoid it."
"Not till Mr. Sparling forgets about today? Is that it?"
"I guess it is," grinned Phil.
"He might take it seriously?"
"He already has done that. So be careful."
Teddy nodded. But the lads had not yet heard the last of"Red" Larry.
"Ever try clowning, young man?" asked the Iron-Jawed Man.
Teddy Tucker shook his head.
"Why don't you?"
"Nobody ever asked me."
"Then you had better ask the boss to let you try it. Tell him you want to be a clown and that we will take you in and put you through your paces until you are able to go it alone."
The show had been on the road for nearly two weeks now, and every department was working like a piece of well-oiled machinery. The usual number of minor disasters had befallen the outfit during the first week, but now everything was system and method. The animals had become used to the constant moving, and to the crowds and the noise, so that their growls of complaint were few.
In that time Teddy and Phil had been going through their act on the flying rings daily, having shown great improvement since they closed with the show the previous fall. Their winter's work had proved of great benefit, and Mr. Sparling had complimented them several times lately.
Teddy was now devoting all his spare time to learning to somersault and do the leaping act from the springboard. He could, by this time, turn a somersault from the board, though his landing was less certain. Any part of his anatomy was liable to sustain the impact of his fall, but he fell in so many ludicrous positions that the other performers let it go at that, for it furnished them much amusement.
However, Teddy's unpopularity in the dressing tent had been apparent ever since he and the educated mule had made their sensational entry into that sacred domain, practically wrecking the place. Teddy and his pet had come near doing the same thing twice since, and the performers were beginning to believe there was method in Tucker's madness.
It had come to the point where the performers refused to remain in the dressing tent while Teddy and the mule were abroad, unless men with pike poles were stationed outside to ward off the educated mule when he came in from the ring. But Teddy didn't care. The lad was interested in the suggestion of the Iron-Jawed Man. Had he known that the suggestion had been made after secret conference of certain of the performers, Tucker might have felt differently about it. There was something in the air, but the Circus Boy did not know it.
"What kind of clown act would you advise me to get up?" he asked.
"Oh, you don't have to get it up. We'll do that for you. In fact, there is one act that most all clowns start with, and it will do as well as anything else for you. You see, you have to get used to being funny, or you'll forget yourself, and then you're of no further use as a clown."
"Yes, I know; but what is the act?"
"What do you say, fellows—don't you think the human football would fit him from the sawdust up?"
"Just the thing," answered the performers thus appealed to.
Mr. Miaco, the head clown, was bending over his trunk, his sides shaking with laughter, but Teddy did not happen to observe him, nor had he noticed that the head clown had had no part in the conversation.
"The human football?" questioned Teddy dubiously.
"Yes."
"What's that?"
"Oh, you dress up in funny makeup so you look like a huge ball."
"But what do I do after I have become a football?"
"Oh, you roll around in the arena, falling all over yourself and everybody who happens to get in your way; you bounce up and down and make all sorts of funny—"
"Oh, I know," cried Teddy enthusiastically. "I saw a fellow do that in a show once. He would fall on the ground on his back, then bounce up into the air several feet."
"You've hit it," replied a clown dryly.
"I remember how all the people laughed and shouted. I'll bet I'd make a hit doing that."
"You would!" shouted the performers in chorus.
The show was playing in Batavia, New York, on a rainy night, with rather a small house expected, so no better time could have been chosen for Teddy's first appearance as a clown.
"Had I better speak to Mr. Sparling about it?"
"Well, what do you think, fellows?"
"Oh, no, no! The old man won't care. If you make them laugh, he'll be tickled half to death."
"What do you say? Is it a go, Tucker?"
"Well, I'll think about it."
Teddy strolled out in the paddock, where he walked up and down a few times in the rain. But the more he thought about the proposition, the more enthusiastic he grew. He could see himself the center of attraction, and he could almost hear the howls of delight of the multitude.
"They'll be surprised. But I don't believe I had better go on without first speaking to Mr. Sparling. He might discharge me. He's had his eye on me ever since the mule tore up the dressing tent. But I won't tell Phil. I'll just give him a surprise. How he'll laugh when he sees me and finds out who I am."
Thus deciding, the lad ran through the tents out to the front door, where he asked for Mr. Sparling, knowing that by this time the owner's tent had been taken down and packed for shipment, even if it were not already under way on the flying squadron.
He learned that Mr. Sparling was somewhere in the menagerie tent. Hurrying back there, Teddy soon came upon the object of his search. At that moment he was standing in front of the cage of Wallace, the biggest lion in captivity, gazing at that shaggy beast thoughtfully.
"Mr. Sparling," called Teddy.
The showman turned, shooting a sharp glance at the flushed face of the Circus Boy.
"Well, what's wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong, sir."
"Come to kick about feed in the cook tent?"
"Oh, no, no, sir! Nothing like that. I've come to ask a favor of you."
"Humph! I thought as much. Well, what is it?"
"I—I think I'd like to be a clown, sir."
"A clown?" asked the showman, with elevated eyebrows.
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Sparling laughed heartily.
"Why, you're that already. You are a clown, though you may not know it. You've been a clown ever since you wore long dresses, I'll wager."
"But I want to be a real one," urged Teddy.
"What kind of clown?"
"I thought I'd like to be a human football." This timeMr. Sparling glanced at the boy in genuine surprise.
"A human football?"
"Yes, sir."
"What put that idea into your head?"
"Some of the fellows suggested it."
"Ah! I thought so," twinkled Mr. Sparling. "Who, may I ask?"
"Well, I guess most all of them did."
"I know, but who suggested it first?"
"I think the Iron-Jawed Man was the first to say that I ought to be a clown. He thought I would make a great hit."
"No doubt, no doubt," snapped the showman in a tone that ledTeddy to believe he was angry about something.
"May I?"
Mr. Sparling reflected a moment, raised his eyes and gazed at the dripping roof of the menagerie tent.
"When is this first appearance to be made, if I may ask?"
"Oh, tonight. The fellows said it would be a good time, as there would not be a very big house."
"Oh, they did, eh? Well, go ahead. But remember you do it at your own risk."
"Thank you."
Teddy was off for the dressing room on a run.
"I'm It," he cried, bursting in upon them.
"Get the suit," commanded a voice. "He's It."
Somebody hurried to the property room, returning with a full rubber suit, helmet and all. As yet it was merely a bundle. They bade Teddy get into it, all hands crowding about him, offering suggestions and lending their assistance.
"My, I didn't know I was so popular here," thought the lad, pleased with these unusual attentions. "They must think I'm the real thing. I'll show them I am, too."
"Get the pump," directed the Iron-Jawed Man.
A bicycle pump was quickly produced, and, opening a valve, one of the performers began pumping air into the suit.
"Here, what are you doing?" demanded Teddy.
"Blowing you up—"
"Here, I don't want to be blown up."
"With a bicycle pump," added the performer, grinning through the powder and grease paint on his face.
"Say, you ought to use that on the press agent!"
The performers howled at this sally.
Teddy began to swell out of all proportion to his natural size, as the bicycle pump inflated his costume. In a few moments he had grown so large that he could not see his own feet, while the hood about his head left only a small portion of his face visible.
"Monster!" hissed a clown, shaking a fist in Teddy's face.
"I guess I am. I'd make a hit as the Fattest Boy on Earth in this rig, wouldn't I? I'll bet the Living Skeleton will be jealous when he sees me."
"There, I guess he's pumped up," announced the operator of the bicycle pump.
"Try it and see," suggested a voice.
"All right."
Teddy got a resounding blow that flattened him on the ground. But before he could raise his voice in protest he had bounded to his feet, and someone caught him, preventing his going right on over the other way.
The performers howled with delight.
"He'll do. He'll do," they shouted.
"Don't you do that again," warned the boy, a little dazed.
The time was at hand for the clowns to make their own grand entry.
"Come on, that's our cue!" shouted one, as the band struck up a new tune.
"I—I can't run. I'm too fat."
"We'll help you."
And they did. With a clown on either side of him, Teddy was rushed through the silk curtains and out past the bandstand, his feet scarcely touching the ground. Part of the time the clowns were half dragging him, and at other times carrying him.
At first the audience did not catch the significance of it.Straight for ring No. 1 Tucker's associates rushed him.But just as they reached the ring they let go of him.
Of course Teddy fell over the wooden ring curbing, and went rolling and bouncing into the center of the sawdust arena. Phil had made his change in the menagerie tent after finishing his elephant act, and was just entering the big top as Teddy made his sensational entrance. He caught sight of his companion at once.
"Who's that?" he asked of Mr. Sparling, who was standing at the entrance with a broad grin on his face.
"That, my dear Phil, is your very good friend, Mr. Teddy Tucker."
"Teddy? You don't mean it?"
"Yes; he has decided to be a clown, and I guess he is on the way.The people are kicking on the seats and howling."
"I should judge, from appearances, that the other clowns were getting even more entertainment out of his act than is the audience."
"It certainly looks that way. But let them go. It will doMaster Teddy a whole lot of good."
A clown jumped to the ring curbing and made a speech about the wonderful human football, announcing at the same time that the championship game was about to be played.
Then they began to play in earnest. Some had slapsticks, others light barrel staves, and with these they began to belabor the human football, each blow being so loud that it could be heard all over the tent. Of course the blows did not hurt Teddy at all, but the bouncing and buffeting that he got aroused his anger.
One clown would pick the lad up and throw him to a companion, who, in turn, would drop him. Then the audience would yell with delight as the ball bounced to an upright position again. This the clowns kept up until Teddy did not know whether he were standing on his feet or his head. The perspiration was rolling down his face, getting into his eyes and blinding him.
"Quit it!" he howled.
"Maybe you'll ride the educated mule through the dressing tent again?" jeered a clown.
"Bring the mule out and let him knock the wind out of the rubber man!" suggested another.
"How do you like being a clown?"
This and other taunts were shouted at the rubber man, Teddy meanwhile expressing himself with unusual vehemence.
Mr. Sparling had in the meantime sent a message back to the paddock. He was holding his sides with laughter, while Phil himself was leaning against a quarter pole shouting with merriment.
Suddenly there came the sound of a clanging gong, interspersed with shouts from the far end of the tent.
The spectators quickly glanced in that direction, and they saw coming at a rapid rate the little patrol wagon drawn by four diminutive ponies, the outfit so familiar to the boys who attend the circus.
The clowns were surprised when they observed it, knowing that the patrol was not scheduled to enter at this time. Their surprise was even greater when the wagon dashed up and stopped where they were playing their game of football. Three mock policemen leaped out and rushed into the thick of the mock game.
As they did so they hurled the clowns right and left, standing some of them on their heads and beating them with their clubs, which, in this instance, proved to be slapsticks, that made a great racket.
This was a part of the act that the clowns had not arranged. It was a little joke that the owner of the show was playing on them. Quick to seize an opportunity to make a hit, Sparling had ordered out the show patrol, and the audience, catching the significance of it, shouted, swinging their hats and handkerchiefs.
The three policemen, after laying the clowns low, grabbed the helpless human football by the heels, dragging him to the wagon and dumping him in. They dropped the human football in so heavily that it bounced out again and hit the ground. The next time, as they threw Teddy in, one of the officers sat on him to hold him.
The gong set up an excited clanging, and the ponies began racing around the arena the long way, and took the stretch to the paddock at a terrific speed, with the howls of the multitude sounding in their ears.
Reaching the dressing tent, the mock policemen let the air out of the rubber ball, whereat Teddy sat down heavily in a pail of water.
The performers danced around Tucker, singing an improvised song about the human football. Gradually the angry scowl on the face of the Circus Boy relaxed into a broad grin.
"How do you like being a clown now?" jeered the Iron-Jawed Man.
"Yes; how does it feel to be a football?" questioned another.
"I guess you got even with me that time," answered Teddy good-naturedly. "But say, that's easy compared with riding the educated mule."
The great white billows of the Sparling Combined Shows were moving steadily across the continent. The receipts had exceeded Mr. Sparling's most sanguine expectations, and he was in great good humor.
Only one unpleasant incident had happened and that occurred at Franklin, Indiana. Phil and Teddy, while on their way to their car after the performance late at night, had been set upon by two men and quite severely beaten, though both lads had given a good account of themselves and finally driven off their assailants.
They did not report their experience to Mr. Sparling until the next morning, having gone directly to their car and put themselves to bed after having been fixed up with plasters and bandages by some of their companions. The next morning neither lad was particularly attractive to look at. However, bearing the taunts of the show people good-naturedly, they started for the cook tent just as they were in the habit of doing every day.
But Mr. Sparling had seen them as they passed his car on their way.
"Now, I wonder what those boys have been up to?" he scowled, watching their receding forms thoughtfully. "I'll find out."
And he did. He summoned the lads to his office in the tent soon after breakfast.
"I expected you would send for us," grinned Phil, as he walked in with Teddy.
"What about it? You are both sights!"
"Grease paint and powder will cover it up, I guess,Mr. Sparling."
"I'll hear how it happened."
"I can't tell you much about it," said Phil. "We were on our way to the car when a couple of men suddenly jumped out from a fence corner and went at us hammer and tongs. That's when we got these beauty spots. If we had seen the fellows coming we might not have been hit at all."
"Wait a minute; where did this occur?" demanded the showman.
"Just outside the lot at Franklin. It was very dark there, and, as you know, the sky was overcast."
"Did you know the men—had you ever seen them before?"
"I couldn't say as to that."
"No, sir; we couldn't say," added Teddy, nodding.
Mr. Sparling turned a cold eye upon Tucker.
"I haven't asked for remarks from you, young man. When I do you may answer."
Teddy subsided for the moment.
"But, had it been anyone you knew, you must have recognized their voices."
"They didn't say a word. Just pitched into us savagely. I think they might have done us serious injury had we not defended ourselves pretty well."
"It occurs to me that you were rather roughly handled as it was," said the showman, with a suspicion of a grin on his face. "Doctor fixed you up, I suppose?"
"Oh, no; it wasn't so bad as that."
"Have you any suspicion—do you think it was any of the show people?" demanded Mr. Sparling, eyeing Phil penetratingly.
"I don't know. Here is a button I got from the coat of one of the men. That may serve to identify him if he is one of our men. I haven't had a chance to look around this morning."
The showman quickly stretched forth his hand for the button, which he examined curiously.
"And here's a collar, too," chuckled Teddy.
"A collar? Where did you get that, young man?"
"Oh, I just yanked it off the other fellow. Guess it hasn't been to the laundry this season."
Mr. Sparling leaned back and laughed heartily.
"Between you, you boys will be the ruination of me. You take my mind off business so that I don't know what I'm about half of the time. But I can't get along without you. I'll look into this matter," he went on more gravely. "Tell the boss canvasman to send Larry and Bad Eye to me."
"Yes, sir."
The lads delivered the message.
Mr. Sparling's eyes twinkled as these two worthies sneaked into his tent, each with a hangdog expression on his face. "Red" Larry had a black eye, while Bad Eye's nose appeared to have listed to one side.
The showman glanced at Larry's coat, then at the button in his own hand. He nodded understandingly. Bad Eye was collarless.
"Here's a button that I think you lost off your coat last night, Larry," smiled Mr. Sparling sweetly. "And, Bad Eye, here's your collar. Better send it to the washerwoman."
The men were speechless for the moment.
"Go to the boss, both of you, and get your time. Then I want you to clear out of here."
"Wha—what—we ain't done nothing," protested Larry.
"And you had better not. If I see you about the circus lot again this season, I'll have you both in the nearest jail quicker than you can say 'scat!' Understand? Get out of here!"
The showman half rose from his chair, glaring angrily at them. His good-nature had suddenly left him, and the canvasmen, knowing what they might expect from the wrathful showman, stood not upon the order of their going. They ran.
Larry had left some of his belongings behind a cage in the menagerie tent, and he headed directly for that place to get it out and foot it for the village before Mr. Sparling should discover him on the grounds.
In going after his bundle Larry was obliged to pass the elephant station, where the elephants were taking their morning baths, throwing water over their backs from tubs that had been placed before them. A pail full of water had been left near old Emperor's tub by the keeper, because the tub would hold no more.
Emperor apparently had not observed it, nor did he seem to see the red-headed canvasman striding his way. Mr. Kennedy, the keeper, was at the far end of the line sweeping off the baby elephant with a broom, while Phil and Teddy were sitting on a pile of straw back of Emperor discussing their experience the previous evening.
"There's Red," said Teddy, pointing.
"Yes, and he seems to be in a great hurry about something. I'll bet Mr. Sparling has discharged him. I'm sorry. I hate to see anybody lose his job, but I guess Red deserves it if anybody does. He's one of the fellows that attacked us last night. I haven't the least doubt about that."
"Yes, and he's got a button off his coat, too," added Teddy, peering around Emperor. "What I want now is to see a fellow with his collar torn off. I got a tent stake here by me that I'd like to meet him with."
"You would do nothing of the sort, Teddy Tucker! Hello, what's going on there?"
As Larry passed swiftly in front of Emperor, the old elephant's trunk suddenly wrapped itself about the pail of water unobserved by the discharged canvasman.
Emperor lifted the pail on high, quickly twisted it bottom side up and jammed it down over the head of Larry. The latter went down under the impact and before he could free himself from the pail and get up, Emperor had performed the same service for him with the tub of water.
Under the deluge Red Larry was yelling and choking, making desperate efforts to get up. He struggled free in a moment, and in his blind rage he hurled the empty pail full in Emperor's face, following it with a blow over the animal's trunk with a tent stake.
It was the elephant's turn to be angry now. He did not take into consideration that it was he that was to blame for the assault. Stretching out his trunk, he encircled the waist of the yelling canvasman, and, raising him on high, dashed him to the ground almost under his ponderous feet.
Phil had risen about the time the tub came down. At first he laughed; but when the elephant caught his victim, the lad knew that the situation was critical.
"Emperor! Down!" he shouted.
It was then that the elephant cast Red under his feet.
Phil darted forward just as a ponderous foot was raised to trample the man to death. Without the least sense of fear the lad ran in under Emperor, and, grabbing Larry by the heels, dragged him quickly out.
The elephant was furious at the loss of his prey, and, raising his trunk, trumpeted his disapproval, straining at his chains and showing every sign of dangerous restlessness.
After getting Larry out of harm's way, Phil sprang fearlessly toward his elephant friend.
"Quiet, Emperor, you naughty boy!" Forrest chided. "Don't you know you might have killed him? I wouldn't want anything to do with you if you had done a thing like that."
Gradually the great beast grew quiet and his sinuous trunk sought out the Circus Boy's pockets in search of sweets, of which there was a limited supply.
While this was going on Mr. Kennedy, the keeper, had hurried up and dashed a pail of water into the face of the now unconscious Larry. By this time Larry was well soaked down. He could not have been more so had he fallen in a mill pond. But the last bucketful brought him quickly to his senses.
"You—you'll pay for this," snarled Larry, shaking his fist atPhil Forrest.
"Why, I didn't do anything, Larry," answered the lad in amazement.
"You did. You set him on to me."
"That'll be about all from you, Mr. Red Head," warned Kennedy. "The kid didn't do anything but save your life. I wouldn't let a little thing like that trouble me if I were you. You've been doing something to that bull, or he'd never have used you like that. Why, Emperor is as gentle as a young kitten. He wouldn't hurt a fly unless the fly happened to bite him too hard. Phil, did you see that fellow do anything to him?"
Phil shook his head.
"Not now. He may have at some other time."
"That's it!"
Just then Mr. Sparling came charging down on the scene, having heard of the row out at the front door.
Larry saw him coming. He decided not to argue the question any further, but started on a run across the tent, followed by the showman, who pursued him with long, angry strides. But Larry ducked under the tent and got away before his pursuer could reach him, while Phil and Teddy stood holding their sides with laughter.
Two days had passed and nothing more had been seen of the discharged canvasmen. Believing they were well rid of them all hands proceeded to forget about the very existence of Larry and Bad Eye.
As Phil was passing the roped-off enclosure where the elephants were tethered, the next morning just before the parade, he saw Mr. Kennedy regarding one of the elephants rather anxiously.
"What's the trouble? Anything gone wrong?" sang out the lad cheerily.
"Not yet," answered the keeper without turning his head.
"Something is bothering you or else you are planning out something new for the bulls," decided Phil promptly. "What is it?"
"I don't like the way Jupiter is acting."
"How?"
"He is ugly."
Phil ducked under the ropes and boldly walked over toward the swaying beast.
"Better keep away from him. He isn't to be trusted today."
"Going to send him out in the parade?"
"Haven't decided yet. I may think it best to leave Jupiter here with perhaps the baby elephant for company. He would cut up, I'm afraid, were I to leave him here alone. No; I think, upon second thought, that we had better take him out. It may take his mind from his troubles."
"What do you think is the matter with him?" questioned theCircus Boy, regarding the beast thoughtfully.
"That's what bothers me. He has never acted this way before. Usually there are some signs that I told you about once before that tells one an elephant is going bad."
"You mean the tear drops that come out from the slit under the eye?"
"Yes. There has been nothing of that sort with Jupiter."
"He acts to me as if he had a bad stomach," suggestedPhil wisely.
"That's right. That expresses it exactly. I guess we'll have to give him a pill to set him straight. But Jupiter never was much of a hand for pills. He'll object if we suggest it."
"Then don't suggest it. Just give it to him in his food."
"You can't fool him," answered Mr. Kennedy, with a shake of the head. "He'd smell it a rod away, and that would make him madder than ever. The best way is to make him open his mouth and throw the pill back as far as possible in his throat."
"Have you told Mr. Sparling?"
"No. He doesn't like to be bothered with these little things. He leaves that all to me. It's a guess, though, as to just what to do under these conditions. No two cases, any more than any two elephants, are alike when it comes to disposition and treatment."
"No; I suppose not."
"Where are you going now, Phil?"
"Going back to the dressing tent to get ready for the parade.Hope you do not have any trouble."
"No; I guess I shan't. I can manage to hold him, and if I don't,I'll turn Emperor loose. He makes a first-rate policeman."
Phil hurried on to the dressing tent, for he was a little late this morning, for which he was not wholly to blame, considerable time having been lost in his interview with Mr. Sparling.
In the hurry of preparation for the parade, Phil forgot all about Mr. Kennedy's concern over Jupiter. But he was reminded of it again when he rode out to fall in line with the procession. Mr. Kennedy and his charges, all well in hand, were just emerging from the menagerie tent to take their places for the parade. Jupiter was among them. He saw, too, that Mr. Kennedy was walking by Jupiter's side, giving him almost his exclusive attention.
Phil's place in the parade this season was with a body of German cavalry. He wore a plumed hat, with a gaudy uniform and rode a handsome bay horse, one of the animals used in the running race at the close of the circus. Phil had become very proficient on horseback and occasionally had entered the ring races, being light enough for the purpose. He had also kept up his bareback practice, under the instruction of Dimples, until he felt quite proud of his achievements.
Vincennes, where the show was to exhibit that day, was a large town, and thousands of people had turned out to view the parade which had been extensively advertised as one of the greatest features ever offered to the public.
"They seem to like it," grinned Phil, turning to the rider beside him.
"Act as if they'd never seen a circus parade before," answered the man. "But wait till we get out in some of the way-back towns in the West."
"I thought we were West now?"
"Not until we get the other side of the Mississippi, we won't be. They don't call Indiana West. We'll be getting there pretty soon, too. According to the route card, we are going to make some pretty long jumps from this on."
"We do not go to Chicago, do we?"
"No. Show's not quite big enough for that town. We go south of it, playing some stands in Illinois, then striking straight west. Hello, what's the row up ahead there?"
"What row, I didn't see anything."
"Something is going on up there. See! The line is breaking!"
The part of the parade in which Phil was located was well up toward the elephants, the animals at that moment having turned a corner, moving at right angles to Phil's course.
"It's the elephants!" cried the lad aghast.
"What's happening?"
"They have broken the line!"
All was confusion at the point on which the two showmen had focused their eyes.
"It's a stampede, I do believe!" exclaimed Phil. "I wonder whereMr. Kennedy is? I don't see him anywhere."
"There! They're coming this way."
"What, the elephants? Yes, that's so. Oh, I'm afraid somebody will be killed."
"If there hasn't already been," growled Phil's companion. "I'm going to get out of this while I have the chance. I've seen elephants on the rampage before." Saying which, the showman turned his horse and rode out of the line. His example was followed by many of the others.
People were screaming and rushing here and there, horses neighing, and the animals in the closed cages roaring in a most terrifying way.
Phil pulled his horse up short, undecided what to do. He had never seen a stampede before, but desperate as the situation seemed, he felt no fear.
The elephants, with lowered heads, were charging straight ahead. Now Phil saw that which seemed to send his heart right up into his throat.
Little Dimples had been riding in a gayly bedecked two-wheeled cart, drawn by a prancing white horse. Dressed in white from head to foot, she looked the dainty creature that she was.
Dimples, seeing what had happened, had wheeled her horse quickly out of line, intending to turn about and drive back along the line. It would be a race between the white horse and the elephants, but she felt sure she would be able to make it and turn down a side street before the stampeding herd reached her.
She might have done so, had it not been for one unforeseen incident. As she dashed along a rider, losing his presence of mind, if indeed, he had had any to lose, drove his horse directly in front of her. The result was a quick collision, two struggling horses lying kicking in the dust of the street, and a white-robed figure lying stretched out perilously near the flying hoofs.
The force of the collision had thrown Little Dimples headlong from her seat in the two wheeled cart, and there she lay, half-dazed with the herd of elephants thundering down upon her.
Phil took in her peril in one swift glance.
"She'll be killed! She'll be killed!" he cried, all the color suddenly leaving his face.
All at once he drove the rowels of his spurs against the sides of his mount. The animal sprang away straight toward the oncoming herd, but Phil had to fight every inch of the way to keep the horse from turning about and rushing back, away from the peril that lay before it.
The lad feared he would not be able to reach Dimples in time, but with frequent prods of spur and crop, uttering little encouraging shouts to the frightened horse, he dashed on, dodging fleeing showmen and runaway horses at almost every jump.
He forged up beside the girl at a terrific pace. But, now that he was there, the lad did not dare dismount, knowing that were he to do so, his horse would quickly break away from him, thus leaving them both to be crushed under the feet of the ponderous beasts.
It was plain to Phil that Jupiter must have gone suddenly bad, and, starting on a stampede, had carried the other bulls with him. And he even found himself wondering if anything had happened to his friend Kennedy, the elephant trainer. If Kennedy were on his feet he would be after them.
As it was, no one appeared to be chasing the runaway beasts.
Phil leaned far from the saddle grasping the woman by her flimsy clothing. It gave way just as he had begun to lift her, intending to pull her up beside him on the horse's back.
Twice he essayed the feat, each time with the same result. The bay was dancing further away each time, and the elephants were getting nearer. The uproar was deafening, which, with the trumpetings of the frightened elephants, made the stoutest hearts quail.
With a grim determination Forrest once more charged alongside of Dimples. As he did so she opened her eyes, though Phil did not observe this, else he might have acted differently.
As it was he threw himself from the bay while that animal was still on the jump. Keeping tight hold of the saddle pommel, the reins bunched in the hand that grasped it, Phil dropped down. When he came up, Dimples was on his arm.
He then saw that she was herself again.
"Can you hold on if I get you up?"
"Yes. You're a good boy."
Phil made no reply, but, with a supreme effort, threw the girl into the saddle. To do so he was obliged to let go the pommel and the reins for one brief instant. But he succeeded in throwing Dimples up to the saddle safely, where she quickly secured herself.
The bay was off like a shot, leaving Phil directly in front of the oncoming elephants.
"Run! I'll come back and get you," shouted Dimples over her shoulder.
"You can't. The reins are over the bay's head," he answered.
She was powerless to help. Dimples realized this at once. She was in no danger herself. She was such a skillful rider that it made little difference whether the reins were in her hand or on the ground, so far as maintaining her seat was concerned. With Phil, however, it was different.
"I guess I might as well stand still and take it," muttered the lad grimly.
He turned, facing the mad herd, a slender but heroic figure in that moment of peril.
"Get back!" shouted the boy.
He had descried Teddy Tucker driving his own mount toward him. Teddy was coming to the rescue in the face of almost certain death.
"You can't make it! Go back!"
Whether or not Teddy heard and understood, did not matter, for at that moment the view of the plucky lad was shut off by the elephants forming their charging line into crescent shape.
"Emperor!" he called in a shrill penetrating voice. But in the dust of the charge he could not make out which one was Emperor, yet he continued calling lustily.
"Emperor!"
Phil threw his hands above his head as was his wont when desirous of having the old elephant pick him up.
Right across the center of the crescent careened a great hulking figure, uttering loud trumpetings—trumpetings that were taken up by his companions until the very ground seemed to shake.
Phil's back was half toward the big elephant, and in the noise he did not distinguish a familiar note in the call.
All at once he felt himself violently jerked from the ground. The lad was certain that his time had come. But out of that cloud of dust, in which those who looked, believed that the little Circus Boy had gone down to his death, Phil Forrest rose right up into the air and was dropped unharmed to the back of old Emperor.
For the moment he was so dizzy that he was unable to make up his mind what had happened or where he was. Then it all came to him. He was on Emperor's back.
"Hurrah!" shouted Phil. "Good old Emperor! Steady, steady,Emperor!That's a good fellow."
He patted the beast's head with the flat of his hand, crooned to him, using every artifice that he knew to quiet the nerves of his big friend.
Little by little Emperor appeared to come out of his fright, until the lad felt almost certain that the big beast would take orders. He tried the experiment.
"Left, Emperor!"
The elephant swerved sharply to the left, aided by a sharp tap of the riding crop which Phil still carried.
Phil uttered a little cry of exultation.
"Now, if I can head them off!"
With this in mind he gradually worked Emperor around until the herd had been led into a narrow street. Here, Phil began forcing his mount back and forth across the street in an effort to check the rush of the stampede, all the time calling out the command to slow down, which he had learned from Mr. Kennedy.
He was more successful than he had even dreamed he could be.
"Now, if I am not mistaken, that street beyond there leads out to the lot. I'll see if I can make them go that way."
All did save Jupiter, who charged straight ahead for some distance, then turning sharply tore back and joined his fellows.
"If I had a hook I believe I could lead him. He's a very bad elephant. I hope nobody has been killed."
It was more quiet in the street where Forrest now found himself, and by degrees the excitement that had taken possession of the huge beasts began to wear off.
Phil uttered his commands to them in short, confident tones, all the time drawing nearer and nearer to the circus lot.
Very soon the fluttering flags from the big top were seen above the intervening housetops.
"I'm going to win—oh, I hope I do!" breathed the Circus Boy.
With rapid strides, at times merging into a full run, the beasts tore along, now understanding that they were nearing their quarters, where safety and quiet would be assured.
And, beyond that, it was time for their dinners. Already bales of hay had been placed in front of their quarters, and the elephants knew it.
As the procession burst into the circus lot a dozen attendants started on a run toward them.
"Keep off!" shouted Phil. "Do you want to stampede them again?Keep away, I tell you and I'll get them home. Drive all thepeople out of the way in case the bulls make another break.That's all you can do now."
Now young Forrest urged Emperor to the head of the line of bobbing beasts, feeling sure that the others would follow him in now.
They did. The whole line of elephants swept in through the opening that the attendants had quickly made by letting down a section of the side walls of the menagerie tent, with Phil Forrest a proud and happy boy, perched on the head of old Emperor.
"Halt!"
He went at it with all the confidence and skill of a professional elephant trainer.
"Stations!"
Each beast walked to his regular place, a dozen sinuous trunks gathering up as many wisps of hay.
"Back up! Back, Jupiter!"
As docile as if they never had left the tent, each huge beast slowly felt his way into his corner.
"Good boy, Emperor!" glowed Phil holding out a small bag of peanuts, which Emperor quickly stowed away in his mouth bag and all.
"You greedy fellow! Now get back into your own corner!"
The elephant did so.
"You fellows keep away from here," warned Phil as the anxious tent men began crowding around him. "Don't let anybody get these big fellows excited. We've had trouble enough for one day."
Phil then began chaining down the beasts, his first care being to secure the unruly Jupiter. But Jupiter's fit of bad temper seemed to have left him entirely. He was as peaceful as could be, and, to show that he was good, he showered a lot of hay all over Phil.
"You bad, bad boy!" chided the lad. "All this is just because you let your temper get the best of you. I think perhaps Mr. Sparling may have something to say to you if anyone has been killed or seriously hurt. Oh, you want some peanuts, do you? I haven't any, but I'll get you some, though goodness knows you don't deserve any. Bring me some peanuts, will you please?"
An attendant came running with a bag of them. Phil met him halfway, not wishing the man to approach too near. With the bag in his hand the boy walked slowly down the line, giving to each of his charges a small handful.
This was the final act in subduing them. They were all thoroughly at home and perfectly contented now, and Phil had chained the last one down, except the baby elephant, that usually was left free to do as it pleased, providing it did not get too playful.
At this moment Phil heard a great shouting out on the lot.
"Go out there and stop that noise!" the boy commanded. He was as much in charge of the show at that moment as if he had been the proprietor himself.
Shortly after that Mr. Kennedy came rushing in on one of the circus ponies that he had taken from a parade rider. Phil was delighted to see that the keeper was uninjured.
"Did you do this, Phil Forrest?" he shouted bursting in.
"Yes. But I'll have to do it all over again if you keep on yelling like that. What happened to you?"
"Jupiter threw me over a fence, into an excavation where they were digging for a new building. I thought I was dead, but after a little I came to and crawled out. It was all over but the shouting then."
"Did you know I had them?"
"No; not until I got near the lot. I followed their tracks you see. Finally some people told me a kid was leading the herd back here. I knew that was you. Phil Forrest, you are a dandy. I can't talk now! I'm too winded. I'll tell you later on what I think of your kind. Now I'm going to whale the daylights out of that Jupiter."
"Please don't do anything of the sort," begged Phil. "He is quiet now. He has forgotten all about it. I am afraid if you try to punish him you will only make him worse."
"Good elephant sense," emphasized the keeper. "You ought to be on the animals."
"It seems to me that I have been pretty well on them today," grinned the lad. "Oh, was anybody killed?"
"I think not. Don't believe anyone was very seriously hurt. You see, that open lot there gave the people plenty of chance to see what was coming. They had plenty of time to get away after that."
"I'm so glad. I hope no one was killed."
"Reckon there would have been if you hadn't got busy when you did."
"Have you seen Mrs. Robinson? I'm rather anxious about her."
"There she is now."
Dimples had changed her torn white dress for a short riding skirt, and when Phil turned about she was running toward him with outstretched arms. He braced himself and blushed violently.
"Oh, you dear," cried the impulsive little equestrienne, throwing both arms about Phil's neck. "I wish my boy could have seen you do that! It was splendid. You're a hero! You'll see what a craze the people will make of you—"
"I—I think they are more likely to chase us out of town," laughed Phil. "We must have smashed up things pretty thoroughly downtown."
"Never mind; Mr. Sparling will settle the damage. The only trouble will be that he won't have anyone to scold. You saved the day, Phil, and you saved me as well. Of course I'm not much, but I value my precious little life just as highly as the next one—I mean the next person."
"The bay ran away with you, didn't he?"
"I suppose that's what some people would call it. It would have been a glorious ride if it hadn't been that I expected you were being trampled to death back there. The bay brought me right to the lot, then stopped, of course. Circus horses have a lot of sense. I heard right away that you were not injured and that you were bringing the bulls in. Then I was happy. I'm happy now. We'll have a lesson after the show. You—"
"When do you think I shall be fit to go in the ring?"
"Fit now! You're ahead of a good many who have been workingat it for years, and I mean just what I'm saying. There isMr. Sparling. Come on; run along back to the paddock with me.I haven't finished talking with you yet."
"Perhaps he may want me," hesitated Phil.
"Nothing very particular. He'll want to have it out with Mr. Kennedy first. Then, if he wants you, he can go back and hunt you up, or send for you. Mr. Sparling knows how to send for people when he wants them, doesn't he?" twinkled Dimples.
"I should say he did," grinned Phil. "He's not bashful. Has my friend Teddy got back yet?"
"Haven't seen him. Why? Worried about him?"
"Not particularly. He has a habit of taking care of himself under most circumstances."