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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.
He sat down in his own place near the freak table and began talking shop with some of the performers, while Phil and Mr. Sparling continued their conversation. "I haven't given up hopes of catching him myself, Mr. Sparling." "You came pretty close to it Saturday night." "And I wasn't so far from it last night either," laughed the boy. "Going to be able to save the accommodation car?"
"Who is the man in charge of Sparling Advance Car Number Three?" demanded Mr. Starr, manager of "The Greatest Show on Earth." "A young fellow named Forrest. That is all I know about him," answered the treasurer of the show. "He used to be a performer and a good one, too," spoke up the assistant manager.
Sparling, in his excitement, forgot all about the ringmaster. Picking up a tent stake, he hurled it after the educated mule, missing him by a full rod. The audience by this time was in a tempest of excitement. At first they thought it was all a part of the show. But they were soon undeceived, which made their enjoyment and appreciation all the greater.
These horses, too, were instantly mixed in the wreck. The wagon did not turn turtle as the one before it had done, but one of the horses went down. Now came other wagons of the Sparling outfit. They were running two abreast in the road. But the drivers saw the obstruction in time, slowed down and dodged it.
Queen Anne type, side hammer with pan attached to barrel, steel barrel and frame. Marked: Wilson, Minories, London. Silver masque butt-cap, hallmarked for 1723. 4-1/2" barrel; 9-1/4" O.A.; cal. abt .44. Taken in trade, 3/21/'38, from V. Sparling, for Kentuck #2538, along with 4851, 4852, 4853. App. cost, RLss; Replacement, do. NLss, OSss, LSss.
I nearly got my light put out, out in St. Joe, Missouri, by a trick like that. No more swinging wire for me. Guess the kid, if he pulls out of this, will want to hang on to a rope after this. He will if he's wise." "What's this? What's this?" roared Mr. Sparling, who, having heard of the accident, came rushing into the tent. "Who's hurt?" "The kid," informed someone. "What kid?
"That is a good idea," approved Mr. Sparling. "Get the net, and hold it in readiness." Teddy, in the meantime, was working his way up. After a time his hands grasped the crossbar and he pulled himself up astride it, waving one hand to those below him. Bruiser, however, was not there.
Not understanding wild animals as the trainer did, they did not realize that this plucky fellow was fighting for his life, even though he used but a slender rawhide in his effort to do so. Bengal was crowding him. The least mistake on the trainer's part now and the savage tiger would put a quick and terrible end to him. "Stand back, everybody! Bring the prods!" bellowed Mr. Sparling.
"Thank you; I shall be glad to do that. I can do a lot of little things to help you as soon as I learn how you run the show. I know something about that already," grinned the lad. "If you wish, I will double somebody up on your flying rings act. What do you say?" "It isn't necessary, Mr. Sparling.
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