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Updated: September 8, 2025
His head had been propped up on a saddle, while about him stood a half circle of solemn-faced performers in various stages of undress and makeup. "Is he badly hurt?" asked one. "Can't say. Miaco has gone for the doc. We'll know pretty soon. That was a dandy tumble he took." "How did it happen?" "Wire broke. You can't put no faith on a wire with a kink in it.
They did everything that Signor Navaro had done in his performance, adding some clever feats of their own that had been devised with the help of Mr. Miaco. Mr. Sparling looked on with twinkling eyes and frequent nods of approval. "Fine! Fine!
The show people ate dinner with their feet in the mud that day, the cook tent having been pitched on a barren strip of ground. "This is where the Armless Wonder has the best of us today," nodded Teddy, with his usual keen eye for humor. "How is that?" questioned Mr. Miaco. " 'Cause he don't have to put his feet in the mud like the rest of us do. He keeps them on the table.
There was also to be commerce and friendship with the viceroy of that country. He said that Daifu had already given leave for religious to go to Japon, to christianize and to found churches and monasteries, and had given him a good site for a monastery in Miaco, where he was, and that the same would be done in other parts and regions of Japon in which they might wish to settle.
As for Phil's bareback riding, he occupied the center ring in this act, as he had done the season before. He had come to be perhaps the most useful man with the Sparling show. "I advise you to look out for that fellow. He is a dangerous customer," warned Miaco under his breath, as Phil sat down on his horse during a rest in the performance.
But during all this time the pony was far from idle. He was plunging like a ship in a gale, cracking the whip with Phil Forrest until it seemed as if every bone in the lad's body would be broken. He could hear his own neck snap with every jerk. With a howl Miaco, the head clown, launched himself from the wagon, too.
Both lads ran toward their old friend, the head clown, with outstretched hands, and Mr. Miaco, seeing them coming, hastened forward to greet them. "Well, well, boys! How are you?" "Oh, we're fine," glowed Phil. "And we are glad to be back again, let me tell you." "No more so than your old friends are to have you back. Same old act?" "Yes." "What have you boys been doing this winter?"
The clowns piled from the hayrack like a cataract, the cataract having all the colors of the rainbow. Phil, not to be behind, followed suit, though he did not quite understand what the rush was about. He ran until he caught up with Miaco. "What's the hurry about?" he questioned. "Parade's over. Got to hurry and get dinner, so as to be ready for the afternoon performance."
Miaco, himself an all around acrobat, was on hand to watch their work and to offer suggestions. He had taken a keen interest in Phil Forrest, seeing in the lad the making of a high-class circus performer. The rings were let down to within about ten feet of the sawdust ring, and one at a time the two lads were hoisted by the clown until their fingers grasped the iron rings.
Miaco put those streaks on your face?" "No, I sneezed them there," answered Phil, with a sheepish grin. The assistant laughed heartily. Somehow, he had taken a sudden liking to this boy. "Do you live at home, Forrest?" "No; I have no home now." "Here's a fish horn. Now get up in the band wagon no, not the big one, I mean the clowns' band wagon with the hayrack on it.
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