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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!
You want to look out for these foreigners. Some of them are revengeful," cautioned Mr. Miaco. Signor Navaro was the leading performer in the flying-rings act. With him was his young son, Rodney Palmer and a young girl performer, whose father was a clown in the show. Phil shot a sharp glance at Mr. Miaco, then dropped his eyes. "I guess nobody would be jealous of me," laughed the lad.
There was no net under the flying ring performers. Two of them shot toward the ground. When they struck, one was on top of the other. The man at the bottom was Signor Navaro, his son having fallen prone across him. The two other performers in the act had grabbed a rope and saved themselves.
Is that why you played that trick on me?" demanded the lad. "You know?" questioned Signor Navaro, with a start. Phil gave a slight nod. "Why did you put the file in my trunk the file you cut the wire with?" "I thought I dropped it in my own trunk. Somebody surprised me and I was afraid they would catch me with it in my hand and suspect." "That's what I thought." "You are sharp.
Phil, when he reached the dressing tent, learned that Signor Navaro was seriously hurt, though his son was suffering merely from shock. The father had sustained several broken bones. Phil approached the injured performer and leaned over him. The man was conscious. "I'm sorry, very sorry, sir," breathed the boy sympathetically. "You needn't be. You'll get what you want," murmured the circus man.
"I should think it would," mused the boy. Soon after that Phil went to his wagon and turned in, his mind still on Signor Navaro, who had been taken to a hospital, where he was destined to remain for many weeks. "I guess it doesn't pay, in the long run, to be dishonorable," mused the lad as he was dropping off to sleep.
"I don't understand," wondered Phil. "You'll get my act." "Is that what you think I have been working for?" Signor Navaro nodded. "You are mistaken. Of course, if you are not able to perform any more this season I shall try to get it, but when you are able to go to work I shall give it up willingly, even if I succeed in getting it during that time.
Signor Navaro extended a feeble hand, which Phil pressed softly. "Forgive me, boy. Will you?" "Yes," whispered Phil. "And you will tell no " "There is nothing to tell, Signor Navaro. If there is anything I can do for you, tell me, and I shall have great happiness in doing it," breathed the lad.
I'd have given my best horse to have seen you dance, but, as you see, I'm too late. A pretty nest of hornets you've stirred up in the old place," he continued. "Why, last evening I met the Navaros on the road on their way home and they wouldn't let me pass until they had told me how wicked you were. Señora Navaro even crossed herself and said an ave at the first mention of your name."
Having come to this wise conclusion, Phil proceeded to the big top, where he and Teddy Tucker were to take their afternoon practice on the flying rings, pausing on the way to pass a handful of peanuts to Emperor, who was again in his place, and give the elephant's trainer a happy nod. "I've noticed of late that Signor Navaro acts rather grouchy over you boys working on his apparatus.
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