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Updated: May 28, 2025
Don't you use the back pad to ride on?" questioned Mr. Sparling in a surprised tone. "No, sir. I haven't used the pad at all yet." "Very well; I'm ready to see you fall off." Phil sprang lightly to the back of the ring horse while Dimples, who had brought a ringmaster's whip with her, cracked the whip and called shrilly to her horse.
They screamed in a chorus of delight when the funny old clown, who had been forcibly deprived of three tin flutes in rapid succession, now produced yet a fourth from the seemingly inexhaustible depths of his baggy white pants a flute with a string and a bent pin affixed to it and, secretly hooking the pin in the tail of the cross ringmaster's coat, was thereafter enabled to toot sharp shrill blasts at frequent intervals, much to the chagrin of the ringmaster, who seemed utterly unable to discover the whereabouts of the instrument dangling behind him.
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.
While this impromptu act was going on the minds of the people were so occupied that they forgot all about the storm. The rain was now beating down on the big top in a deluge, and despite the ringmaster's assurance that the canvas would not leak, a fine spray was filling the tent like a thin fog, through which the lights glowed in pale circles.
The ringmaster's whistle trilled for the successful drivers to swing out into the concourse. They were driving furiously, almost before the echoes of the whistle had died away. Making the turn at the lower end of the track in safety, the two teams in the race squared away down the home stretch. All at once Phil saw that something was wrong.
Crack! The ringmaster's whip in Phil's hands snapped and the leather lash bit deep into the nose of Wallace. With a roar that sounded louder than that of the storm outside the lion took a quick step forward, only to get the lash on his nose again. Suddenly he turned about and in long, curving bounds headed for the lower end of the tent. Mr.
The ringmaster's whip cracked with an explosive sound, at which the gray mare, unaffected by the noise and the excitement, started away at a measured gallop, her head rising and falling like the prow of a ship buffeting a heavy sea. Phil was plainly nervous. He knew it. He felt that he was going to make an unpleasant exhibition of himself. "Get up! Get going!
They'll be wantin' their money back unless the performance goes on purty blamed " Braddock reached the man's side in three steps. He delivered a resounding slap on the ringmaster's cheek, almost knocking him down. The tall hat went spinning away on the ground. Tears of pain and terror flew to the fellow's eyes. He began to blubber.
They screamed in a chorus of delight when the funny old clown, who had been forcibly deprived of three tin flutes in rapid succession, now produced yet a fourth from the seemingly inexhaustible depths of his baggy white pants a flute with a string and a bent pin attached to it and, secretly affixing the pin in the tail of the cross ringmaster's coat, was thereafter enabled to toot sharp shrill blasts at frequent intervals, much to the chagrin of the ringmaster, who seemed utterly unable to discover the whereabouts of the instrument dangling behind him.
He took himself firmly in hand. But the applause did not abate one whit. "Watch out, we're going down," warned the trainer. "Right!" The elephant trainer's command came out like the crack of a ringmaster's whip. Slowly the great beasts lowered themselves toward the sawdust ring. "Stoop over and grab the harness!" Phil did so. "Sit! Let go, Emperor!"
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