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Updated: May 28, 2025
Little Dimples, using the ringmaster's hand as a step, vaulted lightly to the back of the great gray ring horse, where she sat as the animal began a slow walk about the ring. Phil wondered how she could stay on, for she appeared to be sitting right on the animal's sloping hip. The band struck up a lively tune, the gray horse began a slow, methodical gallop.
Not by a blame sight!" snorted Buck. "You just climb out and shut up and help me unharness old Pollyponeezus here." Ten minutes afterward they had the canvas off the chariots and were inspecting them by lantern light, chattering old reminiscences and seeming almost to hear the "roomp-roomp" of the elephant and the snap of the ringmaster's whip.
I had picked up the ringmaster's whip, and as one of the hats went sailing over my head I just took a shot at it." "Took a shot at it?" "Yes. I fired at it on the wing, as it were. Don't you understand?" demanded the lad somewhat impatiently. Phil shook his head. "I hit it a crack with the ringmaster's whip and I hit the mark the first shot. Down came the hat and it caught me on the nose."
As if in answer to the lad's question, the "tweetle" of the ringmaster's whistle brought everything to a standstill under the big top. Even the band suddenly ceased playing. Then Phil knew that something worthwhile was coming.
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