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When the runaway youth, Vince Marr, inserted himself beneath the protecting wing of this patron he knew exactly whither his ultimate ambitions tended. He had no vague boyish design to serve a 'prenticeship as stake driver or roustabout in the hope some day of graduating into a rider or a tumbler, a ringmaster or a clown.
The ringmaster jerked him to his feet and shook him vigorously. This restored the boy to his normal condition. "Hello, folks!" howled Teddy, turning a handspring, falling over a ring curbing as he did so. The people forgot their fear and greeted Teddy with wild applause. The Circus Boy had saved a blow-down and perhaps many lives as well.
He wrenched the rope loose from Tucker's hands, taking a twist about his own arms and holding on with all his might. Several ring attendants came to their senses about that time and rushed to his assistance. "Take care of Teddy!" cried Phil. The ringmaster turned Teddy over and looked into the lad's face. At that, Teddy opened his eyes and winked.
"Lady and gent performers of the circus," announced the ringmaster jovially, "I am sure we will all agree that a good time has been had by all. We will now bestow honour where honour is due by bestowing the prizes. Mrs. Townsend has asked me to bestow the prizes.
Then the ringmaster he see how he had been fooled, and he WAS the sickest ringmaster you ever see, I reckon. Why, it was one of his own men! He had got up that joke all out of his own head, and never let on to nobody. Well, I felt sheepish enough to be took in so, but I wouldn't a been in that ringmaster's place, not for a thousand dollars.
"Partner," continued Werther, brushing away the big hand of Drew which would have pulled him down into his seat; "I've seen you bluff for two nights hand running. There ain't no man can bluff all the world three times straight." The ringmaster retorted in his great voice: "That sounds like good poker. What's your game?"
He wanted me to go to the circus that was touring over at the cross roads, but it was the old Flanigin's circus, you know, the one Gussie Riggs used to ride in, with its old clown and its old ringmaster and the old 'wheezes, and I chucked it." "Look here," said Jack, rising and surveying Mrs. Rylands critically. "If you go on at this gait, I'll tell you what that man of yours will do.
Finally, red of face, panting, breathless, Phil Forrest alighted on his feet, well back on the ring horse's rump. "Be ready to catch me," he gasped. The ringmaster understood. Phil urged his horse to a run about the sawdust arena. "Now, what's that fool boy going to do?" wondered Mr. Sparling. All at once Phil Forrest threw himself up into the air, his body doubling like a ball as he did so.
One tight split up to the knee as he made a jig step that brought the tears to the eyes of Billy Blow, who, with his boy, had come to witness the show. Then the fellow sang a funny song. It was funny. His voice was cracked, his delivery dolorous. He began to shuffle at the end of it. "Faster, faster, sir!" cried the ringmaster, snapping his whip across the bare limb exposed. "Faster, I tell you!"
Going to lick him," hiccoughed the rowdy, his eyes fixed on the elephant trainer. "Leave the ring," ordered the ringmaster. "Me? Guess not! Will I, boys?" he demanded of his special crowd of cronies. "No, no! Go on! Have it out!" A good many timid ones arose from their seats. The ringmaster scented trouble.
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