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He landed on Larry's back, pinioning the fellow's arms to his sides. "You stop that now! You let him alone!" commanded Phil. Before the canvasman could make an effort to free himself, Mr. Miaco, the head clown, took a hand in the proceedings. Throwing Phil from the tentman, Miaco jerked Larry about, and demanded to know what he meant by intruding on the privacy of the dressing tent in that manner.
You thick heads! Get a side pole, don't you understand?" and the owner made a dive at the nearest man to him, whereat the fellow quickly side-stepped and started off on a run for the pole for which Phil had asked. But, even then, some of the hands did not understand what he could want of a side pole. The instant it was brought Mr. Sparling snatched it from the hands of the tentman.
He sprang forward and with a mighty tug, jerked the tentman free of the Circus Boy's body. At that instant the fellow leaped to his feet and started to run. "Stop him!" howled Phil. Teddy, who had come running up, suddenly stooped over and constituting himself a battering ram, ran full tilt into the tentman, the boy's head landing in the pit of the circus hand's stomach.
"Colonel, shall we stretch the full canvas?" asked the tentman. "Every inch of it," was the prompt response. "We want to show North Platte the capacity of the 'Wild West, at any rate." As we started for the grounds Will was evidently uncertain over the outcome, in spite of his previous boast of the reception North Platte would give him.
Very cautiously and deliberately, more from force of habit than otherwise, the lad had let his feet down, and with them was groping for the rope. "Swing the line between his legs!" roared the owner. "Going to let him stay up there all day?" "That's what we're trying to do," answered a tentman. "Yes, I see you trying. That's the trouble with you fellows.
Therefore, Larry's surprise was great when his fist beat the empty air. Thrown off his balance, Larry measured his length on the ground. "I advise you to let me alone," warned Phil coolly, as the tentman was scrambling to his feet. Already Larry's companion had gotten up and was gazing at Phil in a half dazed sort of way. "Get hold of him, Bad Eye! What are you standing there like a dummy for?
"The rain barrel for him." "Men, do your duty!" cried Mr. Miaco. "I wouldn't do that," interposed Phil. "You haven't any more right to duck him than he had to put Teddy under the water tank. It isn't right." But they gave no heed to his protests. Willing hands grabbed the red-headed tentman, whose kicks and struggles availed him nothing.
Take hold here, and help us get this canvas out if you want any breakfast." "Take it out yourself," growled Teddy, dodging the flat of the canvasman's hand. The lads had been hurled from their sleeping place by a rough tentman in a hurry to get at his work. The chill of the early dawn was in the air.
Young Tucker said he thought Phil had remained behind, and I was afraid something had happened to the boy or that he had skipped the show. I might have known better. What's that back of him?" "Somebody chasing them, boss," a tentman informed him. "And they're going to catch old Emperor sure." "Not if I know it," snapped Mr. Sparling. "Hey, Rube!" he howled.
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