“Thank you,” smiled Phil, tugging2 at his silk tights, that fitted so closely as to cause him considerable trouble in stripping them off.
“You’ll have the whole show jealous of you if you don’t watch out. But don’t get a swelled3 head—”
“Not unless I fall off and bump it,” laughed Phil. “Where do I wash?”
“You always want to get a pail of water before you undress.”
“Say, Phil, did you really fly?” queried4 Teddy, who was standing5 by eyeing his companion admiringly.
“Sure. Didn’t you see me?”
“I did and I didn’t. Will you show me how to fly like that?”
“’Course I will. You come in under the big top tomorrow after the show and I’ll give you a lesson.”
Teddy had not happened to observe the simple mechanical arrangement that had permitted the young circus performer to carry out his flying act.
“I reckon you ought to get a dollar a day for that stunt,” decided6 Teddy.
“Yes, I think so myself,” grinned Phil.
Teddy now turned his attention to Mr. Miaco, who, made up for his clown act in the ring, presented a most grotesque7 appearance.
“How do I look?” asked the clown, noting the lad’s observant gaze.
“You look as if you’d stuck your head in a flour barrel,” grunted8 Teddy.
“Ho ho,” laughed the clown. “I’ll have to try that on the audience. That’s a good joke. To look at you, one wouldn’t think it of you, either.”
“Oh, that’s nothing. I can say funnier things than that when I want to. Why—”
But their conversation was cut short by the band striking up the tune9 to which Mr. Miaco always entered the ring.
“Listen to me, kid. You’ll hear them laugh when I tell ’em the story,” he called back. And they did. The audience roared when the funny man told them what his young friend had said.
His work for the day having been finished, Phil bethought himself of his trunk, which had not yet been packed. His costume was suspended from a line in the dressing10 tent where many other costumes were hanging to air and dry after the strenuous11 labors12 of their owners.
Phil took his slender belongings13 down, shook them out well and laid them in the trunk that Mrs. Waite had given him. It was too late for Phil to get his bag from the baggage wagon14, so with a grin he locked his tights and his wig15 in the trunk.
“Guess they won’t break their backs lifting that outfit16,” he mused17.
Phil then strolled in to watch the show. He found many new points of interest and much that was instructive, as he studied each act attentively18 and with the keenness of one who had been in the show business all his life.
“Someday I’ll have a show like this myself,” nodded the boy. He did not know that he expressed his thoughts aloud until he noticed that the people sitting nearest to him were regarding him with amused smiles.
Phil quickly repressed his audible comments.
The show was soon over; then came the noise and the confusion of the breaking up. The illusion was gone—the glamor19 was a thing of the past. The lad strolled about slowly in search of his companion, whom he eventually found in the dressing tent.
“Teddy, isn’t it about time you and I went to bed?” he asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Circus people sleep when there isn’t anything else to do. Where we going to sleep?”
“Same place, I presume, if no one gets ahead of us.”
“They’d better not. I’ll throw them out if they do.”
Phil laughed good-naturedly.
“If I remember correctly, somebody was thrown out last night and this morning, but it didn’t happen to be the other fellow. I’m hungry; wish I had something to eat.”
“So am I,” agreed Teddy.
“You boys should get a sandwich or so and keep the stuff in your trunk while we are playing these country towns. When we get into the cities, where they have restaurants, you can get a lunch downtown after you have finished your act and then be back in time to go out with the wagons,” Mr. Miaco informed them. “You’ll pick up these little tricks as we go along, and it won’t be long before you are full-fledged showmen. You are pretty near that point already.”
The lads strolled out on the lot and began hunting for their wagon. They found nothing that looked like it for sometime and had about concluded that the canvas wagon had gone, when they chanced to come across the driver of the previous night, who directed them to where they would find it.
“The wagon isn’t loaded yet. You’ll have to wait half an hour or so,” he said.
They thanked him and went on in the direction indicated, where they soon found that which they were in search of.
“I think we had better wait here until it is loaded,” advised Phil, throwing himself down on the ground.
“This having to hunt around over a ten-acre lot for your bedroom every night isn’t as much fun as you would think, is it?” grinned Teddy.
“Might be worse. I have an idea we haven’t begun to experience the real hardships of the circus life.” And indeed they had not.
Soon after that the wagon was loaded, and, bidding the driver a cheery good night, the circus boys tumbled in and crawled under the canvas.
They were awakened20 sometime before daylight by a sudden heavy downpour of rain. The boys were soaked to the skin, the water having run in under the canvas until they were lying in a puddle21 of water.
There was thunder and lightning. Phil scrambled22 out first and glanced up at the driver, who, clothed in oilskins, was
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