THE ROMAN CHARIOT RACES
It was late when the Circus Boy awoke next morning. A steward
rapped at the door and a suit of officer's clothes, brass buttons
and all was handed in to him.
"With the captain's compliments, sir," said the steward.
"He hopes it will fit you. When you are ready, you will
please come to the saloon for breakfast."
"Thank the captain for me, and say that I can't get there any
too soon," laughed Phil, springing out of bed.
The passengers had all heard the remarkable tale from the captain
that morning, and they were anxious to see the young Circus Boy
who had performed such a plucky act.
Phil entered the dining room, not thinking for a minute that he
would be recognized. When the passengers saw the handsome young
fellow in an officer's uniform, they knew him. Everyone in the
room sprang to his feet and three cheers rang out for
Phil Forrest.
"Speech, speech!" cried someone.
Blushing faintly, Phil glanced about him.
"You cannot expect a boy to make much of a speech before
breakfast, especially after he has been swimming most of
the night. I don't know that I am entitled to any
special credit. I saved only my own life, and I do not
expect to get a medal for it, either. I hope all of you
will visit the Great Sparling Shows at the first opportunity.
Then I shall try to entertain you in a way that I understand
far better than this. I'm very much obliged to you all."
Then Phil sat down. The passengers gave him another cheer,
louder and more enthusiastic than the first. Mr. Sparling would
have been proud of the lad could he have heard that speech.
Phil lost no opportunity to advertise the Sparling shows, and
every passenger on the boat, that morning, made up his mind to
visit the show ere another week had passed.
All the rest of the morning Phil was a hero in the eyes of the
passengers, who followed him wherever he went, asking questions
about his experience in the river, and how he had happened to
fall in, as well as numerous questions about the life of a
circus man.
With regard to his accident, Phil had little to say. He seemed
to wish to avoid discussing the falling-in matter, but his face
took on a serious expression when it was referred to.
At last Memphis was sighted. Phil arranged with the captain
to return the uniform, which he promised to send to St. Louis,
so that his benefactor could get it on the return trip.
As the craft began drawing in toward the dock, the Circus Boy
bade all the passengers good-bye, everyone of whom insisted on
shaking hands with him.
Phil walked off, the passengers giving him three cheers as he
stepped over the gangplank to the dock. Before he had reached
the end of it, he was overtaken by a reporter who had just heard
of Phil's feat and wished an interview.
At first Phil was reluctant to speak.
"I think it will be a good advertisement for the show," he said
to himself. So the Circus Boy related, modestly, the story
of his experience in the river and of his rescue of himself; not
forgetting to say some pleasant things about the Sparling shows,
which would visit Memphis two days hence. That afternoon he saw
his story set forth in the Memphis newspaper. He bought two
papers, one of which he tucked in his pocket, sending the other
to Mrs. Cahill, his guardian. His next move was to start for the
station, to take a train for Corinth. He was already too late to
reach that town in time for the afternoon performance, but he had
wired Mr. Sparling that he was safe.
As it happened the lad reached the show grounds before his
message had been delivered. Mr. Sparling, well nigh beside
himself with worry, had telegraphed to all points passed by their
boats, begging that neither effort nor expense be spared to find
his Circus Boy.
The showman was standing in front of his office tent, that
afternoon, at about three o'clock, his broad-brimmed slouch hat
pulled well down over his eyes, his hands thrust deep in his
trousers pockets.
Off under the big top the band was playing a lively tune,
and the side-show people were out in front sunning themselves,
all discussing Phil Forrest's mysterious disappearance.
After a short time, Mr. Sparling espied a young man in uniform
coming on the lot. He did not pay much attention to the
stranger, thinking the fellow was a police officer or something
of the sort.
As the young man drew nearer, however, the showman thought he
noted something familiar in the springy step and the poise of
the body.
"Now, who is that?" he muttered. "Somehow I seem to know
that youngster."
Others about the main entrance were also looking in his direction
about that time. Still no one seemed to recognize the young man.
All at once the showman tilted up the rim of his hat and gazed
more keenly.
"Phil!" he shouted, casting the hat aside and running forward
with outstretched arms. "It's Phil, it's Phil Forrest!"
A moment more and Mr. James Sparling had clasped his little
Circus Boy about the waist, hugging him delightedly. There was a
suspicious moisture in the eyes of the showman, which he sought
to hide from Phil.
"Phil! Phil! Where have you been?" he cried leading the boy
toward the office tent. "And that uniform--what does it mean?"
"I will tell you all about it as soon as I get my breath,"
laughed the lad.
By this time the others out in front had hurried forward,
showering questions upon the boy, all of which he answered
without giving very much information. He wished to talk with
Mr. Sparling first of all.
"Where is Teddy?" was almost his first question.
"He is in the big top at work."
"I presume he was considerably excited when he missed me, was
he not?"
"Yes, at first, but since then he has not said much. Teddy is
a queer boy."
The word was quickly passed that Phil had returned safe and
sound, and ten minutes after his arrival every man and woman
in the show had heard the news. There was great rejoicing.
Teddy was going through his clown act when he first heard the
rumor that Phil was back. Teddy waited until he had worked
around to the entrance to the menagerie tent when he suddenly
darted through, leaving his work and the ring, a most serious
breach of discipline. Teddy, however, did not care. He was
willing to be fined. He bolted through the main entrance like
a miniature tornado, to the amazement of the door tenders.
"Where's Phil?" he shouted.
One of the doormen pointed to Mr. Sparling's office tent.
The little clown was off on a run.
"Hey, Phil, you old rascal! Where have you been?" he demanded,
dashing into the small tent.
"I have been out for a swim, old fellow. Did you miss me?"
"I nearly broke my neck thinking about you this afternoon.
Landed on my head in the leaping act, and I've got a pain
in my neck yet."
"Young man, what are you doing here?" demanded the
showman, sternly.
"Same thing you are. Seeing Phil."
"Get back to your act!"
"I'm off. I'll see you later, Phil, then we will talk it over."
"We will, Teddy," and Teddy was off at top speed to take
up his performance where he had so abruptly left it a few
minutes before. The ringmaster had not missed him, though
he saw at once that the boy was not on his station, when
Teddy began to work again.
"Now, Phil, we will hear all about it. How in the name of the
Sparling shows did you get into that uniform?"
"The captain of the river boat that picked me up fitted me out."
"So you really fell in?"
"I got _in,_ right."
"Tell me all about it."
The Circus Boy related his experiences from the time he found
himself in the river, until his arrival in Memphis that morning.
"Marvelous--almost unbelievable," breathed Mr. Sparling as the
tale was unfolded. "I never heard anything to compare with it."
When Phil told of his speech in the dining saloon of the river
steamboat, Mr. Sparling leaned back with hands on his hips,
laughing immoderately.
"Oh, Phil, you are the sort from which great showmen are made!"
Phil handed over the Memphis paper with the account of his
experience, which the showman glanced over briefly.
"That will give us another turn-away in Memphis. You can't stop
them, after that. They will come to the show even if they have
to fight their way in. That was a great stroke of enterprise,
but I would rather it had not happened, of course."
"What--the interview?"
"No, of course not. I mean your accident."
"It is all right, Mr. Sparling. I am here now, and none the
worse for my bath, but for a time I surely thought I was a goner.
I would not care to go through that experience again."
"I should say not. Yours was the most wonderful escape I ever
heard of. I'll wager there was never anything like it before on
this river."
Mr. Sparling paused suddenly and bent a keen, searching glance on
Phil Forrest's face. The lad felt that he knew what was in the
mind of his employer.
"Phil?"
"Yes, sir."
"You have not told me everything, yet."
"What makes you think that, Mr. Sparling?"
"Because I know you so well. There is something on your mind
that you have not told me. I want to know what it is."
Phil's eyes were lowered to the green grass at his feet. For a
moment he was silent and thoughtful.
"What is it you wish me to tell you, Mr. Sparling?" he asked in a
low voice.
"You have not given me a satisfactory explanation of how you came
to get into the river."
"Perhaps I fell in," answered the lad with a faint smile.
"Perhaps. But you have not said so. I want you to tell me how
you did get in."
"I think I was thrown in, Mr. Sparling," answered the
Circus Boy quickly.
"Thrown in!" exclaimed the showman, leaping to his feet, his face
working convulsively in his effort to control his emotions.
"Phil Forrest, do you mean that?"
"I do."
Mr. Sparling sat down helplessly.
"Is it possible?"
"I am sure of it, sir."
"Had anyone but you told me that I should have laughed. I know
I can depend upon what you say. Tell me more about it?"
"As I have already said, I was leaning on the rail and dropped
off into a doze. How long I had been in that position I do
not know. I could not have been there many minutes, or I
should have gone so soundly asleep that I would have fallen
over to the deck, you know."
"Yes, yes."
"All at once I felt myself being lifted. At first, as I remember
it, the sensation was as if the deck were dropping from under me.
As I recalled the incident afterwards, I realized that I had
been lifted. You know all that occurred after that."
"Was there more than one who threw you overboard?"
"I am unable to say. I did not even see one," said Phil with
a half-smile. "I felt myself being lifted--that's all. The next
minute I was in the river, with the 'Marie' pounding away
downstream at a lively clip."
"Dastardly! Dastardly!" growled the showman. "I shall send for
a detective to meet us in Memphis tomorrow. This thing has gone
far enough."
"I think I agree with you, sir," was Phil's half-humorous answer.
"But I had been in hopes of solving this mystery myself."
"Yes, and you came near losing your life as the result.
No, sir! This thing must be cleared up at once. I shall wire to
St. Louis now, and we will have a man with us sometime tomorrow.
Say nothing to anyone of my plan. The detective will join
the show in some capacity or other, and have regular duties
to perform. You will know him, but no one else will
except myself. I think the Roman races are about due under the
big top now. Suppose you go in and change your clothes, joining
me at my table after you come out. We will talk these matters
over at length this evening. When the officer reaches here I
shall expect you to tell him freely all that you know as well
as what you suspect. Keep nothing from him. Run along, Phil.
I want to think this matter over by myself for a few minutes."
As Phil entered the big top the Roman races were just coming on.
The chariot drivers, with their prancing steeds, had entered
the arena.
Phil paused to wait until the fast and furious races were over.
The leading woman chariot driver was trying out a new three-horse
team; that is, two of the horses were new to the work, the third,
being an old hand. The new animals were spirited, and after the
first round of the arena, Phil saw that they were nervous.
"I am afraid she is going to have trouble with that pair,"
muttered Phil with a shake of his head. "If she can keep them
up to the mark, they will outrun anything in the show today."
The new team fairly tore around the arena. They won the first
races easily, then lined up in the center to await the finals
which were to follow a few minutes later.
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. The leading chariot was
swaying dizzily, and the driver was trying with all her strength
to pull the plunging animals down.
Suddenly the wheel on the inner side slipped from its axle and
went rolling off into the center of the arena. The axle dropped
to the turf, caught, then turned the chariot bottom side up.
The woman driver was hurled off into the center in the wake of
the careening wheel, landing on her head and shoulders beside the
center platform.
The team did not stop, however. It started directly across the
arena, in a diagonal course.
"She is hurt!" cried Phil. "Somebody will be killed unless that
wild team is stopped!"
Giving no thought to the danger to himself, Phil Forrest darted
across the arena and leaped for the bridles of the plunging,
frightened animals.