THROUGH RINGS OF FIRE
"If there should happen to be a wind we might cut a rope or two
and let the big top down on them," suggested parade manager.
"Yes; it would put them out of business for the night
performance, but we don't want them to fill up for the
afternoon show. That's when they are going to get the money.
You see, Sparling's show is bigger and better known than ours,
and showing there the same day we are liable to get the worst
of it. Can't you suggest anything else?"
"If you don't like letting the big top down on their heads,
and providing there is no wind to make the attempt worthwhile,
I would suggest another way."
"The scoundrels!" breathed the listener above their heads.
"What's your suggestion?"
"Stampede the elephants."
"That's a dandy! And we know how to do it, eh, Lawrence?"
The parade manager nodded emphatically.
"They'll never know what happened to them. We can do it before
the show gets to the lot if you think best?"
Sully shook his head.
"No. We'll wait till just as the doors are about to open for
the afternoon show. Mind you, I'm not saying we shall do it.
I'll think about the matter. Perhaps I can think up a better
plan after I have gone over the matter."
"Where's that boy you told me about?"
Sully motioned toward the end of the car where Phil was locked in
the linen closet.
"What you going to do with him?"
"Drop him when I get ready."
"But aren't you afraid the other outfit will get wind of what you
are doing? It's pretty dangerous business to lock up a fellow
like that."
"I don't care whether they get wise to it or not. They won't
know where he is. After we get to the border I don't care a rap
for them," and the showman snapped his fingers disdainfully.
"They can't touch us on the other side of the Niagara River and
they'd better not try it. Maybe Sparling won't be in business by
that time," grinned the showman with a knowing wink.
Sully rose, and shortly afterwards left the car with his
parade manager.
Phil sat down on the floor of his compartment with head in hands,
trying to think what he had better do. These men were planning a
deliberate campaign to wreck his employer's show.
"Something must be done!" breathed the boy, clenching his fists
until the nails bit into the flesh, "But what can I do, I can do
nothing unless I can get away from here, and they will not let me
out, at least not until we have gotten by Corinto."
The more he thought and planned the greater his
perplexity became. There seemed no way out of it. His only
hope now seemed to lie in Mr. Sparling becoming alarmed at his
absence, and instituting a search for him. His employer would
quickly divine something of the truth after Phil had remained
silent for two or three days. Perhaps, even now, the owner of
the Great Sparling Combined Shows had sent someone on to learn
what had become of his star
bareback rider.
Phil's train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the door of
his compartment being violently jerked open.
The lad's first impulse was to tell Sully, who now stood facing
him, what he had overheard. Upon second thought, however, Phil
decided that it would be much better to give the showman no
intimation of what he had learned.
"Come out, young man."
Phil complied, glad to be free of his narrow chamber, no matter
what the reason for the summons might be.
"What do you wish of me now?"
"Come into my office and I'll tell you. I understand you are
a bareback rider," continued Sully, after they had seated
themselves in his little office, the door being locked
behind them.
"So you say."
"And a good one at that?"
Phil made no answer. He had not the least idea what was coming.
"My principal bareback rider stepped on a switch frog this
morning and turned his ankle. He is out of the running for
a week. I need a man more than I ever did. Do you want to
join this show?"
Phil gazed at him in amazement.
"You haven't money enough to induce me to."
"Perhaps I have, but I won't induce with it," grinned the owner.
"I've a plan to suggest."
"What is it?"
"If you will ride for me until we get to Corinto I'll give you
seventy-five dollars."
The Circus Boy was on the point of making an emphatic refusal,
when he suddenly checked himself and remained silent, as if
thinking the proposition over.
"Well, what do you say?"
"If I do as you wish, when will you let me go?"
"Perhaps after we leave Corinto."
"I don't believe you intend to do anything of the sort."
"You think I'd lie to you?" blustered Sully.
"I'm not saying that. But I know you are not above doing
worse things. I'll tell you what I will do."
"Yes."
"I'll ride for you today for twenty-five dollars."
"Done!"
"Payable in advance, you know."
"I guess you don't trust me?"
"Not for a minute."
"Well, I must say you are brutally frank."
"That's the way I do business," answered the lad proudly.
"But see here, young man, you must agree that you will make no
effort to get away," demanded the showman a sudden thought
occurring to him.
"I shall make no such agreement. If I get a chance to get away
I'll do it, you may depend upon that. I will agree, however, to
make no outcry nor to appeal to anyone to help me. If I can't
manage it my own way, I'll stay here till I can. Remember, I'm
going to beat you if I can, and if I can't, why Mr. Sparling will
settle with you. He will do it properly, too."
The showman leaned back and guffawed loudly.
"I never saw a kid like you yet. You beat anything that ever got
into a freak tent. You are so infernally honest that you give me
notice you're going to try to escape from me. Thanks, my boy,
for the timely warning. I'll see to it that you don't get away
until I am ready to lose you. If you try it you must expect some
rough treatment, and you'll get it too."
"Very well; I accept the terms. How about the payment
in advance?"
Sully drew a roll of bills from his pocket counting out the sum
agreed upon.
"If you should happen to get away I'd be out the money?"
"I'll send it back to you in that event."
"Ho, ho, ho! I believe you would, at that."
"I certainly shall."
"Say, kid, don't it ever give you pain to be so awfully honest?"
"I'll confess that it does when I am doing business with a man
like you."
"Oh! That one landed. That was a knockout," chuckled the
showman, rising. "I'll be back after you with the rig
pretty soon. We've got to fix up some togs for you to ride in,
but I guess we can do that all right. I'll have to put you back
in your cage in the meantime." It lacked an hour and a half of
the time for the afternoon performance to begin when Sully called
with his carriage for his new star. Phil was ready, as far as he
was able to be, and really welcomed the opportunity to get out in
the air again. But he was so stiff from the confinement in the
narrow linen closet that he did not feel as if he should be able
to ride at all.
The drive to the circus lot was without incident, and Phil
embraced the opportunity to familiarize himself with the
town and its surroundings as fully as was possible under
the circumstances. He had tried to form some plan by which
to make his escape, but had given it up and decided to
trust to luck.
There was another reason for his having decided to ride in
the Sully Hippodrome Show that day, and every day thereafter,
providing he was not able to get away before leaving Corinto.
He hoped that Mr. Sparling might have sent someone on to find
out what had become of him. This was sure to be done sooner or
later, especially when the showman found that his letters were
not being answered, but were being returned to him, as had been
arranged for before Phil left his own show.
Reaching the lot they drove around to the paddock where Phil
and his new employer entered the dressing tent. Even there the
lad was given no chance to break away. It seemed to him that
every person connected with the show had been set to watch him.
When he entered the dressing tent he was subjected to the
curious gaze of the performers, most of whom understood that he
was to ride that day in the place of the injured performer, but
who knew nothing further about the matter.
Some difficulty was experienced in getting a pair of tights that
would fit Phil, but after awhile this was arranged.
"You sit down here and wait now," directed Mr. Sully.
"No; I've got something else to do. Bring the horse out in the
paddock and let me see what I have to ride," answered Phil.
While they were getting out the ring horse, the lad indulged in a
series of bends and limbering exercises out in the paddock,
working until the perspiration stood out in great beads.
This done Phil sprang up to the back of the ring horse, and
while an attendant held the animal in a circle with a long
leading strap, Phil rode the horse about the paddock a few
times until he had become familiar with the motion and
peculiarities of the animal.
"How is he in the ring, fast or slow?"
"Just steady. Been at it a long time," the attendant
informed him. "He's steady. You can depend on him."
"Yes; he acts so. I'll look at the ring when I go in."
The owner of the show had been a keen observer of
these preparations. He noted, too, Phil appeared
entirely to have forgotten about his desire to escape.
"That kid acts to me as if he knew his business," he reflected.
"If he rides the way I think he can, I'm going to get him away
from Sparling if I have to double the wages he's drawing now.
And money talks!"
The band began to play in the big top. Phil glanced at
the showman.
"When do I go on?"
"Second number."
The lad nodded, and sat awaiting his turn to enter
the arena. He did not have to ask when the moment had arrived.
The attendant started to lead the ring horse in and Phil quickly
fell in behind, following them in.
Right behind the Circus Boy came Sully, the owner of the show,
never taking his eyes off his captive for a moment. This amused
the lad. He grinned broadly. It was a novel experience for him.
Soon the strains of music told him this was where he was to begin
his act. The boy swung gracefully to the back of his mount.
Instantly he had leaped to his feet Sully clapped his hands
together approvingly.
"That's the way to do it. You've got the other fellow skinned
forty ways!" he cried.
"In some ways," replied Phil significantly. "Otherwise not."
The ring was in excellent shape, much to the boy's surprise, and
the horse was the best he ever had ridden. In a few moments Phil
began to feel very much at home and to enjoy himself thoroughly.
The ring attendants brought out strips of bright yellow cloth,
which two clowns held across the ring for the Circus Boy to leap
over as his horse passed under. This did not bother him in the
least, though he had never tried the act before. It was a relic
of the old circus days that few shows had retained.
But Phil was on the point of balking when a clown came out with a
handful of hoops covered with paper.
"You want me to jump through those things?" he questioned, during
a brief intermission.
"Sure."
"Does the other man do that?"
"He does."
"Then I can do it, I guess."
"I reckon you can do anything on a horse that you happen to feel
like," said the showman.
The band started up again and Phil sprang to his feet. A paper
hoop was raised on the opposite side of the ring, the lad eyeing
it hesitatingly.
"I'll go through it if I break my neck trying," he muttered,
shutting his lips tightly together.
Smash!
The Circus Boy hurled himself through the tender paper, but the
breaking paper stung his face like the crack of a whip lash, and
Phil, instead of landing on his feet as he should have done,
struck the back of his ring horse on all fours.
Sully growled angrily.
"You make a blunder like that again, and you'll be sorry for it,"
he bullied, shaking an angry fist at Phil, who turned a pair of
surprised eyes on the showman.
"See here," retorted the lad with rising color, "I'm not in the
habit of being talked to like that. If you don't like my riding
I'll end the act right here. I'm not obliged to ride for you,
you know."
"Go on, go on!" snapped the owner.
The next hoop Phil took as easily as if he had been doing that
very same thing all through the season.
"Fine!" chuckled Sully. "He's a star performer, even if he does
give me as good as I send."
Phil was hurling himself through a succession of hoops now.
Then all at once, to his surprise and disapproval, five hoops
of fire flared up before him and on all sides of him.
"Go through them!" shouted the showman.
"I won't!"
"You can't stop now. Are you going to let a little thing like
that give you an attack of cold feet?" demanded Sully.
Thus appealed to, Phil Forrest thought better of it.
"Yip!--yip!" he cried sharply to the ring horse, riding straight
at the first ring which he took without difficulty, though the
hot flame on his cheeks made him shrink himself into a smaller
compass than had been the case with the paper rings.
The audience was applauding him wildly, for somehow this slender,
youthful figure appealed to them more strongly than had any other
performer in the show thus far. One after another Phil took the
flaming rings until he came to the last one which he approached
with more confidence than he had any of the others.
He hurled himself at it with less caution than before. As he
entered the hoop of fire his elbows caught it, and instantly the
lad felt the fire burning through his silk ring shirt.
Without an instant's hesitation the boy leaped up into the air,
clearing his horse by a full two feet.
The force of his throw sent the ring of fire soaring through the
air, as he had, with quick intuition, imagined that it would.
Phil threw a splendid backward somersault almost slipping off the
hips of the ring horse.
"Great!" exploded the owner.
The audience applauded wildly.
But the next instant Sully was not shouting approving words.
The burning ring had slipped neatly over his own head and before
he could throw it off, his clothes, as well, were on fire.
Throwing himself down in the sawdust the showman rolled and
rolled, uttering loud imprecations and threats, while audience
and performers fairly screamed with delight.
He was up in a flash, expecting to find Phil making a dash
for freedom.
"Stop him!" he bellowed.
Phil Forrest sat on the rump of the ring horse, grinning broadly
at the predicament of the owner of the Sully Hippodrome Circus.