SUMMONED BEFORE THE MANAGER
The lad was not far wrong in his surmise. That Mr. Sparling was
angry was apparent at the first glance.
He eyed Phil from head to foot, a fierce scowl wrinkling his face
and forehead.
"Well, sir, what have you been up to this afternoon?"
"Practicing in the ring since the afternoon performance closed."
"H-m-m-m! And this forenoon?"
"Not much of anything in the way of work."
"Have any trouble with any of the men?"
"Yes, sir."
"Who?"
"A man by the name of Larry, and another whom they call Bad Eye."
"Humph! I suppose you know it's a bad breach of discipline in a
show to have any mixups, don't you?"
"I do. I make no apologies, except that I was acting wholly in
self defense. All the same, I do not expect any favoritism.
I am willing to take my punishment, whatever it may be," replied
the lad steadily.
There was the merest suspicion of a twinkle in the eyes of
the showman.
"Tell me what you did."
"I punched Larry, tripped his friend, and--well, I don't
exactly know all that did happen," answered Phil without a change
of expression.
"Knock them down?"
"I--I guess so."
"H-m-m. I suppose you know both those fellows are pretty bad
medicine, don't you?"
"I may have heard something of the sort."
"Larry has quite a reputation as a fighter."
"Yes, sir."
"And you knocked him out?"
"Something like that," answered Phil meekly.
"Show me how you did it?" demanded Mr. Sparling, rising and
standing before the culprit.
"It was like this, you see," began Phil, exhibiting a sudden
interest in the inquiry. "I was chased by the two men.
Suddenly I stopped and let the fellow, Larry, fall over me.
During the scrimmage I tripped Bad Eye. I didn't hit anyone
until Larry crowded me so I had to do so in order to save myself,
or else run away."
"Why didn't you run, young man?"
"I--I didn't like to do that, you know."
Mr. Sparling nodded his head.
"How did you hit him?"
"He made a pass at me like this," and the lad lifted
Mr. Sparling's hand over his shoulder. "I came up under his
guard with a short arm jolt like this."
"Well, what next?"
"That was about all there was to it. The others came out,
about that time, and I ducked in under the big top."
To Phil's surprise Mr. Sparling broke out into a roar
of laughter. In a moment he grew sober and stern again.
"Be good enough to tell me what led up to this assault.
What happened before that brought on the row? I can depend
upon you to give me the facts. I can't say as much for all
the others."
Phil did as the showman requested, beginning with the ducking of
Teddy by the men when the show was leaving Germantown, and ending
with Teddy's having emptied a pail of muddy water over Larry's
red head that morning.
He had only just finished his narration of the difficulty,
when who should appear at the entrance to the office tent but
Larry himself. He was followed, a few paces behind, by Bad Eye.
Mr. Sparling's stern, judicial eyes were fixed upon them.
He demanded to hear from them their version of the affair,
which Larry related, leaving out all mention of his having
ducked Teddy. His story agreed in the main details with what
Phil already had said, excepting that Larry's recital threw the
blame on Teddy and Phil.
Mr. Sparling took a book from his desk, making a
memorandum therein.
"Is that all, sir?" questioned Larry.
"Not quite. If I hear of any further infraction of the rules of
this show on the part of either of you two, you close right then.
Understand?"
"Yes."
"That's not all; I'll have you both jailed for assault. As it
is, I'll fine you both a week's pay. Now get out of here!"
Larry hesitated, flashed a malignant glance at Phil Forrest;
then, turning on his heel, he left the tent.
"Don't you think you had better fine me, too, sir?" asked Phil.
"What for?"
"Because I shall have to do it again some of these days."
"What do you mean?"
"That fellow is going to be even with me at the very
first opportunity."
Mr. Sparling eyed the lad for a moment.
"I guess you will be able to give a good account of yourself
if he tries to do anything of the sort. Let me say right here,
though you need not tell your friend so that I think Teddy
did just right, and I am glad you gave Larry a good drubbing.
But, of course, we can't encourage this sort of thing with
the show. It has to be put down with an iron hand."
"I understand, sir."
"Mind, I don't expect you to be a coward."
"I hope not. My father used to teach me not to be.
He frequently said, 'Phil, keep out of trouble, but if you
get into it, don't sneak out.' "
"That's the talk," roared Mr. Sparling, smiting his desk with
a mighty fist. "You run along, now, and give your young friend
some advice about what he may expect if he gets into any
more difficulty."
"I have done that already."
"Good! Tell it to him again as coming from me. He's going to
make a good showman, though he came near putting this outfit out
of business with the fool mule this afternoon. I would cut the
act out, but for the fact that it is a scream from start
to finish. Feeling all right?"
"Yes, thank you. I am perfectly able to go on in the ring act
tonight, if you think best."
"Wait until tomorrow; wait until tomorrow. You'll be all the
better for it."
The cook tent was open, as Phil observed. The red flag was
flying from the center pole of the tent, indicating that supper
was being served. In a short time the tent would come down and
be on its way in the flying squadron to the next stand.
The show was now less than a day out, but many things
had happened. Not a moment had been without its interest or
excitement, and Phil realized that as he walked toward the
cook tent. He found Teddy there, satisfying his appetite, or
rather exerting himself in that direction, for Teddy's appetite
was a thing never wholly satisfied.
After supper Phil took the boy aside and delivered
Mr. Sparling's message. Teddy looked properly serious,
but it is doubtful if the warning sank very deep into his mind,
for the next minute he was turning handsprings on the lot.
"Know what I'm going to do, Phil?" he glowed.
"There's no telling what you will do, from one minute to the
next, Teddy," replied Phil.
"Going to practice up and see if I can't get in the leaping act."
"That's a good idea. When do you begin taking lessons?"
"Taking 'em now."
"From Mr. Miaco?"
"Yes. I did a turn off the springboard this afternoon with the
'mechanic on,' " meaning the harness used to instruct beginners
in the art of tumbling.
"How did you make out?"
"Fine! I'd have broken my neck if it hadn't been for
the harness."
Phil laughed heartily.
"I should say you did do finely. But you don't expect to be able
to jump over ten elephants and horses the way the others do?"
"They don't all do it. Some of 'em leap until they get half a
dozen elephants in line, then they stand off and watch the real
artists finish the act. I can do that part of it now. But I
tell you I'm going to be a leaper, Phil."
"Good for you! That's the way to talk. Keep out of trouble,
work hard, don't talk too much, and you'll beat me yet,"
declared Phil. "And say!"
"What?"
"Be careful with that mule act tonight. You know Mr. Sparling
will be in there watching you. It wouldn't take much more
trouble to cause him to cut that act out of the programme,
and then you might not be drawing so much salary. Fifty dollars
a week is pretty nice for each of us. If we don't get swelled
heads, but behave ourselves, we'll have a nice little pile of
money by the time the season closes."
"Yes," agreed Teddy. "I guess that's so; but we'll be losing a
lot of fun."
"I don't agree with you," laughed Phil.
The lads strolled into the menagerie tent on their way through to
the dressing tent. The gasoline men were busy lighting their
lamps and hauling them on center and quarter pole, while the
menagerie attendants were turning the tongues of the cages about
so that the horses could be hitched on promptly after the show in
the big top began.
Some of the animals were munching hay, others of the caged beasts
were lying with their noses poked through between the bars of
their cages, blinking drowsily.
"I'd hate to be him," announced Teddy with a comprehensive wave
of the hand as they passed the giraffe, which stood silent in his
roped enclosure, his head far up in the shadows.
"Why?"
"For two reasons. Keeper tells me he can't make a sound.
Doesn't bray, nor whinny, nor growl, nor bark, nor--
can't do anything. I'd rather be a lion or a tiger or
something like that. If I couldn't do anything else, then,
I could stand off and growl at folks."
Phil nodded and smiled.
"And what's your other reason for being glad you are not
a giraffe?"
"Because--because--because when you had a sore throat think what
a lot of neck you'd have to gargle!"
Phil laughed outright, and as the giraffe lowered its head and
peered down into their faces, he thought, for the moment, that he
could see the animal grin.
After this they continued on to the dressing tent, where they
remained until time for the evening performance. This passed off
without incident, Teddy and his mule doing nothing more
sensational than kicking a rent in the ringmaster's coat.
After the show was over, and the tents had begun to come down,
Phil announced his intention of going downtown for a lunch.
"This fresh air makes me hungry. You see, I am not used to it
yet," he explained in an apologetic tone.
"You do not have to go down for a lunch, unless you want to,"
the bandmaster informed him.
"Why, is there a lunch place on the grounds?"
"No. We have an accommodation car on our section."
"What kind of car is that?"
"Lunch car. You can't get a heavy meal there, but you will
find a nice satisfying lunch. The boss has it served at cost.
He doesn't make any money out of the deal. You'll find it on
our section."
"Good! Come along Teddy."
"Will I? That's where I'll spend my money," nodded Teddy,
starting away at a jog trot.
"And your nights too, if they would let you," laughed Phil,
following his companion at a more leisurely gait.
As they crossed the lot they passed "Red" Larry, as he had now
been nicknamed by the showmen. Larry pretended not to see the
boys, but there was an ugly scowl on his face that told Phil he
did, and after the lads had gone on a piece Phil turned, casting
a careless look back where the torches were flaring and men
working and shouting.
"Red" Larry was not working now. He was facing the boys, shaking
a clenched fist at them.
"I am afraid we haven't heard the last of our friend, Larry,"
said Phil.
"Who's afraid?" growled Teddy.
"Neither of us. But all the same we had better keep an eye on
him while we are in his vicinity. We don't want to get into any
more trouble--at least not, if we can possibly avoid it."
"Not till Mr. Sparling forgets about today? Is that it?"
"I guess it is," grinned Phil.
"He might take it seriously?"
"He already has done that. So be careful."
Teddy nodded. But the lads had not yet heard the last of
"Red" Larry.