Part 46 (2/2)

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 pa.s.sed 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, das.h.i.+ng 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.”

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