The Circus Boys On the Mississippi Or Afloat with the Big Show on the Big RiverPart 3 out of 4
I hope neither the Ringlings, nor Barnum and Bailey, nor any of the big shows get a peep at that act." "Why?" "Because were they to do so I would be sure to lose my little star performers right in the middle of the season," laughed the owner. "Oh, I hardly think so. I do not wish to leave this show. Had it not been for you I should still be doing chores for my board and clothes back in Edmeston. Now wouldn't that be fine?" "Very," grinned the showman. "Whatever I have accomplished I have you to thank for." "You mean you owe to your own brightness and cleverness. No, Phil, you are a boy who would have succeeded anywhere. They can't keep you down--no, not even were they to sit on you." "If Fat Marie, with her five hundred and odd pounds, were to sit on me, I rather think I would be kept down," answered the Circus Boy, with a hearty laugh in which Mr. Sparling joined uproariously. "What is Teddy doing out in the ring?" "I left him there to keep an eye on the injured horse." "Why, Phil?" "Until I could get back and make an examination." "Very well; I want to see you after you have done so." "I will look you up." With that Phil hurried out into the arena. None of the spectators appeared to recognize the lad in his street clothes. Besides, he tried to avoid observation. He might have been one of the spectators, except that he picked his way, among the ropes and properties down through the center, where the public were not allowed to go. "The rest of you may go," said Phil, reaching the ring where Jim lay breathing heavily. "Thank you for easing off old Jim. I know he appreciates it." Jim looked up pleadingly as Phil bent over him, patting the animal on his splendid old gray head. The attendants went about their duties. "How'd this happen, Phil?" questioned Teddy. "I fell off; that's what happened." "Yes, I know you did, but there's more to it. I wonder if it's got anything to do with the loss of my egg?" "I guess not." "You guess not? Well, I know something, Phil." "I should hope you do." "I mean about this accident." Phil gazed at his companion keenly. "What do you know?" "Look here," said Teddy, pointing to a depression in the sawdust arena. Phil bent over, examining the spot closely. When he rose, his lips were tightly compressed and his face was pale. "Don't mention this to anyone, Teddy. Promise me?" " 'Course I won't tell. Why should I? But I found out about it, didn't I?" "Yes; at least you have made a pretty good start in that direction. I shall have to tell Mr. Sparling. It would not be right to keep this information from him." "N-n-o-o. Then maybe he'll organize a posse to hunt for my egg." "Oh, hang your old egg!" The Roman chariot races were on, the rattle of the wheels, the shouts of the drivers drowning the voices of the two boys. "Teddy, you'll have to get back and change your clothes. The performance is about over. That makes me think. I have on my ring clothes under this suit and I must hurry back to my bath and my change." The performance closed and the rattle and bang of tearing down the big white city had begun. The boys were engaged in packing their trunks now, as were most of their fellow performers. "What's that?" demanded Teddy, straightening up suddenly. "Somebody fired a shot," answered another performer. Phil knew what it meant. A bullet had ended the sufferings of the faithful old ring horse off under the big top. The Circus Boy turned away, with a blinding mist in his eyes. "Poor old Jim!" he groaned. Off under the women's dressing tent another pair of ears had heard and understood, and Little Dimples, burying her head in her hands wept softly. "Poor old Jim!" she, too, murmured. CHAPTER XIV THE PILOT GETS A SURPRISE The happiness of the day had been marred by the accident, but, like true circus men, all hands took the disaster in the matter-of-fact manner characteristic of their kind. The show people, in couples and singly, took their way to the river, where they boarded the boats. Already wagons were rumbling down on the docks and cages were being quickly shunted into position for their journey down the river that night. Everything moved with as much method as if the show had been traveling in this way from the beginning of the season. The performers were enjoying the novel experience of river traveling too thoroughly to turn into their berths early. A cold lunch had been spread in the main cabins of the "Marie" and the "River Queen" for the performers, while from the cook tent, baskets had been prepared and sent in for the use of the laborers after they had completed their night's work and finished loading the show. All this was appreciated, and it was a jolly company that lined the tables in the two larger boats. Leather upholstered seats were built into the sides of the cabin, and with mouths and hands full, the circus people soon took possession of the seats, where they ate and chatted noisily. "Funny thing about Jim," said one of the performers. "What do you suppose made him fall, Mr. Miaco?" "I don't know. Probably for the same reason that anyone falls." "What is that?" "Stumbled over something, I guess." "Hey, Teddy, what ailed the ring horse?" called a voice as the Circus Boy sauntered in and espying the tables made a dive for them. "I guess he was hungry," mumbled Teddy, his mouth full of ham sandwich. "Hungry?" "Yes." "What makes you think that?" " 'Cause he bit the dust." A general groan was heard in the cabin. "Throw him overboard!" "I know a better way to punish him for that ghastly joke." "How?" "Take the food away from him, tie him up and make him watch us eat," was the answer. A shout of laughter greeted the proposition. The pilot of the "Marie," a heavily bearded man named Cummings, broke out in a loud guffaw. All eyes were turned upon him. "I reckon I kin tie him up if you says the word," he volunteered. "All right; tie him up," shouted the performers, scenting fun. Teddy eyed the pilot out of the corners of his eyes and placidly munched his sandwich. The pilot, in the meantime, had stepped to the rear end of the cabin, where, from a box of life-preservers he took a piece of Manila rope. "I believe he is going to do it," said a clown, nudging his companion. "You mean he is going to try it," answered the other. "Watch for some fun. He thinks Teddy is an easy mark." "He will be in this case. That fellow, Cummings, is hard as a rail fence. He could handle two of Teddy." In the meantime Tucker had strolled to the table, from which he took a large sandwich, buttered it well, then returned to his seat, not appearing to observe the pilot's movements at all. As he sat down the lad was observed to open the sandwich, removing the thin slice of ham and stowing the latter in his coat pocket. Then he sat thoughtfully contemplating the two pieces of buttered bread as if trying to decide whether or not he should eat them. "Get up, kiddie," said Cummings, grasping the boy by the shoulder. "Get up and take your punishment like a little dear." Teddy got up, carelessly, indifferently, while the pilot stretched the rope to its full length. The boy saw that he was in earnest. Smack! Quick as a flash Teddy had plastered one half of the sandwich, buttered side in, right over the eyes of Cummings. Smack! The second half of the sandwich landed neatly over his mouth, pressed home by a firm fist. Cummings could not speak, neither could he see. At that moment he was perhaps the most surprised man on the Mississippi River. At least he appeared to be, for he stood still. He stood still just a few seconds too long. Teddy had seized the rope. With it he made a quick twist about the body of the pilot, taking two turns, then drawing the rope tight and tying it, thus pinioning the hands and arms of the pilot to his sides. "Yip-yeow!" howled Teddy. The show people shrieked with delight. "You'll tie up a Circus Boy, will you?" jeered Teddy. "You'll have to grow some first. No Rube with a bunch of whiskers on his face like that ever lived who could tie up a real circus man." Teddy had drawn nearer to impress his words upon the pilot, when all of a sudden the man's hands gripped the lad. The boy never had felt quite so strong a grip on his body. Cummings had not handled a pilot wheel on the Mississippi for thirty years without acquiring some strength in hands and arms. Teddy, failing to pull away, grappled with his antagonist, all in the best of humor, though his face bore its usual solemn expression. "Gangway," cried Teddy humorously. "I'm going to give him a bath in the river." Then began a lively scrimmage. Back and forth the combatants struggled across the cabin floor, the growls of the pilot drowned in the shouts and jeers of the performers. All at once, Teddy tripped his antagonist and the two went down into a heap, rolling under the main table on which the lunch had been spread. "Look out for the table!" warned a voice. "Sit on it, some of you fellows, and hold it down!" The suggestion came too late. The table suddenly rose into the air, landing upside down with a crash, at one side of the cabin. A moment more and the two combatants were wrestling on roast beef and ham sandwiches, potato salad and various other foods. "I guess this has gone about far enough," decided Mr. Miaco, the head clown. "We'll have a fight on our hands, first thing we know. If Teddy really gets angry you'll think the 'Sweet Marie' is in the midst of a cyclone." "The 'Fat Marie,' you mean," corrected a voice. With the assistance of two others Miaco succeeded in separating the combatants, after which he untied the rope, releasing the pilot. Teddy was grinning broadly, but Cummings was not. The latter was glowering angrily at his little antagonist. "Shake?" asked Teddy, extending a hand. "No, I'm blest if I will! I'll not shake hands with anybody who has insulted me by buttering my face," growled the pilot. "You'll be better bred if you are well buttered," suggested Teddy. "Oh, help!" moaned The Fattest Woman on Earth. "Put him out! Put him out!" howled several voices in chorus. "Yes, that's the thing! We can stand for some things some of the time, but we won't stand for everything all of the time," added a clown wisely. Half a dozen performers picked Teddy up bodily, bore him to one of the open windows and dumped him out on the deck. "Here, what's all this commotion about?" commanded Phil, who, at that moment, came from his cabin to the deck. "They threw me out," wailed Teddy. "What for?" "I made a pun." "Tell it to me." Teddy in short, jerky sentences, related what had been done and said. Phil leaned against the rail and shouted. "I--I don't blame them," he gasped between laughs. "It is a wonder they did not throw you overboard." "They had better not try it." "But what about the pilot--what happened to him?" "May--maybe they have put him out, too." "You have a way of getting into trouble, Teddy. Mr. Cummings will love you for what you have done to him, I can well imagine." "About as much as I love him, I guess. He got too bold, Phil. He had to have a lesson and Teddy Tucker was the boy who had to teach it to him. Say, go in and gather me a sandwich out of the wreck, will you?" "Not I. Go and get your own sandwich. I'm going to see Mr. Sparling in his cabin. He has sent for me." Teddy sat out on deck while the others were picking up the table, the dishes and the ruined food. It would not do for Mr. Sparling to come in and see how they had wasted the food he had had prepared for them. The probabilities were that they would get no more, were he to do so. Teddy watched the proceedings narrowly from the safe vantage point of the deck. In the meantime Phil had gone to Mr. Sparling's cabin, where the showman was checking up the day's receipts. "A pretty good day, Phil," smiled Mr. Sparling. "I am glad to hear that, sir." "Two thousand dollars in the clear, as the result of our two performances today. Do you know of any other business that would pay as much for the amount invested, eh, Phil?" "I do not, sir." "You see, it is a pretty good business to be in after all, provided it is run on business principles, at the same time treating one's employees like human beings." "Yes, sir." "How would you like to have an interest in a show?" "I am going to, someday. It may be a long time yet before I have earned money enough, but I shall if I live," said the Circus Boy quietly but with determination. "So you shall. I intend to have a talk with you on this subject, one of these days. What I wanted to talk with you about is Jim's loss. I am glad it wasn't your ring horse, Phil. Have you anything to say about the animal breaking his leg?" "I have." "Out with it." "Somebody is to blame for that accident." "How?" "Someone planned that accident." "Explain!" "Teddy and myself examined the ring, that is, Teddy already had done so before I returned, and he discovered something--we both decided what must have happened." "Yes," urged the showman as Phil paused. "A round hole about a foot deep had been dug in the ring. This had been covered with a shingle and the sawdust sprinkled over to hide the shingle. It was a deliberate attempt to do someone an injury." Mr. Sparling eyed him questioningly. "Are you sure?" "As sure as I can be. Jim didn't happen to step on the shingle until we were doing the pyramid, then of course something happened. It is a wonder that neither Little Dimples nor myself was injured." "Phil, we simply must find out who is responsible for this dastardly work." "Yes, sir." "And when we do--when we do--" "What then, Mr. Sparling!" The showman was opening and closing his fingers nervously. "Don't ask me," he replied in a low, tense voice. "I don't want to see the man. I should do something I would be sorry for all the rest of my life. Good night, Phil." Phil Forrest left the cabin and strode thoughtfully away to his own room, where he was soon in bed. Phil, however, did not sleep very well that night. CHAPTER XV AN UNWELCOME VISITOR The boats of the Sparling fleet had been moving steadily downstream for several hours, their passengers, in the majority of instances, sound asleep, lulled by the gentle motion and the far away "spat, spat, spat," of the industrious paddle wheel at the stern of each craft. Teddy had prudently kept away from the main cabin for the rest of the evening; when Phil turned in, Teddy was sleeping sweetly. His active part in the affair in the cabin had not caused him any loss of sleep. With the pilot, Cummings, however, matters had been different. Mr. Cummings had been steadily at the wheel of the "Marie" since the boats had sailed shortly after one o'clock in the morning. The pilot's temper had suffered as the result of his experience in the cabin, and the jeers aud laughter of the circus people had not added to his peace of mind. At intervals he would break out into a tirade of invective and threats against Teddy Tucker, who had so humiliated him. "I'll get even with that little monkey-face! They ought to put him in the monkey cage where he belongs," growled the pilot, giving the wheel a three-quarter turn to keep the boat from driving her prow into the bank, for which he had been steering to avoid a hidden sand bar. "I'll tell the manager tomorrow, that if he doesn't keep that boy away from me, I'll take the matter into my own hands and give that kid a trouncing that will last him till we get to New Orleans." The darkness of the night, just before the dawn, hung over the broad river. Doors and windows of the pilot house were thrown open so that the wheelman might get a clear view on all sides. All at once Cummings seemed to feel some presence near him. He thought he caught the sound of a footfall on the deck. To make sure he left the wheel for a few seconds, peering out along the deck, on both sides of the pilot house. He saw no one. The air was filled with a black pall of smoke from the "Marie's" funnel, the smoke settling over the boat, wholly enveloping her from her stack to the stern paddle wheel. "Huh!" grunted the pilot, returning to his duties. Yet his ears had not deceived him. Something was near him, a strange shape, the like of which never had been seen on the deck of the "Fat Marie", in all her long service on the Mississippi. "If that fool boy comes nosing around here I'll throw him overboard--that's what I'll do," threatened Cummings. "I'll show him he can't fool with the pilot of the finest steamboat of the old line. I--" The pilot suddenly checked himself and peered out to starboard. "Wha--what?" he gasped. Something darkened the doorway. What he now saw was a strange, grotesque shape that looked like a shadow itself in the uncertain light of the early morning. "Get out of here!" bellowed the pilot, the cold chills running up and down his spine. The most frightful sound that his ears had ever heard, broke suddenly on the quiet of the Mississippi night. "It's the lion escaped!" Cummings grabbed a stout oak stick that lay at hand--the stick that now and then, when battling with a stiff current, he used to insert between the spokes of the steering wheel to give him greater leverage. With a yell he brought the stick down on the head of the strange beast. The roar or bray of the animal stopped suddenly. Whack! came the echo from the club. Cummings sprang back. He slammed the pilot-house door in the face of the beast, and closed the windows with a bang that shook the pilot house. In his excitement the pilot rang in a signal to the engineer for full speed astern. About that time something else occurred. With a terrific crash one of the windows of the pilot house was shattered, pieces of glass showering in upon the pilot like a sudden storm of hail. Crash! Another window fell in a shower about him. He tried to get the door on the opposite side of the pilot house open, but locked it instead and dropped the key on the floor. All this time the "Fat Marie's" paddle wheel was backing water and the craft, now swung almost broadside to the stream, was working her way over toward the Iowa shore. Bang! A section of the pilot-house door fell shattering on the inside, and what sounded like a volley of musketry, rattled against the harder woodwork of the pilot house itself. Frightened almost out of all sense, Cummings began groping excitedly for his revolver. At last he found it, more by accident than through any methodical search for it. The pilot began to shoot. Some of his bullets went through the roof, others through the broken out windows, while a couple landed in the door. At last the half-crazed Cummings was snapping the hammer on empty chambers. He had emptied his revolver without hitting anything more than wood and water. The fusillade from the outside still continued. By this time the din had begun to arouse the passengers on the boat. Phil Forrest was the first to spring up. He shook Teddy by the shoulder, but, being unable to awaken his companion, jerked the boy out of bed and let him drop on the floor. "Get a net! What's the matter down there!" yelled Teddy. "Hey, hey, did the mule kick me? Oh, that you Phil? What's the row--what has happened?" "I don't know. Come on out. Something has gone wrong. Hear those shots?" "Wow! Trouble! That's me! I knew I couldn't dream about angels without something breaking loose." Phil had thrown the door open and bounded out to the deck. Just as he did so the pilot leaped from the front window of the pilot house, climbed over the rail and dropped to the deck below. The volleying, the thunderous blows still continued. A loud bray attracted their attention to the other side of the boat. "What's that?" demanded Phil, starting off in that direction. "It's January! It's January!" howled Teddy Tucker. "I would know that sweet voice if I heard it in the jungles of Africa. Where is he?" "Over here somewhere. Come on. I can't imagine what has happened." "The animals have escaped. There's a lion on the hurricane deck!" they heard a voice below shout in terrified tones. "Do you think that's it?" called Phil. "Lion, nothing! Didn't I tell you I knew that voice? There he is now. See him hand out the hoofs at the pilot house. He must have a grudge against Cummings. I know. He's paying the fellow back for trying to tie me up." "But--but, how did he ever get up here?" "Go it, January! Kick the daylights out of him! I'll give you a whole peck of sugar if you kick the house into the river, pilot and all." "Whoa! Whoa, January!" shouted Phil. The donkey, for it was January himself, and not a savage beast that was acting the part of a battering ram and rapidly demolishing the pilot house, paused for a second; then, moving to a new position, he began once more hammering at the structure. "How did he ever get up here, Teddy?" "I don't know. I know I am glad he did, that's all. Let him kick." "I'm going to try to catch him." "Keep away, Phil. He'll have you in the river. He has a fit. Wait till he comes out of it." "Why, the boat is moving backwards," cried Phil. "No!" "Yes, it is." "Maybe January has kicked the machinery out of gear." The circus people were by this time on deck, and, like Teddy and Phil, many of them were in their pajamas. They had heard the cry, "the animals have escaped," and many of the people were gazing apprehensively about. "It's all right," shouted Teddy. "It is only January, taking his morning exercise." About that time Phil, who had run around to the other side of the pilot house, discovered that it was empty. There was no pilot there. Understanding came to him instantly. January had either kicked or frightened Cummings out. "The boat is running wild!" he called. "Find the pilot or we shall be on the shore before we know it." Phil did not wait for them to find the pilot. Instead, he climbed in through one of the broken windows and grasped the wheel. "I've got to stop this going astern first of all," he decided. He could see the banks now, and they seemed perilously near in the faint morning light. The other boats of the fleet were steaming up in answer to the signals of distress that Cummings had blown in his excitement. "What is it? Are you sinking?" called a voice through a megaphone from the deck of the "River Queen." "No, we are all right," answered Phil, leaning out of the window. "You'll be high and dry on the Iowa shore if you don't watch sharp. Where are you going?" "Don't know. Keep out of the way or we're liable to run you down." Phil grabbed a bell pull and gave it a violent jerk. The engines stopped suddenly, to the Circus Boy's great delight. January had ceased his bombardment and now stood with head thrust though one of the broken windows, gazing in inquiringly at Phil Forrest. "If one bell stopped the engine, another bell should be the signal to go ahead," reasoned the lad, giving the bell pull two quick jerks. He was right. The machinery started and he could hear the big paddle wheel beating the river into a froth. The lower deck was in an uproar. Men were shouting and running about, trying to discover what animals had escaped, as the pilot insisted that the hurricane deck was alive with them. "Get that pilot up here, if you have to drag him. I don't know where the channel is, and I am liable to put the whole outfit aground any minute," shouted Phil Forrest. "Teddy, never mind that idiotic donkey. We're in a fix. Get downstairs, at one jump, and see that the pilot is brought up here lively." "I'll fetch him. You watch me," answered the irrepressible Teddy, starting off on a run. January had all at once grown very meek. He stood gazing thoughtfully off over the river. "What is the trouble here?" roared Mr. Sparling dashing up to the pilot house at that moment. "That is exactly what I have been trying to find out," answered the Circus Boy. "What, _Phil?_" "Yes, it's Phil." "What are you doing in there?" "Steering the boat." "Piloting the--where is the pilot?" "Somewhere below. I have sent Teddy after him. You see, January was trying to kick the pilot house off the boat and into the river. The pilot, thinking the animals had escaped, fled. When I came up this craft was traveling astern and January was making a sieve of this little house. I have got the 'Marie' going forward, but I may run her aground if he doesn't come along pretty soon." Mr. Sparling reached the companionway in two bounds, and, leaping to the lower deck, caught the pilot by the coat collar, shaking off the two circus men who had hold of Cummings. "You get up to that pilot house or you'll be in the worst fix in your whole river career." Mr. Sparling accompanied the words with a violent push that sent the pilot headlong toward the stairway. But the showman was by the fellow's side by the time he had gotten to his feet, and began assisting him up the companionway, while Teddy Tucker followed, prodding the pilot in the back with a clenched fist. Into the pilot house they hurled the man, Cummings. "Now, you steer! If it had not been for that boy we might have lost our whole equipment. I don't care anything about your old boat, but I'm blest if I am going to let a fool pilot wreck us--a pilot who is afraid of a donkey." "I'll quit this outfit tomorrow," growled Cummings. "I kin pilot steamers, but I can't fight a menagerie and a pack of boys with the very Old Nick in them. Get away from that wheel!" he commanded, thrusting Phil aside. Mr. Sparling had him by the collar once more. "You do that again, and I'll take it out of you right here!" declared the showman savagely. "I'll bet he's the fellow who stole my egg," declared Teddy, eyeing the pilot sternly. CHAPTER XVI BETRAYED BY A SNEEZE "How did that beast get up here?" demanded Mr. Sparling. "Who, Cummings?" asked Teddy innocently. "No, no! The donkey." "Oh! Maybe he came up through the smoke stack. If you will look at it you may find donkey tracks on the inside of the stack." "That will do, that will do, young man." It was found upon investigation that January had gnawed his halter until only a thin strand held it together, which was easy for the donkey to break. Then he began an investigation of the boat, ending by his climbing the broad staircase and frightening the pilot. Next morning the pilot house looked as though it had been through a shipwreck. The whole craft, in fact the entire fleet, was laughing at the expense of Cummings, who now kept to himself, studiously avoiding the other people. January was tied up with a dog chain after that, and was not heard from again during any trip of that season; that is, beyond his regular acts in the sawdust arena. The next day Phil Forrest began his investigation in earnest. He knew that Mr. Sparling looked to him to discover who had caused so much trouble in the show, besides which, Phil took a personal interest because of the attempt that had been made on the lives of Little Dimples and himself. Teddy suggested that he go through the pilot's belongings, expressing the firm belief that they would find the ostrich egg were they to do so. Phil consulted Little Dimples, that afternoon, as to her opinion of the occurrences of the past week, but the star bareback rider could shed no light on them, beyond the fact that certain people with whom Phil had had difficulties might bear watching. "That's what I think," answered the Circus Boy. "I do not like to accuse anyone unjustly, but I have these suspicions of the Spanish clown." "Have you mentioned your suspicion to Mr. Sparling, Phil?" "No." "Do you intend to do so?" "Not unless I find some facts to support my suspicion." "You will get to the bottom of the mystery, I am sure," smiled the woman. "I am not so sure. Why do you think so?" "Because you are one of the cleverest boys I ever knew, that's why. I should hate to have you on my track if I were guilty of any particular crime that you were trying to run down. I should expect to land in jail, and I think I should come straight to you and give myself up," added the woman with a merry laugh. "I wish I were all that you think I am, Dimples." "You are. You saved my life again yesterday. I'm going to pay you back, however. Someday, when you fall overboard, Little Dimples is going to jump right in and rescue you--haul you out by the hair of your head--" "You can't, it is cut too short." "Then I will pull you out by an ear." "I shall make it my business to fall in, then, at the first opportunity," laughed Phil. "It would be worthwhile." Dimples gave him a playful tap. "You can turn a compliment as well as you can do a turn in the ring, can't you Phil Forrest?" Despite their narrow escape from serious accident, Phil and Dimples went through their double act in the ring that day and evening with perfect confidence. Previous to going on, Phil had had a ring attendant go over the sawdust circle on his hands and knees, making a careful examination of it, to be sure that the ring had not been tampered with. >From that time on until the act went on, the ring was watched, though Phil did not believe the miscreant would attempt to lay another trap for him so soon. Still, he took nothing for granted. That night after the performance, the air being warm and balmy, the Circus Boy strolled out on the lot, sitting down on a little knoll to think matters over. There was plenty of time, for the boat would not leave for two or three hours, and Phil wanted to be alone. Lights were twinkling on the lot like fireflies. There was shouting and singing, but little of this conveyed itself to Phil, for his mind was on other things. All at once he pricked up his ears. He caught the sound of running footsteps. "Someone is coming this way," he muttered. "I wonder what that means? Surely none of the circus people would come here. They would go around by the road." The lad concealed himself behind the knoll, peering over the top of it. He resolved not to show himself until he had discovered the identity of the newcomers. They proved to be two men who halted a short distance beyond him, and began to converse in guarded tones. It was so dark that Phil could scarcely distinguish their figures and their voices were pitched so low that it was impossible for him to hear what they were saying. "This looks queer," Phil muttered. "I wish I could hear what they are talking about. Perhaps they are town fellows who have been chased off the lot because they were in the way. At any rate, I'm going to try to find out what they are up to. Hello, they are coming right over here." Phil crouched down behind the knoll and listened. The men turned slowly and came toward him. All at once one of them stumbled on the very knoll behind which he was secreted. The man uttered a growl. "Come, sit down," he said to his companion. "We better go on," answered the other. "No hurry. We've got all the time in the world. If we miss the boat we can swim. That was a narrow escape. In a minute more we'd had that wagon fixed so they would never have got off the lot with it." "Hello," muttered Phil under his breath. "Something surely is going on here. One of the voices I have heard before, and the other I seem to recognize. I believe that first fellow belongs to the show. I am almost sure of it." "You think the fellow suspects?" "The tall one does. But he doesn't know whom be suspects." "We have to take care." "Yes." "But we will get both before the end of the season." "You bet we will. I have a plan that--" "What is it?" "It is this." Phil had buried his head in the grass and compressed his body into the smallest possible space that he might avoid discovery. He could hear the two men breathe, and he reasoned that they might hear him as well. "You know the big net?" "You mean the one over which the flying four perform?" "Yes." "What about it?" "It can be fixed." "How?" "By weakening some of the strands on each side." "That is good, but suppose someone noticed." "Not if it is done right. I don't mean to do it all at once. I'll doctor one or two strands every day until the net is so weakened that it won't hold." "Yes, but how will you do this so no one will see?" "I'll tell you. After the act is over they roll the net up and carry it out. It is dumped just outside the pad room, where it is picked up by one of the property wagons later in the evening. It's in the same place every night." "I think somebody may see us do it." "No danger. Keep cool; that's all. We'll get even with those fellows. We have got to before we can carry out the other plans we have talked over. They are too sharp. Sooner or later they will get wise to us, and we've got to get them out of the way before we go any further. The work must be done in a natural sort of way, so that no suspicion is aroused." "Yes, that's so. But what about the others? You want to hurt them, too?" "I don't care, so long as we get the right one, how many get their bumps." "That's right. But only one of them is on trapeze. What you do about other?" "It is the tall one that I want most. He's got to be put out of the running. It won't kill him, but it will lay him up in a hospital for the rest of the season, and that's enough for us." "Yes." "The other one will be taken care of after we get through with the first. The small fellow is sharp, but he can't see beyond his nose. It's easy to fool him." "The fiends!" muttered Phil. "I believe they are plotting against Teddy and me. I have a good notion to sail into them right here and settle it. I believe I could whip the two of them. I--" At that instant a blade of grass tickled Phil's nose. He raised his head quickly. "What's that?" exclaimed one of the plotters. "I heard nothing." "You didn't? Well, I did. There's someone around here and close by us." "Perhaps it was a squirrel in the grass. There is no one here." The blade of grass had done its work, however. Phil tried hard to control himself, but he knew he was going to sneeze. All at once the sneeze came, louder than he had ever sneezed before. The men leaped to their feet in sudden alarm. CHAPTER XVII EAVESDROPPERS! "Look out!" "There he is!" "Grab him!" Phil had bounded to his feet, realizing that he could no longer conceal himself from them. As he did so, both men sprang toward him, the Circus Boy eluding them by a leap to one side. The men made a rush for him. At first Phil was inclined to stand his ground and give battle, but he reasoned that, being two to one, the chances were against him and that even if he were not captured, he might sustain injuries that would keep him out of the ring. That was the deciding factor with Phil Forrest. Although he would have preferred facing his enemies, he whirled instead and started on a run, with both men pursuing him at top speed. "He's out-running us. He'll get away!" cried one of the men. "Run, run! Run for all you're worth!" But they might as well have spared their effort. Phil was fleet of foot, and after getting a slight lead over them he turned sharply to his right, leaped a fence and lay down. The men quickly discovered that they had lost their prey. Then they became alarmed. "Get out of here, quick! He will be following us!" The men turned and ran swiftly in an opposite direction. "Do you think he recognized us?" "I don't know. We can tell by the way he acts when we get back; that is if he doesn't follow us now. We had better separate and go back to the lot. From there we can go along with the wagons and not be noticed. Don't let him bluff you." "Have no fear for me." The plotters separated and cautiously made their way back to the lot where they were soon lost among the crowd of men at work taking down the tent. "I believe one of those two men was Diaz," declared Phil, as he once more tried to place the voice that he had seemed to recognize. "They have given me the slip, too. I know what I'll do. I will hurry back to the boat and when Diaz returns I will face him and make him betray himself if I can. I shall have him then." Having decided on his course of action, Phil struck off at a trot across the field. He soon reached a back street of the village, and from there ran at full speed to the docks. All was activity here. The lad cast a quick glance about, though he did not expect to find the man for whom he was looking. Without pausing in his rapid gait he ran up the companionway to the upper deck, where he intended to watch at the rail for the arrival of Diaz from the lot. As he leaned over the rail he felt someone stir near him. Glancing up quickly, the Circus Boy started almost guiltily. There, beside him, sat Diaz on a camp stool with his feet on the steamer's rail, calmly watching the loading operations on the deck below. "Good evening, Mr. Diaz," said Phil quickly recovering his self-possession. Diaz uttered an unintelligible grunt, but did not deign to turn his head. "Hey, Phil, is that you?" called the voice of Teddy from further down the deck. "Yes," answered Phil, rising and moving aft. "How long have you been here?" "About an hour." "Do you know who is sitting over there?" "Over where?" "There by the rail?" "Sure, I know. That's our old friend Diaz," grinned Teddy. "How long has he been there?" "He came in when I did." "An hour ago?" "Yes." Phil was perplexed. "I do not understand it at all." "Don't understand what?" "Something that occurred this evening." Teddy's curiosity was aroused. "What is it all about, Phil?" "I should prefer not to talk about it here, Teddy. I will tell you after we get to bed and there is no one about to overhear us. There is a rascally plot on foot." "A plot?" "Yes. I know very little about it, but I know enough to warn me that you and I will have to keep our eyes open or else we shall find ourselves in serious difficulties before we realize it." "Is that so? Tell me who the plotters are, and I'll turn January loose on them," explained Teddy. "Do you think they are the fellows who stole my egg?" "I don't know. Where is Mr. Sparling?" "I haven't seen him since I ran into him and bowled him over off on the lot." Phil laughed. "As I have said many times before, you are hopeless, Teddy. I must go now. If you see Mr. Sparling, please let me know, but say nothing to anyone about what I have just told you." "I won't." Phil walked back to the point on the deck where he had first stopped to look over the rail, and, drawing up a stool sat down. He began studying the faces of the belated performers who came straggling down to the dock, singly and in pairs. None seemed to be in a hurry; not a face appeared to reflect any excitement. After an hour of this Phil felt sure that all the company had been accounted for. Mr. Sparling had arrived about twenty minutes earlier, and was standing on the dock giving orders. As the lad saw the owner enter the boat he turned away and hurried downstairs. "When you are at liberty, I should like a few moments conversation with you, sir," announced Phil. "I am at liberty, now, my lad," answered the showman with a smile and a friendly slap on the boy's shoulder. "I would rather not talk here, Mr. Sparling," answered Phil in a low tone. "Something doing, eh?" "There is." "Is it important that you should talk with me at once, or will a little later on answer the purpose?" "Later on will do. It is not so urgent as that." "When the men get these menagerie cages all shifted on deck I will meet you in my cabin. That will be in about twenty minutes, Phil." "Very well, sir; I will be on hand." Phil walked away, watched the loading operations for a few minutes, then strolled to the main cabin on the upper deck, where lunch was being served as usual. The Circus Boy appeared more light-hearted than usual that evening, as he chatted and joked with his friends among the performers. He did not wish the man or men whom he had overheard off on the lot to know that he was the eavesdropper. He felt that he could make better progress in his investigation were they not on their guard. The pilot, Cummings, was not in the cabin. He had not been seen there since his trouble with Teddy. Despite the pilot's determination to resign, he was still on duty, he and Mr. Sparling having come to a satisfactory understanding. Teddy was helping himself liberally for the second time since his return from the lot. "Do you think you will ever be able to satisfy that appetite of yours?" laughed Phil. "I hope not," answered Teddy solemnly. "That's the only fun in life--that and the donkey." Just then Mr. Sparling passed through the cabin on the way to his stateroom and office. He gave Phil a significant glance, to which the Circus Boy did not respond. A few minutes later, however, Phil strolled out to the deck. Reaching it he turned quickly and hurried aft, entering the passageway there and going directly to Mr. Sparling's quarters. "Come in," invited the owner in response to Phil's gentle rap. The blinds had been drawn up, though the windows were let down into their casings out of sight. Phil noted this in a quick glance. "Sit down and tell me what has happened, Phil. I am sure you have made some sort of discovery." "I have and I haven't." "What do you mean?" "That I am deeper in the mire than ever." "Tell me about it." "While I have made no discoveries that will help us much, I have learned just enough to understand that there is a diabolical plot on foot." "Against whom?" "I am not sure, but I think it is against Teddy and myself." "Is it possible? Who are the plotters?" "That is the worst of it; I do not know. I wish I did. I thought I had one of the men identified, but I find I am all wrong. I am more at sea than ever." "Who did you think it was?" "As long as I am mistaken, why should I accuse anyone?" "You are right. Have you reason to believe it is someone connected with this show?" "I am sure that at least one of the men is." "Then there is more than one in this thing?" "There are two men. At least I have seen two. There may be more for all I know." "Now, tell me what it is all about. You haven't said a word regarding this plot yet," urged the showman drawing his chair around the corner of his desk and leaning forward with his hands on his knees. Phil told how he strolled off into the field adjoining the circus lot, and went on in detail to relate all that had occurred after that. As he proceeded with his story the face of James Sparling grew serious and then stern. "I presume I should have stood my ground and given battle to them, if for no other reason than to find out who they were," concluded the lad, somewhat ruefully. "Phil Forrest, you should have done nothing of the sort," answered Mr. Sparling sharply. "You take quite enough risk as it is. You think the plot now is to tamper with the big net?" "Yes, sir." "Is it possible that such scoundrels are traveling with the Sparling shows?" "I wish I did not think so." "Phil, it is not the man who was responsible for several accidents the first year you were with us, is it?" demanded the showman shrewdly, darting a sharp glance at Phil. "No, sir," answered the boy flushing a little. "That man is no longer with the show." "I thought so. Now I have him located." "The--the man I saw tonight--you know him?" gasped Phil. "No. I did not mean that. I refer to the fellow who nearly caused your death three years ago." "Oh!" "You had some trouble with Diaz a short time ago, did you not?" Phil was surprised that the showman was aware of this. "Yes." "Where is Diaz tonight?" demanded the showman almost sternly. "In his stateroom, or else out on deck." "Are you sure?" Phil nodded. "What time did he return from the lot?" "He was here when I went on deck. He came to the boat directly after the performance." "You are sure of this?" "I am." "You are a very shrewd young man, sir," said Mr. Sparling, with a mirthless smile. "However, these guilty men must be found and punished. You think their first efforts will be directed toward the net?" "Yes, according to what I overheard. I have an idea, however, that they will not do so at once, fearing they may have been recognized, or at any rate that their plans are known to someone else." "Do you think they recognized you?" "I do not. I did not speak. I was on the point of doing so, then checked myself." "Right! You are one in a hundred. I will have a watch kept on the net, and an examination made of it before every performance." Phil smiled faintly. "I am not afraid for myself." "No, that's your greatest failing. You are not afraid of anything and you take very long chances. I hope you will be more cautious in the future. You must be careful, Phil, and you had better caution your partner, Teddy Tucker. Does he know of this?" "No, but I intend to tell him. He is more interested in the possibility of recovering his egg than in any personal danger to himself or to me," said the Circus Boy with a short laugh. "Keep your eyes open, and take care of yourself. If we fail to get a clue by the time we get to Des Moines I shall send to St. Louis for the best detective they have and put him on the case. Perhaps it would be best to do so now." "I think--" began Phil, when his words were arrested by a loud noise just outside the cabin, on the deck. Mr. Sparling and Phil started up, for the instant not understanding the meaning of the disturbance. "Wha--what--" gasped the showman. Phil ran to the window and looked out. The deck at that point was deserted. He thought he saw a figure dodge into an entrance near the stern of the boat, and looking forward he discovered another disappearing in that direction. The Circus Boy sprang for the door. "What is it, what is it?" cried the showman. "Eavesdroppers!" answered the lad, darting out into the passageway, followed closely by Mr. Sparling. "You go that way and I'll go this," directed Phil. CHAPTER XVIII MAKING A CAPTURE The two ran down the corridor, Mr. Sparling heading for the forward end, Phil toward the stern. "There he goes! I see him!" shouted the showman as a figure leaped out to the deck, slamming the door. "We have him now!" Phil rushed out at the stern and started to run along the starboard side of the boat. As he emerged he caught sight of a figure running toward him, and behind the figure, Mr. Sparling, coming along the deck in great strides. "Stop! We've got you!" shouted the showman. Phil spread out his arms as the fleeing one drew near him, then threw them about the fellow, holding him in a firm grip. "I've got him, Mr. Sparling!" "Leggo of me! What's the matter with you? Anybody would think this was a high school initiation." "Teddy," groaned Phil. "What's that?" demanded the showman jerking Phil and his prisoner over to an open window through which a faint light was showing. "It is Teddy Tucker, sir," said Phil releasing his hold. "What does this mean, sir?" demanded the showman in a stern voice. "That's what I want to know. You fellows chase me around the boat as if I were some kind of a football. It's a wonder one of you didn't kick me. Lucky for you that you didn't, too, I can tell you." "Teddy, come to my cabin at once. Phil, bring him along, will you?" "Yes," answered Phil Forrest. Phil was troubled. He could not believe it possible that Teddy was guilty of eavesdropping, and yet the evidence seemed to point strongly in that direction. Taking firm hold of his companion's arm he led him along toward Mr. Sparling's cabin. "What's all this row about?" growled Teddy. "That is what I hope you will be able to explain to Mr. Sparling's satisfaction," replied Phil. "However, wait till we get to his cabin." Phil led Teddy to the door, thrust him in, then followed, closing and locking the door. "Perhaps we had better close that window this time, sir." "Yes." Mr. Sparling drew up and locked the window. "Sit down!" he commanded, eyeing Teddy keenly. Teddy sat down dutifully and was about to place his feet on the showman's desk when Phil nudged him. "Now, sir, what does this mean?" "What does what mean? I never was any good at guessing riddles." "What do you mean by eavesdropping at my cabin window?" "Oh, was that your window?" "It was and it is. And unless you can offer a satisfactory explanation, something will have to be done. That is one of the things that I shall not tolerate. I can scarcely believe you guilty of such a disgraceful act. Unfortunately, you have admitted it." "Admitted what?" "That you were listening at my window." "I never said anything of the sort." "No, not in so many words; but when I asked you what you meant by doing so, you answered, 'Oh, was that your window?'" "Certainly I said it." "Then will you kindly explain why?" "I wasn't listening at your window. I wasn't within half a block--half a boat, I mean--of it. What do you think I am?" "Well, Teddy, for a minute I thought you had been guilty of an inexcusable act but upon second thought I begin to understand that it is impossible. There is some misunderstanding here." Phil looked relieved, but Teddy was gazing at the showman with half-closed eyes. "While Phil and myself were holding a confidential conversation here, someone was listening to us under that window. All at once the blind fell with a crash--" "And so did the other fellow," interrupted Teddy, his eyes lighting up mischievously. "Phil looked out quickly. He thought he saw someone dodging into the entrance aft, and at the same time he was sure someone was doing the same thing forward." "I was the fellow who dodged in the forward entrance. Then you fellows started a sprinting match with me." "Why did you run?" "Oh, I suppose I might as well tell you all about it." "Yes, if we are to make any headway it will be best to let you tell your story in your own way," answered Mr. Sparling with a grim smile. "I was halfway between here and the pilot house, sitting down on the deck, leaning against the side of the deck-house. I had just gone to sleep, at least I think I had, when I woke up suddenly. I saw somebody down this way peeping in at a window. I became curious. I wondered if he was the fellow who stole my egg, so I got up to investigate. Just then he saw me." "Well, what happened?" "He was standing on a box. The box tipped over or he jumped off, I don't know which. I thought he was chasing me, and I ran." "Afraid, eh?" jeered Phil. "No, I wasn't afraid. I just ran because I needed the exercise; that's all. Do you think he really had my egg?" "Who was the man, Teddy?" "How do I know?" "You saw him. Could you not--did you not recognize him?" "No, it was too dark. I didn't wait long after I first discovered him, you know. I thought maybe it was that fellow Cummings, laying for me. I wish January had finished him while he had the chance." "You noticed nothing familiar about him?" "Yes, I did." "What?" "He looked like some kind of a man," answered Teddy solemnly. "Oh, fudge!" "You say he was standing on a box?" "Something of the sort." Mr. Sparling went out, leaving the boys alone for a few minutes. When he returned he brought with him a small square box which he examined very carefully. "Do you recognize it?" asked Phil. "Yes, it is one in which the candy butcher received some goods. It might have been picked up by anyone. I will find out where he left it. This may give us some slight clue. It is quite evident, boys, that we have among us one or more dangerous men. Teddy, I offer you my humble apology for having suspected you for a moment. The thought was unworthy." "Don't mention it," answered the Circus Boy airily. CHAPTER XIX TEDDY JOINS THE BAND "I would suggest that you divide the band into two parts and have them play on deck as we approach the next stand," said Phil later that evening. "I think that a most excellent plan," decided Mr. Sparling. "We will work it whenever we get in after daylight. It might not be a bad idea to try it tomorrow morning. I'll allow the musicians overtime for it, so there should be no objection on their part. We will make a triumphal entry into Des Moines, providing nothing happens to us in the meantime." Mr. Sparling's face darkened as he thought of the dastardly attempts that had been made against his young charges. "I will see the leader before I turn in. You had better go to bed now, Phil. You have been keeping pretty late hours and working unusually hard. Good night." "Good night," answered Phil pleasantly. Man and boy had come to be very fond of each other, and Phil Forrest could not have felt a more genuine affection for Mr. Sparling had the latter been his own father. "A noble fellow," was Mr. Sparling's comment as the youth walked away from the cabin. At half-past three o'clock the next morning the boat's passengers were awakened by the blare of brass, the crash of cymbals and the boom of the big bass drum. They tumbled out of bed in a hurry, for few of them knew of the plan of the owner to give an early morning concert on the deck of the "Fat Marie." Teddy Tucker struck the floor of his cabin broadside on. "Wake up, Phil! We're late for the show. It's already begun and here we are in bed." "Guess again, Teddy," answered Phil sleepily. "Don't you know where you are?" "I thought I did, but I don't. Where am I?" "In our cabin on the ship." "But the band, the band?" "It is playing for the benefit of the natives along the shore." "Oh, pooh! And here I am wide awake. Do you know what time it is?" "No." "It is only twenty minutes of four." "In the afternoon? Goodness we are late." "No, in the morning, you ninny. This is a shame. I'll bet that band concert was your suggestion, Phil Forrest." Phil admitted the charge. "Then you must take your medicine with the rest of us. Come out of that!" One of Phil's feet was peeping out from under the covers. Teddy saw it and grabbed it. Being a strong boy, the mighty tug he gave was productive of results. Phil landed on his back on the floor, with a resounding thump and a jolt that made him see stars. "Teddy Tucker, look out; I'm coming!" "You had better look out; I'm waiting." The two supple-limbed youngsters met in the middle of the cabin floor and went down together. They were evenly matched, and the muscles of their necks stood out like whip cords as they struggled over the floor, each seeking to get a fall from his antagonist. Teddy managed to roll under the bed, and there they continued their early morning battle, but under no slight difficulties. Every time one of the gladiators forgot himself and raised his head, he bumped it. Phil tried to force Teddy out from under the bed, but Teddy refused to be forced. "When--when I get you out of here I am going to do something to you that you won't like, Teddy Tucker," panted Phil. "What--what you going to do to me?" "I'm going to pour a pitcher of cold water on your bare feet." "Oh!" The thought of it sent Teddy into a nervous chill. He would rather take a sound thrashing, at any time, than have that done to him. Now he struggled more desperately than ever to hold Phil under the bed. At last, however, the boys rolled out and Teddy's shoulders struck the cabin floor with a bang that sent the pitcher jingling in the wash bowl. Phil sprang up, seized the water pitcher, making a threatening move with it toward his companion. "Wow! Don't, don't!" howled Teddy. Phil pursued him around the cabin, the water splashing from the pitcher to the floor. Teddy yelling like a wild Indian every time he stepped in the puddles. The window was open and the band was playing just outside. Suddenly a new plan occurred to Teddy--a plan whereby he might escape from his tormentor. Taking a running start he sprang up, making a clean dive through the window head-first. The lad had intended to land on his hands, do a cartwheel and come up easily on his feet. But the best-laid plans sometimes go wrong. The bass drummer was pounding his drum right in line with the window. Teddy did not see the drum until too late to change his course. His head hit the drum with a bang. He went clear through it, his head protruding from the other side. And there he stuck! "Oh, wow!" howled the Circus Boy. The other members of the band, discovering that the drum was no longer marking time for them, got out of tune and came to a discordant stop. The leader, whose side had been toward the drummer at the time, did not know what had happened. He was furious. He was about to upbraid them when he discovered the head of Teddy Tucker protruding from the head of the drum. "Wha--wha--what--" The bass drummer paid no attention to him. Instead he grabbed the offending boy by the feet, bracing his own feet against the rim of the instrument, and began to pull. The drummer was red in the face, perspiring and angry. Teddy popped out like a pea from a pod. The Circus Boy was not yet out of his trouble. With unlooked-for strength the irate drummer threw the lad over his knees, face down, and raised the drumstick aloft. This drumstick, as our readers well know, is made of heavy leather--that is the beating end is--and is hard. To add to the distress of the victim, Teddy was in his pink pajamas and they were thin. Whack! The stick came down with more force than seemed necessary. "Ouch! Stop it! I'll pay you back for keeps for that!" Whack! "Oh, Phil!" Teddy was making desperate efforts to squirm away now, but his position was such that he was unable to bring his full strength to bear on the task. The stick was raised for another blow, but there came an interruption that took all thought of continuing the punishment out of the mind of the angry drummer. "Stop it! I don't want to be a drum!" howled the boy. Splash! A pitcher of water was emptied over the drummer's head, a large part of the water running down and soaking Teddy to the skin, causing that young gentleman to howl lustily. It gave the boy the opportunity he was looking for, however. With a quick twist he wrenched himself free from the grasp of the drummer, dropped on all fours and was up and away, a pink streak along the port side of the "Fat Marie." Phil had come to the rescue of his companion. He now jerked the window shut and slammed the blind in place, after which he quickly got into his clothes, fully expecting that he should have a call from the bass drummer. There was a great uproar on deck about that time, with much shouting and unintelligible language--at least unintelligible to Phil. Before he had finished dressing, Teddy came skulking in, rubbing himself and muttering threats as to what he proposed to do to the drummer. "You did it! You did!" he shouted, pointing a finger at Phil Forrest. "It strikes me that you did something, too--" "No I didn't. Something was done to me. I had on my pajamas, too," wailed the boy. "I'm glad you soaked him, though. Why didn't you throw the pitcher at him, too?" "Oh, no, it might have hurt him, Teddy." "Hurt him? Pshaw! Maybe the drumstick didn't hurt me. Oh, no!" "Well, get dressed. I will go out and see if I can pour oil on the troubled waters. You stay here. I don't want you mixing it up with the drummer. I'll attend to him." Phil first hunted up Mr. Sparling, whom he found shaving in his cabin. "Why good morning, Phil. Why this early call?" "I called to ask you what a new set of heads will cost for the bass drum?" "I think they are worth about fifteen dollars. Why do you ask?" "Because Teddy and myself have just smashed the heads out of the one belonging to the band." Mr. Sparling paused in his shaving long enough to glance keenly at Phil. There was a twinkle in his eyes. He knew that his Circus Boys had been up to some mischief. Phil was as solemn as an owl. "It was this way," explained the lad, as he related how the accident had occurred. Mr. Sparling sat down and laughed. "Never mind the drum heads. We have others for just such an emergency, I do not mind a little fun once in a while. We all have to blow off steam sometimes." "No, sir; we shall pay for the drum heads. To whom does the drum belong?" "The drummer, I think." "Very well; thank you." Phil hastily withdrew from the cabin and hurried back to his own stateroom. "Teddy," he said, "I want seven-fifty from you." "What's that?" "Seven dollars and a half, please." Teddy began pawing over his trousers. All at once he paused, looking up at Phil suspiciously. "You want to borrow seven-fifty, do you?" "No, I want you to contribute it." "To what?" "To the fund." "What fund? What are you talking about?" "Those drum heads are worth fifteen dollars and we are going to pay the owner of the drum for the damage we did. I will give half and you half." "What!" shrieked Teddy. "Come, pay up!" "What! Give that fellow money when he's taken more than twenty- five dollars worth out of my hide? I guess not! What kind of an easy mark do you think I am? Pay him yourself. You did it." "Teddy, do you want me to give you a good thrashing, right here and now?" "You can't do it. You never could," returned Teddy, belligerently. "Come, hand out the money!" Teddy eyed his companion for a full minute; then, thrusting a hand slowly into his own trousers' pocket, brought forth a goodly roll of bills from which he counted off eight dollars. "Tell him to keep the change." "I will, thank you," said Phil with a merry twinkle in his eyes. "It's like taking candy out of the mouth of a babe. I'll get more than eight dollars' worth out of that bass--he's baser than he is bass. Bass sounds like a fish, doesn't it--out of that bass drummer when I get a good fair chance at him. Sometime when he isn't looking, you know. I wonder if he could be the fellow who stole my egg?" questioned Teddy reflectively. Phil went out laughing, to make his peace with the drummer. CHAPTER XX A CAPTURE IN THE AIR Fortunately, the band carried a new set of heads for the drum, and the contribution of the boys served to restore the offended musicians to good nature. Teddy, however, was not appeased. That youngster vowed that he would take revenge on the bass drummer at the very first opportunity. That afternoon, during the performance, Teddy began his getting-even process by standing in front of the bandstand between his acts, and making faces at the musicians. This seemed to amuse them, and brought only smiles to their faces. Teddy was not there for the purpose of amusing the band, so he turned his back on them and tried to think of something more effective. The show did a great business at Des Moines, having a "turn-away" at both afternoon and evening performances. The Sparling shows had played there before, but never to such business, which the showman decided was due to their novel way of traveling. He knew that these little novelties frequently made fortunes for Circus owners. At the evening performance, Teddy had an inspiration. He was too busy, during the first part of the show, to give his idea a practical test, but later in the evening, while he was awaiting his cue to go on in his clown act, he tried the new plan. The lad had purchased half a dozen lemons from the refreshment stand. One of these he cut in halves, secreting the pieces in a pocket of his clown costume; then when the time came he stationed himself in front of the bandstand where he stood until he had gained the attention of several of the musicians. Teddy took out the two pieces of lemon with a great flourish, went through the motions of sprinkling sugar over them, then began sucking first one piece, then the other, varying his performance by holding out the lemon invitingly to the players. The bass drum player scowled. Teddy's lemon did not affect the beating of the drum, but as the lad began to make believe that the acid juice was puckering his lips, some of the musicians showed signs of uneasiness. The Circus Boy observing this, smacked his lips again and again, and industriously swallowed the juice, though it nearly choked him to do so. Very soon some of the players got off the key, their playing grew uneven and in some instances stopped altogether. The leader could not understand what the trouble was. He called out angrily to the offending musicians, but this seemed only to add to their troubles. All at once the big German, who played the bass horn, rose from his seat and hurled his music rack at the offending Teddy Tucker. Everything on the bandstand came to a standstill, and the performers in the ring glanced sharply down that way, wondering what could have happened. The leader turned and discovered Teddy and his lemons. He was beside himself with rage. He understood, now, why his musicians had failed. Teddy sucking the lemon had given many of them "the puckers." It was an old trick, but it worked as well as if it had been brand new. The Circus Boy was delighted. The leader experienced no such sensations. With an angry exclamation, he leaped from the box on which he was standing, aiming a blow at Teddy with his baton. The boy dodged it and ran laughing out into the ring, for it was now time for him to go on in his next act.
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