"There she is now."
Dimples had changed her torn white dress for a short riding skirt, and when Phil turned about she was running toward him with outstretched arms. He braced himself and blushed violently.
"Oh, you dear," cried the impulsive little equestrienne, throwing both arms about Phil's neck. "I wish my boy could have seen you do that! It was splendid. You're a hero! You'll see what a craze the people will make of you—"
"I—I think they are more likely to chase us out of town," laughed Phil. "We must have smashed up things pretty thoroughly downtown."
"Never mind; Mr. Sparling will settle the damage. The only trouble will be that he won't have anyone to scold. You saved the day, Phil, and you saved me as well. Of course I'm not much, but I value my precious little life just as highly as the next one—I mean the next person."
"The bay ran away with you, didn't he?"
"I suppose that's what some people would call it. It would have been a glorious ride if it hadn't been that I expected you were being trampled to death back there. The bay brought me right to the lot, then stopped, of course. Circus horses have a lot of sense. I heard right away that you were not injured and that you were bringing the bulls in. Then I was happy. I'm happy now. We'll have a lesson after the show. You—"
"When do you think I shall be fit to go in the ring?"
"Fit now! You're ahead of a good many who have been working
at it for years, and I mean just what I'm saying. There is
Mr. Sparling. Come on; run along back to the paddock with me.
I haven't finished talking with you yet."
"Perhaps he may want me," hesitated Phil.