"N-o-o," reflected Phil slowly, "I thought I was a goner."
"While the rest of our crowd were hiking for cover, like a lot of 'cold feet,' you were diving right into the heart of the trouble, picking up my principal equestrienne. Then you sent her away and stopped to face the herd of bulls. Jumping giraffes, but it was a sight!"
By this time the monkeys had gone back to finish their animated discussion.
"I do not deserve any credit for that. I was caught and I thought I might as well face the music."
"Bosh! I heard you calling for Emperor, and I knew right away that that little head of yours was working like the wheels of a chariot in a Roman race. I knew what you were trying to do, but I'd have bet a thousand yards of canvas you never would. You did, though," and the showman sighed.
Phil was very much embarrassed and sat kicking his heels into the soft turf, wishing that Mr. Sparling would talk about something else.
"The whole town is talking about it. I'm going to have the press agent wire the story on ahead. I told him, just before I came in, that if he'd follow you he'd get 'copy' enough to last him all the rest of his natural life. All that crowd out there has come because there was a young circus boy with the show, who had a head on his shoulders and the pluck to back his gray matter."
"Have you talked with Mr. Kennedy?" asked Phil, wishing to change the personal trend of the conversation.
"Yes; why?"
"Did he say what he thought was the matter with Jupiter?"