By this time Mrs. Robinson had placed the jumping board in the ring—a short piece of board, one end of which was built up about a foot from the ground. Then she started the ring horse galloping again.
Phil, measuring his distance, took a running start and vaulted, landing on his feet on the animal's back, then, urging his mount on to a lively gallop about the sawdust ring, he threw himself into a whirlwind of graceful contortions and rapid movements, adding some of his own invention to those usually practiced by bareback riders.
Phil dropped to the hip of the gray, his face flushed with triumph, his eyes sparkling.
"How is it, Mr. Sparling?" he called.
The showman was clapping his hands and clambering down the aisle from his position near the top row of seats.
"You don't mean to tell me you have never tried bareback riding before this season?" he demanded.
"No, sir; this is my first experience."
"Then all I have to say is that you will make one of the finest bareback riders in the world if you keep on. It is marvelous, marvelous!"
"Thank you," glowed the lad. "But if there is any credit coming to anyone it is due to Mrs. Robinson. She taught me how to do it," answered Phil gallantly.
Little Dimples shook a small, brown fist at him.