Crash!
At a wave of the bandmaster's baton, the band suddenly launched into a smashing air.
The ringmaster's whip cracked with an explosive sound, at which the gray mare, unaffected by the noise and the excitement, started away at a measured gallop, her head rising and falling like the prow of a ship buffeting a heavy sea.
Phil was plainly nervous. He knew it. He felt that he was going to make an unpleasant exhibition of himself.
"Get up! Get going! Going to sit there all day?" questioned the ringmaster.
Phil threw himself to his feet. Somehow he missed his footing in his nervousness, and the next instant he felt himself falling.
"There, I've done it!" groaned the lad, as he dropped lightly on all fours well outside the wooden ring curbing, which he took care to clear in his descent.
"Oh, you Rube! You've gone and done it now," growled the ringmaster. "It's all up. You've lost them sure."
The audience was laughing and cheering at the same time.
Feeling her rider leave her back the gray dropped her gallop and fell into a slow trot.