"Do all the big shows carry an officer?" asked Phil.
"Yes; they have a detective with them—not a tin badge detective, but a real one. Don't try to go out today. Get your dinner and rest up for the afternoon performance. I think you had better go to the train in my carriage tonight. I'm not going to take any more such chances with you."
"I'll look out for myself after this, Mr. Sparling," laughed
Phil.
"I think it was only two days ago that I said I wasn't afraid of
Larry—that he couldn't get me. But he did."
That afternoon, as Phil related his experiences to the dressing tent, he included the barnyard circus, which set the performers in a roar.
Phil felt a little sore and stiff after his knockout and his long ride in the freight car; but, after taking half an hour of bending exercises in the paddock, he felt himself fit to go on with his ring and bareback acts.
Both his acts passed off successfully, as did the Grand Entry in which he rode old Emperor.
That night, after the performance, Phil hurried to the train, but kept a weather eye out that he might not be assaulted again. He found himself hungry, and, repairing to the accommodation car for a lunch, discovered Teddy stowing away food at a great rate.
"So you're here, are you?" laughed Phil.
"Yep; I live here most of the time," grinned Teddy. "They like to have me eat here. I'm a sort of nest egg, you know. It makes the others hungry to see me eat, and they file in in a perfect procession. How's your head?"
"Still a size too large," answered Phil, sinking down on a stool and ordering a sandwich.