Phil got up promptly, glanced toward the long train that was winding its way up the steep mountain, then stepped across the intervening space between the two cars. He wasted no time, but immediately lifted the canvas and peered along the side of the wagon.
He discovered that he would have to go to the forward end of it in order to reach the top, because the steps were at that end. There the canvas was drawn tighter, so the lad untied one of the ropes, leaving one corner of the covering flapping in the breeze.
Cautiously and quietly he began climbing up, the wagon swaying dizzily with the motion of the train, making it more and more difficult to cling to it as he got nearer the top. The air was close, and soon after the boy began going up, the sun beat down on the canvas cover suffocatingly.
Now he had reached the top. High seats intervened between him and the other end, so that he could not see far ahead of him. Phil dropped down into the wagon and began creeping toward the rear.
He stumbled over some properties that had been stowed in the wagon, making a great clatter. Instantly there was a commotion in the other end of the car.
Phil scrambled up quickly and crawled over the high seat ahead of him. As he did so he uttered an exclamation. The red head of Red Larry could be seen, his beady eyes peering over the back of a seat.
"I've got you this time, Red!" exulted Phil, clambering over the seat in such a hurry that he fell in a heap on the other side of it.
The lad seemed to have no sense that he was placing himself in grave peril. He had no fear in his makeup, and his every nerve was centered on capturing the desperate, revengeful man who had not only assaulted Phil, but who had caused so much damage to the Sparling Shows.
"Don't you dare come near me, you young cub!" threatened Red, as with rage-distorted face he suddenly whipped out a knife.
Phil picked up a club and started toward him. The club happened to be a tent stake. Red observed the action, and crouching low waited as the lad approached him.