A forty-foot fall to the hard ground below seemed inevitable.
Yet he did not lose his presence of mind for an instant.
"Give him a hand!" yelled the boss canvasman.
"How? How?" shouted the canvasmen. "We can't reach him."
"Get a net under that boy, you blockheads!" thundered Mr. Sparling, rushing over from his station. "Don't you see he's bound to fall, and if he does he'll break his neck?"
The boss canvasman ordered three of his men to get the trapeze performers' big net that lay in a heap near the ring nearest the dressing tent, for there were two rings now in the Great Sparling Combined Shows.
They dragged it over as quickly as possible; then willing hands grabbed it and stretched the heavy net out. At Mr. Sparling's direction the four corners of the net were manned and the safety device raised from the ground, ready to catch the lad should he fall.
"Now let go and drop!" roared Mr. Sparling.
They heard Phil laugh from his lofty perch.
"Jump, I say!"
"What, and let the tent down on you all?"