"Why?"
"Because I prefer to."
"Very well," answered the groom, turning away and walking slowly toward the paddock, while Phil, who had in the meantime slipped off to the ring, was quickly drawing on his slippers.
By this time Mr. Sully was looking at him, wondering why Phil did not get out of the ring, for another act was coming on, the performers for which already were moving down the concourse.
All at once the Circus Boy threw himself to the back of his mount, landing astride.
Phil brought his riding whip down on the back of the surprised animal with a force that sent the horse forward with a snort. They bounded out of the ring. Instead, however, of turning toward the paddock exit, Phil headed straight for the other end of the tent. There an exit led into the menagerie tent, or where that tent had been, for by this time it had been taken down and carted away to the train. A canvas flap hung loosely over the entrance, but it was not fastened down, as Phil well knew, being left free so people could pass in and out at will.
"Stop him!"
It was the voice of Sully and might have been heard in every part of the big top, though the people did not know what the command meant.
For the moment the circus attendants did not understand either.
They had not noticed Phil riding away in the wrong direction.
"Stop him, I say!"