Phil faced the escaped lion, starting toward it with a threatening motion of the whip.
"Are you ever going to get a net?"
"Get a net!" thundered Mr. Sparling. "Get away from him, Phil!"
Instead of doing so, the Circus Boy stepped closer to the beast. No one made the slightest move to capture the beast, as Phil realized might easily be done now, if only a few had the presence of mind to attempt it.
Crack!
The ringmaster's whip in Phil's hands snapped and the leather lash bit deep into the nose of Wallace.
With a roar that sounded louder than that of the storm outside the lion took a quick step forward, only to get the lash on his nose again.
Suddenly he turned about and in long, curving bounds headed for the lower end of the tent. Mr. Sparling sprang to one side, knowing full well that it would be better to lose the lion than to stir up the audience more than they already were stirred.
Phil was in full pursuit, cracking his whip at every jump.
Wallace leaped through the open flap at the lower end of the tent and disappeared in the night.