The showman breathed a sigh of relief. A bare half dozen had to be helped down from the seats, where they had been struck by flying debris, but beyond that no one obeyed Mr. Sparling's request to remain.
The men had run quickly along under the seats to see if by any chance injured persons had fallen through. They helped a few out and these walked hurriedly away, bent on getting off the circus lot as quickly as possible after their exciting experiences.
"No one killed, Phil."
"I'm glad of that. I'm going to look for Wallace. Better get your men out right away, or he'll be too far away for us ever to catch him again. Have the menagerie men gone to look for him?"
"I don't know, Phil. You will remember that I have been rather busily engaged for the past ten or fifteen minutes."
"We all have. Well, I'm going to take a run and see if I can get track of the lion."
"Be careful. Better get your clothes on the first thing you do."
"Guess he hasn't any. His trunk and mine have gone away somewhere," nodded Teddy.
"Never mind the clothes. I'm on a lion hunt now," laughed Phil, starting from the enclosure on a run.
"Nothing can stop that boy," muttered Mr. Sparling. The owner was all activity now, giving his orders at rapid-fire rate. First, the men were ordered to gather the canvas and stretch it out on the lot so an inventory might be taken to determine in what shape the show had been left. Others were assigned to search the lot for show properties, costumes and the like, and in a very short time the big, machine-like organization was working methodically and without excitement.