As he drew nearer they began to chant, keeping time with his footsteps and the music of the band:
"Phil, Phil—Phillip F! Rah, rah! Siss-boom-ah!"
The Circus Boy grinned happily and waved his whip at them as he passed.
"I hope I won't make a fool of myself," he thought.
He had no intention of doing so. He had a few tricks that he was going to show his friends, and incidentally surprise Mr. Sparling himself, for Phil, who now owned his own ring horse, had been practicing in secret all winter on the act that he was going to attempt for the first time in public that evening.
Discarding his slippers and chalking the bottoms of his riding pumps, Phil began his act by riding standing on the rump of his mount, to get his equilibrium and his confidence at the same time.
Then the lad began throwing himself into his work, which increased in speed as the moments passed, until his supple, slender body was flashing here and there on the back of the handsome gray, causing the eyes of the spectators fairly to ache in their efforts to keep track of him.
The people voiced their excitement by yells of approval and howls of delight.
"My, but that boy can ride!" muttered Mr. Sparling, who had been watching the act critically. "In fact, I should like to know what he cannot do. If he had to do so, he could run this show fully as well as can I—and perhaps better at that," added the showman, with a grin.
Now the band struck up the music for the concluding number of the act.