No such interruption occurred, however, rather greatly to Phil's surprise, so he lay still and waited for a favorable moment when he might take a hand in the affair himself.
Teddy's voice could be heard under his blanket, in muffled, angry protestations, his feet now and then beating a tattoo on the wagon bottom. Such an act brought down the weight of his captors upon the offending feet each time.
Once Teddy managed to work the covering from his mouth for one brief instant.
"Hey, Rube!" he howled lustily, this being the signal known to circus men the world over, when one or more of them is in trouble.
But there were no strong-armed circus men to come to their rescue. All the circus laborers were working off on the lot striking the tents and loading the show on the wagons. Teddy was given no further opportunity to protest.
After a journey of what seemed hours, and during which, Phil Forrest had lost all sense of direction, the wagon came to a halt.
He could hear the hum of conversation as his captors consulted in low tones. Then all at once he found himself jerked from the wagon and plumped down on the ground.
Teddy went through a similar experience, excepting that his fall was considerably more severe. Teddy struck the ground with a jolt that made him utter a loud "Wow!"
He was on his feet in a twinkling, only to find himself pounced upon and borne heavily to earth again.
Fuming and threatening, Teddy was roughly picked up, Phil being served likewise.