“This is a kind of farewell appearance, you know,” grinned Kennedy. And so the audience took it.
The lad’s former companions shouted all manner of things to him.
“Good-bye, Phil!”
“Don’t stick your head in the lion’s mouth.”
“Be careful when you twist the tiger’s tail. Better put some salt on it before you do.”
“We’ll look out for Uncle Abner.”
Phil was grinning broadly as he rode back into the menagerie tent. Everybody in town now knew that he had joined the circus, which brought forth a variety of comments. Some said it would be the end of the boy, but Phil Forrest knew that a boy could behave himself with a circus just as well as in any other occupation, and so far as his observations went, the circus people were much better than some folks he knew at home.
No sooner had they gotten into the menagerie tent than a sudden bustle and excitement were apparent. Confused shouts were heard on all sides. Teams, fully harnessed, were being led into the tent, quarter-poles were coming down without regard to where they struck, everybody appearing to have gone suddenly crazy.
“They’re striking the tent,” nodded Mr. Kennedy, noting the boy’s wonderment. “You had better look out for yourself. Don’t stand in the way or you may get hurt,” he warned.
“Get the bulls out!” called a man, hurrying by.