But Phil Forrest had a level head. He did not delude himself with any extravagant idea of his own importance. He knew that what he had done was purely the result of accident.
“I’ll do something, someday, that will be worthwhile,” he told himself.
Phil’s act that afternoon was fully as successful as it had been on the previous day back in his home town. Besides, he now had more confidence in himself. He felt that in a very short time he might be able to keep his feet on the elephant’s head without the support of Emperor’s trunk. That would be an achievement.
On this particular afternoon he rode with as much confidence as if he had been doing it all the season.
“You’ll make a performer,” encouraged Kennedy. “You’ve got the poise and everything necessary to make you a good one.”
“What kind, do you think?”
“Any old kind. Do you get dizzy when up in the air?”
“I don’t remember that I have ever been up much further than Emperor hoists me,” laughed Phil.
For the next two minutes the man and the boy were too busy with their act to continue their conversation. The audience was enthusiastic, and they shouted out Phil Forrest’s name several times, which made him smile happily.
“What would you advise me to do, Mr. Kennedy?” he asked as the elephants started to leave the ring, amid the plaudits of the spectators.