Mr. Kennedy, familiar with side-splitting exhibitions, forgot himself so far as actually to laugh out loud.
But where was Phil Forrest? Thus far everybody had been too much interested in the old lady with the trunk and the market basket to give a thought to the missing boy, though some of the performers found themselves wondering if he had closed with the show already.
Those of the performers not otherwise engaged at the moment were assembled inside the big top at one side of the bandstand, fairly holding their sides with laughter over old Emperor’s exhibition.
Standing back in the shadow of the seats, where the rays from the gasoline lamps did not reach, stood Mr. Sparling, a pleased smile on his face, his eyes twinkling with merriment. It was a good act that could draw from James Sparling these signs of approval.
The act was nearing its close.
The audience thought they had seen the best of it. But there was still a surprise to come—a surprise that they did not even dream of.
The time was at hand for the elephants to rear in a grand finale. An attendant quietly led Jupiter from the ring and to his quarters, Emperor making a circuit of the sawdust arena to cover the going of the other elephant and that there might be no cessation of action in the exhibition.
Emperor and his trainer finally halted, standing facing the reserved seats, as motionless as statues.
The audience sat silent and expectant. They felt that something still was before them, but what they had not the least idea, of course.
“Up, Emperor!” commanded Mr. Kennedy in a quiet voice. “All ready, Phil.”