The lads strolled out on the lot and began hunting for their wagon. They found nothing that looked like it for sometime and had about concluded that the canvas wagon had gone, when they chanced to come across the driver of the previous night, who directed them to where they would find it.
“The wagon isn’t loaded yet. You’ll have to wait half an hour or so,” he said.
They thanked him and went on in the direction indicated, where they soon found that which they were in search of.
“I think we had better wait here until it is loaded,” advised Phil, throwing himself down on the ground.
“This having to hunt around over a ten-acre lot for your bedroom every night isn’t as much fun as you would think, is it?” grinned Teddy.
“Might be worse. I have an idea we haven’t begun to experience the real hardships of the circus life.” And indeed they had not.
Soon after that the wagon was loaded, and, bidding the driver a cheery good night, the circus boys tumbled in and crawled under the canvas.
They were awakened sometime before daylight by a sudden heavy downpour of rain. The boys were soaked to the skin, the water having run in under the canvas until they were lying in a puddle of water.
There was thunder and lightning. Phil scrambled out first and glanced up at the driver, who, clothed in oilskins, was huddled on his seat fast asleep. He did not seem to be aware that there was anything unusual about the weather.
“I wish I was home,” growled Teddy.