“Well, I don’t. Bad as it is, it’s better than some other things that I know of. I’ll tell you what I’ll do—I’ll get rubber coats for us both when we get in in the morning.”
“Got the money?”
“That’s so. I had forgotten that,” laughed Phil. “I never thought that I should need money to buy a coat with. We’ll have to wait until payday. I wonder when that is?”
“Ask Mr. Sparling.”
“No; I would rather not.”
“All right; get wet then.”
“I am. I couldn’t be any more so were I to jump in the mill pond at home,” laughed Phil.
Home! It seemed a long way off to these two friendless, or at least homeless, boys, though the little village of Edmeston was less than thirty miles away.
The show did not get in to the next town until sometime after daylight, owing to the heavy condition of the roads. The cook tent was up when they arrived and the lads lost no time in scrambling from the wagon. They did not have to be thrown out this morning.
“Come on,” shouted Phil, making a run for the protection of the cook tent, for the rain was coming down in sheets.