“Hold your right steady!” cautioned Miaco. “If you twist it you’ll take a beauty tumble.”
Teddy hadn’t thought of that before. Had Miaco known the lad better he would not have made the mistake of giving that advice.
Teddy promptly turned his foot.
He shot from the flying rings as if he had been fired from a cannon.
Phil tried to catch him, but stumbled and fell over a rope, while Teddy shot over his head, landing on and diving head first into a pile of straw that had just been brought in to bed down the tent for the evening performance.
Nothing of Teddy save his feet was visible.
They hauled him out by those selfsame feet, and, after disentangling him from the straws that clung to him, were relieved to find that he had not been hurt in the least.
“I guess we shall have to put a net under you. Lucky for you that that pile of straw happened to get in your way. Do you know what would have happened to you had it not been?” demanded Mr. Miaco.
“I—I guess I’d have made a hit,” decided Teddy wisely.
“I guess there is no doubt about that.”