“Oh, pshaw! That’s too bad,” grumbled the lad. “How am I going to do it?”
Phil ran his fingers lightly over the fastening, which consisted of a strong hasp and a padlock.
“What shall I do? I dare not try to break the lock. I should be committing a crime if I did. Perhaps I am already. No; I’m not, and I shall not. I’ll just speak to Emperor, then start off on foot after the show. It was foolish of me to think I could do anything to help Mr. Sparling and the elephant out of his trouble. I ought to be able to walk to the next stand and get there in time for the last breakfast call, providing I can find the way.”
Perhaps Phil’s conscience troubled him a little, though he had done nothing worse than to follow the dictates of his kind heart in his desire to be of assistance to his employer and to befriend old Emperor.
Placing his lips close to the door, Phil called softly.
“Emperor!” he said.
The restless swaying and heavy breathing within ceased suddenly.
“Emperor!” repeated the lad, at the same time uttering the low whistle that the big elephant had come to know so well.
A mighty cough from the interior of the blacksmith shop answered Phil Forrest’s signal.
“Be quiet, Emperor. Be quiet! We are going to get you out as soon as we can, old fellow! You just behave yourself now. Do you hear?”