Emperor flapped his ears in reply and swung off at an increased gait. The darkness of early morn was soon succeeded by the graying dawn, and Phil felt a certain sense of relief as he realized that day was breaking. On they swept, past hamlets, by farm houses, where here and there men with milkpails in hand paused, startled, to rub their eyes and gaze upon the strange outfit that was rushing past them at such a pace.
Phil could not repress a chuckle at such times, at thought of the sensation he was creating.
The hours drew on until seven o’clock had arrived, and the sun was high in the heavens.
“I must be getting near the place,” decided Phil. He knew he was on the right road, for he could plainly see the trail of the wagons and of the stock in the dust of the road before him. “Yes; there is some sort of a village way off yonder. I wonder if that is it?”
A fluttering flag from the top of a far away center-pole, which he caught sight of a few minutes later, told the boy that it was.
“Hurrah!” shouted Phil, waving his hat on high.
At that moment a distant chorus of yells smote his ears. The lad listened intently. The shout was repeated. Holding fast to the headstall, he glanced back over the road. There, far to his rear, he discovered a cloud of dust, which a few minutes later resolved itself into a party of horsemen, riding at top speed.
“They’re after me! Go faster! Go faster!” shouted the lad. As he spoke a rifle cracked somewhere behind him, but as Phil heard no bullet the leaden missile must have fallen far short of the mark.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE MYSTERY SOLVED
As he neared the village Phil began to shout and wave his hat. After a time his shouts attracted the attention of some of the people on the circus lot, which was on his side of the village.