“I know why, of course,” mused the lad. “It was jealousy. I am more sure than ever as to the identity of the man who did it. When I get a good opportunity I am going to face him with it. I’m not afraid of the man. As it is, he might try it again; but if he understands that I know he will not dare try it, fearing I may have told someone else.”
Having come to this wise conclusion, Phil proceeded to the big top, where he and Teddy Tucker were to take their afternoon practice on the flying rings, pausing on the way to pass a handful of peanuts to Emperor, who was again in his place, and give the elephant’s trainer a happy nod.
“I’ve noticed of late that Signor Navaro acts rather grouchy over you boys working on his apparatus. You want to look out for these foreigners. Some of them are revengeful,” cautioned Mr. Miaco.
Signor Navaro was the leading performer in the flying-rings act. With him was his young son, Rodney Palmer and a young girl performer, whose father was a clown in the show.
Phil shot a sharp glance at Mr. Miaco, then dropped his eyes.
“I guess nobody would be jealous of me,” laughed the lad. “I’m only a beginner, and a clumsy one at that. All I can do is to ride an elephant and fall off, nearly killing myself.”
“Nevertheless, you take my advice.”
“I will, thank you.”
The boys began their work after putting on their working clothes, consisting of old silk undershirts and linen trunks. This left them free for the full play of their muscles, which, by this time, were of exceptionally fine quality. Not big and bunchy, but like thin bands of pliable steel. Both Phil and Teddy appeared to have grown half a head taller since they joined out with the circus.
“Put a little more finish in that cutoff movement,” directed their instructor. “The way you do it, Teddy, you remind me of a man trying to kick out a window. There, that’s better.”