“Forgive me, boy. Will you?”
“Yes,” whispered Phil.
“And you will tell no—”
“There is nothing to tell, Signor Navaro. If there is anything I can do for you, tell me, and I shall have great happiness in doing it,” breathed the lad.
A final grip of the hands of the boy and the injured performer followed, after which Phil Forrest stepped back to make way for the surgeon, who had hurried to a wagon to fetch his case.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CONCLUSION
“You see, an accident always casts a cloud over a show and makes the performers uncertain,” said Mr. Miaco that night as he and Phil were watching the performance from the end of the band platform.
“I should think it would,” mused the boy.
Soon after that Phil went to his wagon and turned in, his mind still on Signor Navaro, who had been taken to a hospital, where he was destined to remain for many weeks.
“I guess it doesn’t pay, in the long run, to be dishonorable,” mused the lad as he was dropping off to sleep.