At the same time the crowd, understanding that the lion performance was over, began crowding into the circus tent.
The band inside swung off into a sprightly tune and Phil could scarcely repress the inclination to keep time to it with his feet. Altogether, things were moving pretty well with Phil Forrest. They had done so ever since he left home the day before. In that one day he had had more fun than had come to him in many years.
But his happy day would soon be ended. He sighed as he thought of it. Then his face broke out into a sunny smile as he caught a glimpse of the ropes and apparatus, seen dimly through the afternoon haze, in the long circus tent.
As he gained the entrance between the two large tents he saw the silk curtains at the far end of the circus arena fall apart, while a troop of gayly caparisoned horses and armored riders suddenly appeared through the opening.
The grand entry was beginning.
“Gracious, here the show has begun and I am not anywhere near my seat,” he exclaimed. “But, if I am going to be late I won’t be alone. There are a whole lot more of us that were too much interested in the animal trainer to think to come in and get our seats. I guess I had better run. I—”
Phil started to run, but he got no further than the start.
All at once his waist was encircled in a powerful grip and he felt his feet leaving the ground. Phil was being raised straight up into the air by some strange force, the secret of which he did not understand.
CHAPTER VIII.
IN THE SAWDUST ARENA
The lad repressed an inclination to cry out, for the thing that had encircled his waist and raised him up seemed to be tightening about him.