“Waltz!” commanded the trainer.
If Phil’s head had swum before, it spun like a top now. Round and round pirouetted the huge beasts, keeping in perfect step with the music of the band, and tighter and tighter did the lad grip the head harness of old Emperor. Phil closed his eyes after a little because he had grown so dizzy that he feared he would fall off.
“Hang on, kid. It’ll be Christmas by and by,” comforted the trainer humorously.
“That’s what I am trying to do,” answered Phil a bit unsteadily.
“How’s your head?”
“Whirling like a merry-go-round.”
He heard the trainer chuckling.
The spectators were shouting out Phil’s name all over the big tent.
“Fine, fine!” chuckled James Sparling, rubbing his palms together. “That ought to fill the tent tonight.”
The spectators realized, too, that they were being treated to something not down on the bills and their shouts and laughter grew louder and louder.