Phil's question was answered a few seconds later.
>From the folds of the clown's costume his hand suddenly shot upward. The hand held a knife. The hand shook from rage as the knife was brandished aloft.
"Hello, so that's the game, is it?"
The Circus Boy stood his ground unflinchingly. He did not appear to be disturbed in the least, though his situation at that moment was a critical one.
"Diaz! Diaz! Drop that knife!" ordered Phil sternly.
Instead of obeying the command the clown leaped upon him, or upon the spot where Phil had been standing a second before. The lad had sprung back far enough so that the descending knife cut only the empty air.
Again the knife flashed up. Just as it was being raised, the boy leaped again. This time he sprang toward the enraged clown, rather than away from him.
Ere the knife could be brought down, Phil gripped the wrist holding the weapon, giving the wrist a quick, sharp twist that brought a roar of pain from Diaz.
The knife dropped to the ground. Phil calmly stooped and picked it up, while the clown was nursing his wrist and groaning.
Several performers, realizing that something out of the ordinary was going on in that corner of the tent, hurried over.