The performance closed and the rattle and bang of tearing down the big white city had begun. The boys were engaged in packing their trunks now, as were most of their fellow performers.
"What's that?" demanded Teddy, straightening up suddenly.
"Somebody fired a shot," answered another performer.
Phil knew what it meant.
A bullet had ended the sufferings of the faithful old ring horse off under the big top. The Circus Boy turned away, with a blinding mist in his eyes.
"Poor old Jim!" he groaned.
Off under the women's dressing tent another pair of ears had heard and understood, and Little Dimples, burying her head in her hands wept softly.
"Poor old Jim!" she, too, murmured.