"Why, Mr. Tripp, how can that be, I am green; I am only a beginner, you know," answered the Circus Boy, with his most winning smile.
Bop Tripp gazed at him a moment, then with an angry exclamation turned on his heel and strode back to his own car.
Half an hour later Phil Forrest's men drove in from their country routes. They had covered them quickly, having got such an early start.
Phil heard their reports. They had left nothing undone. Phil then hurried over town to pay the bills he had contracted, first leaving word that not a man was to leave the car until his return.
He was back in a short time.
"We go out at two o'clock, boys," he announced upon his return. "I am leaving the banner men here. They will take a late train out tonight, and join us in the morning."
An express train came thundering in, and before Bob Tripp knew what was in the wind it had coupled on to Car Three. A few moments later Phil Forrest and his crew were bowling away for the next stand. His rivals would not be able to get another train out until very late that night.
Late in the afternoon Bob Tripp's country crew returned, tired, disgusted and glum.
"Well, what is it?" demanded the now thoroughly irritated manager.
"Not a dozen sheets of paper put up by the whole crew," was the startling announcement. "That Sparling outfit has plastered every spot as big as your hand for forty miles around here."