The man who had assisted Andy went away saying he would consult with Mr.
Giles Harding, the owner of the circus, at once.
"You see, Murdock ventured here to find out how his wicked plot succeeded, never suspecting that he was found out," theorized the clown. "That fellow, Tapp, was always his crony. They're a bad lot, you can guess that from the stake they threw at you. No bones broken? Good! Hurts? I'll soon fix that. Strip, now."
"All right."
The clown had felt all over Andy's back as the latter sat down on the bench. Now he made Andy take off his coat and shirt. Then he produced a big bottle from his wicker trunk.
"Ever hear of the Nine Oils?" he asked, as he poured a lot of black, greasy stuff out of the bottle into the palm of his hand.
"No," said Andy.
"This is it," explained the clown, beginning to rub Andy's back vigorously. "You've got quite a bruise, and I suppose it pains. Just lay down. When I get through, if the Nine Oils don't fix you up, I'll give you nine dollars."
The clown rubbed Andy good and hard. Then he made him lie down on the big mattress. The Nine Oils had a magical effect. Andy's pain and soreness were soon soothed. He fell into a doze, and woke up to observe that Marco was in the tent conversing with the clown.
"Hi, Wildwood," hailed Andy's friend. "Having quite a time of it, aren't you?"
Andy got up as good as ever. His back smarted slightly—that was the only reminder he had of Murdock's savage assault.