As the equestrienne shrank to the neck of the trembling horse upon which she sat, the timber just grazed her spangled hair. It struck the ground and tore loose above. Its other end hit the pile of seat planks with a crash.
Andy felt them topple. He tried to steady himself, to jump aside. He was caught in the tumble and went headlong to the sawdust, the planks falling on top of him.
CHAPTER VII
A WARM RECEPTION
Andy Wildwood was knocked senseless. When he came back to consciousness he found himself lying on a mattress in a little space surrounded by canvas. It was one of the circus dressing rooms.
He sniffed camphor, and one side of his head felt stiff and sore.
Putting up his hand Andy discovered strips of sticking plaster there.
"Was I hurt?" he asked, sitting up.
"Circus doctor says not badly," promptly answered Marco, who stood by the mattress. "How is it, kid? No bones broken?"
"Oh, no," answered Andy readily, getting to his feet. "Say, what happened? The wind storm—"
"Gone over. It's sunshine outside now. A few hanks of thread will fix the rips. The show went on all right after the squall. But say, you're a daisy. That timber—oh, here she is to talk for herself."