The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings Part 40

"What I mean by bends is exercises. You have seen the performers do it--bend forward until their hands touch the ground, legs stiff, then tipping as far backwards as possible. Those are bending exercises, and the best things to do. The performers limber up for their act that way. If you practice it slowly several times a day you will be surprised to see what it will do for you. I'd begin today were I in your place, Phil. You'll find yourself a little stiff when you go on in your elephant act tonight--"

"I'm not going on tonight--not until tomorrow. Mr. Sparling doesn't wish me to."

"All right. All the better. Exercise! I wouldn't begin on the rings today either. Just take your bends, get steady on your feet and start in in a regular, systematic way tomorrow," advised the head clown.

"Thank you, Mr. Miaco; I shall do so. I am much obliged to you.

You are very kind to us."

"Because I like you, and because you boys don't pretend to know more about the circus business than men who have spent their lives in it."

"I hope I shall never be like that," laughed Phil. "I know I shall always be willing to learn."

"And there always is something to learn in the circus life. None of us knows it all. There are new things coming up every day,"

added the clown.

Phil left the dressing tent to go around to the menagerie tent for a talk with Mr. Kennedy and Emperor. Entering the tent the lad gave his whistle signal, whereat Emperor trumpeted loudly.

The big elephant greeted his young friend with every evidence of joy and excitement. Phil, of course, had brought Emperor a bag of peanuts as well as several lumps of sugar, and it was with difficulty that the lad got away from him after finis.h.i.+ng his chat with Mr. Kennedy.

Phil was making a round of calls that afternoon, so he decided that he would next visit Mr. Sparling, having seen him only a moment, and that while others were around.

"May I come in?" he asked.

"Yes; what do you want?"

"To thank you for your kindness."

"Didn't I tell you never to thank me for anything?" thundered the showman.

"I beg your pardon, sir; I'll take it all back," twinkled Phil.

"Oh, you will, will you, young scapegrace? What did you come here for anyway? Not to palaver about how thankful you are that you got knocked out, stayed a week in bed and had your salary paid all the time. I'll bet you didn't come for that. Want a raise of salary already?"

"Hardly. If you'll give me a chance, I'll tell you, Mr.

Sparling."

"Go on. Say it quick."

"I have been thinking about the fall I got, since I've been laid up."

"Nothing else to think about, eh?"

"And the more I think about it, the more it bothers me."

"Does, eh?" grunted Mr. Sparling, busying himself with his papers.

"Yes, sir. I don't suppose it would be possible for me to get the broken wire now, would it? No doubt it was thrown away."

The showman peered up at the boy suspiciously.

"What do you want of it?"

"I thought I should like to examine it."

"Why?"

"To see what had been done to it."

"Oh, you do, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"What do you think happened to that wire? It broke, didn't it?"

"Yes, I guess there is no doubt about it but somebody helped to break it."

"Young man, you are too confoundedly smart. Mark my words, you'll die young. Yes; I have the wire. Here it is. Look at it. You are right; something happened to it, and I've been tearing myself to pieces, ever since, to find out who it was.

I've got all my amateur sleuths working on the case, this very minute, to find out who the scoundrel is who cut the wire. Have you any idea about it? But there's no use in asking you. I--"

"I've got this," answered Phil, tossing a small file on the table in front of Mr. Sparling.

"What, what, what? A file?"

"Yes, will you see if it fits the notch in the wire there?"

The showman did so, holding file and wire up to the light for a better examination of them.

"There can be no doubt of it," answered the amazed showman, fixing wondering eyes on the young man. "Where did you get it?"

"Picked it up."

"Where?"

"In the dressing tent."

"Pooh! Then it doesn't mean anything," grunted Mr. Sparling.

"If you knew where I picked it up you might think differently."

"Then where _did_ you get it?"

"Found it in my own trunk."

"In your trunk?"

Phil nodded.

"How did it get there?"