The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings Part 42

The intelligent deputies reasoned that Emperor, having been the cause of all the trouble, would be the proper chattel to levy upon. So they levied on him.

The next thing was to get Emperor to jail. He would not budge an inch when the officers sought to take him. Then a happy thought struck them. They ordered the trainer to lead the elephant and follow them under pain of instant arrest if he refused.

There was nothing for it but to obey. Protesting loudly, Kennedy started for the village with his great, hulking charge.

Phil Forrest was as disconsolate as his employer was enraged. The boy's act was spoiled, perhaps indefinitely, which might mean the loss of part of his salary.

"That's country justice," growled the owner. "But I'll telegraph my lawyer in the city and have him here by morning. Maybe it won't be such a bad speculation tomorrow, for I'll make this town go broke before it has fully settled the damages I'll get out of it. Don't be down in the mouth, Forrest. You'll have your elephant back, and before many days at that. Go watch the show and forget your troubles."

It will be observed that, under his apparently excitable exterior, Mr. James Sparling was a philosopher.

"Emperor's in jail," mourned Phil.

The moment Mr. Kennedy returned, sullen and uncommunicative, Phil sought him out. He found the trainer in Mr. Sparling's tent.

"Where did they take him?" demanded Phil, breaking in on their conversation.

"To jail," answered Kennedy grimly. "First time I ever heard of such a thing as an elephant's going to jail."

"That's the idea. We'll use that for an advertis.e.m.e.nt," cried the ever alert showman, slapping his thighs. "Emperor, the performing elephant of the Great Sparling Combined Shows, jailed for a.s.sault. Fine, fine! How'll that look in the newspapers?

Why, men, it will fill the tent when we get to the next stand, whether we have the elephant or not."

"No; you've got to have the elephant," contended Kennedy.

"Well, perhaps that's so. But I'll wire our man ahead, just the same, and let him use the fact in his press notices."

"But how could they get him in the jail?" questioned Phil.

"Jail? You see, they couldn't. They wanted to, but the jail wouldn't fit, or the elephant wouldn't fit the jail, either way you please. When they discovered that they didn't know what to do with him. Somebody suggested that they might lock him up in the blacksmith shop."

"The blacksmith shop?" exploded the owner.

"I hope they don't try to fit him with shoes," he added, with a grim smile.

"Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they did. We'd have our elephant right quick. Yes, they tried the blacksmith shop on, and it worked, but it was a close fit. If Emperor had had a b.u.mp on his back as big as an egg he wouldn't have gone in."

"And he's there now?"

"Yes. I reckon I'd better stay here and camp at the hotel, hadn't I, so's to be handy when your lawyer comes on? Emperor might tear up the town if he got loose."

Mr. Sparling reflected for a moment.

"Kennedy, you'll go with the show tonight. I don't care if Emperor tears this town up by the roots. If none of us is here, then we shall not be to blame for what happens. We didn't tell them to lock him up in the blacksmith shop. You can get back after the lawyer has gotten him out. That will be time enough."

"Where is the blacksmith shop?" questioned Phil.

"Know where the graveyard is?"

"Yes."

"It's just the other side of that," said Kennedy. "Church on this side, blacksmith shop on the other. Why?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just wondering," answered Phil, glancing up and finding the eyes of Mr. Sparling bent keenly upon him.

The lad rose hastily, went out, and climbing up to the seat of a long pole wagon, sat down to ponder over the situation. He remained there until a teamster came to hook to the wagon and drive it over to be loaded. Then Phil got down, standing about with hands in his pockets.

He was trying to make up his mind about something.

"Where do we show tomorrow?" he asked of an employee.

"Dobbsville, Ohio. We'll be over the line before daybreak."

"Oh."

The circus tent was rapidly disappearing now. "In another state in the morning," mused Phil.

One by one the wagons began moving from the circus lot.

"Get aboard the sleeping car," called the driver of the wagon that Phil and Teddy usually slept in, as he drove past.

"Hey, Phil!" called Teddy, suddenly appearing above the top of the box.

"h.e.l.lo, Teddy!"

"What are you standing there for?"

"Perhaps I'm getting the night air," laughed Phil. "Fine, isn't it?"

"It might be better. But get in; get in. You'll be left."

"Never mind me. I am not going on your wagon tonight. You may have the bed all to yourself. Don't forget to leave your window open," he jeered.

"I have it open already. I'm going to put the screen in now to keep the mosquitoes out," retorted Teddy, not to be outdone.

"Has Mr. Sparling gone yet do you know?"

"No; he and Kennedy are over yonder where the front door was, talking."

"All right."

Teddy's head disappeared. No sooner had it done so than Phil Forrest turned and ran swiftly toward the opposite side of the lot. He ran in a crouching position, as if to avoid being seen.

Reaching a fence which separated the road from the field, he threw himself down in the tall gra.s.s there and hid.

"In Ohio tomorrow. I'm going to try it," he muttered. "It can't be wrong. They had no business, no right to do it," he decided, his voice full of indignation.

He heard the wagons rumbling by him on the hard road, the rattle of wheels accompanied by the shouts of the drivers as they urged their horses on.