The Circus Boys on the Mississippi Part 46

The Circus Boy was put to bed and in a few minutes he was sound asleep, thus far not much the worse for his thrilling experience, though he was completely exhausted, as he realized after he had tucked himself in his berth.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE ROMAN CHARIOT RACES

It was late when the Circus Boy awoke next morning. A steward rapped at the door and a suit of officer's clothes, bra.s.s b.u.t.tons and all was handed in to him.

"With the captain's compliments, sir," said the steward.

"He hopes it will fit you. When you are ready, you will please come to the saloon for breakfast."

"Thank the captain for me, and say that I can't get there any too soon," laughed Phil, springing out of bed.

The pa.s.sengers had all heard the remarkable tale from the captain that morning, and they were anxious to see the young Circus Boy who had performed such a plucky act.

Phil entered the dining room, not thinking for a minute that he would be recognized. When the pa.s.sengers saw the handsome young fellow in an officer's uniform, they knew him. Everyone in the room sprang to his feet and three cheers rang out for Phil Forrest.

"Speech, speech!" cried someone.

Blus.h.i.+ng faintly, Phil glanced about him.

"You cannot expect a boy to make much of a speech before breakfast, especially after he has been swimming most of the night. I don't know that I am ent.i.tled to any special credit. I saved only my own life, and I do not expect to get a medal for it, either. I hope all of you will visit the Great Sparling Shows at the first opportunity.

Then I shall try to entertain you in a way that I understand far better than this. I'm very much obliged to you all."

Then Phil sat down. The pa.s.sengers gave him another cheer, louder and more enthusiastic than the first. Mr. Sparling would have been proud of the lad could he have heard that speech.

Phil lost no opportunity to advertise the Sparling shows, and every pa.s.senger on the boat, that morning, made up his mind to visit the show ere another week had pa.s.sed.

All the rest of the morning Phil was a hero in the eyes of the pa.s.sengers, who followed him wherever he went, asking questions about his experience in the river, and how he had happened to fall in, as well as numerous questions about the life of a circus man.

With regard to his accident, Phil had little to say. He seemed to wish to avoid discussing the falling-in matter, but his face took on a serious expression when it was referred to.

At last Memphis was sighted. Phil arranged with the captain to return the uniform, which he promised to send to St. Louis, so that his benefactor could get it on the return trip.

As the craft began drawing in toward the dock, the Circus Boy bade all the pa.s.sengers good-bye, everyone of whom insisted on shaking hands with him.

Phil walked off, the pa.s.sengers giving him three cheers as he stepped over the gangplank to the dock. Before he had reached the end of it, he was overtaken by a reporter who had just heard of Phil's feat and wished an interview.

At first Phil was reluctant to speak.

"I think it will be a good advertis.e.m.e.nt for the show," he said to himself. So the Circus Boy related, modestly, the story of his experience in the river and of his rescue of himself; not forgetting to say some pleasant things about the Sparling shows, which would visit Memphis two days hence. That afternoon he saw his story set forth in the Memphis newspaper. He bought two papers, one of which he tucked in his pocket, sending the other to Mrs. Cahill, his guardian. His next move was to start for the station, to take a train for Corinth. He was already too late to reach that town in time for the afternoon performance, but he had wired Mr. Sparling that he was safe.

As it happened the lad reached the show grounds before his message had been delivered. Mr. Sparling, well nigh beside himself with worry, had telegraphed to all points pa.s.sed by their boats, begging that neither effort nor expense be spared to find his Circus Boy.

The showman was standing in front of his office tent, that afternoon, at about three o'clock, his broad-brimmed slouch hat pulled well down over his eyes, his hands thrust deep in his trousers pockets.

Off under the big top the band was playing a lively tune, and the side-show people were out in front sunning themselves, all discussing Phil Forrest's mysterious disappearance.

After a short time, Mr. Sparling espied a young man in uniform coming on the lot. He did not pay much attention to the stranger, thinking the fellow was a police officer or something of the sort.

As the young man drew nearer, however, the showman thought he noted something familiar in the springy step and the poise of the body.

"Now, who is that?" he muttered. "Somehow I seem to know that youngster."

Others about the main entrance were also looking in his direction about that time. Still no one seemed to recognize the young man.

All at once the showman tilted up the rim of his hat and gazed more keenly.

"Phil!" he shouted, casting the hat aside and running forward with outstretched arms. "It's Phil, it's Phil Forrest!"

A moment more and Mr. James Sparling had clasped his little Circus Boy about the waist, hugging him delightedly. There was a suspicious moisture in the eyes of the showman, which he sought to hide from Phil.

"Phil! Phil! Where have you been?" he cried leading the boy toward the office tent. "And that uniform--what does it mean?"

"I will tell you all about it as soon as I get my breath,"

laughed the lad.

By this time the others out in front had hurried forward, showering questions upon the boy, all of which he answered without giving very much information. He wished to talk with Mr. Sparling first of all.

"Where is Teddy?" was almost his first question.

"He is in the big top at work."

"I presume he was considerably excited when he missed me, was he not?"

"Yes, at first, but since then he has not said much. Teddy is a queer boy."

The word was quickly pa.s.sed that Phil had returned safe and sound, and ten minutes after his arrival every man and woman in the show had heard the news. There was great rejoicing.

Teddy was going through his clown act when he first heard the rumor that Phil was back. Teddy waited until he had worked around to the entrance to the menagerie tent when he suddenly darted through, leaving his work and the ring, a most serious breach of discipline. Teddy, however, did not care. He was willing to be fined. He bolted through the main entrance like a miniature tornado, to the amazement of the door tenders.

"Where's Phil?" he shouted.

One of the doormen pointed to Mr. Sparling's office tent.

The little clown was off on a run.

"Hey, Phil, you old rascal! Where have you been?" he demanded, das.h.i.+ng into the small tent.

"I have been out for a swim, old fellow. Did you miss me?"

"I nearly broke my neck thinking about you this afternoon.

Landed on my head in the leaping act, and I've got a pain in my neck yet."

"Young man, what are you doing here?" demanded the showman, sternly.

"Same thing you are. Seeing Phil."