The Circus Boys in Dixie Land Part 16

"Wondering how you know where the other fellow is going?"

"That's a dark secret, kid," answered the stake and chain foreman, with a very knowing wink.

"But if you know where he is going he must know where you are billed for at the same time," urged Phil.

"He don't."

"But why not?"

"In the first place we bill ourselves only a few days ahead.

And, in the second, we have a way of finding out where Sparling is going for the next month or so ahead. Sometimes further than that."

"Well, well, that's interesting--" The foreman hurried off to give some directions to his men, slowly returning a few minutes later.

"I should like to know how you do it?"

"Say kid, there's tricks in the show business just the same as in any other. Mebby there's somebody with the Sparling outfit who keeps us posted. Mind you, I ain't saying there is; but that there might be."

"Oh, I see," muttered Phil, suddenly enlightened. "Then someone in the other show is giving away his employer's secrets.

Fine for you, but pretty rough on the other fellow."

"Let the other fellow take care of himself, the same way we do,"

growled the foreman, following it with a threatening command to one of his men.

"That hardly seems fair," objected Phil.

"All is fair in war and the circus business. You seem a good deal interested in this compet.i.tion business?" snapped the man with sudden suspicion in voice and face.

"I am. But where is this--this Sparling show going to--do you know what towns they are going to play for the next month?

Can you tell that, too?"

"I can come pretty close to it," grinned the showman, whereupon he named the towns on Phil's route list without so much as missing one of them. But the stake and chain foreman did not stop here; he went on and gave a further list that Phil only knew of as having heard mentioned by Mr. Sparling in his various conversations with the circus lad.

Phil was amazed.

"Then they must be going west. I see," nodded the boy.

"No, you don't see. You only think you do."

"No?"

"No. If you was a showman and knew your business you'd know that the Sparling outfit was going to make a sudden turn after a little, and head for Dixie Land."

"Down south," exclaimed Phil.

"Sure. Why not? You see you lubbers don't know any more about the show business than--"

"And you are going to follow them?"

"Follow them? No. We're going to lead them. They'll follow us."

"You're like a wildcat train then?"

"Something of the sort."

"Where's the boss?"

"There he comes now. I'll have to hustle the men, or he'll scorch the gra.s.s off the lot with his roars."

The foreman hastened to stir up his surveyors and Phil moved off that he might get a better look at Mr. Sully, the owner of the show. Phil found him to be a florid-faced, square jawed man whose expression was as repulsive as it was brutal. Sully wore a red vest and red necktie with a large diamond in it. He gave the Circus Boy a quick sharp look as he pa.s.sed. "I'll bet he will know me the next time he sees me," muttered Phil. "But whether he does or not I have made some discoveries that Mr. Sparling will be glad to know about, though they will not make him particularly happy, I'm thinking."

Phil was hungry, and he was anxious to get back to the village to write a letter, but decided that he would wait until the tents were up. Then again, he wanted to see the wagons brought on so he could count them and get a fair inventory of the show and what it possessed. He soon discovered that the Sully Hippodrome Circus was no one-horse affair, though considerably smaller than the one with which he was connected.

Not until the people were getting ready for the parade did Phil leave the lot. Then he hastened downtown and got his dinner and breakfast all in one, after which he sat down to write a full account of what he had learned to Mr. Sparling.

"There, if anything happens to me he is pretty well informed so far. It's enough to enable him to lay those plans he has in mind, whatever they may be. I can see him hammering his desk and getting red in the face when he reads this letter."

Phil was cautious enough not to mention the name of the Sully show in his letter, and tried to couch it in such terms, that while Mr. Sparling would understand perfectly, another might not.

Phil took the letter to the post office, then went out on the sidewalk where he stood leaning against a lamp post to watch the parade, which he did with critical eyes.

"A pretty good-sized show," he mused. "But all their trappings are second hand. They have bought them up from some show that has discarded them. That's one thing the Sparling outfit never does. All their stuff is new nearly every season.

Sully may have some of our old trappings, for all I know."

The parade was a long one; there were a good many cages, besides a fair-sized herd of elephants.

"Hm-m-m! Three tuskers among the bulls," muttered Phil.

"Pretty well up to our herd, but I wouldn't trade Emperor for any two of them, at that."

After the parade had pa.s.sed, Phil once more strolled over to the circus lot and hung about until time for the afternoon performance to begin, when he bought a ticket and entered, occupying a reserved seat where he could see all that was going on.

The lad smiled at the thought of how his position had changed.

He was so used to being over there in the ring that it did not seem quite right for him to be occupying a chair in the audience.

He could scarcely resist the impulse to hurry back to the dressing tent and prepare for the ring.

The grand entry came on; then his attention was centered on the performance, which he watched with the keen eyes of an expert, noting the work of every performer, completely forgetting the cheering audience in his absorption.

It was really a fair performance. He was forced to admit this, especially of the aerial acts. But the bareback riding he did not think compared favorably with his own, especially so far as the men riders were concerned. One woman rider was very good, indeed.

Phil drew a long breath when the performance had come to an end. A circus performance, to him, was a matter of the keenest interest. The fact that he himself was a circus performer did not lessen that interest one whit, but rather intensified it. Yet the glamour of his youthful days had pa.s.sed.

It was now a professional interest, rather than the wondering interest of a boy who never had seen the inside of the dressing tent.

Phil did not hang about the grounds. He went downtown, but was once more on hand for the evening performance, where he noted that the show was cut short fully half an hour, and this without apparent good reason.

He had made the acquaintance of a "candy butcher" during the hour before the show, and from him had learned some further details that were of interest to him and his investigation.

The Circus Boy, after watching the striking of the tents, returned to the railroad station and took a late train for the town where the circus was to show next day. It was not a long run, so he took a day coach. In it he saw several familiar faces--faces that he had noticed about the circus lot that afternoon, and from their appearance he was forced to conclude that these men belonged to the shows.