"Oh, maybe, eh? So that's the way the flag's blowing, is it?
Well, you let me catch you doing it and--stand up here, you two,
and let me look at you."
He gazed long and searchingly at the Circus Boys, noting every
line of their slender, shapely figures.
"You'll do," he growled.
"Yes, sir," answered Phil, smiling.
"Shake hands."
Mr. Sparling thrust out both hands toward them with almost
disconcerting suddenness.
"Ouch!" howled Teddy, writhing under the grip the showman gave
him, but if Phil got a pressure of equal force he made no sign.
"Where's your baggage?"
"We sent our trunks on yesterday. I presume they are here
somewhere, sir."
"If they're not in your car, let me know."
"If you will be good enough to tell me where our car is I will
find out at once."
The showman consulted a typewritten list.
"You are both in car number eleven. The porter will show you the
berths that have been assigned to you, and I hope you will both
obey the rules of the cars."
"Oh, yes, sir," answered Phil.
"I know you will, but I'm not so sure of your fat friend here.
I think it might be a good plan to tie him in his berth, or he'll
be falling off the platform some night, get under the wheels and
wreck the train.
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