"
"I don't walk in my sleep," answered Teddy.
"Oh, you don't?"
"I don't."
Mr. Sparling frowned; then his face broke out into a broad smile.
"I always said you were hopeless. Run along, and get
settled now. You understand that you will keep your berth
all season, don't you?"
"Yes, sir. What time do we go out?"
"One section has already gone. The next and last will leave
tonight about ten o'clock. We want to make an early start, for
the labor is all green. It'll take three times as long to put up
the rag as usual."
"The rag? What's the rag?" questioned Teddy.
"Beg pardon," mocked Mr. Sparling. "I had forgotten that you are
still a Reuben. A rag is a tent, in show parlance."
"Oh!"
"Any orders after we get settled?" asked Phil.
"Nothing for you to do till parade time tomorrow. You will look
to the same executives that you did last year. There has been no
change in them."
The lads hurried from the private car, and after searching about
the railroad yard for fully half an hour they came upon car
number eleven. This was a bright, orange-colored car with the
name of the Sparling Shows painted in gilt letters near the roof,
just under the eaves. The smell of fresh paint was everywhere,
but the wagons being covered with canvas made it impossible for
them to see how the new wagons looked.
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