Now Bad Eye rushed in. Again Phil sidestepped, and, thrusting a
foot between the fellow's legs, tripped him neatly.
Half a dozen men came running from the paddock. They were the
fellows whom the performers had put to rout. At that moment the
bugle blew for all hands to prepare for the parade.
"I guess I have done about enough for one day," decided Phil.
"And for a sick man it wasn't a half bad job."
With an amused glance at his fallen adversaries Phil ran to the
big top, less than a rod away, and, lifting the sidewall, slipped
under and disappeared within.
CHAPTER VIII
PHIL MAKES A NEW FRIEND
"Tweetle! Tweetle!"
Two rippling blasts from the ringmaster's whistle notified the
show people that the performance was on. In moved the procession
for the Grand Entry, as the silken curtains separating the
paddock from the big top slowly fell apart.
Phil, from his lofty perch on the head of old Emperor, peering
through the opening of the bonnet in which he was concealed,
could not repress an exclamation of admiration. It was a
splendid spectacle--taken from a story of ancient Rome--
that was sweeping majestically about the arena to the music
of an inspiring tune into which the big circus band had
suddenly launched.
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