Keep out of trouble,
work hard, don't talk too much, and you'll beat me yet,"
declared Phil. "And say!"
"What?"
"Be careful with that mule act tonight. You know Mr. Sparling
will be in there watching you. It wouldn't take much more
trouble to cause him to cut that act out of the programme,
and then you might not be drawing so much salary. Fifty dollars
a week is pretty nice for each of us. If we don't get swelled
heads, but behave ourselves, we'll have a nice little pile of
money by the time the season closes."
"Yes," agreed Teddy. "I guess that's so; but we'll be losing a
lot of fun."
"I don't agree with you," laughed Phil.
The lads strolled into the menagerie tent on their way through to
the dressing tent. The gasoline men were busy lighting their
lamps and hauling them on center and quarter pole, while the
menagerie attendants were turning the tongues of the cages about
so that the horses could be hitched on promptly after the show in
the big top began.
Some of the animals were munching hay, others of the caged beasts
were lying with their noses poked through between the bars of
their cages, blinking drowsily.
"I'd hate to be him," announced Teddy with a comprehensive wave
of the hand as they passed the giraffe, which stood silent in his
roped enclosure, his head far up in the shadows.
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