While this was going on Mr. Kennedy, the keeper, had hurried
up and dashed a pail of water into the face of the now
unconscious Larry. By this time Larry was well soaked down.
He could not have been more so had he fallen in a mill pond.
But the last bucketful brought him quickly to his senses.
"You--you'll pay for this," snarled Larry, shaking his fist at
Phil Forrest.
"Why, I didn't do anything, Larry," answered the lad
in amazement.
"You did. You set him on to me."
"That'll be about all from you, Mr. Red Head," warned Kennedy.
"The kid didn't do anything but save your life. I wouldn't
let a little thing like that trouble me if I were you.
You've been doing something to that bull, or he'd never have
used you like that. Why, Emperor is as gentle as a young kitten.
He wouldn't hurt a fly unless the fly happened to bite him
too hard. Phil, did you see that fellow do anything to him?"
Phil shook his head.
"Not now. He may have at some other time."
"That's it!"
Just then Mr. Sparling came charging down on the scene, having
heard of the row out at the front door.
Larry saw him coming. He decided not to argue the question any
further, but started on a run across the tent, followed by the
showman, who pursued him with long, angry strides.
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