Out with it!"
"It may sound foolish, but--"
"But what?"
"While Jupiter was bad, he showed none of the signs that come
from a fit of purely bad temper--that is, before the stampede."
"That's right."
"Then what brought it on?" asked Phil looking Mr. Sparling
squarely in the eyes.
For a few seconds man and boy looked at each other without
a word.
"What's your idea?" asked the showman quietly.
"It's my opinion that somebody doctored him--gave him
something--"
The showman uttered a long, low whistle.
"You've hit it! You've hit it!" he exclaimed, bringing a hand
down on the lad's knee with such force that Phil winced.
"It's one of those rascally canvasmen that I discharged. Oh, if
ever I get my hands on him it will be a sorry day for him!
You haven't seen him about, have you?"
"I thought I caught a glimpse of him on the street yesterday
during the parade, but he disappeared so quickly that I could not
be sure."
Mr. Sparling nodded reflectively.
"You probably heard how Emperor ducked him and--"
"Yes; you remember I came up just after the occurrence.
I'll tell you what I want you to do."
"Yes?"
"I'll release you from the parade for tomorrow, and perhaps
longer, and I want you to spend your time moving around among
the downtown crowds to see if you can spot him.
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