"I wish you hadn't done that," he laughed. "I'll bet I fall off
now, for that."
"Tweetle! Tweetle!" sang the whistle.
Crash!
At a wave of the bandmaster's baton, the band suddenly launched
into a smashing air.
The ringmaster's whip cracked with an explosive sound, at which
the gray mare, unaffected by the noise and the excitement,
started away at a measured gallop, her head rising and falling
like the prow of a ship buffeting a heavy sea.
Phil was plainly nervous. He knew it. He felt that he was going
to make an unpleasant exhibition of himself.
"Get up! Get going! Going to sit there all day?" questioned
the ringmaster.
Phil threw himself to his feet. Somehow he missed his footing in
his nervousness, and the next instant he felt himself falling.
"There, I've done it!" groaned the lad, as he dropped lightly on
all fours well outside the wooden ring curbing, which he took
care to clear in his descent.
"Oh, you Rube! You've gone and done it now," growled
the ringmaster. "It's all up. You've lost them sure."
The audience was laughing and cheering at the same time.
Feeling her rider leave her back the gray dropped her gallop and
fell into a slow trot.
Phil scrambled to his feet very red in the face, while
Mr.
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