"You're not hurt, are you, my lad?" he cried.
"No; I'm just a silly little fool," smiled Phil a bit weakly.
"How did I do?"
"It was splendid, splendid."
"Hurrah for Phil Forrest!" shouted the performers. Then boosting
the lad to their shoulders, the painted clowns began marching
about the dressing tent with him singing, "For He's a Jolly
Good Fellow."
"All out for the leaping act," shouted the callboy, poking his
grinning countenance through between the flaps. "Leapers and
clowns all out on the jump!"
CHAPTER XVIII
DOING A DOUBLE SOMERSAULT
Cool, confident a troop of motley fools and clean-limbed
performers filed out from the dressing tent, on past the
bandstand and across the arena to the place where the springboard
had been rigged, with a mat two feet thick a short distance
beyond it.
With them proudly marched Teddy Tucker.
Mr. Sparling, in the meantime, was patting Phil on the back.
"I'm in a quandary, Phil," he said.
"What about?" smiled the lad, tugging away at his tights.
"I want you out front and yet it would be almost a crime to take
a performer like you out of the ring. Tell me honestly, where
would you prefer to be?"
"That's a difficult question to answer.
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