The lad lay still where he
had fallen.
CHAPTER XX
THE BARNYARD CIRCUS
When next Phil opened his eyes he was lying on the grass
on the shady side of a freight car with someone dashing water
in his face, while two or three others stood around gazing at
him curiously.
"Whe--where am I?" gasped the boy.
"I reckon you're lucky to be alive," laughed the man who had been
soaking him from a pail of water. "Who be ye?"
"My name is Phil Forrest."
"How'd ye git in that car? Stealing a ride, eh? Reckon we'd
better hand ye over to the town constable. It's again the law to
steal rides on freight trains."
"I've not stolen a ride. It's no such thing," protested
Phil indignantly.
"Ho, ho, that's a rich one! Paid yer fare, hey? Riding like a
gentleman in a side-door Pullman. Good, ain't it, fellows?"
"Friends, I assure you I am not a tramp. Someone assaulted me
and locked me in that car last night. I've got money in my
pocket to prove that I am not a tramp."
The lad thrust his hands into his trousers' pockets, then a blank
expression overspread his face. Reaching to his vest to see if
his watch were there, he found that that, too, was missing.
"I've been robbed," he gasped.
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