A wind storm was coming up, but fortunately it veered off before
reaching Reno. The severed ropes were not discovered until after
the show was over and the tent was being struck. Mr. Sparling
had been quickly summoned. After a careful examination of the
ropes he understood what had happened. Phil, too, had discovered
one cut rope and the others, on his way from the dressing tent to
the front, after finishing his performance.
But there was nothing now that required his looking up
Mr. Sparling, in view of the fact that the canvas was already
coming down. Yet after getting his usual night lunch in the
town, the lad strolled over to the railroad yards intending to
visit the manager as soon as the latter should have returned
from the lot.
The two met just outside the owner's private car, a short time
after the loading had been completed.
"Oh, I want to see you, Mr. Sparling, if you have the time."
"I've always time for that. I was in hopes I would get a
chance to have a chat with you before we got started. Will you
come in?"
"Yes, thank you."
Entering the private car Mr. Sparling took off his coat and threw
himself into a chair in front of his roll-top desk.
"Phil, there's deviltry going on in this outfit again," he said
fixing a stern eye on the little Circus Boy.
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