Part 40 (1/2)
Phil understood, then, exactly what his position was, and, with a slight upward tilt of his head, brought his body into position so that he would strike the net on his shoulders.
He hit the net with a smack, bounded high into the air, rounding off his accident by throwing a somersault on the net, bounding up and down a few times on his feet.
The audience, quick to appreciate what he had done, gave Phil a rousing cheer.
He shook his head and began clambering up the rope again.
”What happened to me?” he called across to the catcher.
”You turned too quickly.”
”I'll do it right this time.”
The band stopped playing, that its silence might emphasize the act. Then Phil, measuring his distance with keen eyes, launched into the air again. But instead of turning one somersault he turned two, landing fairly into the outstretched arms of Mr. Prentice, who gave him a mighty swing, whereat Phil hurled himself into a mad whirl, performing three more somersaults before he struck the net.
The audience howled with delight, and Mr. Sparling rushed forward fairly hugging the Circus Boy in his delight.
”Wonderful!” cried the showman. ”You're a sure-enough star this time.”
CHAPTER XXII
IN A LIVELY BLOW-DOWN
>From that moment on, until the close of the season, Phil Forrest retained his place on the aerial trapeze team, doubling up with his other work, and putting the finis.h.i.+ng touches to what Mr. Sparling called ”a great career on the bars.”
But Phil, much as he loved the work, did not propose to spend all his life performing above the heads of the people. He felt that a greater future was before him on the ground at the front of the house.
Only a week remained now before the show would close for the season. Even in Texas, where they were showing, the nights had begun to grow chilly, stiffening the muscles of the performers and making them irritable. All were looking forward to the day when the tents should be struck for the last time that season.
”What's the next stand?” asked Phil in the dressing tent a few nights after his triumphal performance on the trapeze.
”Tucker, Texas,” answered a voice.
”What's that?” shouted a clown.
”Tucker, I said.”
”Any relation to Teddy Tucker?”
”I hope not,” laughed the head clown.
”A place with that name spells trouble. Anything by the name of Tucker, whether it's Teddy or not, means that we are in for some kind of a mix-up. I wish I could go fis.h.i.+ng tomorrow.”
All in the dressing tent chuckled at the clown's sally.
”I know what you'd catch if you did,” grumbled Teddy.
”Now, what would I catch, young man?” demanded the clown.
”You'd catch cold. That's all you can catch,” retorted Teddy, whereat the laugh was turned on the clown, much to the latter's disgust.