He crawls in
under the tent," laughed Phil, running down the steps and setting
off for the circus grounds with all speed.
When he arrived there he saw at once that something was going on.
The tents were all in place, the little white city erected with
as much care and attention to detail as if the show expected to
remain in Edmeston all summer. The lad could scarcely make
himself believe that, only a few hours before, this very lot had
been occupied by the birds alone. It was a marvel to him, even
in after years, when he had become as thoroughly conversant with
the details of a great show as any man in America.
Just now there was unusual activity about the grounds. Men in
gaudy uniforms, clowns in full makeup, and women with long
glistening trains, glittering with spangles from head to feet,
were moving about, while men were decorating the horses with
bright blankets and fancy headdress.
"What are they going to do?" asked Phil of a showman.
"Going to parade."
"Oh, yes, that's so; I had forgotten about that."
"Hello, boy--I've forgotten your name--"
"Forrest," explained Phil, turning. The speaker was Mr.
Sparling's assistant, whom the lad had seen just after saving the
lion cage from turning over.
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