"Good morning, sir," greeted the boys, pausing in their work long
enough to touch their hats, after which they continued unpacking
the dishes.
"Morning, boys. I see you are up early and getting right at it.
That's right. No showman was ever made out of a sleepy-head.
Where did you sleep last night?"
"In a wagon on a pile of canvas," answered Phil.
"And they threw us out of bed this morning," Teddy informed him,
with a grimace.
Mr. Sparling laughed heartily.
"And we fell in a creek," added Teddy.
"Well, well, you certainly are having your share of experiences."
"Will you allow me to make a suggestion, Mr. Sparling?" asked
Phil.
"Of course. You need not ask that question. What is it?"
"I think I ought to have some sort of a costume if I am to
continue to ride Emperor in the grand entry."
"H-m-m-m. What kind do you think you want?"
"Could I wear tights?"
Mr. Sparling was about to laugh, but one glance into the earnest
eyes of Phil Forrest told him that the boy's interest was wholly
in wishing to improve the act--not for the sake of showing
himself, alone.
"Yes, I think perhaps it might not be a bad idea.
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