"Where am I?"
The surgeon wheeled sharply.
"You are to keep very quiet. You had a tumble that shook you up
considerably."
"What time is it?" demanded Phil sharply.
"About five o'clock in the morning."
"I must get up; I must get up."
"You will lie perfectly still. The show will get along without
you today, I guess."
"You don't mean they have gone on and left me?"
"Of course; they couldn't wait for you."
The boys eyes filled with tears.
"I knew it couldn't last. I knew it."
"See here, do you want to join the show again?"
"Of course, I do."
"Well, then, lie still. The more quiet you keep the sooner you
will be able to get out. Try to go to sleep. I must go
downstairs and send a message to Mr. Sparling, for he is very
much concerned about you."
"Then he will take me back?" asked Phil eagerly.
"Of course he will."
"I'll go to sleep, doctor."
Phil turned over on his side and a moment later was breathing
naturally.
The doctor tip-toed from the room and hastened down to the hotel
office where he penned the following message:
James Sparling,
Sparling Combined Shows,
Boyertown.
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