"Fine, isn't
it?"
"It might be better. But get in; get in. You'll be left."
"Never mind me. I am not going on your wagon tonight. You may
have the bed all to yourself. Don't forget to leave your window
open," he jeered.
"I have it open already. I'm going to put the screen in now to
keep the mosquitoes out," retorted Teddy, not to be outdone.
"Has Mr. Sparling gone yet do you know?"
"No; he and Kennedy are over yonder where the front door was,
talking."
"All right."
Teddy's head disappeared. No sooner had it done so than Phil
Forrest turned and ran swiftly toward the opposite side of the
lot. He ran in a crouching position, as if to avoid being seen.
Reaching a fence which separated the road from the field, he
threw himself down in the tall grass there and hid.
"In Ohio tomorrow. I'm going to try it," he muttered. "It can't
be wrong. They had no business, no right to do it," he decided,
his voice full of indignation.
He heard the wagons rumbling by him on the hard road, the rattle
of wheels accompanied by the shouts of the drivers as they urged
their horses on.
And there Phil lay hidden until every wagon had departed, headed
for the border, and the circus lot became a barren, deserted and
silent field.
Pages:
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220