Teddy lay down on the platform, peering down between the cars.

"No, no air is coupled on. They ought to be ashamed of themselves," he muttered. "I guess they must have fixed it up for me on purpose."

Teddy opened the door of Car Three softly, listened, then closed it again. Next he leaned out and looked along the tracks, which he could see fairly well, for the moon was now shining brightly.

"I guess there is no grade here." Stepping across to the platform of the car to the rear of him, the boy partially set the brake until he could feel it grinding on the wheels.

"Now, I think we are all ready," he muttered, as, stepping back to the platform of his own car, he grasped the coupling lever firmly with both hands, giving it a mighty tug.

At first it would not budge. The drawheads of the couplers of the two cars were straining because of the drag of the brake that he had but just set.

Teddy loosened the brake a little, then tried the coupling lever again.

This time it swung over with a bang. The lad lost his balance for an instant, and nearly went overboard.

"My, that was a close shave," he exclaimed, hanging desperately to the platform railing, the wind blowing about him in a perfect gale.

"Hello, I wonder what has become of our friends?" laughed the Circus Boy to himself.

Teddy had uncoupled Car Three from the others in their rear, and the cars of his rivals were dropping behind rapidly. He could see the dim lights in the car nearest to him, but even these were rapidly disappearing. A few minutes later as the train swept around a bend, the rival advertising cars disappeared from sight. Teddy knew that they would stop in a few minutes, and lie there stalled.

Teddy Tucker had done a very serious thing, but in his zeal he thought he had accomplished a great feat. Well satisfied with his efforts the lad entered his own car softly, undressed in the corridor and crept quietly to bed. In a very short time he was snoring, sleeping the sleep of peace and innocence.

Teddy hardly moved again that night, until he was roused out by Phil at three o'clock the next morning.

The lad grumbled sleepily and finally tumbled out rubbing his eyes.

Phil stepped out to the rear platform before dressing, for a breath of the fresh morning air.

"Why, Teddy!" he called through the open door.

"What?"

"The opposition cars are not here. The other train must have carried them on. I wonder if those fellows are stealing a march on us?"

"Is that so?"

"Yes; come out and see for yourself."

Teddy stumbled out to the platform, gazed about sleepily and looked solemn.

"No, not here," he said, turning back into the car.

Phil was worried. He could not imagine exactly what the plans of his rivals might be.

"I will wire on to the next stand as soon as the telegraph office opens, and find out if they are there," he decided.

In the meantime Teddy was taking his time about dressing, while the men of the crew were hurrying into their clothes. Phil did the same, then dropped from the car and walked about the yards, rather expecting to find the cars of his rivals hidden behind freight cars.

They were nowhere in sight.

"Well, it cannot be helped, even if we are beaten into the next stand. This is a small place, but an important one. I cannot afford to skip it, no matter if the other fellows have."

Teddy went about his morning duties as usual, solemn faced and silent, but there was a triumphant gleam in his eyes that Phil Forrest as yet had failed to observe.

Phil was pacing up and down on the platform station, waiting uneasily for the operator to appear. After making ready, the men went off to breakfast, Teddy hanging about the car, busying himself with trifling matters. The car seemed to hold an unusual interest for him that morning.

At six o'clock the livery rigs drove up and the rural route men were soon off for their day's work. Phil started the lithographers and banner men out soon thereafter.

About that time the operator arrived; Phil wrote a message to the liveryman at the next town, inquiring if his rivals had reached there.

The answer came back that nothing had been seen of them. They had not even passed through. The operator at the other end said they were at Salina, where Phil's car was at that moment.

This was a puzzler.

"I am afraid it will take a better railroad man than I am to figure this problem out," mused Phil. "Hey, Teddy!"

"Yep?"

"What do you suppose could have become of those other cars?"

"How should I know?"

"They were on this train last night, when we started, and they have not arrived at the next stand yet. They surely are not here."

"Maybe they got a hot journal and had to stop," suggested Teddy.

"Nonsense! Something has happened to them. However, it is not my business to worry about my rivals. As long as I know they are not ahead of me I shall not disturb myself. It is up to me to improve the opportunity and bill this town from one end to the other," decided Phil, starting off over town.

The work went on at a lively pace, Phil urging his men to greater efforts, momentarily expecting to see the canary and red cars come rolling into town.

But no cars came. The next train from the direction Phil had come was not due until nearly noon, the road being a branch road with little traffic over it.

After a time Phil strolled down to the railroad station.

"Any news?" he asked.

"Yes," answered the operator. "They have found the cars."

"Where?"

"It seems they broke away from the train during the night and lay on the main track until morning. One of the crew walked back ten miles to the next station to ask for an engine to pull them out. They will be here on the next train."

"Funny the train crew did not discover that when they put us on the siding here. I do not quite understand it yet?" Phil walked slowly back to his own car, thinking deeply.



CHAPTER XIX

PHIL'S DARING PLAN

Teddy was sitting on the platform of Car Three narrowly watching Phil as he approached.

"Anything doing?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What is it—have you heard from the opposition?"

"Yes. It seems their cars broke away from us during the night, and lay all night on the main track miles from anywhere."

"You don't say!" exclaimed Teddy, in well feigned surprise.

"That is what happened. We are in luck this morning, Teddy Tucker. I suppose I should be sorry for our rivals. But it is the chance of war. We all have to take them in the show business."

"We do," answered Teddy sagely. "At least the other fellow does. When are they coming in?"

"About noon, I understand. I should think someone would lose his job for that piece of carelessness. If it were my car that had been laid out there would be trouble; I can assure you of that."

"Yes; I wouldn't stand for a mean trick like that myself."

Phil stroked his chin and surveyed Teddy thoughtfully. Light was beginning to dawn upon him. All at once he recalled his companion's questions about the air brake pipes the night before.

He fixed his gaze upon Teddy Tucker's scowling face.

"Young man, do you know anything about those cars breaking away?" demanded Phil sternly.

"I understand they broke away—don't you know that the train broke in two?"

"Yes," answered Phil dryly; "I have heard something to that effect."

Phil stepped over to examine the coupling of his own car, Teddy watching him furtively.

"What I want to know is how it happened," continued Phil.

"Why don't you ask the train crew? They ought to know."

"I'll ask you instead. You uncoupled those cars, didn't you?"

Teddy nodded slowly, his eyes on the ground.

"Is it possible that you did a thing like that?"

Teddy nodded again, demanding sullenly:

"Well, we beat 'em, didn't we?"

"Yes; but do you know what would happen, were it known what you have done?"

"I'm easy. What would happen?" Teddy was rapidly assuming a belligerent attitude.

"You would be arrested, and nothing could keep you from state's prison, Teddy Tucker."

"Oh, fudge!"

"You may scoff all you will. It is the truth, nevertheless. I should not be surprised if there were an investigation over this affair—"

"And you'll go tell all you know, won't you?"

"Not unless I am put under oath. If I am, and am asked, I shall have to tell the truth. I ought to sail in and give you a good thrashing here and now."

"You can't do it!"

"Perhaps not, but I could try." A smile struggled to dissipate the clouds on Phil's face. "Listen to me! Do you know that you might have imperilled a great many lives by that foolish act of yours"

"No. How?"

"In the first place, being cut loose from our train as they were, they might have continued on, provided we were on a down or up grade and—"

"We weren't. I looked to see," interjected Teddy.

"Oh, then you admit the charge. I am glad that you have confessed."

"I haven't confessed!" shouted Teddy, his face growing very red.

"If you said that on trial it would be jail for you for some years to come. To return to the subject under discussion, all the men were asleep in those cars, or at least they were supposed to be. Had there been another train over the road, last night, the chances are that it would have run into those show cars and killed every man in them, besides wrecking the train itself and killing a lot more people. I am willing to take long chances in the line of duty, but I should hope I never would commit a crime in so doing. Let this be a warning to you, Teddy Tucker. Never do a thing like this again. We will beat our rivals by all fair means and we will stop there."

Phil paused, eyeing his companion sternly.

Teddy glanced up inquiringly.

"Is the sermon over?" he asked.

"I have no more advice to offer at the present moment. I hope for your sake that the inquiry in this matter will not extend to us. If it does, I feel sorry for you."

An inquiry did follow. It was stirred up most thoroughly by the manager of the canary colored car. But, fortunately for Teddy Tucker, no suspicion of the truth ever dawned upon the rival manager, and the railroad got out of the scrape by disciplining the train crew that had lost the three cars without knowing it. However, the lesson was a wholesome one for Teddy, even though he would not admit the fact. The lesson lasted him pretty nearly all the rest of the season.

The three rival cars came rolling into the yards early in the afternoon of that day. All hands were angry and ready for trouble. Phil passed the time of day pleasantly with his opponent of the previous day, but the manager of the yellow car did not deign to make any reply to his greeting.

The hour was late before he was able to start his men out, and by that time Phil's crew had pretty well covered the town and the surrounding country, though the posters of the latter territory had very long drives, and were not expected to return until very long after dark.

Phil chafed under this, fearing that he would be obliged to miss the last train out that night, which would again put him on the same train with his rivals next day.

One of his men would have a thirty-five-mile drive back after he had finished his day's work. That would bring the man "home," as the return to the car is called, long after midnight in all probability.

Inquiry at the station and a wire to the division superintendent failed to get a special engine to haul Car Three out that night. But in his talk with the station agent Phil learned something that set him thinking. He pondered over the information he had obtained, for sometime.

"I believe I can do it," he muttered. "Talk about Teddy taking long chances, I am going to try to take some chances tonight that are far more dangerous. But I must do something."

Phil had seen a section gang go out in the morning. They had not come in yet, so the Circus Boy strolled over toward the station shortly after six o'clock waiting for the section gang to return.

They did not come in until after seven o'clock.

As the men were going by the station, having put their handcar away, Phil motioned to the foreman of the gang, a bright faced Irishman.

"How are you?" greeted Phil smilingly.

The foreman waved a hand, at which Phil beckoned the man to come to him.

"Are there any more trains over this division tonight?"

"Only number forty-two going west."

"She is due shortly after midnight, is she not?"

"Yes."

"Do you like to go to the circus, Pat?"

"I do."

"Have you a family?"

"I have."

"Will you do me a favor if I give you tickets to the show for yourself and family?"

"That I will. What show is yours?"

"The Sparling Combined Shows."

"That your car over there?"

"Yes—Car Three."

"You run it?"

"I do."

"Pretty young fellow to handle a car like that, aren't you?"

"I guess you are right. However, I am running it just the same."

"What is it you want me to do?"

"In the first place I want you to keep a close mouth. I do not want you to speak to a human being about my plans. There are some fellows that would like to know them. They must not."

The foreman grinned understandingly.

"I'm your man."

"I knew you were. You have a switch key of course?"

"Sure."

"Then I want you to bring your switch key here at half-past two o'clock tomorrow morning. You have crowbars in the tool house, have you not?"

"Yes."

"Bring two of them with you."

"What are you going to do?"

"Never mind now. I'll tell you when you come around in the morning. Do you think you can wake up in time?"

"Sure, I can."

"You may sleep on my car if you wish."

"No; I have a bunk in the tool house. I will come back and sleep there after supper."

"Excellent. Do you want an alarm clock?"

"No; I have one in the shanty. I often sleep there when I expect a call to go out on the road during the night."

"I am right, am I not, in my understanding that unless I get away on forty-two I shall not be able to leave here before noon tomorrow?"

"That's right. You are not going on forty-two, then?"

"I think not."

"The other fellows going on forty-two?"

"No; they will not be through billing here before sometime tomorrow."

The foreman grinned.

"I smell a rat," he said.

"Don't. It might not be healthful for you if you were to be too wise. Be on time and say nothing. How far is it to the next town?"

"Nigh onto twenty-five miles."

"All right. That's all. I will have your tickets ready for you when you come on in the morning. Good night, if I don't see you again until then."

All hands save Phil and Teddy went to bed early that night and the car was soon dark and silent. The late man from the country route did not get in until half-past one o'clock in the morning. He unloaded as quietly as possible, not knowing what plans of the manager he might disturb were he to make his presence known.

By this time every man of the crew was well aware that their young manager seldom was without some shrewd plan for outwitting his competitors, but these plans he ordinarily kept well to himself until he was ready to carry them out.

Phil busied himself during the night in posting his books, making out the payroll for the car, and writing the report sheet for the owner of the show.

Right on the minute at the appointed hour there came a light tap on the car window. Phil stepped out to the platform.

"I am ready, sir." It was the section foreman.

"Come inside," said Phil. "Do not make any noise, for the men are all asleep. I will awaken two of them soon, but I do not want those other car men to get awake, not for any price."

"Now, what is it you want to do?"

"You are sure there will be no more trains over this road in either direction tonight?" asked Phil.

"Not a train."

"That's good. Now I will tell you what I want you to do. I want you to open that switch to let us out on the main track."

The foreman opened his eyes.

"But how are you going to get out there?"

"I'll show you after you get the switch open. There is no grade up or down between here and the other side of the station, is there?"

"No; dead flat till you get ten rods beyond the station, then she drops."

Phil nodded thoughtfully.

"Get the crowbars while I call a couple of the men."

The Circus Boy went inside and gently awakened Billy Conley and Rosie, telling them to dress and report to the office at once.

The men made no protest. They knew their young manager was planning some new ruse by which to outwit his rivals. When they heard his plan they opened their eyes in wonder.

"Come on, now, and not a word nor a sound out of you, fellows!" commanded Phil.

Once outside, Phil threw off the brakes and then the foreman of the section gang brought his knowledge to bear on the situation. He directed the men to get their crowbars under the rear wheels of the coach. After several attempts they succeeded in prying the car ahead a few inches. After repeated efforts they got the car moving slowly.

Now the foreman took a third crowbar; jumping from one side to the other he relieved the men until the car was making very fair progress under its human power.

Teddy had been standing on the platform, rubbing his palms in high glee.

"Going to push her all the way to Marion like this?" he demanded.

"You keep still up there unless you are looking for trouble," warned Phil. "Get off the platform. Think we want to drag you along, too?"

Teddy hopped down, thrust his hands in his trousers pockets, and watched the operation of moving the heavy car.

It was slow work, but inch by inch Number Three crept nearer to the station.

"Let me know when we get right on the grade, so I can slap on the brakes," ordered Phil.

"I'll let you know. You'll know without my telling you, I reckon."

At last the car was at the desired point. Phil sprang to the platform and set the brakes, while the section man ran back and closed the switch.

"Here are your tickets," said Phil when the man returned. "And thank you very much."

"You're welcome, but don't you let on that I have helped you out. I will sure lose my job if you do."

"You need not worry. I do not forget a favor so easily as that."

"You better wait till daylight before you start," advised the foreman.

"Yes, I am going to. I do not want to take any more chances than I have to. There are enough as it is."

"Anything more I can do for you, sir?"

"No, thank you."

"Then, good night."

"Good night," answered Phil.

Teddy did not yet fully understand what his companion's plan might be. Billy, on the contrary, understood it fully.

"You beat anything I ever came across," Conley remarked in Phil's car as the two were standing at the side of the track in front of Number Three.

"Wait! Don't throw any flowers at me too soon. We have not done it yet. I understand there is a short up-grade about seven miles below here. If we get stalled on that we will be in a fine fix and likely to get smashed into ourselves. It looks to me like a storm. What do you think?"

"I think yes—thunderstorm. I saw the lightning a moment ago." "Good! I hope it storms. It will be a good cover to get away under."

"Slippery rails will be bad for our business, though," warned Billy.

"We shall have to take the chance."

They had not long to wait after that. Day soon dawned but the skies were dark and forbidding. As soon as it was light enough to see well, Phil began to make preparations for his unique trip.

"Now what are you going to do?" demanded Teddy.

"My dear boy, we are going to try to coast all the way to Marion. We may land in the ditch or we may get stalled, but I am not going to lie here and waste nearly a day. Let the other fellows spend the time here if they wish. I reckon they will be surprised in the morning, when they wake up and find Car Three has dropped off the map."

Teddy uttered a long whistle of surprise.

"Don't you ever find fault with me again for doing a trick like I played."

"What trick was that?" questioned Billy.

"Never mind. That's my secret. It isn't any of your affair," grumbled Teddy.

"Teddy, you get on the back platform. Keep your hand on the brake wheel every second of the time. Keep your ears open. When I jerk once sharply on the bell rope set the brakes tight. If I jerk it twice, just apply them a little to steady the car."

"Pull the bell rope? Huh! There isn't any bell."

"I know that, but you can hear the rope slap the top of the platform roof when I pull it. Now, get back there. Don't call out to me, but attend to your business. I'll pull the cord when I am ready for you to release the brake. We must get away from here in a hurry."

Teddy hopped from the platform and ran to the rear, where he awaited the signal.

Phil's plan was a daring one. For twenty-five miles the road fell away at a sharp downgrade of sixty feet to the mile and in some places even greater. In one spot, as has already been stated, there was a sharp up-grade for a short distance.

It was Phil's purpose to coast the twenty-five miles in order to reach the next stand in time for the day's work. It was a risky undertaking. Besides the danger of a possible collision with an extra sent over the road, there was the added danger of the car getting beyond their control and toppling over into a ditch.

The Circus Boy had weighed all these chances well before starting on his undertaking.

"I guess we will be moving now," he said, giving the bell cord a pull, then throwing off the brake, Teddy performing the same service at the other end of the car.

Car Number Three did not start at once.

Phil and Billy jumped up and down on the platform in excitement.

"She's moving," exulted Phil. "We're off."

A faint "yee—ow!" from the rear platform was evidence that Teddy Tucker also had discovered this fact.

"That boy!" grumbled Phil.

At first the show car moved slowly; then little by little it began to gather headway. Rattling over switches, past lines of box cars, on past rows of houses that backed up against the railroad's right of way, they rumbled. A few moments later Car Three shot out into the open country at a lively rate of speed.



CHAPTER XX

ON A WILDCAT RUN

"This is great!" cried Billy.

Phil Forrest, however, was keeping his eyes steadily on the shining rails ahead. All at once the storm broke. The lightning seemed to rend the heavens before them. Then the rain came down in a deluge.

So heavy was the rainfall that the young pilot could see only a few car lengths ahead of him. Instinctively he tightened the brakes slightly. The car was swaying giddily, not having a train with it to steady it.

"We ought to be near that grade the section man told us about," said Conley.

"Yes; I was just thinking of that. I guess I had better let her out, so we shall be sure to make it."

Phil threw off the brake wheel and Car Three shot ahead like a great projectile, rocking from side to side, moving at such high speed that the joints in the rails gave off a steady purring sound under the wheels.

The wildcat car struck the grade with a lurch and a bang, climbing it at a tremendous pace.

The two men on the front platform were compelled to hold on with their full strength, in order to keep from being hurled into the ditch beside the track.

"I hope Teddy is all right," shouted Phil.

Billy leaned out over the side looking back. Teddy, who was also leaning out, peering ahead regardless of the driving rain, waved a hand at him.

"Yes; you can't hurt that boy—"

Just then the car plunged over the crest of the hill and went thundering away down the steep grade.

By this time the men in the car had, one by one, been shaken awake by the car's terrific pace, and one by one they tumbled from their berths, quickly raising the curtains for a look outside.

What they saw was a driving storm and the landscape slipping past them at a higher speed than they ever had known before. Three of the men bolted to the front platform.

"What's the matter? Are we running away?" shouted a voice in Phil's car.

"Go back, fellows, and shut the door. Don't bother me. I'm making the next town."

The men retired to the car, sat down and looked at each other in blank amazement.

"Well, did you ever?" gasped Rosie.

"Never," answered the Missing Link, shaking his head helplessly. "He'll be the death of us yet."

"At least we'll be going some if we stay on this car."

"We are going some. We've been going some ever since the new Boss took hold of this car. I hope we don't hit anything. It'll be a year of Sundays for us, if we do."

"A good many years of 'em," muttered Rosie.

"I hear a train whistle!" shouted Billy, leaning toward Phil.

"I heard it," answered the boy calmly, beginning to tug at the brake wheel.

"Want any help?" asked Conley anxiously.

"No; you can't help me any." Phil had ceased twisting the wheel.

"What's the matter?"

"The wheels are slipping. The brakes will not hold them. If we are going to meet anything we might as well meet it properly," answered Phil calmly, whereupon he kicked the ratchet loose and spun the brake wheel about.

The car seemed to take a sudden leap forward.

Just then there came a rift in the clouds.

"Look!" cried Billy.

Phil leaned over the rail, peering into the mist.

The track, just a little way ahead of them, took a sudden bend around a high point of land. And on beyond the hill they saw the smoke of an engine belching up into the air like so many explosions.

"I guess that settles it," said the boy. His face was, perhaps, a little more pale than usual, but in no other way did he show any emotion.

"Shall we tell the men to jump, then go over ourselves?"

"No; we should all be killed. We will stay and see it through. The men are better off inside the car."

A yell from Teddy, sounding faint and far away, caused Billy to lean out and look back.

"Turn on your sand! Turn on your sand! She's slipping!" howled Teddy.

"We haven't any sand. D'you think this is a trolley car?"

Just then Teddy caught sight of the smoke ahead of them. He pointed. His voice seemed to fail him all at once.

"It looks as if we would get all the publicity we want in about a minute, Billy," said Phil, smiling easily. "We shall not be likely to know anything about it, though," he added.

Car Three swept around the bend.

"There they are!" cried Conley.

"Coming head on!" commented Phil. He seemed not in the least disturbed, despite the fact that he believed himself to be facing certain death.

Billy let out a yell of joy.

"They are on another track. They are not on these irons at all!" he shouted.

Phil had observed this at about the same instant. He saw something else, too. The road on which the train was approaching crossed his track at right angles. The other was a double track railroad, and the train was a fast express train, tearing along at high speed.

"We're safe!" breathed Billy, heaving a great sigh of relief.

"No, we are not. We are going to smash right into them, broadside, unless we can check our car enough to clear them."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

Billy groaned. His joy had been short-lived.

"Give Teddy the signal to put on the brakes. We will make another attempt to check her."

Phil threw himself into the task of turning the wheel, which he did in quick, short, spasmodic jerks, rather than by a steady application of the brakes.

The car slackened somewhat—hardly enough to be noticed.

"Tell Teddy to keep it up. You had better send one of the men back to help him."

Billy bellowed his command to the men inside.

"They see us. They are whistling to us."

"Yes."

Shriek after shriek rang out from the whistle of the approaching express train, the engineer of which jerked his throttle wide open in hopes of clearing the oncoming wildcat car.

Phil was still tugging desperately, but without any apparent nervousness, at the brake wheel. He finally ceased his efforts.

"I can't do any more," he said; then calmly leaned his arms on the wheel awaiting results.

Billy did not utter a word. He, too, possessed strong nerves.

The man and the boy stood there calmly watching the train ahead of them. Nearer and nearer to it did they draw. They could see the engineer and fireman leaning from their cab, looking back. Phil waved a hand to them, to which the engine crew responded in kind.

"Now for the smash, Billy, old boy!" muttered Phil with the smile that no peril seemed able to banish from his face.

"Yes; it's going to be a close shave."

The last car of the express train was now abreast of them. They seemed to be right upon it. So close were they that Phil thought he could stretch out a hand and touch it.

Suddenly it was whisked from before them as if by magic.

The engineer had given his engine its final burst of speed.

"Hang on tight!" shouted Phil. "We're going to sideswipe them now!"

"Off brakes!"

Billy gave the bell rope a tug.

Then came a crash, a grinding, jolting sound. It seemed as if the red car were being torn from end to end. Car Three careened, rocked and swayed, threatening every second to plunge from the rails over the embankment at that point.

As suddenly as it had come, the strain seemed to have been removed from it. Once more Number Three was thundering along over the rails.

"Yee—ow!" howled Teddy from the rear platform.

The men inside the car were not saying anything. They were slowly picking themselves up from the floor, where they had been hurled by the sudden shock. The interior of the car looked as if it had been struck by a tornado. The contents were piled in a confused heap at one end of the car, paste pots overturned, bedding stripped clean from the berths, lamps smashed, and great piles of paper scattered all over the place.

"Hooray!" yelled Billy in the excess of his joy. "We're saved."

"Yes," answered Phil with a grin. "It was a close call, though. I hope no one in the car is hurt. You had better go in and find out. I am afraid our car has been damaged."

Billy leaned over the side, looking back.

"Yes, we got a beauty of a sideswipe," he said.

The coupling and rear platform of the rear car on the express train had cut a deep gash in the side of Car Three, along half of its length.

"Any windows left?"

"I don't see anything that looks like glass left in them," laughed Conley.

"You watch the wheel a minute. I will go inside," said Phil.

He hurried into the car.

Phil could not repress a laugh at the scene that met his gaze.

"Hello, boys; what's going on in here?" called Phil.

"Say, Boss," spoke up Rosie the Pig. "If it's all the same to you, I think I'll get out and walk the rest of the way."

"Are we on time?" howled Teddy, poking his head in at the rear door.

"Better straighten the car out, for we should reach our town in a few minutes now—"

"I should say we would, at this gait," interrupted a voice.

"Then all hands will have to hustle out to work. I want to be out of the next stand sometime tonight. We go out on another road, so we shall not have to wait, unless something unforeseen occurs. Came pretty near having a smash-up, didn't we?" suggested Phil.

"Near?" The Missing Link's emotion was too great to permit him to finish the sentence.

The car bowled merrily along. In a short time the two men on the front platform were able to make out the outlines of the town ahead of them. The skies were clearing now, and shortly afterwards the sun burst through the clouds.

"All is sunshine," laughed Phil. "For a time it looked as if there would be a total eclipse," he added, grimly.

Billy gazed at him wonderingly.

"If I had your nerve I'd be a millionaire," said Billy in a low tone.

"You probably would break your neck the first thing you did," answered Phil with a short laugh.

They were now moving along on a level stretch of track. Phil set the brakes a little, and the car slowed down. In this way they glided easily into the station, where the Circus Boy brought the car to a stop directly in front of the telegraph office.

The station agent came out to see what it was that had come in so unexpectedly.

His amazement was great.

"Well, we are here," called Phil, stepping down from the platform. "I guess we are on time."

"Any orders?" shouted Teddy Tucker, dropping from the rear platform.

"Where—where did you fellows come from?"

"Salina."

"Where's your engine?"

"I'm the engine," spoke up Teddy. "Wasn't I behind, pushing Car Three all the way over?"

All hands set up a shout of laughter.



CHAPTER XXI

IN A PERILOUS POSITION

The story of Phil Forrest's brilliant and perilous dash quickly spread about the town. By six o'clock a great crowd had gathered about the station to get a look at the car and at the Circus Boy who had piloted her.

Phil was hustling about in search of an engine crew from the other road. He wanted his car moved from the main track, before some other train should come along and run into him, thus completing the wrecking that he already had so successfully begun.

In the meantime Teddy placed himself on view, parading up and down, looking wise and pompous. He always was willing to be admired. As soon as the newspaper offices were open he made haste to visit them, and the afternoon papers printed the story of Car Three's great wildcat dash, displaying the account under big, black headlines. The Sparling Shows got a full measure of publicity that day.

Teddy marked and wrapped copies of the papers containing the notice, mailing them back to the show for Mr. Sparling to read. On the margin of one of the papers so sent, Teddy wrote with a lead pencil, "no news today."

What the Circus Boy's idea of news really was it would be difficult to say.

Car Three had a fair field for most of the day. By the time the rivals got in there were few choice locations for billing left in the town.

The manager of the yellow car tried to induce the railroad authorities to proceed against Phil for the boy's action in taking his car over the division without authority. The road, however, refused to accede to the demand, and nothing ever was done about it. Perhaps Mr. Sparling had something to do with this, for telegrams were exchanged that day between the owner of the show and the division superintendent. In the meantime Phil did not trouble himself over the matter. He had too many other things to think of.

The next stand was to be in Oklahoma. Phil hoped that, by the time they reached there, they would be far enough ahead of the rival cars to shake them off entirely.

That afternoon he and Teddy went over town to look over the work. One of the first things to attract Phil's attention was a flag pole towering high above everything else in the city.

"Wouldn't I like to unfurl a Sparling banner from the top of that pole," exclaimed Phil, gazing up at the top. "How high is that pole?" he asked of a man standing near him.

"One hundred feet."

Teddy whistled softly.

"I wonder if I could get the consent of the town authorities to run some advertising matter up there?"

"Couldn't do it, even if you got the permission," answered the man.

"Why not?"

"There is no rope on the pole. It rotted off a year ago."

"That is too bad. I had already set my heart on billing the pole. It can be seen from all parts of the city, can it not?"

"Yes, and a long way out of the city at that."

"Come on, Teddy; let's not look at it. It makes me feel sad to think I cannot possess that pole."

"I wonder if you will ever be satisfied?" grumbled Teddy.

"Not as long as there is a spot on earth large enough for a Sparling one-sheet left uncovered."

"What will you give—what would you give, I mean, to have some banners put on top of the flag pole?"

"I would give fifty dollars and think I had got off very cheaply."

Teddy waxed thoughtful. Several times, that afternoon, he wandered over to the vicinity of the tall flag pole, and, leaning against a building, surveyed it critically.

After the fifth trip of this sort, the Circus Boy hurried back to the car. No one was on board save the porter. Teddy began rummaging about among the cloth banners, littering the floor with all sorts of rubbish in his feverish efforts to get what he wanted.

After considerable trouble he succeeded in laying out a gaudy assortment of banners. These he carefully stitched together until he had a completed flag or banner about fifty feet long.

"See here, Henry, don't you tell anybody what I have been doing, for you don't know."

"No, sir," agreed the porter.

Next Teddy provided himself with a light, strong rope. All his preparations completed, he once more strolled over town, where he joined Phil in watching the work. But he confided to his companion nothing of what he had been doing. Teddy Tucker's face wore its usual innocent expression.

That night, after supper, he called Billy Conley aside and confided to the assistant car manager what he had in mind.

"Forget it!" advised Billy with emphasis.

"I can't. I want to earn that fifty dollars."

"But if you break your neck what good will the fifty do you?"

"If I don't it will do me fifty dollars' worth of good," was the quick reply.

"How do you expect to do it?"

"I'll show you tonight. But we shall have to wait till most of the people are off the streets. You get away about ten o'clock, and don't let either Phil or any of the crew know where you are going. I will meet you on the other side of the station at ten o'clock sharp, provided I can get away from Phil."

"I don't like it, but I guess I am just enough of a good fellow to be willing to help you break your neck. Have you any family that you wish me to notify?"

"No one, unless it is January."

"Who's he?"

"My educated donkey."

"Oh, pshaw!" grumbled Billy.

At the appointed time Teddy made his exit from the car without attracting the attention of any of the crew. Phil was busy over his books, while the men were sitting on piles of paper, relating their experiences on the road.

Earlier in the evening Teddy had secreted his banners in what is known as the cellar, the large boxlike compartment under the car He now hastily gathered up his equipment and hurried to the station platform. Billy was already awaiting him there.

"You better give up this fool idea," warned Billy. "I don't want anything to do with it. You can go alone if you want to, but none of it for mine."

"Billy!"

"Well?"

"If you back down now, do you know what I'll do?"

"What will you do?"

"I'll give you the worst walloping you ever had in your life."

"You can't do it."

Teddy whipped off his coat.

"Come on; I'll show you."

Conley burst out laughing.

"The Boss says you are a hopeless case. I agree with him. Come on. I'll help you to break your neck."

They started off together. When they reached the pole, the pair dodged into a convenient doorway where they waited to make sure that they were not observed.

"I guess it is all right," said Teddy.

"How you going to get up there?"

"I brought a pair of climbers that I found in the car yesterday— the kind those telephone linemen use to climb telephone poles with. Won't I go up, I guess yes!"

Teddy first strapped the banners over his shoulders, in such a way that they would not impede his progress; then he put on the climbers, Billy watching disapprovingly.

All was ready. With a final glance up and down the street Teddy strode from his hiding place.

He walked up the pole as if he were used to it. In a few minutes the watcher below could barely make him out in the faint moonlight.

"Look out, when you get up higher. The pole may be rotten," called Billy softly.

"All right. I'm up to the splice."

Here Teddy paused to rest, being now about halfway up the pole. Before going higher the Circus Boy prudently wrapped the small rope that he carried twice around the pole, forming a slip-noose. He made the free end fast around his body in case he should lose his footing.

This done, Teddy felt secure from a fall.

He worked his way slowly upward, creeping higher and higher, inch by inch, cautious but not in the least afraid, for Teddy was used to being high in the air.

Now and then he would pause to call down to the anxious Billy.

"Stand under to be ready to catch me if I fall," directed Tucker.

"Not much. You hit ground if you fall," jeered Conley.

Teddy's laugh floated down to him, carefree and happy. The Circus Boy was in his element.

Finally he managed to reach the top, or nearly to the top of the pole without mishap. The slender top of the flag pole swayed back and forth, like the mast of a ship in a rolling sea. It seemed to Teddy as if each roll would be his last.

He felt a slight dizziness, but it passed off quickly. In fact, he was too busy to give much heed to it. With nimble fingers he unpacked his roll of banners; and, in a few minutes, he was securing the long streamer to the pole, which he did by lacing it to the pole with leather thongs, through eyelets that he had sewed in the cloth.

In a few minutes the great banner fluttered to the breeze.

"Hurrah!" cried Teddy exultingly. "We're off!"

As he called out Teddy suddenly felt his footing give way beneath him. He had thrown too much weight on the climbers, and they had lost their grip.



CHAPTER XXII

A DASH FOR LIBERTY

"Help!"

"What is it?" cried Billy in alarm. "I'm hung up—hung down, I mean!"

"What—what's the matter, are you in trouble?"

"Yes, I'm hanging head down. I'm fast by the feet. Help me down!"

"Help you down? I can't help you. You will have to get out the best way you can. Can't you crawl up and free your feet?"

"No; go get Phil."

"Can you hold on?"

"I—I'll try. Go get Phil."

Conley dashed away as fast as he could run.

"I knew it, I knew it," he repeated at almost every bound.

Teddy's climbers had lost their grip in the rotting wood. Before he could recover himself he had tumbled backward. Fortunately the rope had clung to the pole; he was held fast but Teddy was hanging with his back against the pole, being powerless to help himself in the slightest degree. Again, he was afraid that, were he to stir about, the rope, which had slipped down and drawn tight about his ankles, might suddenly slide down the pole and dash him to his death.

Not many minutes had elapsed before Phil and Conley came running back. Phil, at the suggestion of the assistant manager, had brought a pair of climbers with him, Billy explaining, as they ran, the fix that the Circus Boy was in.

For a wonder, all the disturbance had attracted no attention on the street.

"Are you all right?" called Phil as he ran to the spot.

"N—no; I'm all wrong," came the answer from above. "All the blood in my body is in my head. I'm going to burst in a minute."

Phil wasted no words. Quickly strapping on his climbers, he began shinning up the pole, which he took much faster than Teddy had done, for the situation was critical.

"Hurry up! Think I want to stay here all night?"

"I'm coming. Hang on a few moments longer," panted Phil, for the exertion was starting the perspiration all over his body.

At last he reached the spot where Teddy was hanging head down.

"Well, you have got yourself into a nice fix!" growled Phil.

"I got the banners up," retorted Teddy.

Phil cast his eyes aloft, and there, above his head, floated the gaudy banners of the Sparling Show.

"Great!" he muttered. "But you are lucky if it doesn't cost you your life and perhaps mine, too. Now, when I place this rope in your hands, you hang on to it for all you are worth. I will make it fast above, and I think I shall have to cut the rope that holds your feet. I see no other way to get you down."

"What, and let me drop? No, you don't."

"I shall not let you drop if I can help it. Can't you manage to get a grip on the pole with your arms?"

"If I were facing the other way, I might."

"Twist yourself. Aren't you enough of a circus man to do a contortion act as simple as that?"

Teddy thought he was. At least, he was willing to try, and he succeeded very well, throwing a firm grip about the pole.

Phil cautiously climbed above his companion. None save a trained aerial worker could have accomplished such a feat, but the Circus Boy managed it without mishap. He then made fast a rope about the pole above the place where Teddy's rope was secured, drawing it tight above a slight projection on the pole itself, where part of a knot had been left.

Phil had not secured himself as Teddy had done, but he felt no fear of falling as long as he had one arm about the pole. He might slip, but even then the principal danger to be apprehended was that he might carry Teddy down with him.

"Pass the rope about your body," directed Phil.

"Which rope?"

"My rope—this rope," answered Phil, raising and lowering the rope that Teddy might make no mistake. "If you get the wrong one you will take a fine tumble. Got it?"

"Yes."

"All right. When you have secured it about your body let me know."

"I've got it."

"Have you also got a firm grip on the pole?"

"Yes."

"Then look out. I am going to cut your feet loose. Are you ready?"

"All ready!"

Phil severed the rope that held Teddy's feet, and the boy did a half turn in the air, his feet suddenly flopping over until he found himself in an upright position. But the twist of the body had given him a fearful wrench, drawing a loud "ouch!" from Teddy. To add to his troubles Tucker found himself unable to move.

"I'm tied up in a hard knot," he wailed.

"What's the trouble?"

"I'm all twisted. I can't wiggle a toe."

"Well, you don't have to wiggle your toes, do you?"

Phil found the work of extricating his companion a more difficult matter than he had expected, and to set Teddy free it was necessary to cut the rope again.

This time the cutting was followed instantly by a wild yell.

Teddy shot down to the splice in the pole, where he struck the crosspiece with a jolt that shook the pole from top to bottom; but, fortunately, his arms were about the pole and the crosspiece had kept him from plunging to the ground many feet below.

"Are you all right?" called Phil.

"No; I'm killed."

"Lucky you didn't break the pole, at any rate."

"Break the pole? Break the pole?" yelled Teddy, half in anger, half in pain. "What do I care about the pole? I've broken myself. I won't be able to sit down again this season. Oh, why did I ever come with this outfit?"

"Hurry and get down. We shall have the whole town awake if you keep up that racket."

Phil let himself down to where Teddy sat rubbing himself and growling.

"Go on down. You are not hurt," commanded Phil.

"I am, I tell you."

"Well, are you going to stay up here all night?"

Teddy pulled himself together, preparing for the descent.

"Can you get down alone? If not I will tie a rope to you to protect you."

"No; you keep away from me. I'll get down if you let me alone."

"Teddy Tucker, you are an ungrateful boy."

"I'm a sore boy; that's what I am. Don't speak to me till I get down again. Then I'll talk with you and I'll have something to say, too. I want that fifty dollars for putting the banner up, too."

"Well, wait till you get down, anyhow," retorted Phil impatiently.

Teddy made his way down, muttering and growling every foot of the way, followed by Phil at a safe distance, the latter chuckling and laughing at Teddy's rage.

Young Tucker had nearly reached the base of the pole, when once more he missed his footing.

Billy Conley was just below him, ready to assist, when Teddy landed on him, both going down together.

Teddy uttered a yell that could have been heard more than a block away.

As the two struggled to get up, both Teddy and Billy threatening each other, rapid footsteps were heard approaching them down the street. In a moment they saw the flash of a policeman's shield.

"We're caught!" cried Conley. "Run for it!"

"Halt!" commanded the officer. He was almost upon them now. Phil was still up the pole, where he clung, awaiting the result of the surprise below.

"What does this mean?" demanded the bluecoat.

"It means you are it!" howled Teddy, bolting between the officer's legs, causing the bluecoat to fall flat upon the ground.

"Run! Run!" howled Teddy.

Phil sprang from the pole and all hands made a lively sprint for the car.



CHAPTER XXIII

THE DESERTED VILLAGE

But Teddy had distinguished himself. When the town awakened next morning there were loud clamorings for the arrest of the showman who had dared to unfurl a circus advertisement from the top of the city's flag pole. The showmen guilty of the deed were many, many miles away by that time, engaged in other similar occupations.

At McAlister, a booming western town, the opposition were still hard on the heels of Car Three. Try as he would Phil Forrest was able to shake them off no longer than a few hours at a time.

A new plan occurred to him, and immediately upon his arrival at McAlister he wired Mr. Sparling to send a brigade into the next town ahead, to bill the place, in order that Car Three might make a jump and get away from its rivals.

A brigade, it should be known, is a crew of men that does not travel on a special car. They go by regular train, traveling as other passengers do, dropping off and billing a town here and there, as directed by wire.

The answer came back that the brigade would relieve him at the next stand.

While this had been going on young Tucker had been listening to a most interesting tale of a deserted town some twenty miles beyond where they were then working. The deserted town was known as Owls' Valley. It had been a prosperous little city up to within two months previous, when, for reasons that Teddy did not learn, the inhabitants had taken a sudden leave.

This information set Teddy Tucker to thinking. A deserted village? He wished that he might see it. He had heard of deserted villages, and this one was of more than ordinary interest, because, the moment he heard of it, a plan presented itself to his fertile mind.

"I'll bet they will not only nibble at the bait, but will swallow it whole," he decided exultingly after he had thoroughly gone over the plan, sitting off by himself on a pile of railroad iron. "I'll take Billy into my confidence. Billy will spread the word, and then we shall see what will happen."

When Billy came in Teddy called him aside and outlined his plan.

Billy returned from the conference grinning broadly, but Teddy was serious and thoughtful.

However, he decided not to tell Phil what he had done. Perhaps Phil might not approve of it. Phil was so peculiar that he might visit the rival cars and tell them that certain information they had obtained was not correct.

Be that as it may, a few hours later three car managers visited the station, leaving orders that their cars were to be switched off at Owls' Valley.

"That fellow, Forrest, thought he would play a smart trick on us and slip into a town not down on his route, where he was going to have all the billing to himself," said the manager of the yellow car, late that evening.

"Where is Owls' Valley?" asked one of his men.

"About twenty miles west of here. It will be a short run. He will be a very much surprised young man when he wakes up in the morning and finds us lying on the siding with him."

The train to which the cars were to be attached was not to leave until sometime after midnight. When it finally came in all the advertising car crews were in bed and asleep. Teddy Tucker, however, was not only wide awake, but outside at that.

"Couple us up next to your rear car, and put the other fellows on the rear if you will," he said to the conductor. "They are going to Owls' Valley, but we are going through. Please say nothing to them about what I have told you. Here's a pass for the circus."

The rest was easy. Soon the train was rumbling away, with Teddy the happiest mortal on it. But he did not go to bed. Not Teddy! He sat up to make sure that his plans did not miscarry. Owls' Valley was reached in due time, and the Circus Boy was outside to make sure that no mistake was made. He did not propose that Car Three should, by any slip, be sidetracked at the deserted village.

Very shortly afterwards they were again on their way, and Teddy went to bed well satisfied with his night's work. When the men woke up early next morning a new train crew was in charge, for the advertising car was making a long run.

Phil was the first to awaken. As was customary with him he stepped to the window and peered out.

"Why, we seem to be the last car on the train. There were three opposition cars behind us when we started out last night. I wonder what that means?"

Quickly dressing, he went out on the platform. Leaning over he looked ahead. Car Three was the only show car on the train.

"That is queer. I do not understand it at all."

Hurrying in to the main part of the car Phil called to the men.

"Do any of you know what has become of the opposition?" he asked.

"Why, aren't they on behind?"

"No one is on behind. We are the last car. Those fellows have stolen a march on us somewhere. I can't imagine where they dropped off, though; can you?"

"Maybe they have switched off on another road," suggested a voice.

"No other road they could switch off on. There is something more to this than appears on the surface. I'll go forward and ask the conductor."

Phil did so, but the conductor could give him no information. Car Three was the only show car on the train when the present conductor had taken charge.

Phil was more puzzled than ever. He consulted his route list, to make sure that he himself had not made a mistake and skipped a town that he should have billed. No; there was only one town he had missed, and that was the one the brigade was to work.

About this time Teddy sat up, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"What's up?" he inquired, noting that his companion was troubled.

"That is what I should like to know," answered Phil absently.

"Tell me about it. Anything gone wrong?"

"I don't know. The opposition has disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"Yes; they disappeared during the night, and I cannot imagine where they have gone. They must have dropped in on some town that we should have made, and I am worried."

Teddy pulled up a window shade and studied the landscape for several minutes.

"Curious, isn't it?" he mumbled.

"Yes."

"I might make a guess where they went, Phil."

"You might guess?"

"That's what I said."

"Where do you think they have gone?"

"If I were to make a long-range guess, I should say that perhaps the cars of the opposition were sidetracked at Owls' Valley."

"Where is that? I never heard of the place."

"That, my dear sir, is the deserted village. Lonesome Town, they ought to call it."

"Where is it?"

"About twenty miles from the last stand; and, if they are there, they will be likely to stay there for sometime to come."

Phil had wheeled about, studying his companion keenly.

"You seem to know a great deal about the movements of the enemy. How does it happen that you are so well posted, Teddy Tucker?"

"I was hanging around the station when they gave the order to have their cars dropped off there," answered Teddy, avoiding the keen gaze of his companion and superior.

"Did you know the place was deserted?"

Teddy nodded.

"Did they?"

Teddy shook his head.

"How did they happen to order their cars dropped off there?"

"I—I guess somebody must have told them that—I guess maybe they thought we were going there."

"Thought we were going there?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Oh, because."

A light was beginning to dawn upon the young car manager. He surveyed Teddy from beneath half closed eyelids. Tucker grew restless under the critical examination.

"Say, stop your looking at me that way."

"Why?"

"You make me nervous. Stop it, I say!"

"Tell me all about it, Teddy," urged Phil, trying hard to make his tone stern.

"Tell you about what?"

"Why the opposition happened to think we were going to Owls' Valley."

"Maybe they just imagined it."

"And maybe they did not. You are mixed up in this, in some way, and I want to know all about it, Teddy Tucker. I hope you have done nothing dishonorable. Of course I am glad the other fellows are out of our way, but I want to know how. Come, be frank with me. You are avoiding the question. Remember I am the manager of this car; I am responsible for all that is done on it. Out with it!"

Teddy fidgeted.

"Well, it was this way. Somebody told them—"

"Well, told them what?" urged Phil.

"Told them they heard we were going to bill Owls' Valley."

"So, that's it, eh?"

Teddy nodded again.

"Did you give out any such information as that?"

Teddy shook his head.

"Who did?"

"I won't tell. You can't make me tell," retorted the Circus Boy belligerently.

"But you were responsible for the rumor getting out?"

Teddy did not answer.

"And those poor fellows are lying there on the siding, twenty miles from the nearest telegraph office?"

"I guess so." Tucker grinned broadly.

"And how are they going to get out?"

"Walk!"

Phil broke out into a roar of laughter.

"Oh, Teddy, what am I going to do with you? Do you know you have done very wrong?"

"No, I don't. The trouble with you is that you don't appreciate a good thing when you get it. You were wishing you could get rid of the opposition cars, weren't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Well, you're rid of them, aren't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"And I got rid of them for you."

"Yes, but as I was saying—"

"Then what have you got to raise such a row about? You got your wish."

Teddy curled up and began studying the landscape again.

"I admire your zeal young man, but your methods are open to severe criticism. First you imperil the lives of three carloads of men by cutting them loose from the train; then you climb a flag pole, nearly losing your own life in the attempt, and now you have lured three carloads of men to a deserted village, where you have lost them. Oh, I've got to laugh—I can't help it!" And Phil did laugh, disturbed as he was over Teddy Tucker's repeated violation of what Phil believed to be the right and honorable way of doing business.

"Billy!" called Phil.

Mr. Conley responded promptly.

"I am not asking any questions. I do not want to know any more than I do about this business. I already know more than I wish I knew. I want to say, however, that when any more plans are made, any schemes hatched for outwitting our rivals, I shall appreciate being made acquainted with such plans before they are put into practice."

Teddy looked up in amazement. He had not the remotest idea that Phil even suspected who had been his accomplice. But the car manager had no need to be told. He was too shrewd not to suspect at once who it was that had carried out Teddy's suggestions and sidetracked the opposition where they would not get out for at least a whole day.

"Yes, sir," answered Billy meekly.

"I understand that the opposition are where they are likely to stay for sometime to come?"

"Yes, sir; so I understand."

"Oh, you do, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"You know all about it? Well, I thought as much. But I am sorry you have admitted it. That necessitates my reading you a severe lecture."

This Phil did, laying down the law as Conley never had supposed the Circus Boy could do. Billy repeated the lecture to the rest of the crew, later on, and all agreed that Phil Forrest, the young advance agent, had left nothing unsaid. Phil's stock rose correspondingly. A man who could "call down" his crew properly was a real car manager.

While the Sparling Show profited by Teddy's ruse, Phil felt unhappy that his advantage had come by reason of the falsehood that Teddy had told; and that night Phil read his young friend a severe lecture.

"If I find you doing a trick like that again," concluded Phil, "you close there and then."



CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

"Who is the man in charge of Sparling Advance Car Number Three?" demanded Mr. Starr, manager of "The Greatest Show on Earth."

"A young fellow named Forrest. That is all I know about him," answered the treasurer of the show.

"He used to be a performer and a good one, too," spoke up the assistant manager.

This conversation took place in the office tent of the show that Phil Forrest had been fighting almost ever since he took charge of Car Three.

"He is one of the best bareback riders who ever entered the forty-two foot ring," continued the assistant manager.

"What has he ever done before? I never heard of him."

"He has been with Sparling, I think, about five years. I understand he never did any circus work before that."

"I want that young man," announced the general manager decisively.

"Probably money will get him," smiled the treasurer.

"I do not wish to do anything to offend Sparling, for he is an old friend, and one of the best showmen in the country. I'll write him today, and see what he has to say. That young man, Forrest, or whatever his name may be, is giving us more trouble than we ever had before. He is practically putting our men all out of business. We shall have to change our route, or close, if he keeps on heading off our advance cars."

"It has come to a pretty pass, if a green boy with no previous experience is to defeat us. What is the matter with our advance men?" demanded the assistant manager.

"That is what I should like to know," answered Mr. Starr. "I will write Sparling today about this matter."

Weeks had passed and Car Three had worked its way across the plains, on into the mountainous country. Car managers had again been changed on the yellow car; another car had been sent in ahead of Phil, but to no better purpose than before.

Car Three moved on, making one brilliant dash after another, sometimes winning out by the narrowest margin and apparently by pure luck. Still, Phil Forrest and his loyal crew were never caught napping and were never headed off for more than a day at a time.

The season was drawing to a close. One day Phil received a wire from Mr. Sparling reading:

"Close at Deming, New Mexico, September fifteen."

"Boys, the end is in sight; and I, for one, shall be glad when we are through," announced Phil, appearing in the men's part of the car, where he read the telegram from the owner of the show.

The men set up a cheer.

"Now let's drive the other fellows off the map during these remaining two weeks."

How those men did work! No man on that car overslept during the rest of the trip. Phil seemed not to know the meaning of the word "tired." All hours of the night found him on duty, either watching the movements of his car or laying out work ahead, planning and scheming to outwit his rivals.

At last Car Three rolled into the station at Deming. It was a warm, balmy Fall day.

"Now burn the town up with your paper, boys," commanded Phil, after they had finished their breakfast. "Come in early tonight. I want all hands to drop paste pots and brushes tonight, and take dinner with me. It will not be at a contract hotel, either. Dinner at eight o'clock."

"Hooray!" exclaimed Teddy. "A real feed for once, fellows! No more meals at The Sign of the Tin Spoon this season!"

The crew of Car Three were not slow about getting in that night. Every man was on time. They dodged out of the car with bundles under their arms, got a refreshing bath, and spick and span in tailor-made clothes and clean linen, they presented themselves at the car just before eight o'clock.

"Hello! You boys do not look natural," hailed Phil, with a laugh. "But come along; I know you are hungry, and so am I."

The Circus Boy had arranged for a fine dinner at the leading hotel of the city, where he had engaged a private dining room for the evening.

It was a jolly meal. Everyone was happy in the consciousness of work well done, in the knowledge that they had outrivaled every opposition car that had been sent into their field.

The dinner was nearing its close when Phil rose and rapped for order.

"Boys," he said, "you have done great work. You have been loyal, and without your help I should have made a miserable failure of this work. You know how green I was, how little I really know about the advance work yet—"

Someone laughed.

"You need not laugh. I know it, whether you boys do or not. I asked you to dine with Teddy and myself here tonight, that I might tell you these things and thank you. If ever I am sent in advance again I hope you boys will be with me, every one of you."

"You bet we will!" shouted the men in chorus.

"And let me add that Mr. Sparling is not ungrateful for the work you have done this season. He has asked me to present you with a small expression of his appreciation. Teddy, will you please pass these envelopes to the boys? You will find their names written on the envelopes."

Tucker quickly distributed the little brown envelopes.

The men shouted. Each envelope held a crisp, new fifty-dollar bill.

"Three cheers for Boss Sparling!" cried Rosie the Pig, springing to his feet, waving the bill above his head.

The cheers were given with a will.

"I will bid you good-bye tonight," continued Phil. "Teddy and myself will take a late train for the East, after we get through. We are going back to join the show until it closes—"

"Wait a minute, Boss," interrupted Billy Conley, rising. "This show isn't over yet."

"The Band Concert in the main tent is about to begin."

Phil glanced at him inquiringly.

"All the natural curiosities, including the Missing Link and the Human Pig, will be on view. Take your seats in the center ring, immediately after the performance closes!"

Billy drew a package from his pocket and placed it on the table before him.

"Boss, the fellows have asked me to present to you a little expression of their good will—to the greatest advance agent that ever hit the iron trail. You've made us work like all possessed, but we love you almost to death, just the same. I present this gift to you with our compliments, Boss, and here also is a little remembrance for our friend, Spotted Horse, otherwise known as Teddy Tucker."

Billy sat down, and Phil, rising, accepted the gift. Opening the package he found a handsome gold watch and chain, his initials set in the back of the watch case in diamonds.

"Oh, boys, why did you do it?" gasped Phil, in an unsteady voice.

"I've got a diamond stick pin!" shouted Teddy triumphantly.

Phil's eyes were moist.

"Why—why did you—"

" 'Cause—'cause you're the best fellow that ever lived! Say, quit lookin' at me like that, or I'll blubber right out," stammered Billy, hastily pushing back his chair and walking over to the window.

"For he's a jolly good fellow!" struck up Rosie the Pig. All joined in the chorus, while Phil sat down helplessly, unable to say a word.

On the second morning thereafter the Circus Boys rejoined the Great Sparling Shows, where they were welcomed right royally. Teddy insisted in going on with his mule act that same day.

Even the donkey was glad to see Teddy. January evinced his pleasure at having his young master with him again by promptly kicking young Tucker through the side wall of the pad room, nearly breaking the Circus Boy's neck.

That day a letter came to Phil from The Greatest Show on Earth. After reading it, Phil hastened to his employer.

"I have a letter offering us both a contract with The Greatest for next season. What do you think of that, Mr. Sparling?" asked Phil with sparkling eyes.

Mr. Sparling did not appear to be surprised.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"Refuse it, of course. I prefer to stay with you."

"And I prefer to have you."

"I thought you would."

"But I shall ask you to accept; in fact, I wish you to do so. You will find the experience valuable. When you finish your season with the big show I shall have something of great importance to communicate to you, if you wish to return to us."

"Wish to?"

"Yes; so wire on your acceptance right away, my boy, then you and I will have a long talk."

So it was left. Phil went on with the show during the remaining four weeks, then the boys turned their faces homeward, where they planned to put in a busy winter practicing and studying.

Despite their reluctance to leave Mr. Sparling for a season, they were looking forward to the coming Spring when they were to join the other show. Their experiences there will be related in a following volume, entitled, "THE CIRCUS BOYS AT THE TOP; Or, Bossing the Greatest Show of All."

THE END