The showman grabbed Phil, and as a helper lifted the bottom of
the tent's side wall, Mr. Sparling ran to his own small tent with
the unconscious Phil.

"Fetch a pail of water."

Teddy ran for the cook tent to get the water. He was amazed to
find no cook tent there. Instead, there remained only the open
plot of grass, trampled down, with a litter of papers and refuse
scattered about.

By the time he had dashed back to the tent to inquire where he
could find a pail, one of the showmen had brought some water and
Mr. Sparling was bathing Phil's face with it.

He had made a hasty examination of the unconscious boy's wounds,
which he did not believe were serious.

Phil soon came to, and by that time the show's doctor had
arrived, having been in attendance on the wounded animal trainer.

"No; he'll be sore for a few days, but there's nothing dangerous
about those scratches, I should say. I'll dress the wounds and
he can go on about his business," was the surgeon's verdict.

"I've got to ride Emperor in tonight," objected Phil.

"You'll do nothing of the sort. You'll get into my wagon and go
to bed. That's what you will do, and right quick, at that."