"Going to be," nodded Teddy decisively, as if the matter were
already settled.

"Oh, you are, eh?"

"Uh-huh!"

"When?"

"I don't know. Someday--someday when I get old enough, maybe."

Phil Forrest surveyed his companion with a half critical smile on
his face.

"What are you going to do--be a trapeze performer or what?"

"Well," reflected the lad wisely, "maybe I shall be an 'Or What.'
I'm not sure. Sometimes I think I should like to be the fellow
who cracks the whip with the long lash and makes the clowns hop
around on one foot--"

"You mean the ringmaster?"

"I guess that's the fellow. He makes 'em all get around lively.
Then, sometimes, I think I would rather be a clown. I can skin a
cat on the flying rings to beat the band, now. What would you
rather be, Phil?"

"Me? Oh, something up in the air--high up near the peak of the
tent--something thrilling that would make the people sit up on