Just now there was unusual activity about the grounds. Men in
gaudy uniforms, clowns in full makeup, and women with long
glistening trains, glittering with spangles from head to feet,
were moving about, while men were decorating the horses with
bright blankets and fancy headdress.

"What are they going to do?" asked Phil of a showman.

"Going to parade."

"Oh, yes, that's so; I had forgotten about that."

"Hello, boy--I've forgotten your name--"

"Forrest," explained Phil, turning. The speaker was Mr.
Sparling's assistant, whom the lad had seen just after saving the
lion cage from turning over.

"Can you blow a horn as well as you can stop a wagon?"

"Depends upon what kind of a horn. I think I can make as much
noise on a fish horn as anyone else."

"That'll do as well as anything else. Want to go in the parade?"

"I'd love to!" The color leaped to the cheeks of Phil Forrest
and a sparkle to his eyes. This was going beyond his fondest
dreams.

The assistant motioned to a clown.