Phil was halted by the assistant manager.

The lad glanced down rather sheepishly at his costume, which was
hanging in tatters, then up at the quizzically smiling face of
the showman.

"I--I'm sorry I've spoiled it, sir, but I couldn't help it."

"Don't worry about that, young man. How did it happen?" he
questioned, pretending not to know anything about the occurrence
in which Phil had played a leading part.

"Well, you see, there was a horse ran away, and I happened to get
in the way of it. I--"

"Yes, Forrest, I understand all about it. Somebody did something
to that animal to make it run away and the boss is red headed
over it."

"I--I didn't."

"No, that's right. It was lucky that there was one person in the
parade who had some sense left, or there would have been a dead
woman with this outfit," growled the assistant.

"Was she badly hurt?"

"No. Only bruised up a bit. These show people get used to hard
knocks."