look after."

"Yes; come on, Teddy. Get your grip," said Phil, hurrying over
to where he had dropped his suitcase.

"But it's going to be a great show," called Rodney.

"Especially the flying-ring act," laughed Phil.

A few minutes later both boys climbed aboard the private car,
and, leaving their bags on the platform, pushed open the door
and entered.

Mr. Sparling was seated at a roll-top desk in an office-like
compartment, frowning over some document that he held in
his hand.

The boys waited until he should look up. He did so suddenly,
peering at them from beneath his heavy eyebrows. Phil was not
sure, from the showman's expression, whether he had recognized
them or not. Mr. Sparling answered this question almost at once.

"How are you, Forrest? Well, Tucker, I suppose you've come back
primed to put my whole show to the bad, eh?"

"Maybe," answered Teddy carelessly.

"Oh, maybe, eh? So that's the way the flag's blowing, is it?
Well, you let me catch you doing it and--stand up here, you two,
and let me look at you."