the danger to those below him. If the tent should collapse some
of them would be killed, for there were now few quarter poles in
place to break the fall of the heavy canvas.

"I say, down there!" he cried, finally managing to make himself
heard above the uproar.

"Are you going to drop?" shouted Mr. Sparling.

"No; do you want me to let the tent drop on you? If you'll all
get out there'll be fewer hurt in case I have to let go."

"That boy!" groaned the showman.

"Toss me a line and be quick about it," called Phil shrilly.

"What can you do with a line?" demanded the showman, now more
excited than he had ever been in his life.

"Toss it!"

"Give him a line!"

"A strong one," warned Phil, his voice not nearly as far reaching
as it had been.

"A line!" bellowed Mr. Sparling. "He knows what he wants it for,
and he's got more sense than the whole bunch of us."

A coil of rope shot up. But it missed Phil by about six feet.