Another one was forthcoming almost instantly. This time,
however, Mr. Sparling snatched it from the hands of the showman
who had made the wild cast.

"Idiot!" he roared, pushing the man aside.

Once more the coil sailed up, unrolling as it went. This time
Phil grasped it with his free hand, which he had liberated for
the purpose.

"Now, be careful," warned Mr. Sparling. "I don't know what you
think you're going to do; but whatever you start you're sure
to finish."

To this Phil made no reply. He was getting too weak to talk, and
his tired body trembled.

In the end of the key rope a big loop had been formed, this
after the tent was up, was slipped over a cleat to prevent a
possibility of the rope slipping its fastenings and letting the
tent down.

Phil had discovered the loop when it finally slipped up so his
one hand was pressed against the knot.

Every second the weight on his feet--on his whole body, in fact,
was getting heavier.

"If I can hold on a minute longer, I'll make it!" he muttered,