It was two to one.

"Stand back unless you want to get hurt!" cried Phil, with a
warning glint in his eyes.

Larry, by way of answer, struck viciously at him. Phil, with a
glance about him, saw that he could not expect help, for there
was no one in sight, the performers being engaged at that moment
in driving off the angry laborers, which they were succeeding in
doing with no great effort on their part.

The lad cleverly dodged the blow. But instead of backing away
as the canvasman's fist barely grazed his cheek, Phil, with a
short arm jolt, caught his adversary on the point of his chin.
Larry instantly lost all desire for fight. He sat down on the
hard ground with a bump.

Now Bad Eye rushed in. Again Phil sidestepped, and, thrusting a
foot between the fellow's legs, tripped him neatly.

Half a dozen men came running from the paddock. They were the
fellows whom the performers had put to rout. At that moment the
bugle blew for all hands to prepare for the parade.

"I guess I have done about enough for one day," decided Phil.
"And for a sick man it wasn't a half bad job."

With an amused glance at his fallen adversaries Phil ran to the
big top, less than a rod away, and, lifting the sidewall, slipped