most of which were promptly kicked through the side of the tent.
Teddy, in the meantime, had landed in a performer's trunk,
smashing
through the tray, being wedged in so tightly that he could not
extricate himself. Added to the din was Teddy's voice howling
for help.

The performers, in all stages of dress and undress, had fled to
the outside.

Then, the mule becoming suddenly meek, pricked forward his ears,
ambled out into the paddock and began contentedly nibbling at the
fresh grass about the edges of the enclosure.

About this time Mr. Sparling came running in. His face was red
and the perspiration was rolling down it.

"Where's that fool boy?" he bellowed. "Where is he, I say?"

"Here he is," answered the plaintive voice of Teddy Tucker.

"Come out of that!"

"I can't. I'm stuck fast."

The showman jerked him out with scant ceremony, while Teddy began
pulling pieces of the trunk tray out of his clothes.

"Do you want to put my show out of business? What do you think
this is--a cowboy picnic? I'll fire you. I'll--"