"Don't blame him; blame the mule," advised Mr. Miaco, the
head clown.

"Yes; Teddy wasn't to blame," declared Phil, who had entered at
that moment. "Did he do all this?" he asked, looking about at
the scene of disorder.

"He did. Lucky some of us weren't killed," declared one.
"If that mule isn't cut out of the programme I'll quit
this outfit. Never safe a minute while he and the kid
are around. First, the kid gets us into a scrimmage with the
roustabouts, then he slam bangs into the dressing tent with a
fool mule and puts the whole business out of the running."

"Was Mr. Sparling--was he mad?" asked Phil, laughing until the
tears started.

"Mad? He was red headed," replied Miaco.

"Where's Teddy?"

"He got stuck in the strong man's trunk there. The boss had to
pull him out, for he was wedged fast. Then the young man
prudently made his escape. If the boss hadn't skinned him we
would have done so. He got out just in time."

"Are you Phil Forrest?" asked a uniformed attendant entering the
dressing tent.

"Yes; what is it?"