Phil sprang into the first wagon to leave.

"Come on, fellows! Never mind the horses. I can buy more, if
these break their necks."

With a rattle and a bang both rigs smashed over the tracks,
and were on their way down the village street, each team on
a runaway gallop. Phil's team was gaining gradually.

"Hang on to the cans!" shouted the Circus Boy. "We are coming to
a bad crosswalk!"

People paused on the street, not understanding what the mad
pace meant. A policeman ran out and raised his stick.
Teddy, who had hopped on behind at the last minute, not wishing
to lose any of the fun, now stood up unsteadily, hanging to the
driver's coat collar and nearly pulling that worthy from
his seat.

They overhauled the first wagon from the canary car and
passed it.

"Ye--ow!" howled Teddy as their wagon swept by. "This is a Wild
West outfit!"

The paste cans in the two wagons were dancing a jig by this time.
Teddy suddenly lost his grip on the driver's collar, sitting down
heavily on the nearest can. At that moment they struck the rough
crossing, whereat Teddy shot up into the air, landing in a heap