sleep again.

Phil sprang from the pile of papers on which he had been
sleeping, landing lightly on the floor in his bare feet.

"Good morning, Mr. Snowden. I hope you had a good night's
sleep," greeted the Circus Boy.

Snowden glared at the lad, as if trying to make up his mind
whether or not Phil was making sport of him. But there was
only pleasantness in the face of Phil Forrest.

"Huh!" grunted the manager. Then he once more began racing up
and down the car, roaring at his men, threatening and expressing
his opinion of them in the way with which Phil already had
become familiar.

Teddy lay curled up, with one foot protruding from beneath
the covers. Whether or not he had done this purposely, it
was difficult to decide. Be that as it may, Mr. Snowden
caught sight of the pink foot. He rose to the bait like a
bass to a fly.

In another second he had pounced upon the foot. Grabbing it
with both hands he gave it a violent tug. Tucker responded.
He came slipping from the "berth," throwing the quilts before
him as he did so. The quilts landed over the car manager's head.
Then came Teddy Tucker.

Ted landed, full on Mr. Snowden's head, with a wild yell.