Mr. Snowden did not answer, for the very good reason that he
could not. His clothes were ruined.

"It looks like a storm," muttered the lad. In this he was
not mistaken.

A happy thought came to him. Springing up he hurried into the
car, and, drawing a pail of water from the tap, ran out with it.
Mr. Snowden had just scrambled to his feet.

"This will do you good," said Teddy, dashing the pail of water
over the manager's head. "That's the way you brought me back
when I got pasted up last night."

The Circus Boy ducked back to the platform and sat down to
await developments. They were not long in arriving. The instant
Snowden got the flour out of his eyes sufficiently to enable him
to see he began blinking in all directions.

Finally his eyes rested on Teddy Tucker, who was perched on a
brake wheel observing the manager's discomfiture.

"You!" exploded the manager. Grabbing up the paddle used for the
purpose of stirring paste he started for the Circus Boy.

Teddy promptly slid from the brake wheel and quickly got to the
other side of the car. Snowden was after him with an angry roar,
brandishing the paddle above his head.