Teddy, emerging from his hiding place. "I think I will go back
to work. I must earn my money somehow. That man is crazy, but I
have an idea he will be sane after I get through with him."

Teddy returned to his paste-making. Henry, the porter, was
so frightened that he hardly dared talk to Teddy, for fear
the manager might catch him doing so and vent his wrath on
the Englishman.

As the Circus Boy had surmised Mr. Snowden returned after a two
hours' absence, much chastened in spirit. He did not even look
at Teddy Tucker, though the latter was watching the manager out
of the corners of his eyes. Mr. Snowden went directly to his
stateroom where he locked himself in.

"I guess the storm has blown over," decided young Tucker,
grinning to himself. "But won't Phil raise an awful row when he
hears about it!"

The lad quickly learned the paste-making trick, and after dinner
he set to work in earnest. He found it hard work stirring the
stiff paste, and it seemed as if Teddy got the greater part of it
over his clothes and face. He was literally smeared with it,
great splashes of it disfiguring his face and matting his hair.

When the men from the country routes drove in there was a howl
of merriment. The lad did present a ludicrous sight.

"Hello, Spotted Horse!" shouted one of them.