The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings Part 31

"Oh, I don't know. Circus people sleep when there isn't anything else to do. Where we going to sleep?"

"Same place, I presume, if no one gets ahead of us."

"They'd better not. I'll throw them out if they do."

Phil laughed good-naturedly.

"If I remember correctly, somebody was thrown out last night and this morning, but it didn't happen to be the other fellow. I'm hungry; wish I had something to eat."

"So am I," agreed Teddy.

"You boys should get a sandwich or so and keep the stuff in your trunk while we are playing these country towns. When we get into the cities, where they have restaurants, you can get a lunch downtown after you have finished your act and then be back in time to go out with the wagons," Mr. Miaco informed them.

"You'll pick up these little tricks as we go along, and it won't be long before you are full-fledged showmen. You are pretty near that point already."

The lads strolled out on the lot and began hunting for their wagon. They found nothing that looked like it for sometime and had about concluded that the canvas wagon had gone, when they chanced to come across the driver of the previous night, who directed them to where they would find it.

"The wagon isn't loaded yet. You'll have to wait half an hour or so," he said.

They thanked him and went on in the direction indicated, where they soon found that which they were in search of.

"I think we had better wait here until it is loaded," advised Phil, throwing himself down on the ground.

"This having to hunt around over a ten-acre lot for your bedroom every night isn't as much fun as you would think, is it?" grinned Teddy.

"Might be worse. I have an idea we haven't begun to experience the real hardships of the circus life." And indeed they had not.

Soon after that the wagon was loaded, and, bidding the driver a cheery good night, the circus boys tumbled in and crawled under the canvas.

They were awakened sometime before daylight by a sudden heavy downpour of rain. The boys were soaked to the skin, the water having run in under the canvas until they were lying in a puddle of water.

There was thunder and lightning. Phil scrambled out first and glanced up at the driver, who, clothed in oilskins, was huddled on his seat fast asleep. He did not seem to be aware that there was anything unusual about the weather.

"I wish I was home," growled Teddy.

"Well, I don't. Bad as it is, it's better than some other things that I know of. I'll tell you what I'll do--I'll get rubber coats for us both when we get in in the morning."

"Got the money?"

"That's so. I had forgotten that," laughed Phil. "I never thought that I should need money to buy a coat with. We'll have to wait until payday. I wonder when that is?"

"Ask Mr. Sparling."

"No; I would rather not."

"All right; get wet then."

"I am. I couldn't be any more so were I to jump in the mill pond at home," laughed Phil.

Home! It seemed a long way off to these two friendless, or at least homeless, boys, though the little village of Edmeston was less than thirty miles away.

The show did not get in to the next town until sometime after daylight, owing to the heavy condition of the roads. The cook tent was up when they arrived and the lads lost no time in scrambling from the wagon. They did not have to be thrown out this morning.

"Come on," shouted Phil, making a run for the protection of the cook tent, for the rain was coming down in sheets.

Teddy was not far behind.

"I'm the coffee boy. Where's the coffee?" he shouted.

"Have it in a few minutes," answered the attendant who had been so kind to them the previous morning. "Here, you boys, get over by the steam boiler there and dry out your clothes," he added, noting that their teeth were chattering.

"Wish somebody would pour a pail of water over me," shivered Teddy.

"Water? What for?"

"To wash the rain off. I'm soaked," he answered humorously.

They huddled around the steam boiler, the warmth from which they found very comforting in their bedraggled condition.

"I'm steaming like an engine," laughed Phil, taking off his coat and holding it near the boiler.

"Yes; I've got enough of it in my clothes to run a sawmill,"

agreed Teddy. "How about that coffee?"

"Here it is."

After helping themselves they felt much better. Phil, after a time, walked to the entrance of the cook tent and looked out. The same bustle and excitement as on the previous two days was noticeable everywhere, and the men worked as if utterly oblivious of the fact that the rain was falling in torrents.

"Do we parade today?" called Phil, observing Mr. Sparling hurrying past wrapped in oilskins and slouch hat.

"This show gives a parade and two performances a day, rain, shine, snow or earthquake," was the emphatic answer. "Come over to my tent in half an hour. I have something to say to you."

Phil ran across to Mr. Sparling's tent at the expiration of half an hour, but he was ahead of time evidently, for the showman was not there. Nice dry straw had been piled on the ground in the little tent to take up the moisture, giving it a cosy, comfortable look inside.

"This wouldn't be a half bad place to sleep," decided Phil, looking about him. "I don't suppose we ever play the same town two nights in succession. I must find out."

Mr. Sparling bustled in at this point, stripping off his wet oilskins and hanging them on a hook on the tent pole at the further end.

"Where'd you sleep?"

"In wagon No. 10."

"Get wet?"

"Very."

"Humph!"

"We dried out in the cook tent when we got in. It might have been worse."