CHAPTER

I The Boys Hear Good News II On The Road Once More III Phil to Rescue IV Renewing Old Acquaintances V Doing a Man's Work VI The Showman's Reward VII Trying The Culprit VIII Phil Makes a New Friend IX The Mule Distinguishes Himself X His First Bareback Lesson XI Summoned Before The Manager XII The Human Football XIII Ducked by an Elephant XIV In Dire Peril XV Emperor to The Rescue XVI An Unexpected Promotion XVII The Circus Boys Win New Laurels XVIII Doing a Double Somersault XIX Marooned in a Freight Car XX The Barnyard Circus XXI When The Crash Came XXII What Happened to a Pacemaker XXIII Searching The Train XXIV Conclusion

The Circus Boys Across the Continent

CHAPTER I

THE BOYS HEAR GOOD NEWS

"You never can guess it—you never can guess the news, Teddy," cried Phil Forrest, rushing into the gymnasium, his face flushed with excitement.

Teddy Tucker, clad in a pair of linen working trunks and a ragged, sleeveless shirt, both garments much the worse for their winter's wear, was lazily swinging a pair of Indian clubs.

"What is it, some kind of riddle, Phil?" he questioned, bringing the clubs down to his sides.

"Do be serious for a minute, won't you?"

"Me, serious? Why, I never cracked a smile. Isn't anything to smile at. Besides, do you know, since I've been in the circus business, every time I want to laugh I check myself so suddenly that it hurts?"

"How's that?"

"Because I think I've still got my makeup on and that I'll crack it if I laugh."

"What, your face?"

"My face? No! My makeup. By the time I remember that I haven't any makeup on I've usually forgotten what it was I wanted to laugh about. Then I don't laugh."

Teddy shied an Indian club at a rat that was scurrying across the far end of their gymnasium, missing him by half the width of the building.

"If you don't care, of course I shan't tell you. But it's good news, Teddy. You would say so if you knew it."

"What news? Haven't heard anything that sounds like news," his eyes fixed on the hole into which the rat had disappeared.

"You can't guess where we are going this summer?"

"Going? Don't have to guess. I know," answered the lad with an emphasizing nod.

"Where do you think?"

"We're going out with the Great Sparling Combined Shows, of course. Didn't we sign out for the season before we closed with the show last fall?"

"Yes, yes; but where?" urged Phil, showing him the letter he had just brought from the post office. "You couldn't guess if you tried."

"No. Never was a good guesser. That letter from Mr. Sparling?" he questioned, as his eyes caught the familiar red and gold heading used by the owner of the show.

"Yes."

"What's he want?"

"You know I wrote to him asking that we be allowed to skip the rehearsals before the show starts out, so that we could stay here and take our school examinations?"

Teddy nodded.

"I'd rather join the show," he grumbled.

"Never did see anything about school to go crazy over."

"You'll thank me someday for keeping you at it," said Phil. "See how well you have done this winter with your school work. I'm proud of you. Why, Teddy, there are lots of the boys a long way behind you. They can't say circus boys don't know anything just because they perform in a circus ring."

"H-m-m-m!" mused Teddy. "You haven't told me yet where we are going this summer. What's the route?"

"Mr. Sparling says that, as we are going to continue our last year's acts this season, there will be no necessity for rehearsals."

The announcement did not appear to have filled Teddy Tucker with joy.

"We do the flying rings again, then?"

"Yes. And we shall be able to give a performance that will surprise Mr. Sparling. Our winter's practicing has done a lot for us, as has our winter at school."

"Oh, I don't know."

"You probably will ride the educated mule again, while I expect to ride the elephant Emperor in the grand entry, as I did before. I'll be glad to get under the big top again, with the noise and the people, the music of the band and all that. Won't you, Teddy?" questioned Phil, his eyes glowing at the picture he had drawn.

Teddy heaved a deep sigh.

"Quit it!"

"Why?"

" 'Cause you make me think I'm there now."

Phil laughed softly.

"I can see myself riding the educated mule this very minute, kicking up the dust of the ring, making everybody get out of the way, and—"

"And falling off," laughed Phil. "You certainly are the most finished artist in the show when it comes to getting into trouble."

"Yes; I seem to keep things going," grinned the lad.

"But I haven't told you all that Mr. Sparling says in the letter."

"What else does he say?"

"That the show is to start from its winter quarters, just outside of Germantown, Pennsylvania, on April twenty-second—"

"Let's see; just two weeks from today," nodded Teddy.

"Yes."

"I wish it was today."

"He says we are to report on the twenty-first, as the show leaves early in the evening."

"Where do we show first?"

"Atlantic City. Then we take in the Jersey Coast towns—"

"Do we go to New York?"

"New York? Oh, no! The show isn't big enough for New York quite yet, even if it is a railroad show now. We've got to grow some before that. Mighty few shows are large enough to warrant taking them into the big city."

"How do you know?"

"All the show people say that."

"Pshaw! I'd sure make a hit in New York with the mule."

"Time enough for that later. You and I will yet perform in Madison Square Garden. Just put that down on your route card, Teddy Tucker."

"Humph! If we don't break our necks before that! Where did you say we were—"

"After leaving New Jersey, we are to play through New York State, taking in the big as well as the small towns, and from Buffalo heading straight west. Mr. Sparling writes that we are going across the continent."

"What?"

"Says he's going to make the Sparling Shows known from the Atlantic to the Pacific—"

"Across the continent!" exclaimed Teddy unbelievingly. "No; you're fooling."

"Yes; clear to the Pacific Coast. We're going to San Francisco, too. What do you think of that, Teddy?"

"Great! Wow! Whoop!" howled the boy, hurling his remaining Indian Club far up among the rafters of the gymnasium, whence it came clattering down, both lads laughing gleefully.

"We're going to see the country this time, and we shan't have to sleep out in an open canvas wagon, either."

"Where shall we sleep?"

"Probably in a car."

"It won't be half so much fun," objected Teddy.

"I imagine the life will be different. Perhaps we shall not have so much fun, but we'll have the satisfaction of knowing that we are part of a real show. It will mean a lot to us to be with an organization like that. It will give us a better standing in the profession, and possibly by another season we may be able to get with one of the really big ones. Next spring, if we have good luck, we shall have finished with our school here. If they'll have us, we'll try to join out with one of them. In the meantime we must work hard, Teddy, so we shall be in fine shape when we join out two weeks from today. Come on; I'll wrestle you a few falls."

"Done," exclaimed Teddy.

Phil promptly threw off his coat and vest. A few minutes later the lads were struggling on the wrestling mat, their faces dripping with perspiration, their supple young figures twisting and turning as each struggled for the mastery of the other.

The readers of the preceding volume in this series, entitled, THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE FLYING RINGS, will recognize Phil and Teddy at once as the lads who had so unexpectedly joined the Sparling Combined Shows the previous summer. It was Phil who, by his ready resourcefulness, saved the life of the wife of the owner of the show as well as that of an animal trainer later on. Then, too, it will be remembered how the lad became the fast friend of the great elephant Emperor, which he rescued from "jail," and with which he performed in the ring to the delight of thousands. Ere the close of the season both boys had won their way to the flying rings, thus becoming full-fledged circus performers. Before leaving the show they had signed out for another season at a liberal salary.

With their savings, which amounted to a few hundred dollars, the boys had returned to their home at Edmeston, there to put in the winter at school.

That they might lose nothing of their fine physical condition, the Circus Boys had rented an old carpenter shop, which they rigged up as a gymnasium, fitting it with flying rings, trapeze bars and such other equipment as would serve to keep them in trim for the coming season's work.

Here Phil and Teddy had worked long hours after school. During the winter they had gained marked improvement in their work, besides developing some entirely new acts on the flying rings. During this time they had been living with Mrs. Cahill, who, it will be remembered, had proved herself a real friend to the motherless boys.

Now, the long-looked-for day was almost at hand when they should once more join the canvas city for a life in the open.

The next two weeks were busy ones for the lads, with their practice and the hard study incident to approaching examinations. Both boys passed with high standing. Books were put away, gymnasium apparatus stored and one sunlit morning two slender, manly looking young fellows, their faces reflecting perfect health and happiness, were at the railroad station waiting for the train which should bear them to the winter quarters of the show.

Fully half the town had gathered to see them off, for Edmeston was justly proud of its Circus Boys. As the train finally drew up and the lads clambered aboard, their school companions set up a mighty shout, with three cheers for the Circus Boys.

"Don't stick your head in the lion's mouth, Teddy!" was the parting salute Phil and Teddy received from the boys as the train drew out.

"Well, Teddy, we're headed for the Golden Gate at last!" glowed Phil.

"You bet!" agreed Teddy with more force than elegance.

"I wonder if old Emperor will remember me, Teddy?"

"Sure thing! But, do you think that 'fool mule,' as Mr. Sparling calls him, will remember me? Or will he want to kick me full of holes before the season has really opened?"

"I shouldn't place too much dependence on a mule," laughed Phil. "Come on; let's go inside and sit down."

CHAPTER II

ON THE ROAD ONCE MORE

All was bustle and excitement.

Men were rushing here and there, shouting out hoarse commands. Elephants were trumpeting shrilly, horses neighing; while, from many a canvas-wrapped wagon savage beasts of the jungle were emitting roar upon roar, all voicing their angry protest at being removed from the winter quarters where they had been at rest for the past six months.

The Great Sparling Combined Shows were moving out for their long summer's journey. The long trains were being rapidly loaded when Phil Forrest and Teddy Tucker arrived on the scene late in the afternoon.

It was all new and strange to them, unused as they were to the ways of a railroad show. Their baggage had been sent on ahead of them, so they did not have that to bother with. Each carried a suitcase, however, and the boys were now trying to find someone in authority to ask where they should go and what they should do.

"Hello, Phil, old boy!" howled a familiar voice.

"Who's that?" demanded Teddy.

"Why, it's Rod Palmer, our working mate on the rings!" cried Phil, dropping his bag and darting across the tracks, where he had espied a shock of very red hair that he knew could belong only to Rodney Palmer.

Teddy strolled over with rather more dignity.

"Howdy?" he greeted just as Phil and the red-haired boy were wringing each other's hands. "Anybody'd think you two were long lost brothers."

"We are, aren't we, Rod?" glowed Phil.

"And we have been, ever since you boys showed me the brook where I could wash my face back in that tank town where you two lived. That was last summer. Seems like it was yesterday."

"Yes, and we work together again, I hear? I'm glad of that. I guess you've been doing something this winter," decided Rodney, after a critical survey of the lads. "You sure are both in fine condition. Quite a little lighter than you were last season, aren't you, Phil?"

"No; I weigh ten pounds more."

"Then you must be mighty hard."

"Hard as a keg of nails, but I hope not quite so stiff," laughed Phil.

"What you been working at?"

"Rings, mostly. We've done some practicing on the trapeze. What did you do all winter?"

"Me? Oh, I joined a team that was playing vaudeville houses. I was the second man in a ring act. Made good money and saved most of it. Why didn't you join out for the vaudeville?"

"We spent our winter at school," answered Phil.

"That's a good stunt at that. In the tank town, I suppose?" grinned the red-haired boy.

"You might call it that, but it's a pretty good town, just the same," replied Phil. "I saw many worse ones while we were out last season."

"And you'll see a lot more this season. Wait till we get to playing some of those way-back western towns. I was out there with a show once, and I know what I'm talking about. Where are you berthed?"

"I don't know," answered Phil. "Where are you?"

"Car number fourteen. Haven't seen the old man, then?"

"Mr. Sparling? No. And I want to see him at once. Where shall I find him?"

"He was here half an hour ago. Maybe he's in his office."

"Where is that?"

"Private car number one. Yes; the old man has his own elegant car this season. He's living high, I tell you. No more sleeping out in an old wagon that has no springs. It will be great to get into a real bed every night, won't it?"

Teddy shook his head doubtfully.

"I don't know 'bout that."

"I should think it would be pretty warm on a hot night," nodded Phil.

"And what about the rainy nights?" laughed Rodney. "Taking it altogether, I guess I'll take the Pullman for mine—"

"There goes Mr. Sparling now," interjected Teddy.

"Where?"

"Just climbing aboard a car. See him?"

"That's number one," advised Rodney. "Better skip, if you want to catch him. He's hard to land today. There's a lot for him to look after."

"Yes; come on, Teddy. Get your grip," said Phil, hurrying over to where he had dropped his suitcase.

"But it's going to be a great show," called Rodney.

"Especially the flying-ring act," laughed Phil.

A few minutes later both boys climbed aboard the private car, and, leaving their bags on the platform, pushed open the door and entered.

Mr. Sparling was seated at a roll-top desk in an office-like compartment, frowning over some document that he held in his hand.

The boys waited until he should look up. He did so suddenly, peering at them from beneath his heavy eyebrows. Phil was not sure, from the showman's expression, whether he had recognized them or not. Mr. Sparling answered this question almost at once.

"How are you, Forrest? Well, Tucker, I suppose you've come back primed to put my whole show to the bad, eh?"

"Maybe," answered Teddy carelessly.

"Oh, maybe, eh? So that's the way the flag's blowing, is it? Well, you let me catch you doing it and—stand up here, you two, and let me look at you."

He gazed long and searchingly at the Circus Boys, noting every line of their slender, shapely figures.

"You'll do," he growled.

"Yes, sir," answered Phil, smiling.

"Shake hands."

Mr. Sparling thrust out both hands toward them with almost disconcerting suddenness.

"Ouch!" howled Teddy, writhing under the grip the showman gave him, but if Phil got a pressure of equal force he made no sign.

"Where's your baggage?"

"We sent our trunks on yesterday. I presume they are here somewhere, sir."

"If they're not in your car, let me know."

"If you will be good enough to tell me where our car is I will find out at once."

The showman consulted a typewritten list.

"You are both in car number eleven. The porter will show you the berths that have been assigned to you, and I hope you will both obey the rules of the cars."

"Oh, yes, sir," answered Phil.

"I know you will, but I'm not so sure of your fat friend here. I think it might be a good plan to tie him in his berth, or he'll be falling off the platform some night, get under the wheels and wreck the train."

"I don't walk in my sleep," answered Teddy.

"Oh, you don't?"

"I don't."

Mr. Sparling frowned; then his face broke out into a broad smile.

"I always said you were hopeless. Run along, and get settled now. You understand that you will keep your berth all season, don't you?"

"Yes, sir. What time do we go out?"

"One section has already gone. The next and last will leave tonight about ten o'clock. We want to make an early start, for the labor is all green. It'll take three times as long to put up the rag as usual."

"The rag? What's the rag?" questioned Teddy.

"Beg pardon," mocked Mr. Sparling. "I had forgotten that you are still a Reuben. A rag is a tent, in show parlance."

"Oh!"

"Any orders after we get settled?" asked Phil.

"Nothing for you to do till parade time tomorrow. You will look to the same executives that you did last year. There has been no change in them."

The lads hurried from the private car, and after searching about the railroad yard for fully half an hour they came upon car number eleven. This was a bright, orange-colored car with the name of the Sparling Shows painted in gilt letters near the roof, just under the eaves. The smell of fresh paint was everywhere, but the wagons being covered with canvas made it impossible for them to see how the new wagons looked. There were many of these loaded on flat cars, with which the railroad yard seemed to be filled.

"Looks bigger than Barnum & Bailey's," nodded Teddy, feeling a growing pride that he was connected with so great an organization.

"Not quite, I guess," replied Phil, mounting the platform of number eleven.

The boys introduced themselves to the porter, who showed them to their berths. These were much like those in the ordinary sleeper, except that the upper berths had narrow windows looking out from them. Across each berth was stretched a strong piece of twine.

Phil asked the porter what the string was for.

"To hang your trousers on, sah," was the enlightening answer. "There's hooks for the rest of your clothes just outside the berths."

"This looks pretty good to me," said Phil, peering out through the screened window of his berth.

"Reminds me of when I used to go to sleep in the woodbox behind the stove where I lived last year in Edmeston," grumbled Teddy in a muffled voice, as he rummaged about his berth trying to accustom himself to it. Teddy never had ridden in a sleeping car, so it was all new and strange to him.

"Say, who sleeps upstairs?" he called to the porter.

"The performers, sah—some of them. This heah is the performers' car, sah."

"How do they get up there? On a rope ladder?"

Phil shouted.

"You ninny, this isn't a circus performance. No; of course they don't climb up on a rope ladder as if they were starting a trapeze act."

"How, then?"

"The porter brings out a little step ladder, and it's just like walking upstairs, only it isn't."

"Huh!" grunted Teddy. "Do they have a net under them all night?"

"A net? What for?"

"Case they fall out of bed."

"Put him out!" shouted several performers who were engaged in settling themselves in their own quarters. "He's too new for this outfit."

Phil drew his companion aside and read him a lecture on not asking so many questions, advising Teddy to keep his ears and eyes open instead.

Teddy grumbled and returned to the work of unpacking his bag.

Inquiry for their trunks developed the fact that they would have to look for these in the baggage car; that no trunks were allowed in the sleepers.

Everything about the car was new and fresh, the linen white and clean, while the wash room, with its mahogany trimmings, plate glass mirrors and upholstered seats, was quite the most elaborate thing that Teddy had ever seen.

He called to Phil to come and look at it.

"Yes, it is very handsome. I am sure we shall get to be very fond of our home on wheels before the season is ended. I'm going out now to see if our trunks have arrived."

Phil, after some hunting about, succeeded in finding the baggage man of the train, from whom he learned that the trunks had arrived and were packed away in the baggage car.