"I think it is going to storm," Phil confided to his working mate
on the flying trapeze.
"Sounds that way. Is that thunder I hear?"
"Yes."
"Guess it won't amount to much. Just a spring shower. You will
find a lot of them along the river for the next month or so."
"I have always heard that rivers were wet," replied Phil
humorously, swinging off into space, landing surely and
gracefully in the arms of the catcher in the trapeze act.
"I think we had better cut the act short."
"Oh, no, let's go on with it," answered Phil. "I am not afraid
if you are not."
"Afraid nothing. I remember still what a narrow escape we had
last season just before that blow-down, when Wallace, the big
lion, made his escape. That was a lively time, wasn't it?"
"Rather," agreed Phil.
The ringmaster motioned to them to bring their act to a close,
and the band leader, catching the significance of the movement,
urged his musicians to play louder. The crash of cymbals and the
boom of the bass drum and the big horns almost drowned out the
rumbling of the thunder.
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