Phil's trunk, it will be remembered, was close by that
of the clown's. The Circus Boy took advantage of the
opportunity to peep into the open trunk while Diaz was
rummaging over its contents. So absorbed did Phil become
in his own investigation that he forgot for the moment
that the owner of the trunk might resent such curiosity.
All at once Phil glanced down at the clown. He found the
dark eyes of Diaz fixed upon him, and the lad flushed in
spite of himself.
Diaz slowly rose to his feet. Thrusting his face close to that
of the lad he peered into the boy's face.
"What you want?"
"Nothing, thank you."
"You look for something in the trunk of Diaz, eh?"
"Perhaps."
"What for you look?"
"Maybe I was looking for an egg. Maybe I thought the clown
Diaz carried a supply of freshly laid eggs in his dressing-room
trunk," said Phil in a tone too low for the others to catch, all
the time holding the eyes of the clown in a steady gaze.
The eyes of the clown expressed surprise, but there was so much
grease paint and powder on his face that the boy could not tell
whether the fellow had flushed or not.
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