In doing so, however, Phil had had no thought for his own safety.
He plunged forward over the head of the ring horse, striking the
ground on his head and face.
The force of his fall had been broken somewhat by his quickly
throwing out his hands in front of him and relaxing the muscles
of his body. Circus performers soon learn how to fall--how to
make the best of every situation with which they are confronted.
Despite this, his fall had been a severe and dangerous one.
"There, he has done it! I knew he would," cried Mr. Sparling,
rushing to the ring. Quick as he was, Dimples was ahead of him.
She leaped the ring curbing and dropped down beside him, not
caring for the dust and the dirt that soiled her pretty costume.
"Phil! Phil!" she cried.
Phil did not answer at the moment.
"Is he hurt--is he killed?" demanded Mr. Sparling excitedly.
"Of course he is hurt. Can't you see he is?" answered
Dimples testily.
She turned the boy over and looked into his face. The dirt
was so ground into the handsome, boyish face as to make it
scarcely recognizable.
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