Then, there is only one thing to do."
"You mean he will have to be--"
"Yes, Dimples, he will have to be shot," answered Phil.
"But the audience?"
"Have a couple of attendants come in here and pretend to be
working over Jim. That will make the audience think the animal's
foot is injured rather than fatally hurt," suggested
Phil Forrest.
"A good idea," said Mr. Sparling, giving the necessary orders.
Tell them not to disturb the spot, not trample it down.
"Why?" questioned the showman in surprise.
"I'll tell you later. I have my own reasons."
Phil motioned to Teddy to approach.
"Sit down here in the ring and watch the horse and the men around
him," directed the Circus Boy. "I'll tell you why later."
The show went on with a snap and dash. Meanwhile, Phil, his
clothes torn, his face grimy with dirt, started down the
concourse toward the pad room, hand in hand with Little Dimples.
Their progress was a triumphal one so far as the audience was
concerned, for the people cheered them all the way and until the
slender riders had disappeared behind the crimson curtain just
beyond the bandstand.
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