"What do you know?"
"Look here," said Teddy, pointing to a depression in the
sawdust arena.
Phil bent over, examining the spot closely. When he rose, his
lips were tightly compressed and his face was pale.
"Don't mention this to anyone, Teddy. Promise me?"
" 'Course I won't tell. Why should I? But I found out about it,
didn't I?"
"Yes; at least you have made a pretty good start in
that direction. I shall have to tell Mr. Sparling.
It would not be right to keep this information from him."
"N-n-o-o. Then maybe he'll organize a posse to hunt for my egg."
"Oh, hang your old egg!"
The Roman chariot races were on, the rattle of the wheels, the
shouts of the drivers drowning the voices of the two boys.
"Teddy, you'll have to get back and change your clothes.
The performance is about over. That makes me think. I have on
my ring clothes under this suit and I must hurry back to my bath
and my change."
The performance closed and the rattle and bang of tearing down
the big white city had begun. The boys were engaged in packing
their trunks now, as were most of their fellow performers.
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