Under the big top, however, one could not see half its length.
The lights there would not be turned on for fifteen or twenty
minutes yet. Not a person was in sight as Phil entered the tent,
making his way slowly down the concourse. He paused half-way
down, seating himself on a grandstand chair in one of the arena
boxes, where he thought over the latest exploit of the
show's enemy.
"This time they were not after me, but after the outfit itself,"
he muttered. "That is the time the fellow showed his hand, and
it gives me an idea. I--hello, there is someone who acts as if
he did not wish to be seen."
Phil sat still and watched. Someone had slipped in under the
tent down at the other end, directly across the arena from where
the bandstand was located. It had now become so dark in the tent
that Phil could not make out the fellow's features. In fact, the
man was a mere shadow.
"I wonder what he is doing there?"
Then a thought struck Phil Forrest like a blow.
"That's where they put the big net between performances."
Phil crept down into the arena and made his way back to the
entrance to the menagerie tent, where he quickly slipped out
into the open and ran down along the outside of the big top
at his best speed.
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