Mr. Man, I have a score to settle with
you and I'm going to begin the settling up now."
Phil crouched low. He was now only a few feet from the
stooping figure.
All at once the boy threw himself forward. He landed on the man,
forcing him to the ground. As he struck, Phil raised his voice
in the showmen's rallying cry.
"_Hey, Rube!_" he shouted in a sing-song voice that was heard in
the dressing tents and even out in the menagerie tent.
His first care, then, was to pinion the man so he could not use
his hands, for the Circus Boy knew that his captive had a knife
in one hand.
Men came running from all directions, Mr. Sparling among the
number, for he had been in the menagerie tent when the cry
reached him, and feared some fresh trouble was at hand.
"What is it? Where is it?" roared the showman.
"Here, here! Bring lights. Bring--"
The man beneath him began to struggle. In fact the fellow
staggered to his feet, the boy being too light to hold him down.
Phil grabbed him about the waist, pinioning the man's arms to
his sides. Then began a desperate struggle, during which the
combatants fell to the ground, rolling over and over in their
fierce battle.
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