"I always said you were hopeless.Run along, and get settled now.You understand that you will keep your berth all season, don't you?""Yes, sir.What time do we go out?"
"One section has already gone.The next and last will leave tonight about ten o'clock.We want to make an early start, for the labor is all green.It'll take three times as long to put up the rag as usual.""The rag?What's the rag?" questioned Teddy.
"Beg pardon," mocked Mr.Sparling."I had forgotten that you are still a Reuben.A rag is a tent, in show parlance.""Oh!"
"Any orders after we get settled?" asked Phil.
"Nothing for you to do till parade time tomorrow.You will look to the same executives that you did last year.There has been no change in them."The lads hurried from the private car, and after searching about the railroad yard for fully half an hour they came upon car number eleven.This was a bright, orange-colored car with the name of the Sparling Shows painted in gilt letters near the roof, just under the eaves.The smell of fresh paint was everywhere, but the wagons being covered with canvasmade it impossible for them to see how the new wagons looked.There were many of these loaded on flat cars, with which the railroad yard seemed to be filled.
"Looks bigger than Barnum & Bailey's," nodded Teddy, feeling a growing pride that he was connected with so great an organization.
"Not quite, I guess," replied Phil, mounting the platform of number eleven.
The boys introduced themselves to the porter, who showed them to their berths.These were much like those in the ordinary sleeper, except that the upper berths had narrow windows looking out from them.Across each berth was stretched a strong piece of twine.
Phil asked the porter what the string was for.