"Toss me a line and be quick about it," called Phil shrilly.
"What can you do with a line?" demanded the showman, now more excited than he had ever been in his life.
"Toss it!"
"Give him a line!"
"A strong one," warned Phil, his voice not nearly as far reaching as it had been.
"A line!" bellowed Mr.Sparling."He knows what he wants it for, and he's got more sense than the whole bunch of us."A coil of rope shot up.But it missed Phil by about six feet.
Another one was forthcoming almost instantly.This time, however,Mr.Sparling snatched it from the hands of the showman who had made the wild cast.
"Idiot!" he roared, pushing the man aside.
Once more the coil sailed up, unrolling as it went.This time Phil grasped it with his free hand, which he had liberated for the purpose.
"Now, be careful," warned Mr.Sparling."I don't know what you think you're going to do; but whatever you start you're sure to finish."To this Phil made no reply.He was getting too weak to talk, and his tired body trembled.
In the end of the key rope a big loop had been formed, this after the tent was up, was slipped over a cleat to prevent a possibility of the rope slipping its fastenings and letting the tent down.
Phil had discovered the loop when it finally slipped up so his one hand was pressed against the knot.
Every second the weight on his feet--on his whole body, in fact, was getting heavier.