THE SHOWMAN'S REWARD
Phil struck the net with a violent slap that was heard outside the big top, though those without did not understand the meaning of it, nor did they give it heed.
Mr.Sparling was the first to reach him.The lad had landed on his shoulders and then struck flat on his back, the proper way to fall into a net.Perhaps it was instinct that told him what to do.
The lad was unconscious when the showman lifted him tenderly from the net and laid him out on the ground.
"Up with that peak!" commanded Mr.Sparling."Get some water here, and don't crowd around him! Give the boy air! Tucker, you hike for the surgeon."A shove started Teddy for the surgeon.In the meantime Mr.Sparling was working over Phil, seeking to bring him back to consciousness, which he finally succeeded in doing before the surgeon arrived.
"Did I fall?" asked Phil, suddenly opening his eyes."A high dive," nodded Mr.Sparling.
Phil cast his eyes up to the dome where he saw the canvas drawing taut.He knew that he had succeeded and he smiled contentedly.
By the time the surgeon arrived the boy was on his feet."How do you feel?""I'm a little sore, Mr.Sparling.But I guess I'll be fit in a few minutes.""Able to walk over to my tent? If not, I'll have some of the fellows carry you.""Oh, no; I can walk if I can get my legs started moving.They don't seem to be working the way they should this morning," laughed the lad."My, that tent weighs something doesn't it?""It does," agreed the showman.
Just then the surgeon arrived.After a brief examination he announced that Phil was not injured, unless, perhaps, he might haveinjured himself internally by subjecting himself to the great strain of holding up the tent.
"I think some breakfast will put me right again," decided the lad."Haven't you had your breakfast yet?" demanded Mr.Sparling."No; I guess I've been too busy.""Come with me, then.I haven't had mine either," said the showman.