CHAPTER XIX
MAROONED IN A FREIGHT CAR
"Catch him! Catch him! Catch that man!"
The parade was just passing when Phil shouted out the wordsthat attracted all eyes toward him. It was to a policeman thathe appealed.
The lad had discovered a shock of red hair above the heads of thepeople, and was gradually working his way toward the owner of it,when all at once Red Larry discovered him.
Red pushed his way through the crowd and disappeared down analleyway, the policeman to whom the boy had appealed making noeffort to catch the man.
"What kind of a policeman are you, anyway?" cried Philin disgust. "That fellow is a crook, and we have been on thelookout for him for the last four weeks."
"What's he done?"
"Done? Tried to poison one of the elephants, and a lot ofother things."
"The kid's crazy or else he belongs to the circus," laugheda bystander.
Phil Forrest did not hear the speaker, however, for the boy haddashed through the crowd and bounded into the alley where he hadcaught a glimpse of a head of red hair a moment before.
But Larry was nowhere in sight. He had disappeared utterly.
"I was right," decided Phil, after going the length of the alleyand back. "He's been following this show right along, andbefore he gets through he'll put us out of business if we don'tlook sharp."
Considerable damage already had been done. Horses and otheranimals fell ill, in some instances with every evidence ofpoisoning; guy ropes were cut, and the cars had been tamperedwith in the railroad yards.
All this was beginning to get on the nerves of the owner ofthe show, as well as on those of some of his people who knewabout it. Things had come to a point where it was necessaryto place more men on guard about the lot to protect theshow's property.
At each stand of late efforts had been made to get the police tokeep an eye open for one Red Larry, but police officials do not,as a rule, give very serious heed to the complaints of a circus,especially unless the entire department has been pretty wellsupplied with tickets. Mr. Sparling was a showman who did notgive away many tickets unless there were some very good reasonfor so doing.
Phil, in the meantime, had been at work in an effort tosatisfy his own belief that Larry was responsible for theirnumerous troubles. Yet up to this moment the lad had not caughtsight of Red; and now he had lost the scoundrel through thelaxity of a policeman.
There was no use "crying over spilled milk," as Philtold himself.
The lad spent the next hour in tramping over the town where thecircus was to show that day. He sought everywhere for Red,but not a sign of the fellow was to be found.
As soon as the parade was over Phil hastened back to the lot toacquaint Mr. Sparling with what he suspected.
"Do you know," said Phil, "I believe that fellow and hiscompanion are riding on one of our trains every night?"
"What?" exclaimed the showman.
"You'll find I'm right when the truth is known. Then there'ssomething else. There have been a lot of complaints aboutsneak thieves in the towns we have visited since Red left us.You can't tell. There may be some connection between theserobberies and his following the show. I'm going to get Larrybefore I get through with this chase."
"Be careful, Phil. He is a bad man. You know what to expectfrom him if he catches you again."
"I am not afraid. I'll take care of myself if I see him coming.The trouble is that Red doesn't go after a fellow that way."
Phil went on in his three acts as usual that afternoon,after having spent an hour at the front door taking tickets,to which task he had assigned himself soon after his talk withMr. Sparling.
It was instructive; it gave the boy a chance to see the peopleand to get a new view of human nature. If there is one place inthe world where all phases of human nature are to be found,that place is the front door of a circus.
The Circus Boys, by this time, had both fitted into their newacts as if they had been doing them for years--Phil doing thebareback riding and Teddy tumbling in the leaping act, both ladsgaining the confidence and esteem more and more every day oftheir fellow performers and the owner of the show.
That night, after the performance was ended, Phil stood aroundfor a time, watching the men at work pulling down the tent.He had another motive, too. He had thought that perchance hemight see something of the man he was in search of, for no bettertime could be chosen to do damage to circus property than whenthe canvas was being struck.
Then everyone was too busy to pay any attention to anyone else.Teddy had gone on to pay his usual evening visit to theaccommodation car and at the same time make miserable theexistence of the worthy who presided over that particular car.
Phil waited until nearly twelve o'clock; then, deciding that itwould be useless to remain there longer, turned his footstepstoward the railroad yards, for he was tired and wanted to get tobed as soon as possible.
He found the way readily, having been over to the car once duringthe morning while out looking for Red Larry. The night was verydark, however, and the yards, at the end from which he approachedthem, were enshrouded in deep shadows.
On down the tracks Phil could see the smoking torches where themen were at work running the heavy cages and canvas wagons up onthe flat cars. Men were shouting and yelling, the usualaccompaniment to this proceeding, while crowds of curiousvillagers were massed about the sides of the yard at that point,watching the operations.
"That's the way I used to sit up and watch the circus get outof town," mused Phil, grinning broadly, as he began hunting forthe sleeper where his berth was.
All at once the lights seemed to disappear suddenly from beforehis eyes. Phil felt himself slowly settling to the ground.He tried to cry out, but could not utter a sound.
Then the lad understood that he was being grasped in avise-like grip. That was the last he knew.
When Phil finally awakened he was still in deep,impenetrable darkness. The train was moving rapidly,but there seemed to the boy to be something strange andunusual in his surroundings. His berth felt hard and unnatural.For a time he lay still with closed eyes, trying to recall whathad happened. There was a blank somewhere, but he could notfind it.
"Funny! This doesn't seem like No. 11. If it is, we must begoing over a pretty rough stretch of road."
He put out both hands cautiously and groped about him.Phil uttered an exclamation of surprise.
"Good gracious, I'm on the floor. I must have fallen out ofbed."
Then he realized that this could not be the case, because therewas a carpet on the floor of No. 11.
This was a hard, rough floor on which he was lying, and the airwas close, very different from that in the well-kept sleeping carin which he traveled nightly from stand to stand.
In an effort to get to his feet the lad fell back heavily.His head was swimming dizzily, and how it did ache!
"I wonder what has happened?" Forrest thought out loud. "Maybe Iwas struck by a train. No; that couldn't be the case, or Ishould not be here. But where am I? I might be in one ofthe show cars, but I don't believe there is an empty car onthe train."
As soon as Phil felt himself able to sit up he searchedthrough his pockets until he found his box of matches, which healways carried now, as one could not tell at what minute theymight be needed.
Striking a light, he glanced quickly about him; then the matchwent out.
"I'm in a freight car," he gasped. "But where, where?"
There was no answer to this puzzling question. Phil struggled tohis feet, and, groping his way to the door, began tugging at itto get it open. The door refused to budge.
"Locked! It's locked on the outside! What shall I do?What shall I do?" he cried.
Phil sat down weak and dizzy. There was nothing, so far ashe could see, that could be done to liberate himself fromhis imprisonment. Chancing to put his hand to his head,he discovered a lump there as large as a goose egg.
"I know--let me think--s
omething--somebody must have hit me anawful crack. Now I remember--yes, I remember falling down in theyard there just as if something had struck me. Who could havedone such a cruel thing?"
Phil thought and thought, but the more he thought about it themore perplexed did he become. All at once he started up,with a sudden realization that the train was slowing down.He could hear the air brakes grating and grinding and squealingagainst the car wheels below him, until finally the train came toa dead stop.
"Now is my chance to make somebody hear," Phil cried, springingup and groping for the door again.
He shouted at the top of his voice, then beat against the heavydoor with fists and feet, but not a sign could he get that anyoneheard him.
As a matter of fact, no one was near him at that moment. Thelongfreight train had stopped at a water tank far out in the country,and the trainmen were at the extreme ends of the train.
In a few moments the train started with such a jerk that Forrestwas thrown off his feet. He sprang up again, hoping that thetrain might be going past a station there, and that someone mighthear him. Then he began rattling at and kicking the door again.
It was all to no purpose.
Finally, in utter exhaustion, the lad sank to the floor, soonfalling into a deep sleep. How long he slept he did not knowwhen at last he awakened.
"Why, the train has stopped," Forrest exclaimed, suddenly sittingup and rubbing his eyes. "Now I ought to make somebody hear mebecause it's daylight. I can see the light underneath the door.I'll try it again."
He did try it, hammering at the door and shouting at intervalsduring the long hours that followed. Once more he lightedmatches and began examining his surroundings with more care.Phil discovered a trap door in the roof, but it was closed.
"If only there were a rope hanging down, I'd be up there in notime,"he mused. I wonder if I couldn't climb up and hang to thebraces.I might reach it in that way. I'm going to try it."
Deciding upon this, the Circus Boy, after no little effort,succeeded in climbing up to one of the side braces in the car.>From the plates long, narrow beams extended across the car, thussupporting the roof. Choosing two that led along near the trap,Phil, after a few moments' rest, gripped one firmly in each handfrom the underside and began swinging himself along almost as ifhe were traveling on a series of traveling rings, but withinfinitely more effort and discomfort.
His hands were aching frightfully, and he knew that he could holdon but a few seconds longer.
"I've got to make it," he gasped, breathing hard.
At last he had reached the goal. Phil released one hand andquickly extended it to the trap door frame.
There was not a single projection there to support him,nor to which he might cling. His hand slipped away, suddenlythrowing his weight upon the hand grasping the roof timber.The strain was too much. Phil Forrest lost his grip and fellheavily to the floor.
But this time he did not rise. The lad lay still where hehad fallen.
The Circus Boys Across the Continent; Or, Winning New Laurels on the Tanbark Page 21