The Circus Boys on the Plains; Or, The Young Advance Agents Ahead of the Show

by Edgar B. P. Darlington

  CHAPTER XIII

  A BAFFLED CAR MANAGER

  It was nearly seven in the morning when Phil's vigil wasrewarded by the sight of a man in his pajamas, emergingfrom the rival car. The man stood on the rear platform andstretched himself. All at once he caught sight of Car Three.

  The fellow instantly became very wide awake. Opening the cardoor he called to someone within; then three or four men came outand stared at the Sparling car.

  "They are pretty good sleepers over there, I guess," grinned therival car manager, for such he proved to be.

  The men dodged back, and there was a lively scene in therival car. The men realized that they had been remiss intheir duty in sleeping so late, but still they had not theleast doubt of their ability to outwit their rivals, forthe crew of Car Four was a picked lot who had never yetbeen beaten in the publicity game.

  About this time Phil Forrest strolled out to the rear platform ofhis car. He was fully dressed save for coat and vest and hat,yet to all appearances he, too, had just risen.

  The manager of the rival car came out and hailed him.

  "Hello, young fellow!" he called.

  "Good morning," answered Phil sweetly.

  "Seems to me you sleep late over there."

  "So do you," laughed Phil. "There must be something in the airup this way to induce sleep."

  "I guess that's right. Who are you?" inquired the rival manager.

  "I am one of the crowd."

  "You're the programmer, perhaps?"

  "I may be most anything."

  The manager of the rival car strolled toward Car Three, whereuponPhil started, meeting him half-way. For reasons of his own hedid not wish his rival to get too close to the Sparling car.

  "I never saw you before," said the rival, eyeing Phil keenly.

  "Nor I you."

  "What's your name?"

  "Philip."

  "Glad to know you, Philip. How long have you been with the car?"

  "A few weeks only."

  "Who's your car manager?"

  "A fellow named Forrest."

  "Never heard of him. Is he in bed!"

  "No; he is out."

  "Humph! What time do you start your men on the country routes?"

  "Usually about seven to seven-thirty."

  "Well, you won't start them this morning at that time."

  "No; I think not."

  "I'll tell you what you do; you come and take breakfast with me.We won't go to any contract hotel, either."

  "Thank you; I shall be delighted. Wait till I get myclothes on."

  Phil hastened back to his own car.

  "That fellow is playing a sharp trick. He is trying to get meaway so he can get his men out ahead of mine. I will walk intohis trap. He knows I am the manager. I could see that by theway he acted."

  Phil stepped out and joined his rival.

  "I believe you said you were the manager of that car, did younot?" asked the rival.

  "I am, though I do not recollect having said so."

  "A kid like you manager of a car? I don't know what the showbusiness is coming to, with all due respect to you, young man."

  "Oh, that's all right," answered the Circus Boy with a frank,innocent smile. "I am just learning the business, you know."

  "I thought so," nodded the rival. "My name's Tripp--Bob Tripp."

  "You been in the business long?"

  "Fifteen years, my boy. After you have been in it as long as Ihave, you will know every crook and turn, every trick in thewhole show business," said the fellow proudly. "You are abright-faced young chap. I should like to have you on my car.Don't want a job, do you?"

  "No, thank you. I am very well satisfied where I am. I canlearn on a Sparling car as well as anywhere else, you know."

  "Yes, of course."

  The couple stopped at the leading hotel of the town, where therival manager ordered a fine breakfast. Phil Forrest was quiteready for it. He already had done a heavy day's work and he wasgenuinely hungry.

  "Guess they don't feed you very well with your outfit,"smiled Tripp.

  "Contract hotels, you know," laughed Phil. "I do not get achance at a meal like this every day."

  "Do the way I do."

  "How is that?"

  "Feed at the good places and charge it up in yourexpense account."

  "Oh, I couldn't do that. It would not be right."

  "That shows you are new in the business. Get all you can andkeep all you get. That's my way of doing things. I was justlike you when I began."

  They tarried unusually long over the meal, Tripp seeming to be inno hurry. Phil was sure that he was in no hurry, either. And heknew why there was no need for hurry. Bob, in the meantime, wasrelating to the show boy his exploits as a manager. In fact hewas giving Phil more information about the work of his own carthan he realized at the time.

  Now and then the Circus Boy would slip in an innocent question,which Bob would answer promptly. By the time the meal wasfinished Phil had a pretty clear idea of the workings of hisrival's advance business, as well as their plans for the future,so far as Tripp knew them.

  "By the way, how did you happen to get a berth like this,young man?" questioned Tripp. "I thought a fellow by thename of Snowden was running Car Three for old man Sparling."

  "He was."

  "Closed?"

  "Yes."

  "What for?"

  "I would rather not talk about that. You will have to askheadquarters, or Snowden himself. You see, it is not mybusiness, and I make it a rule never to discuss anotherfellow's affairs in public."

  "Nor your own, eh?"

  "Oh, I don't know. I think I have talked a good dealthis morning. But you and I had better get back to ourcars and get our men started, had we not? This is alate morning all around."

  "No hurry, no hurry," urged Bob. "Why the men haven't gotback from their breakfast yet. Wait awhile. Have a smoke."

  "Thank you; I do not smoke."

  Tripp looked at him in amazement.

  "And you in the show business?"

  "Is that any reason why a man's habits should not be regular?"

  "N-n-n-o," admitted the rival slowly.

  "Well, I must be going, just the same. I have considerable workto do in the car."

  Bob rose reluctantly and followed Phil from the dining room.He had hoped to detain the young car manager longer, or untilhis own men could get a good start on the work of the day.

  He looked for no difficulty, however, in outwitting hisyoung opponent.

  As they approached the railroad yards each car stood as they hadleft it, shades pulled well down and no signs of life aboard.

  "Looks as if your crew was still asleep," smiled Tripp.

  "I might say the same of yours, did I not know to the contrary,"answered Phil suggestively.

  Bob shot a keen glance at him.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Nothing much. Of course I did not think your men would beasleep all this time. They are surely out to breakfast bythis time."

  "You ain't half as big a fool as you look, are you?" demanded therival manager. "Well, I will see you later."

  Each went to his little office and began the work of the day, butthere was a grim smile of satisfaction on the face of each.

  Fully an hour passed, and one of the lithographers from the rivalcar went aboard with the information that they were unable to geta piece of paper in any window in town thus far.

  "Why not?" demanded Tripp.

  "They say their windows are already contracted for," wasthe answer.

  "Contracted for?"

  "Yes."

  "By whom?"

  "I don't know. That's all the information we can get."

  "Seen any other showmen about town this morning?"

  "No; not any that I know, nor any with paper and brush underhis arm."

  "H-m-m-m," mused the showman. "That's queer. It can't be thatthe young man across the way has got the start of
us. No; thatis not possible. He is too green for that. Have his men goneout on the country routes yet, or are they still asleep?"

  "I don't know. Nobody has seen a living soul around that carthis morning, so far as I know."

  "I'll go over town and do a little squaring on my own hook.I'll soon find out who has been heading us off, if anyone has."

  The manager hurried off with his assistant, but even he wasunable to get any information.

  He was baffled and perplexed. He did not understand it.Tactics entirely new had been sprung on him. He was an expertin the old methods of the game, but these were different.

  In the meantime, Phil Forrest, the young advance agent, satcalmly in his stateroom, now and then receiving a report fromTeddy Tucker who sauntered in under cover of a string of freightcars on the opposite side, then slipped out again.

  Teddy was Phil's blockade runner this day.

  At noon the party on the rival car all adjourned for luncheon,and there they were joined by their manager, who discussed thequeer situation with them. This was the time for Phil Forrest.

  "Now for the surprise," he said, hurriedly going uptown, where hegot his own lithographers together, and the crew that he hadhired in town. Every man had been pledged to silence, as had thelivery stable man and his helpers.

  "Now, shoot the stuff out! Get every window full before thosefellows are through their dinner. A five-dollar bill for the manwho covers his route first. The banner locations we cannot fillso quickly, but they are all secured, so our friend can't takethem away from us. Now get busy!"

  They did. The men of Car Three forgot that they were hungry.Never before had the lithographers and banner men worked as theydid that day. With the extra help that Phil had put on he wasable to cover the ground with wonderful quickness.

  When the men of the rival crew emerged from the contract hotel,and sat down in front to digest the contract meal, they suddenlyopened their eyes in amazement.

  In every window within sight of them there hung a gaudy Sparlingcircus bill, some windows being plastered full of them.

  They called the manager hastily.

  "Look!" said his assistant.

  "What! We're tricked! But they haven't got far with their work.They haven't had time. Don't you see, the lazy fellows have justgot to work. After them, men! Beat them out! You've got to outbill this town!"

  As the men hurried out into the other streets the same unpleasantsight met their eyes. Every available window bore a Sparlingbill; every wall obtainable had a Sparling banner tacked to it.One could not look in any direction without his gaze resting on aSparling advertisement.

  Bob Tripp was mad all through.

  He had been outwitted.

  In his anger he started for Car Three. Reaching it he discoveredthe young advance agent on the shady side of Car Three, loungingin a rocking chair reading a book.

  Phil's idea of dramatic situations was an excellent one.

  "What do you mean, playing such a trick on me?" demanded theirate rival.

  The Circus Boy looked up with an innocent expression on his face.

  "Why, Mr. Tripp, what is it?"

  "Is that the way you repay my hospitality?" he shouted.

  "Please explain."

  Phil's tone was mild and soothing.

  "You have grabbed every hit in this town. It's unprofessional.It's a crooked piece of business. I'll get even with youfor that."

  "Why, Mr. Tripp, how can that be, I am green; I am only abeginner, you know," answered the Circus Boy, with his mostwinning smile.

  Bop Tripp gazed at him a moment, then with an angry exclamationturned on his heel and strode back to his own car.

  Half an hour later Phil Forrest's men drove in from theircountry routes. They had covered them quickly, having gotsuch an early start.

  Phil heard their reports. They had left nothing undone.Phil then hurried over town to pay the bills he hadcontracted, first leaving word that not a man was toleave the car until his return.

  He was back in a short time.

  "We go out at two o'clock, boys," he announced upon his return."I am leaving the banner men here. They will take a late trainout tonight, and join us in the morning."

  An express train came thundering in, and before Bob Tripp knewwhat was in the wind it had coupled on to Car Three. A fewmoments later Phil Forrest and his crew were bowling away forthe next stand. His rivals would not be able to get anothertrain out until very late that night.

  Late in the afternoon Bob Tripp's country crew returned, tired,disgusted and glum.

  "Well, what is it?" demanded the now thoroughlyirritated manager.

  "Not a dozen sheets of paper put up by the whole crew," was thestartling announcement. "That Sparling outfit has plasteredevery spot as big as your hand for forty miles around here."

  "What! Why didn't you cover them?" shrieked the manager.

  "Cover them--nothing! They had every location cinched andnailed down. Every farmer stood over the other fellow's paperwith a shot gun."

  "Sold! And by a kid at that!" groaned Bob Tripp settling downdespairingly into his office chair.