"Do I?"

"Then run along and get on your togs. As soon as the performance is over we will get out my ring horse and put in an hour's work."

"Thank you, thank you!" glowed Phil as Mrs. Robinson rolled up her work. "I'll be out in a few moments."

Full of pleasurable antic.i.p.ation, Phil ran to the dressing tent and began rummaging in his trunk for his working tights.

These he quickly donned and hurried back to the paddock.

There he found Dimples with her ring horse, petting the broad-backed beast while he nibbled at the gra.s.s.

"Waiting, you see?" she smiled up at Forrest.

"Yes. But the performance isn't finished yet, is it?"

"No. The hippodrome races are just going on. Come over to this side of the paddock, where we shall be out of the way, and I'll teach you a few first principles."

"What do you want me to do first?"

"Put your foot in my hand and I will give you a lift."

The lad did as directed and sprang lightly to the back of the gray.

"Move over on the horse's hip. There. Sit over just as far as you can without slipping off. You saw how I did it this afternoon?"

"Yes--oh, here I go!"

Phil slid from the sloping side of the ring horse, landing in a heap, to the accompaniment of a rippling laugh from Dimples.

"I guess I'm not much of a bareback rider," grinned the lad, picking himself up. "How do you manage to stay on it in that position?"

"I don't know. It is just practice. You will catch the trick of it very soon."

"I'm not so sure of that."

"There! Now, take hold of the rein and stand up.

Don't be afraid--"

"I'm not. Don't worry about my being afraid."

"I didn't mean it that way. Move back further. It is not good to stand in the middle of your horse's back all the time.

Besides throwing too much weight on the back, you are liable to tickle the animal there and make him nervous. The best work is done by standing over the horse's hip. That's it. Tread on the b.a.l.l.s of your feet."

But Phil suddenly went sprawling, landing on the ground again, at which both laughed merrily.

Very shortly after that the show in the big top came to a close.

The concert was now going on, at the end nearest the menagerie tent, so Phil and Dimples took the ring at the other end of the tent, where they resumed their practice.

After a short time Phil found himself able to stand erect with more confidence. Now, his instructor, with a snap of her little whip, started the gray to walking slowly about the ring, Phil holding tightly to the bridle rein to steady himself.

"Begin moving about now. Tread softly and lightly. That's it.

You've caught it already."

"Why not put a pad on the horse's back, as I've seen some performers do?" he questioned.

"No. I don't want you to begin that way. Start without a pad, and you never will have to unlearn what you get. That's my advice.

I'm going to set him at a gallop now. Stand straight and lean back a little."

The ring horse moved off at a slow, methodical gallop.

Phil promptly fell off, landing outside the ring, from where he picked himself up rather crestfallen.

"Never mind. You'll learn. You are doing splendidly,"

encouraged Dimples, a.s.sisting him to mount again. "There's the press agent, Mr. Dexter, watching you. Now do your prettiest.

Do you know him?"

"No; I have not met him. He's the fellow that Teddy says blows up his words with a bicycle pump."

"That's fine. I shall have to tell him that. Remember, you always want to keep good friends with the press agent. He's the man who makes or unmakes you after you have pa.s.sed the eagle eyes of the proprietor," Dimples laughed. "From what I hear I guess you stand pretty high with Mr. Sparling."

"I try to do what is right--do the best I know how."

She nodded, clucking to the gray and Phil stopped talking at once, for he was fully occupied in sticking to the horse, over whose back he sprawled every now and then in the most ridiculous of positions. But, before the afternoon's practice had ended, the lad had made distinct progress. He found himself able to stand erect, by the aid of the bridle rein, and to keep his position fairly well while the animal took a slow gallop.

He had not yet quite gotten over the dizziness caused by the constant traveling about in a circle in the narrow ring, but Dimples a.s.sured him that, after a few more turns, this would wear off entirely.

After finishing the practice, Dimples led her horse back to the horse tent, promising Phil that they should meet the next afternoon.

Phil had no more than changed to his street clothes before he received a summons to go to Mr. Sparling in his private tent.

"I wonder what's wrong now?" muttered the lad. "But, I think I know. It's about that row we had this morning out on the lot.

I shouldn't be surprised if I got fined for that."

With a certain nervousness, Phil hurried out around the dressing tent, and skirting the two big tents, sought out Mr. Sparling in his office.

CHAPTER XI

SUMMONED BEFORE THE MANAGER

The lad was not far wrong in his surmise. That Mr. Sparling was angry was apparent at the first glance.

He eyed Phil from head to foot, a fierce scowl wrinkling his face and forehead.

"Well, sir, what have you been up to this afternoon?"

"Practicing in the ring since the afternoon performance closed."

"H-m-m-m! And this forenoon?"

"Not much of anything in the way of work."