"Yes, by all means. If possible I should like to make the next town before the storm breaks, as it's liable to be a long, wet one."

"I don't care. I've got a rubber coat and a pair of rubber boots with a hole in one of them," spoke up Teddy.

"And, Teddy Tucker," added the owner, turning to the Circus Boy.

"If you mix things up tonight, and delay us a minute anywhere, I'll fire you. Understand?"

Teddy shook his head.

"You don't? Well, I'll see if I can make it plainer then."

"Why, Mr. Sparling, you wouldn't discharge me, now, would you?

Don't you know this show couldn't get along without me?"

The showman gazed sternly at Teddy for a moment, then his face broke out in a broad smile.

"I guess you're right at that, my boy."

The cook tent came down without delay that afternoon, and on account of the darkness the gasoline lamps had to be lighted a full two hours earlier than usual.

The show at the evening performance was pushed forward with a rush, while many anxious eyes were upon the skies, for it was believed that the heaviest rainstorm in years was about to fall.

By dint of much hard work, together with a great deal of shouting and racket, the tents were off the field by the time indicated by Mr. Sparling, and loaded. A quick start was made. Long before morning the little border town of Tarbert, their next stand, was reached.

Mr. Sparling had all hands out at once.

"Get to the lot and pitch your tents. Everything has got to be up before daylight," he ordered. "You'll have something to eat just as soon as you get the cook tent in place."

That was inducement enough to make the men work with a will, and they did. The menagerie and circus tents had been laced together, lying flat on the ground, when the storm broke.

"That will keep the lot dry, but hustle it! Get the canvas up before it is so soaked you can't raise it," commanded the owner.

By daylight the tents were in place, though men had to be stationed constantly at the guy ropes to loosen them as they strained tight from the moisture they absorbed.

The rain seemed to be coming down in sheets. Fortunately the lot chosen for pitching the tents was on a strip of ground higher than anything about it, so the footing remained fairly solid.

But it was a cheerless outlook. The performers, with their rubber boots on, came splashing through a sea of mud and water on their way to the cook tent that morning, Phil and Teddy with the rest.

"Looks like rain, doesn't it," greeted Teddy, as he espied Mr. Sparling plodding about with a keen eye to the safety of his tents.

"I wish the outlook for business today were as good," was the comprehensive answer.

When the hour for starting the parade arrived, the water over the flats about them was so deep and the mud so soft that it was decided to abandon the parade for that day.

"I almost wish we hadn't unloaded," said the owner. "It looks to me as if we might be tied up here for sometime."

"Yes," agreed Phil. "The next question is how are the people going to get here to see the show?"

"I was thinking of that myself. The answer is easy, though."

"What--"

"They won't come."

"Why? Are they drowned out?"

"No; the town is high enough so they will not suffer much of any damage, except as the water gets into their cellars. No; they are all right. I wish we were as much so, but there'll be no use in giving a show this afternoon."

"Wait a minute," spoke up Phil, raising one hand while he considered briefly.

"Of course, you have an idea. It wouldn't be you if you hadn't.

But I am afraid that, this time, you will fall short of the mark."

"No, not if you will let me carry out a little plan."

"What is it?"

"When I came over I noticed a strip of ground just a few rods to the north of the lot, and running right into it, that was higher than the flats. It was a sort of ridge and fairly level on top."

"I didn't see that."

"I did. It was showing above the water a few inches and looked like hard ground. If you don't mind getting wet I'll take you over and point it out."

The showman agreed, though as yet he did not understand what Phil's plan was.

Phil led the way to the north side of the lot, then turning sharply to the left after getting his bearings, walked confidently out into the water followed by Mr. Sparling.

The ground felt firm beneath their feet. As a matter of fact it was a stratum of rock running out from the nearby mountains.

"Boy, you've struck a way for us to get out when time comes for us to do so. That mud on the flats will be so soft, for several days, that the wheels would sink in up to the hubs. The stock would get mired now, were they to try to go through."

"But not here."

"No; I rather think that's so. What's your plan?"

"We have plenty of wagons that are not in use--take for instance the pole wagons. Why not send our wagons over to the village and bring the people here? I am sure they will enjoy that,"

suggested Phil.

"Splendid," glowed the showman. "But I'm afraid the horses never would be able to pull them over."

"Think not?"

"I said I was afraid they would not be able to."

"I had considered that, sir."

"Oh, you had?"

"Yes."

"Of course, I might have known you had. Well, what is it?"