"What shall I tell them?"

"Oh, tell them a funny story. Make them laugh, and they will do the rest."

"But I don't know any funny stories."

"Tell them the story of your life as a circus boy. That will be funny enough to make a hyena laugh."

"Ho, ho!" exploded Teddy. "It is a joke. He who laughs first laughs last."

"You mean 'he who laughs last laughs best,'" corrected Phil, smiling broadly.

"Well, maybe. Something of the sort," grinned the Circus Boy.

"And look here, Teddy!"

"Yes?"

"Have you written to Mr. Sparling yet, as he requested you to do?"

"No."

"And why not?"

"Same reason."

"You must write to him every day, no matter how busy you are.

Sit up a little later every night; go without a meal if necessary, but follow his directions implicitly."

"Implicitly," mocked Teddy.

However, Mr. Sparling was not without news of what had been going on on Car Three. Billy Conley had written fully of Phil Forrest's brilliant exploits. After one of these letters, Mr. Sparling wrote Conley, as follows:

"Those boys will never tell me when they do anything worthwhile.

It isn't like Phil to talk about his own achievements. So you write me anything of this sort you think I would like to know.

I do not mean you are to act as a spy, or anything of the sort.

Just write me the things you think they will not write about."

Bill understood and faithfully followed out his employer's directions. Mr. Sparling proudly showed Conley's letters to all of his a.s.sociates back with the show, where there was much rejoicing, for everyone liked Phil; not only liked but held him in sincere admiration for his many good qualities.

That evening, however, Teddy sat down at the typewriter and laboriously hammered out a letter to his employer.

"Hang the thing!" he growled. "I wish I had only one finger."

"Why? That's a funny wish," laughed Phil. "Why do you wish that?"

"Because all the rest of them get in the way when I try to run a typewriter."

"I am afraid you never would make a piano player, Teddy."

"I don't want to be one. I would rather ride the educated donkey. It's better exercise." Teddy then proceeded with his letter. This is what he wrote:

"Dear Mr. Sparling:"

"Nothing has happened since you were here."

One of the lithographers had a fit in the dining room of the contract hotel this morning (I don't blame him, do you?) and they hauled him out by the feet. We run amuck with another advance car, the other day, but n.o.body got into a fight. I thought rival cars always--excuse the typewriter, it doesn't know any better-- got into a fight when they met.

"One of the billposters fell off a barn--it was a hay barn, I think. I am not sure. I'll ask Phil before I finish this letter. Let me see, what happened to him? Oh, yes, I remember. He broke his arm off and we left him in a hospital back at Aberdeen. Phil let one of the banner men go this morning. The fellow had false teeth and couldn't hold tacks in his mouth. I tell him it would be a good plan to examine the teeth of all these banner men fellows before he joins them out, just the same as you would when you're buying a horse. Don't you think so?"

"By the way, I almost forgot to tell you. We ran over a switchman in the night last night. I don't think it hurt the car any."

"Well, good-bye. I'll write again when there is some news.

How's January? Wish I was back, riding him in the ring.

Expect I'll have an awful time with him when I start in again.

Don't feed him any oats, and keep him off the fresh gra.s.s.

I don't want him to get a fat stomach, because I can't get my legs under him to hold on when he bucks."

"Well, good-bye again. Love to all the boys."

"Your friend,"

"Teddy Tucker."

"P. S. Did I tell you we killed the switchman? Well, we did.

He's dead. He's switched off for keeps."

"T. T."

"P. S. Yes, Phil says it was a hay barn that the billposter fell off from. Wouldn't it be a good plan to furnish those fellows with nets? Billposters are scarce and we can't afford to lose any good ones."

"T. T."

CHAPTER XV

IN AN EXCITING RACE

"More trouble," announced Teddy, one morning a few days later, when the boys awoke in Lawrence, Kansas.

"What's the trouble now, Old Calamity?" demanded Phil, who was washing his face and hands.

Contrary to his usual practice, he had not looked from his stateroom window immediately upon getting up.

Teddy had, however. His eyes grew a little larger as he did so, but otherwise the sight that met them did not disturb his equanimity in the least.

"The usual."

"What do you mean? Have we run over another man?"