These horses struck the crosswalk with a mighty crash. The rear wheels slewed. The big can of paste was catapulted over a fence, narrowly missing Teddy Tucker's head as it shot over him.

He flattened himself on the ground, but was up like a flash, sprinting out of harm's way.

There was reason for his last action. Other things were coming his way. As the wheels of the rival wagon slewed, they struck a gutter.

The wagon turned turtle, and men, paste brushes, paper and all were scattered all over the place.

"Oh, that's too bad!" muttered Phil. "But we can do nothing for them if we stop. There are plenty back there to lend a.s.sistance."

His tender heart told him to go back, whether he could be of service to his rival or not, but his duty lay plain before him.

He must outdistance the enemy.

A second team came plunging down the road from the canary car, close behind the unfortunate wagon. These horses, too, were instantly mixed in the wreck. The wagon did not turn turtle as the one before it had done, but one of the horses went down.

Now came other wagons of the Sparling outfit. They were running two abreast in the road. But the drivers saw the obstruction in time, slowed down and dodged it. They were off at a tremendous speed, and a few moments later branched off on different roads, quickly disappearing in a cloud of dust.

Phil's wagon crew discovered a farm barn just ahead of them.

They drove up to it on a run. All hands piled out. And how they did work! In a few moments the old barn was a blaze of color.

"First blood for the Sparling Combined Shows!" shouted the boy.

"Now hit the trail for all you are worth!"

They were off again. A cloud of dust to their rear told them that one of their rival's wagons was after them. At the next stop the pursuing wagon rolled by them, the men yelling derisively.

"It is the Wallace Show's crowd!" shouted Phil.

"Get after them."

The Wallace people went on half a mile further. As Phil drew up on them he shouted to his driver to go on to the next stop.

When they made it finally, they were pa.s.sed by the crew from the canary advance car.

It was give and take. Such billing never had been seen along the Kansas highway before. But, up to the present moment, the Sparling crew had much the best of it.

"This won't do, boys; I have got to get back. I have no business here. Keep this right up. Don't lag for an instant.

Is there a town near here?"

The driver informed Phil that there was one about a mile ahead of them.

Phil rode on until he reached it. Here he jumped out, taking a bundle of paper with him, ordering his men to drive on. With him he carried a bucket of paste and a brush.

Phil went to work like a seasoned billposter, plastering every old stable and tight board fence in the village. By the time the rival crews drove in there was little s.p.a.ce left for them, and such spots as were left were all on back or side streets.

"I guess they will know we have been here," decided Phil. "Now I must find a way to get back to the car."

Inquiring at the post office he learned where he might be able to hire a rig.

Losing not a minute the boy hunted up the man who owned the horse, and, by offering to pay him about twice what the service was worth, got the fellow to take him back.

The journey back to town was executed in almost as good time as that which Phil had made in driving out. The rig rattled into town at a gallop, and Phil was landed on his car again, safe and sound after his exciting rides.

"Did you beat them," cried Teddy, as Phil drove up.

"We did and we didn't. But we have got the start of them on the billing. Were any of the other men hurt?"

"One of the canary bird crowd got a broken arm. The others were pretty well bruised up, but they are still in the ring."

"What is doing in the town?"

"I sent our men out to square the locations. Told them not to put up any paper, but to hustle the squaring."

"Good for you, Teddy! You are a winner. Where did you learn that trick?"

"Oh, it's a little trick I picked up the other day. I'm a professional publicity man, you know."

"Are our opposition friends doing the same thing?"

"I think not. I got the start of them by fully an hour.

Worked the same game on them that we did on Tripp the other day. You remember?"

Phil nodded. Indeed, he did remember.

"The men were so excited over the race that they couldn't spend time to attend to business. I got a pretty good b.u.mp, but I thought it was a good time to get back in the town and hustle our fellows, seeing that you had hit the long trail. I didn't expect you back before the middle of next week, the rate you were going."

Phil laughed good-naturedly.

"You remain here and watch the car, Teddy. I am going to run over town. Had your breakfast?"

"Say, I forgot all about that. I haven't had a thing."

"Your appet.i.te will keep. I must look around a little.

Something may be going on that needs attention from our side."

Phil had reason, a few minutes later, to be thankful that his instinct had prompted him to hurry over town.

CHAPTER XVI

A BATTLE OF WITS

"The Robinson people, at least, have got to work," muttered the Circus Boy as he made his way downtown. Here and there, at rare intervals, he came across a window bill of the show mentioned.

There were blocks of windows, however, with no billing in them.

Phil interpreted this to mean that his own men had secured the requisite permission to place their own bills there.

He smiled as he thought of the little trick. It was an idea of his own to square locations ahead of the lithographers.

Ordinarily, the lithographer made his rounds with a bundle of bills on his arm. Entering a store he would say, "May I place this bill in your window?" Phil had adopted the plan of sending the men around first. After they had obtained the signed permission they would go back over the same ground and place the bills. This took a little more time, but it had the merit of fooling his rivals and getting many more places squared than could have been done in the old way.

Suddenly a great wall loomed ahead of him.

Phil paused and surveyed it critically.