The Circus Boys Across The Continent | Page 9

the
man was able to free himself from the boy's grip Teddy had pulled him
down and dragged him under the stream that was pouring down in a
perfect deluge. The Circus Boy, being strong and muscular, was able to
accomplish this with slight exertion.
Larry's companion was making no effort to assist his fallen comrade.

Instead, the fellow was howling with delight.
No sooner, however, had Teddy raised the man and slammed him down
on his back under the spout, than the lad let go of his victim and darted
off into the shadows. Teddy realized that it was high time he was
leaving.
The man, fuming with rage, uttering loud-voiced threats of vengeance,
scrambled out of the flood and began rushing up and down the tracks in
search of Teddy.
But the boy was nowhere to be found. He had hastily climbed over a
fence, where he crouched, dripping wet, watching the antics of the
enraged Larry.
"Guess he won't bother another boy right away," grinned Teddy, not
heeding his own wet and bedraggled condition.
The two showmen finally gave up their quest, and all at once started on
a run in the opposite direction.
"Now, I wonder what's made them run away like that? Surely they
aren't scared of me. I wonder? Guess I'll go over and find out."
Leaving his hiding place, the lad retraced his steps across the tracks
until finally, coming up with a man, who proved to be the
superintendent of the yard, Teddy asked him where sleeping car
number eleven was located.
"Eleven? The sleepers have all gone, young man."
"G-g-gone?"
"Yes."
"But I thought--"
"Went out regular on the 9:30 express."

Teddy groaned. Here he was, left behind before the show had all gotten
away from its winter quarters. But he noted that the train bearing the
cages and other equipment was still in the yard. There was yet a chance
for him.
"Wha--what time does that train go?" he asked pointing to the last
section.
"Going now. Why, what's the matter with you youngster? The train is
moving now."
"Going? The matter is that I've got to go with them," cried the lad,
suddenly darting toward the moving train.
"Come back here! Come back! Do you want to be killed?"
"I've got to get on that train!" Teddy shouted back at the
superintendent.
The great stock cars were rumbling by as the boy drew near the track,
going faster every moment. By the light of a switch lamp Teddy could
make out a ladder running up to the roof of one of the box cars.
He could hear the yard superintendent running toward him shouting.
"He'll have me, if I don't do something. Then I will be wholly left,"
decided Teddy. "I'm going to try it."
As the big stock car slipped past him the lad sprang up into the air, his
eyes fixed on the ladder. His circus training came in handy here, for
Teddy hit the mark unerringly, though it had been considerably above
his head. The next second his fingers closed over a rung of the ladder,
and there he hung, dangling in the air, with the train now rushing over
switches, rapidly gaining momentum as it stretched out headed for the
open country.
CHAPTER III

PHIL TO RESCUE
Phil Forrest was in a panic of uneasiness.
No sooner had his own section started than he made the discovery that
Teddy Tucker was not on board. Then the lad went through the train in
the hope that his companion had gotten on the wrong car. There was no
trace of Teddy.
In the meantime Teddy had slowly clambered to the roof of the stock
car, where he stretched himself out, clinging to the running board, with
the big car swaying beneath him. The wind seemed, up there, to be
blowing a perfect gale, and it was all the boy could do to hold on. After
a while he saw a light approaching him. The light was in the hands of a
brakeman who was working his way over the train toward the caboose.
He soon came up to where Teddy was lying. There he stopped.
"Well, youngster, what are you doing here?" he demanded, flashing his
light into the face of the uncomfortable Teddy.
"Trying to ride."
"I suppose you know you are breaking the law and that I'll have to turn
you over to a policeman or a constable the next town we stop at?"
"Nothing of the sort! What do you take me for? Think I'm some kind of
tramp?" objected the lad. "Go on and let me alone."
The brakeman looked closer. He observed that the boy was soaking wet,
but that, despite this, he was well dressed.
"What are you, if not a tramp?"
"I'm with