The Circus Boy, however, kept his own counsel.
He made a trip down to the lower deck and had a long conversationwith Mr. Kennedy, the elephant trainer, while Teddy Tucker moped in hiscabin, mourning over the loss of his egg.
The show reached Milroy shortly before dark that evening, after amost delightful trip down the river. The horse tents were unloaded andpitched on the circus lot and the stock stabled in them so the animals couldget their rest and food.
Some of the show people strolled out through the little town, whileothers remained on board the boat and went to bed. All hands sleptaboard that night. Bright and early, on the following morning, the boatswere unloaded and the tents pitched, the men working much better fortheir day on the river.
Everyone appeared to be in high good humor and the wisdom of Mr.
Sparling's methods was apparent. The tents went up more quickly thatmorning than at any time that season.
Breakfast under the cook tent was a jolly meal. Teddy had nearlyforgotten the loss of the ostrich egg, but Phil Forrest had not. Phil, whilenot appearing to do so, was watching certain persons in the dressing tent,among them being Diaz, the Spanish clown.
During the dressing hour before the afternoon performance the clownhad his trunk open to get out some costumes which were at the bottom,beneath the lower tray.
Phil's trunk, it will be remembered, was close by that of the clown's.
The Circus Boy took advantage of the opportunity to peep into the opentrunk while Diaz was rummaging over its contents. So absorbed did Philbecome in his own investigation that he forgot for the moment that theowner of the trunk might resent such curiosity.
All at once Phil glanced down at the clown. He found the dark eyesof Diaz fixed upon him, and the lad flushed in spite of himself.
Diaz slowly rose to his feet. Thrusting his face close to that of the ladhe peered into the boy's face.
"What you want?""Nothing, thank you.""You look for something in the trunk of Diaz, eh?""Perhaps.""What for you look?""Maybe I was looking for an egg. Maybe I thought the clown Diazcarried a supply of freshly laid eggs in his dressing-room trunk," said Philin a tone too low for the others to catch, all the time holding the eyes ofthe clown in a steady gaze.
The eyes of the clown expressed surprise, but there was so muchgrease paint and powder on his face that the boy could not tell whether thefellow had flushed or not.
That Diaz was angry, however, was clear.
"What you mean?" demanded the clown, with a threatening gesture.
"If you do not know, I don't believe I care to explain just now.""What you mean?" repeated the clown, his voice rising to a higherpitch. "You--you think I a thief?""If I thought so I might be too courteous to say so," was the calmretort. "What makes you imagine that I think you a thief? You musthave some reason--you must believe there is some truth in your selfaccusation, or you would not be so quick to resent it.""I--I--""Remember, I have not accused you of anything. You have accusedyourself."Perhaps there was method in Phil's nagging--perhaps he was trying togoad the Spaniard into an admission that could be used against him. Ifthat were his purpose he had only partly succeeded.
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