His vocabulary was too
limited to express his thoughts fully, but he did fairly well
with what he had.
Having satisfied himself that his work was well done, Phil let
himself down slowly, not using his hands at all, in doing so,
but taking a spiral course downward.
"H-u-m-m, I'm a little stiff," he said when his feet touched
the ground. "Am I a billposter or am I not a billposter, Billy?"
"You are the champeen of 'em all! I take off my hat to you."
Which Conley did, then and there.
"I am afraid I shall not be able to get that rope down, sir,"
said Phil politely to the farmer. "I am sorry. I had not
figured on that before. If you will be good enough to tell me
how much the rope is worth I shall be glad to pay you for it.
I can cut it off up near the little door there, so it will not
look quite so bad. Shall I do it?"
"No. You needn't bother. As for paying for the rope I won't
take a cent. I've had more fun than the price of a dozen
ropes could buy. Why, young man, do you know I never seen
anything in a circus that could touch the outside edge of the
performance you've been giving us this afternoon? You boys
had your dinners?"
"No," confessed the Circus Boy. "I guess we had forgotten
all about eating."
"Then come right in the house. My wife will get you
something, and I want to introduce her to a real live
circus man--that's you.
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