Bop Tripp gazed at him a moment, then with an angry exclamation
turned on his heel and strode back to his own car.
Half an hour later Phil Forrest's men drove in from their
country routes. They had covered them quickly, having got
such an early start.
Phil heard their reports. They had left nothing undone.
Phil then hurried over town to pay the bills he had
contracted, first leaving word that not a man was to
leave the car until his return.
He was back in a short time.
"We go out at two o'clock, boys," he announced upon his return.
"I am leaving the banner men here. They will take a late train
out tonight, and join us in the morning."
An express train came thundering in, and before Bob Tripp knew
what was in the wind it had coupled on to Car Three. A few
moments later Phil Forrest and his crew were bowling away for
the next stand. His rivals would not be able to get another
train out until very late that night.
Late in the afternoon Bob Tripp's country crew returned, tired,
disgusted and glum.
"Well, what is it?" demanded the now thoroughly
irritated manager.
"Not a dozen sheets of paper put up by the whole crew," was the
startling announcement. "That Sparling outfit has plastered
every spot as big as your hand for forty miles around here."
"What! Why didn't you cover them?" shrieked the manager.
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