CHAPTER XIV
TEDDY WRITES A LETTER
"I'm only a beginner," mused Phil Forrest, as his car spun alongat a sixty-mile gait. "And I'm green, and I have a whole lot tolearn, but if Bob Tripp catches up with Car Three, now, he willhave to travel some!"
The next town was made quite early in the afternoon.Phil, however, did not settle down to wait for another day.He had wired the liveryman in the next town to meet his car,so, immediately upon arrival, he bundled his billposters off onthe country routes.
"Work as far as you can before dark, then find places to sleepat a farmhouse. Do the best you can. We must be out of theseyards before noon tomorrow, and as much earlier as possible.If you can post by moonlight do it, even if you have to wakethe farmers up along the line to get permission."
The men were well-nigh exhausted, but they rose manfully tothe occasion. They realized that there was a master hand overthem, even if it were the hand of a boy inexperienced in theirline of work.
No manager had ever reeled off work at such a dizzy pace as PhilForrest was doing. It challenged their admiration and made themforget their weariness.
The country routes started, Phil set his lithographers at work.The men kept at it until nearly midnight. They had completedtheir work in the town and in the meantime Phil and Teddy hadsquared the hits, as they are called--the places where thebanners were to be tacked up--all ready for the banner men toget to work when they arrived in town next morning, or latethat night.
They arrived about midnight, but the other car did not come onthe train with them. They brought the information that the trainwas a limited one, and would not carry the rival car. Bob Trippwould not be able to get through until sometime thenext forenoon.
Phil felt like throwing up his hat and shouting with delight,but his dignity as a car manager would not permit him to do so.No such limitations were imposed upon Teddy Tucker, however,and Teddy whooped it up for all that was in him.
All hands were weary when they turned in that night. At abouteleven o'clock the following morning, the country billposterscame in, having completed their routes. Phil had made hisarrangements to have his car hauled over the road by a specialengine, and shortly after noon Car Three was again on its way,every man on board rejoicing over the drubbing they had giventheir rival.
Phil Forrest was a hero in their eyes. Not a man of that crew,now, but who would go through fire for him, if need be!
That afternoon the same plan was followed, Phil driving his menout to their work.
"I am sorry, boys," he said. "I don't like to drive you likethis, but we've simply got to shake off Tripp and his crew.In a day or so we will be straightened around again so we cansettle down to our regular routine, unless, perhaps, we runinto more trouble. You have all done nobly. If it hadn'tbeen for you I should have been whipped to a standstill bythat other outfit."
"Not you," growled the Missing Link. "They don't grow the kindthat can whip the likes of you," in which sentiment the entirecrew concurred.
No more was seen of Bob Tripp and his men on that run.Tripp heard from his general agent, however, with a call-downthat made his head ache. The general agent kept the telegraphwires hot for twenty-four hours, and in the end, sent anothercar ahead of Tripp into the territory that Phil Forrest andhis men were working.
Phil, of course, was not aware of this at the time, but he foundit out before long.
His car had slipped over into Kansas, by this time, and the crewwere now working their way over the prairies.
"It seems to me that it is time you were attending to your presswork, Teddy Tucker," said Phil on the following day. "You havenot called at a newspaper office since we started under thenew arrangement."
"Nope," admitted Teddy.
"Why not?"
"Why, do you think?"
"I am sure I do not know."
"Well, you ought to, seeing you have been keeping me running mylegs off twenty-four and a half hours out of every day."
"You have been pretty busy, that is a fact. But you had betterstart in today. You have plenty of time this afternoon to attendto that work."
"What shall I tell them?"
"Oh, tell them a funny story. Make them laugh, and they will dothe rest."
"But I don't know any funny stories."
"Tell them the story of your life as a circus boy. That will befunny enough to make a hyena laugh."
"Ho, ho!" exploded Teddy. "It is a joke. He who laughs firstlaughs last."
"You mean 'he who laughs last laughs best,'" corrected Phil,smiling broadly.
"Well, maybe. Something of the sort," grinned the Circus Boy.
"And look here, Teddy!"
"Yes?"
"Have you written to Mr. Sparling yet, as he requested youto do?"
"No."
"And why not?"
"Same reason."
"You must write to him every day, no matter how busy you are.Sit up a little later every night; go without a meal ifnecessary, but follow his directions implicitly."
"Implicitly," mocked Teddy.
However, Mr. Sparling was not without news of what had beengoing on on Car Three. Billy Conley had written fully ofPhil Forrest's brilliant exploits. After one of these letters,Mr. Sparling wrote Conley, as follows:
"Those boys will never tell me when they do anything worthwhile.It isn't like Phil to talk about his own achievements. So youwrite me anything of this sort you think I would like to know.I do not mean you are to act as a spy, or anything of the sort.Just write me the things you think they will not write about."
Bill understood and faithfully followed out hisemployer's directions. Mr. Sparling proudly showedConley's letters to all of his associates back withthe show, where there was much rejoicing, for everyoneliked Phil; not only liked but held him in sincereadmiration for his many good qualities.
That evening, however, Teddy sat down at the typewriter andlaboriously hammered out a letter to his employer.
"Hang the thing!" he growled. "I wish I had only one finger."
"Why? That's a funny wish," laughed Phil. "Why do youwish that?"
"Because all the rest of them get in the way when I try to runa typewriter."
"I am afraid you never would make a piano player, Teddy."
"I don't want to be one. I would rather ride theeducated donkey. It's better exercise." Teddy thenproceeded with his letter. This is what he wrote:
"Dear Mr. Sparling:"
"Nothing has happened since you were here."
One of the lithographers had a fit in the dining room of thecontract hotel this morning (I don't blame him, do you?) and theyhauled him out by the feet. We run amuck with another advancecar, the other day, but nobody got into a fight. I thought rivalcars always--excuse the typewriter, it doesn't know any better--got into a fight when they met.
"One of the billposters fell off a barn--it was a hay barn,I think. I am not sure. I'll ask Phil before I finishthis letter. Let me see, what happened to him? Oh, yes,I remember. He broke his arm off and we left him in ahospital back at Aberdeen. Phil let one of the banner mengo this morning. The fellow had false teeth and couldn'thold tacks in his mouth. I tell him it would be a good planto examine the teeth of all these banner men fellows beforehe joins them out, just the same as you would when you'rebuying a horse. Don't you think so?"
"By the way, I almost forgot to tell you. We ran over aswitchman in the night last night. I don't think it hurt thecar any."
"Well, good-bye. I'll write again when there is some news.How's January? Wish I was back, riding him in the ring.Expect I'll have an awful time with him when I start in again.Don't feed him any oats, and keep him off the fresh grass.I don't want him to get a fat stomach, because I can't getmy legs under him to hold on when he bucks."
"Well, good-bye again. Love to all the boys."
"Your friend,"
"Teddy Tucker."
"P. S. Did I tell you we killed the switchman? Well, we did.He
's dead. He's switched off for keeps."
"T. T."
"P. S. Yes, Phil says it was a hay barn that the billposter felloff from. Wouldn't it be a good plan to furnish those fellowswith nets? Billposters are scarce and we can't afford to loseany good ones."
"T. T."