Phil Rushington's Search, or, The Unknown Rider of the Ring — page 17: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

DO AND DARE WEEKLY. “How is everything going, Walt? I haven’t been able to give much time to the performance this afternoon.” “Things seem to be running smoothly, but you made a mistake by not riding in the grand entry, Rush.” “IT think not, old man,’ answered Phil, smiling a little as he thought of the dilemma he had been in and the way he had gotten out of it. | “By the way,’ went on Walt, coming a lit- tle closer, “has all this anything to do with that unknown rider?” “Very much, I think,’ answered Rush. “Just how much, [ intend to find out before very long. How’s the boy doing?” “Very well, Grout says. He went on for his act just as I started with Curly to go to the place where you were. Have you no- ticed that there has been a good deal of ap- plause since then?” “Yes. Well, find Lovejoy, if you can, and report to me. Remember, also, what I told you about relieving Curly.” Walt nodded, and made his way hurriedly around towards the ticket-wagon. Rush, passing the horse-tent annex to the main tent, stepped inside. The place seemed deserted, but, as he stood there, looking about him, a tumultuous burst of applause came from the other tent, the curtain at the ring entrance was jerked aside, and the unknown rider trotted through, the curtain closing after him. The boy’s face was flushed. His ring-cos- tume was a handsome one, and he looked very well in it—in fact, too well. There was a certain effeminacy about his appearance which struck Phil, and struck him “all in a heap,” so to speak. This might not have ‘been commented upon by the casual observer, but Phil connected it with certain remarks made by the two men in the cage, and a Soa idea flashed swiftly through | his ton! OP a ey FR ris? ke pRB f pea he s sm d and adved ent however, he is poise, and pitched Phil was at his side in a mo- ment, bending down and lifting him. ‘What is the matter, Frances—Frances Ardsley?” queried Rush, hazarding a chance shot, and loking full into the rider’s face as he did so. The rider paled, and one arm shivered in Rush’s hand; then she gasped, her eyes look- ing appealingly into his: ‘“Don’t—don’t betray me, Phil Rushing- '’? At sight of him] his whip. At the sams reeled, tried to recover over sideways. Looking out from behind one of the can- vas stalls was a man in tights. He clenched his fist, and a malignant expression over- spread his face as he looked; then, quickly.” turning, he sped silently back to the dressing- tent. ~ CHAPTER V: HOW FRANCIS BEC! “T will keep your secret,” said Rush, “but it would have been beter had you told me all in the first place.” “T feared to do so,” she answered, suffer- ing herself to be lifted by Phil and supported “T thought that he might find out I was here if I once allowed my secret to pass my lips.” by his arm. She looked apprehensively around while speaking. “He?” returned Rush. mean, Miss Ardsley?’ “Lovejoy.” — “Do you know the fellow?” inquired Rush, a trifle startled at the way certain incidents were dovetailing together. —“T never saw ale she answered, sie “But you are I ele) = 3 | ee order O- ‘ 4! ° , ea) ,e. 7 ve * r ’ +. ne . ¥ “Whom do you “comicbooks.cor "