CHAPTER IX
TEDDY GETS INTO TROUBLE
"Get those paste cans outside! Step lively there!"
"Say, you talk to me as if I were one of the hired help,"objected Teddy, his face flushing.
"Well, that is exactly what you are. You'll soon learn that youare hired help if you remain on this car. I'll take all thefreshness out of you. The flour is in the cellar."
"In the cellar?"
"That's what I said. Go down and get it out. You will requireabout a sack and a half for each can. That will be about rightfor a can of paste. Henry will show you how much bluestone toput in. But be careful of that boiler. I don't want the carblown up."
The manager strode away to his office, while Teddy, red andperspiring, went about his work. He was much more meek thanusual, and this very fact, had the manager known him better,would have impressed Mr. Snowden as a suspicious circumstance.
Instead of the usual pink tights with spangled trunks, TeddyTucker was now clad in a pair of blue jeans, held up by pieces ofstring reaching up over his shoulders. His was now a fardifferent figure from that presented by him in the ring of theSparling Shows.
After dumping the flour into the cans, in doing which Teddy tookhis time, he attached a hose pipe to the boiler, under thedirection of Henry. Next he filled the cans with water and wasthen ready to turn on the steam to boil the paste.
Teddy was about to do this when Mr. Snowden appeared onthe scene. He looked over the cans critically, but observingnothing that he could find fault with, he got a stick andbegan poking in the bottom of one of the cans, thinking he haddiscovered that more flour had been used than was necessary.
All at once Teddy, who was now inside the car, turned a full headof steam through the hose pipe. There being one hundred andforty pounds of steam on the boiler something happened.
The full force of the steam shot into the bottom of the can overwhich Mr. Snowden was bending. The contents of that can leapedup into the air, water, flour, bluestone and all, and for thenext few seconds Manager Snowden was the central figure in thelittle drama. It rained uncooked paste for nearly half a minute.Such of it as had not smitten him squarely in the face went up inthe air and then came down, showering on his head.
The force of the miniature explosion had bowled the manager over.Choking, sputtering, blinded for the moment by the stuff that hadgot into his eyes, he wallowed in the dust by the side ofthe car.
Teddy shut off the steam, went out on the platform and sat down.
"What happened?" he demanded innocently. Perhaps he did not knowand perhaps he did.
Mr. Snowden did not answer, for the very good reason that hecould not. His clothes were ruined.
"It looks like a storm," muttered the lad. In this he wasnot mistaken.
A happy thought came to him. Springing up he hurried into thecar, and, drawing a pail of water from the tap, ran out with it.Mr. Snowden had just scrambled to his feet.
"This will do you good," said Teddy, dashing the pail of waterover the manager's head. "That's the way you brought me backwhen I got pasted up last night."
The Circus Boy ducked back to the platform and sat down toawait developments. They were not long in arriving. The instantSnowden got the flour out of his eyes sufficiently to enable himto see he began blinking in all directions.
Finally his eyes rested on Teddy Tucker, who was perched on abrake wheel observing the manager's discomfiture.
"You!" exploded the manager. Grabbing up the paddle used for thepurpose of stirring paste he started for the Circus Boy.
Teddy promptly slid from the brake wheel and quickly got to theother side of the car. Snowden was after him with an angry roar,brandishing the paddle above his head.
"I knew it would blow up a storm pretty soon," muttered the lad,making a lively sprint as the manager came rushing around the endof the car. The chase was on, but Teddy Tucker was much morefleet of foot than was his pursuer, besides which his years oftraining in the circus ring had put him in condition for along race.
Around and around the car they ran, the porter watching them,big-eyed and apprehensive, but Teddy kept his pursuer at adistance without great effort.
After a short time the lad varied his tactics. Increasing hisspeed, he leaped to the rear platform of the car, and sprang upon the platform railing. Here, grasping the edge, he pulledhimself to the roof, where he sat down with his feet danglingover, grinning defiantly.
"Come down from there!" roared the manager. "I'll teach youto play your miserable pranks on me!" The roof of the car wasbeyond the ability of Mr. Snowden to reach.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you had your nose stuck in the pastepot when I turned on the steam," murmured Teddy.
This served only to increase the anger of the man on the ground.
"You did it on purpose; you know you did!" roared Mr. Snowden."Come down, I tell you."
"You come up. It's fine up here!"
The manager, now angered past all control, uttered a growl.Hastily gathering up a handful of coal he began heaving thepieces at Teddy. But Tucker was prepared for just suchan emergency.
>From his pockets he drew several chunks of coal, that he hadpicked up during his sprinting match around the car. He letthese drive at Mr. Snowden, one after the other, not, however,throwing with sufficient force to do much damage. He did notwish to harm his superior, but he did want to drive him off.
Mr. Snowden soon got enough of the bombardment, for he wasgetting the worst of it all the time.
"I'll turn the hose on you!" he bellowed, making a dash for theinterior of the car, where it was his intention to turn on theboiling hot water and steam.
"I guess it's time to leave," decided Teddy. Quickly hoppingdown he ran and hid behind a freight car a short distance fromthe show car. When Mr. Snowden came out, grasping the hissinghose, his victim was nowhere to be seen.
Uttering angry imprecations and threats the manager returnedto his office, changed his clothes, then strode off up townto a hotel to get a bath, of which he was very much in needat the moment.
"I guess he will be cooled off by the time he gets back," decidedTeddy, emerging from his hiding place. "I think I will go backto work. I must earn my money somehow. That man is crazy, but Ihave an idea he will be sane after I get through with him."
Teddy returned to his paste-making. Henry, the porter, wasso frightened that he hardly dared talk to Teddy, for fearthe manager might catch him doing so and vent his wrath onthe Englishman.
As the Circus Boy had surmised Mr. Snowden returned after a twohours' absence, much chastened in spirit. He did not even lookat Teddy Tucker, though the latter was watching the manager outof the corners of his eyes. Mr. Snowden went directly to hisstateroom where he locked himself in.
"I guess the storm has blown over," decided young Tucker,grinning to himself. "But won't Phil raise an awful row when hehears about it!"
The lad quickly learned the paste-making trick, and after dinnerhe set to work in earnest. He found it hard work stirring thestiff paste, and it seemed as if Teddy got the greater part of itover his clothes and face. He was literally smeared with it,great splashes of it disfiguring his face and matting his hair.
When the men from the country routes drove in there was a howlof merriment. The lad did present a ludicrous sight.
"Hello, Spotted Horse!" shouted one of them.
"Hello yourself," growled Teddy, in none too enviable a frameof mind.
"That's the name. That's the name that fits our friend Tucker!"cried Missing Link. From that moment on, aboard Car Three, TeddyTucker lost his own name and became Spotted Horse.
The men had no sooner unloaded their paste cans than the porterhad told them of the trouble that morning between Teddy andthe manager.
The men howled in their delight. Mr. Snowden, off in his littleoffice, heard the sounds of merriment and knew that the laughterwas at his expense. His face was black and distorted with rage.
"I'l
l show them they can't trifle with and insult me,"he gritted.
At that moment he roared for Billy.
"The regular evening seance is about to begin," announced Billy,with a grimace, as he turned toward the office.
"Bring the cub, Forrest, along!" shouted the manager.
"Who?" called Conley.
"Forrest and that fool friend of his."
"He means Spotted Horse," suggested Rosie. "Run along,Spotted Horse. Got your war paint on?"
"I always have my war paint on," grinned Teddy, as he startedtoward the private office, following Conley and Phil Forrest.
The three ranged up before the car manager, who surveyed themwith glowering face.
"What have you done today?" he demanded, fixing his gazeon Billy.
"We got up more than four hundred sheets of paper."
"Four hundred sheets!" groaned Snowden. "What have you fellowsbeen doing? Sleeping by the roadside?"
"No, sir, we have been working, and Mr. Forrest here pulled offone of the cleverest hits that's ever been made. He plastereda silo that stands out like a sore thumb on the landscape, andwhich every farmer within ten or twenty miles about will go tolook at."
"Humph, I don't believe it! What have the other men done?"
Conley reported as to the number of sheets that the men hadposted, whereat the manager rose, pounded his desk and, in atowering rage, expressed his opinion of the tribe ofbillposters again.
Billy smiled sarcastically, in which he was joined by Teddy,but Phil's face was solemn. He was becoming rather tired ofthis constant abuse.
"If you have nothing to say to me, I will go back to my placein the car," spoke up Phil.
Snowden glared at him.
"Did I tell you to leave this room?"
"I believe you did not."
"Then stand there until I tell you to go!"
"Very well, sir."
"Conley, I have called you in here to be a witness to what I amabout to say. Do you hear?"
Billy nodded.
"During the past two days I have been insulted and abused bythose two young cubs there, until it has come to a point whereI appear to be no longer manager of this car. Your men outsidehave laughed at my discomfiture--yes, sir, actually made sportof me."
"I think you are mistaken. I--"
"I am _not_. I am never mistaken. This morning, this fellowTucker not only defied me, but turned on the steam when I wasexamining a paste pot, and soaked me from head to foot. Then heended up by throwing coal at me."
"Yes, and you started the row," retorted Teddy. "The idea of abig man like you pitching on to a boy. You ought to be ashamedof yourself."
"Stop it! I'll forget you are a boy if you goad me further.But I have had enough of it. I'll stand it no longer.Do you understand?"
No one replied to the question.
"This thing has gone far enough. Have you anything to say foryourself or your friend here, Forrest?"
"Yes, sir, I have."
"Say it."
"You are the most ill-tempered man it has ever been my experienceto know."
"You're discharged! Both of you! Get off my car instantly!Do you hear me?"
"I could not very well help hearing you. I am sorry todisobey you, but we were ordered to Number Three by Mr. Sparling.We will try to do our duty, but we shall not leave this caruntil Mr. Sparling orders us to do so," answered Phil steadily.