An uneasy murmur swayed the audience.  The manager ran out into the ring, swiftly glanced at the centre pole, and drawing a whistle from his pocket gave three piercing blasts.

“It’s a wind storm,” Andy heard some one remark.

A second gust swayed the centre pole.  The great spreads of canvas bulged and flapped.  The audience arose in their seats.

Andy saw the manager seize a great megaphone near the band stand.  He shouted: 

“Preserve order.  There is no danger.  Keep your seats.  It is only a passing gust of wind.  Play! play!” he shouted frantically to the band.

“Take care!” shouted the man, Marco, with a look through the outside flap, “she’s coming again!”

A sudden tumult fell on the air.  Shrieks, yells, a great babel arose from the audience.  The centre pole creaked and swayed dangerously.  Then, with a sharp rip the canvas roof over Andy’s head was wrenched from place and went sailing up into the air.

A heavy wooden cross-piece running between two supports had been torn loose at one end.  The rope securing it whipped about and struck Andy in the face.

He dodged, and was about to leap to the ground, when a sharp cry from Stella Starr announced a new peril.

The free end of the heavy cross piece was descending with the force of a driven sledge hammer.  She was directly within range.  Andy saw her danger, jumped erect, grabbed at the rope whipping about, and pulled it towards himself.

As the equestrienne shrank to the neck of the trembling horse upon which she sat, the timber just grazed her spangled hair.  It struck the ground and tore loose above.  Its other end hit the pile of seat planks with a crash.

Andy felt them topple.  He tried to steady himself, to jump aside.  He was caught in the tumble and went headlong to the sawdust, the planks falling on top of him.

CHAPTER VII

A WARM RECEPTION

Andy Wildwood was knocked senseless.  When he came back to consciousness he found himself lying on a mattress in a little space surrounded by canvas.  It was one of the circus dressing rooms.

He sniffed camphor, and one side of his head felt stiff and sore.  Putting up his hand Andy discovered strips of sticking plaster there.

“Was I hurt?” he asked, sitting up.

“Circus doctor says not badly,” promptly answered Marco, who stood by the mattress.  “How is it, kid?  No bones broken?”

“Oh, no,” answered Andy readily, getting to his feet.  “Say, what happened?  The wind storm—­”

“Gone over.  It’s sunshine outside now.  A few hanks of thread will fix the rips.  The show went on all right after the squall.  But say, you’re a daisy.  That timber—­oh, here she is to talk for herself.”

Miss Stella Starr put in an appearance just here.  She was neatly dressed in street costume.  Her eyes were very bright, and there was a grateful smile on her womanly face as she grasped both of Andy’s hands.