Under the Big Top
A very weary and dust-covered couple trudged to the top of the last hill
just before sundown and paused, with Lou's hand instinctively clutching
Jim's arm.
"Is that it; the Hudson?" She pointed over the fringe of treetops below
them to the broad, winding ribbon of sparkling gray-blue, touched here
and there with the reflection of the fleecy pink clouds drifting far
overhead.
Jim turned to look at her, wondering what reaction the view would have
upon the emotions of this child who, until a brief week ago, had known
only the "brick house with a high fence and a playground where never a
blade of grass grew."
Her big eyes followed the river's course until it was lost in a creeping
mist behind high hills, and she drew a deep breath.
"How far does it go?" she asked.
"To New York; to the sea," he responded. "The ocean, you know."
"My!" There was wonder and a certain regret in her tone. "What a waste
of good wash-water!"
Jim emitted an inarticulate remark, and added hastily:
"Let us get along down into Highvale. I must try to find a place for you
to sleep, and remember, Lou, you're my sister if anyone starts to
question you."
"All right; I don't mind, if you don't." She gave the floppy hat a yank
that slued the ridiculous green bow to a more rakish angle, and then
stopped suddenly in the road. "O-oh, look!"
A barn had been built close up to the side of the fence, and freshly
pasted upon it was the vividly colored poster of a circus. The
enthusiastic admiration which she had denied to her first view of the
great river glowed now in Lou's eyes, and she stood transfixed.
"What is it, Jim? The pretty lady on the horse an' the other one up on
the swing thing without--without any skirt to her, and the man with the
funny pants an' the big hat that's shootin'----"
"There must be a circus in Highvale--yes, the date says to-night," Jim
replied.
"'Trimble & Wells Great Circus & Sideshow,'" she read slowly. "I heard
about them circuses; some of the children seen them before they came
to--to where I was, an' once one come to town an' sent free tickets to
us, but the deaconesses said it was sinful an' so we couldn't go. It
don't look sinful to me; it looks just grand--grand!"
She could have stood for an hour drinking in all the wonders of the
poster, but Jim hurried her on although he was filled with sympathy.
Poor little kid! What a rotten, black sort of life she must have had,
and how he wished that he might take her to this tawdry, cheap affair
and watch her naive enjoyment.
But their combined capital would not have covered the price of the
tickets, and there was supper to be thought of, and the hazards of the
immediate future. For the present the circus must remain an unattained
dream to Lou.
The steep little hill down to the village seemed very long, and twilight
was almost upon them when they came to a big, open lot upon which a
circular tent was in process of erection, with lesser oblong ones
clustered at one side.
A fringe of small boys and village loungers lined the roadway watching
the corps of men who were working like beavers within the lot, urged on
by a bawling, cursing voice which seemed to proceed from a stout,
choleric man who bounded about, alternately waving his arms and cupping
his hands to improvise a megaphone.
Jim was tired, and his side throbbed dully, but a sudden inspiration
came to him, and he drew Lou over to the other side of the road.
"Sit down here and wait for me," he told her. "I won't be long. That's
where the circus is going to be, and perhaps I can fix it for you to see
it."
Turning, he shouldered his way through the knot of loungers, and
entering the lot, approached the stout gentleman.
"Want an extra hand?" he asked. "Anything from a ballyhoo to a
rough-rider?"
The stout man wheeled and surveyed him in momentarily speechless wrath
at the interruption. Then his eyes narrowed appraisingly as he noted the
tall, lean, well-knit figure before him, and he demanded:
"How the h--l did you know that the Wild West act was all knocked to
pieces?"
"It isn't now," Jim smiled. "Lend me a horse and a pair of chaps, and
I'll show you in five minutes what's going to be your star act
to-night."
"You're no circus man, nor a Westerner, neither." The boss still stared.
"And you don't look like a bum. What's your game, anyway?"
"To pick up a little loose change and get a horse between my knees
again."
The thought of the forlorn little figure which he had left by the
roadside kept Jim's smile steady, and added a desperate artificial
buoyancy to his tired tones:
"Never mind who I am or where I came from; I can ride, and that's what
you want, isn't it?"
There was an instant's pause, and then the boss bawled a stentorian
order and grabbed him by the arm.
"Come on. I'll give you a chance to show me what you can do, but if
you're takin' up my time on a bluff I'll break every bone in your ----
---- body!"
He led Jim to an open space behind the tents where presently there
appeared a living convulsion in the shape of a bucking, squealing bronco
seemingly held down to earth by two sweating, shirtless men.
As Jim surveyed that wickedly lowered head with its small eyes rolling
viciously, his heart misgave him for a moment. What if he should fail?
It was long since he had practiced those rough-riding stunts that had
made him in demand for those society circuses of the ante-bellum days,
and longer yet since he had learned to break a bronco on the ranch,
which had been Bill Hollis's hobby for a season.
What if that devil of a pony should best him in the struggle, and he
should be thrown ignominiously from the lot before the eyes of the girl
who was waiting patiently for him?
The next instant he had vaulted lightly into the high, Western saddle,
the two men had jumped back, and the fight was on. The bronco lashed out
viciously with his heels, leaped sidewise, and then, after a running
start, attempted to throw his rider over his head, but Jim clung to him
like a burr; he flung himself down and rolled over, but the young man
jumped clear and was back into the saddle as the enraged animal regained
his feet.
The struggle was strenuous but brief, and Jim found himself rejoicing
that none of the old tricks had failed him, and that the wicked little
brute was realizing that he had at length been mastered.
When the bronco was thoroughly subjected, Jim rode quietly up to where
the boss stood with the two other men.
"Want me to pick up a handkerchief for you, or any other of the old
stunts, now?" he asked. "Don't want to tire this old plug too much for
the show."
The boss chuckled.
"Get down and talk business with me, young feller," he said. "You won't
ride Jazz in the ring to-night; he's the rottenest, most treacherous
little wretch with the outfit, and I only put you on him to call your
bluff. Want to join the show? We had to leave our rough-rider back in
the last town with a broken leg."
Jim shook his head.
"Only for to-night," he replied. "My sister and I are beating it South."
"Well, I'll give you five dollars----"
"No, you won't," Jim smiled. "I'll work for you to-night for just
twenty-five cents."
"Say, you ain't bughouse, are you?" The boss stared again.
"The fourth part of a dollar, two bits!" Jim replied doggedly. Then his
gaze wandered as though casually over to the cook tent, and he added:
"However, if you could suggest anything to two hungry people, and
something else for a little girl who has never seen a circus, Mr.
Trimble-and-Wells, and who is waiting for me in the road----"
The boss roared.
"D--d if I don't think you're dippy, but you certainly can ride like
h--l!" he exclaimed. "I'll take you up on that; go get the kid and bring
her in to supper, and I'll see that she gets a reserved seat for the
show. Holy smoke! A feller that can stick on Jazz, and wants to work for
a quarter!"
Thus it was that when the clown came tumbling into the ring to the
blaring of the band that night, a girl with the green bow all askew upon
her hat and her violet-blue eyes a shade darker and snapping with
excitement was perched on one of the front row planks which served as
seats, clutching a bag of peanuts and waiting in an ecstasy for the
wonders about to be unfolded.
The ride in the pedler's van, the hours of currant-picking, and the hot,
hilly, eight-mile trudge were forgotten, and she felt like pinching
herself to see if she would wake up all of a sudden to find herself once
more back in the attic at the Hess farm.
The beautiful lady with the fluffy skirts rode round the ring on tiptoe
and jumped through the flaming hoops at the behest of the gentleman with
the high silk hat and the long whip; the other lady "without any skirt
to her" flew dizzily through the air from one trapeze to the other, and
the performing elephant went through his time-worn tricks with the air
of a resigned philosopher, and still Lou sat entranced.
Then the dingy curtains parted, and a man loped easily into the ring on
a wiry, little Western horse. He was the same man she had seen in the
poster that afternoon; the one with the funny pants and the big hat and
the red handkerchief knotted around his throat, and he proceeded to do
marvelous things.
It is highly probable that many a better exhibition of rough-riding had
been given beneath the big top, but to Lou, as to the villagers
surrounding her in densely packed rows, it was a supreme display of
horsemanship, and they expressed themselves with vociferous applause
when he uncoiled a rope from the peak of his saddle and dexterously
brought down the bewildered steer which had been chivvied into the ring.
In the row directly in front of Lou sat a quartet who were obviously out
of place among their bucolic neighbors, but as obviously bent on amusing
themselves. The ladies of the party wore brilliant sweaters beneath
their long silk motor coats, and veils floated from their small round
hats, and the gentlemen wore long coats, too, and had goggles pushed up
on their caps.
Bits of their chatter, and low-voiced, well-bred laughter drifted back
to the girl's ears between pauses in the louder comments of her
immediate neighbors and the intermittent din of the band, and Lou was
amazed.
Could it be that they were laughing at this glorious, wonderful thing
that was called a "circus?" Were they ridiculing it, trying to pretend
that they had seen anything more marvelous in all the world?
They didn't laugh at the rough-rider, she noticed. The ladies applauded
daintily, and once the stouter of the two gentlemen called out: "Good
work!" as the rider executed a seemingly daring feat, and the other
gentleman consulted his flimsy play bill.
Then all thought of the four was banished from Lou's mind, for the rider
had cantered from the ring and dropped a large white handkerchief upon
the sawdust of the outer circle just before her. Wasn't that bit of
color in a corner of a handkerchief an American flag? Jim had told her
that he was to do some work outside for the circus people that night,
and the boss had kindly offered her a seat, but that handkerchief----
Suddenly the rider swept by with his horse at a dead run, and swooping
down, seized the square of white in his teeth, and while the tent rang
with applause, Lou sat very still. It was Jim! It was he, her "partner,"
whom the people were all clapping their hands at, who was doing all
these wonderful things! But his face had looked somewhat pale beneath
that big hat, and his smile sort of fixed.
The bandage was gone from his head, and the plaster which had replaced
it was hidden, but she could not have been mistaken. What if he were
suffering, if his back and side were paining him again? She recalled the
exhaustion with which he had slept at noontime, and the long, weary hike
that followed it, and her heart contracted within her. It was for her
that he was doing this, so that she might see the show!
One of the ladies in the seats before her leaned forward and exclaimed:
"Didn't he look like Jimmie Abbott? If we didn't know that he was on a
fishing trip up in Canada----"
Lou did not catch the rest of the remark. Her eyes were glued upon the
rider and her ears stilled to everything around her. With a final
flourish he dashed for the dingy curtain at the exit and it parted to
let him pass. It did not close quickly enough behind him, however; not
quickly enough to conceal from the gaping audience his lurching fall
from the saddle into the group of acrobats waiting to come on in their
turn.
Then it was that a small, pink-checked cyclone whirled through the rows
of closely packed humanity and half-way round the arena to the curtain,
while above the clamor of the band arose a shrill cry; "Jim! Jim!"
"Did you see her?" The lady who had commented upon the rider's
appearance demanded of the gentleman beside her. "She called him Jim,
too; isn't that odd? Do you suppose, Jack, that she is with the circus;
that little country girl?"
"Oh, it was only part of the show," the stout gentleman replied in a
bored tone. "Or else the chap was tight. He certainly rode as if he had
some red-eye tucked under his belt; wonder where he got it around here?"