OF HOLY WRIT
The following day Sube Cane made a pleasing discovery. He was strolling
along the back street that bordered his father's garden when he was
confronted by a vision of gorgeous beauty. He halted in amazement.
"Well, I'll be jiggled!" he gasped ecstatically. "I'd like to know when
they put that up! It wasn't there this morning. There was nuthin' but a
lot of patent med'cine ads."
And he gazed in rapture at the colorful announcement of the coming of
Baylum & Barney's Greatest Show on Earth. At first a lady in fleshings
doing a toe-dance on the back of a pinto percheron held his attention,
but he was soon won from her by the Human Fly, who was depicted as in
the act of walking on the ceiling. And it was not long before the Human
Fly gave way to the Only Genuine Blood-Sweating Behemoth of Holy Writ
Now in Captivity. Then Sube truly lost his heart.
The longer he gazed at the behemoth the more he admired it. It was,
indeed, a case of love at first sight. Under his fascinated scrutiny the
shifty eyes became kind; the broad ugly nose and cavernous mouth seemed
to smile at him; the wrinkled hide looked as soft as a baby's skin. How
he would have liked one for a pet!
In his mind as he stood there a definite idea assumed form; he would
never be a lawyer when he grew up. Nothing short of a showman could
satisfy him now. The thought of attending his own show every day was
enticing. The informality of the circus life appealed to him. There
would be no dining table to keep his elbows off from; no napkin to fold
up. When he got hungry he would simply help himself to a few glasses of
red lemonade and all the hot dogs he wanted, and no time would be wasted
waiting for other people to be served. And when he led the parade, no
common milk-white horses for him; he would train and drive a pair of
good ol' blood-sweaters!
Then another idea struck him; a big one. Why not begin the business at
once! He realized that for a time, at least, he would have to be
hampered by living in a house and eating at a table; but there was
nothing to prevent his starting his show in a small way. A third
inspiration showed him how he could obtain a behemoth for immediate
use. And by the time he had reached home his plans were well under way.
[Illustration]
"Dad," he asked as he sauntered into the library a little later, "where
is Holy Writ?"
"Where is _what_?" asked his astonished parent.
"Holy Writ."
"Why, if you mean the Bible," said Mr. Cane, "it is in on the parlor
table." And he resumed the reading of his paper.
For a moment Sube was immovable. Then it dawned on him. The Holy Writ
was just another name for the Bible. And those figures underneath the
portrait of his favorite were a reference to the Book of Job. He would
go back and see what they were.
Half an hour later as Mr. Cane stepped behind the davenport in the
parlor to adjust a screen, he nearly fell over the boy.
"What in thunder are you doing there?" he demanded irritably.
"Sir?"
"I said, 'What are you doing there?'"
"Reading." Sube tried to cover up the object of his perusal by lying on
top of it; but this move only excited further curiosity on the part of
his father.
"What are you reading?"
"A book."
Evasion was always aggravating to Mr. Cane. "What book?" he cried as he
struggled to keep down his rising temper.
"This one right here." Sube indicated it with a motion of his body.
"What is the name of it?" thundered the exasperated parent.
"Sir?"
"You heard what I said!"
"The name of this book?"
Mr. Cane did not deign to answer. He simply glowered, opening and
closing his hands as if they itched to take hold of something.
Sube understood the look and the convulsive movement of the hands, and
made haste to answer: "Why, the name of it's the--" he was compelled to
turn the book over and examine the title--"the Bible," he mumbled.
"What's that?" asked Mr. Cane petulantly. "Speak so a person can
understand you! Don't mumble."
Sube hung his head as he murmured, "I said, 'the Bible.'"
Mr. Cane softened instantly. He thought he had discovered an
undreamed-of spark of reverence in his son. "That's a very good book
for you to read," he said kindly. "I hope you'll read it every day."
If Mr. Cane had looked into the parlor two minutes later, he would have
realized his mistake. For Sube carefully tore from the Holy Writ a
single page which he folded up compactly and thrust deep into his
hip-pocket. At that moment he heard his mother's voice calling him; and
hurriedly thrusting aside the screen his father had so carefully
adjusted, he leaped from the window and was gone.
As Sube's showmanship developed, his manners dwindled. Sometimes it
seemed to his family that his reason was tottering. One evening at
dinner he humiliated his parents and irritated beyond words a dyspeptic
jurist who was his father's guest, by interjecting into the conversation
observations regarding the peculiarities of the blood-sweathing
behemoth. And this in spite of the fact that his mother had previously
warned him that any attempt on his part to participate in the talk at
the table would be considered as an unfriendly act. Finally his
enthusiasm ran away with him to such an extent that he forced upon the
diners over the _sotto voce_ protests of his mother, an off-hand
description of the creature of Job's fancy, so detailed and so
unexpurgated that his instant dismissal from the table became
imperative.
He left the room more outraged than chastened, muttering something about
being able to "prove it" and fumbling sulkily in his hip pocket
apparently for evidence. A few moments later he was standing before his
beloved poster regarding his heart's desire with a sense of peculiar
proprietorship. After a little he sat down on the grass; and while
Sport, his old spotted dog, lay at his feet lazily digging at one ear
with a rheumatic hind-foot, Sube drew from his pocket and read aloud in
a halting monotone certain portions of the fortieth chapter of the Book
of Job, often pausing between verses to verify the observations of the
Patient Prophet by comparison with the portrait taken from life.
When the gathering dusk made further reading impossible, and began to
blur the features of the behemoth into less pleasing form Sube stood up.
"Sport," he said, "you'll prob'ly make a bum job of it, but you're goin'
to be a blood-sweatin' behemoth of Holy Writ."
The dog received this announcement with equanimity, little realizing the
inconvenience it was to cause him.
The next day at Sunday School Sube declined to give the Golden Text, and
recited in its stead a few verses from the Book of Job to which his
teacher, Miss Lester, took choleric exception. He was immediately sent
home; but when Miss Lester stopped in to explain matters to his mother
he had not yet arrived. As he sauntered in half an hour later he met
with a very warm reception and was placed on jail-limits for the
remainder of the day, being forbidden to leave the premises. But this
entailed no great hardship, for he spent the afternoon in the barn
printing posters and making preparations for the circus which he was
planning to launch on the morrow.
Monday was a red-letter day for the youth living in that part of the
town known as the East Village. The lucky few who were associated with
the management were engaged in building the "ampatheater" and fashioning
the drop curtain from a quantity of ex-fertilizer sacks that were
Gizzard Tobin's contribution to the enterprise; the others were kept
busy knocking the show, and at the same time getting together the price
of admission.
At about two o'clock in the afternoon a great hubbub was heard in the
streets. It sounded at first as if a newspaper extra had arrived; but a
careful listener would have been able to make out that the cry was,
"Cir-cus!" instead of, "Ux-try!" Then came the additional announcement
that the big show would start at two-thirty sharp in the main tent
upstairs in Canes' barn.
The barkers darted from place to place with such amazing rapidity and
shouted so lustily that it seemed as if there must be nearer forty of
them than four. Indeed their cries appeared to come from all sides at
once. Nor was the rapidity of their movements accelerated by their
circus costumes, for they were all in full dress; and their upturned
trousers would insist on coming down over their feet and tripping them
up from time to time.
It is possible that this may account for the disreputable condition in
which two or three fathers in the neighborhood found their evening
clothes the next time they had occasion to wear them. Although, without
exception, the boys in the affected families denied any knowledge of the
matter.
When the time-piece on the shelf in Canes' kitchen reached two-thirty
o'clock the "ampatheater" was crowded to capacity, and although several
late comers were assured by the man at the door that there were plenty
of "reserved seats for every man, woman and child, one and all, admitted
to the big tent," they found on going inside that there was standing
room only.
"Plen-ty of room! Plen-ty of room!" drawled the loud nasal voice at the
door. "Do not loi-ter about the entrance, please! Either step in, or
step aside! Gangway, please! Gang-way! Do not interfere with our
pa-trons--"
These and many other remarks of a distinctly professional nature came
from Ringmaster Cane, who seemed to be everywhere at once. Now he was at
the entrance keeping it free from loiterers; now his nasal drawl could
be heard issuing orders behind the scenes; now he was assisting a couple
of ladies to find seats in the "ampatheater"; and at last, with three
shrill blasts on a police whistle, he stood before the curtain and
cracked his whip for order.