IN WHICH JERRY TELLS HIS STORY AND DAN PROVIDES DINNER
They dragged Dan away from the elephant and set out for the town and
the telegraph office.
“I hope the money is there,” said Tom. “Of course I want to eat, but
to stay here where there’s a circus and not be able to get in would be
worse than starving.”
“And such a bee-oo-tiful elephant,” sighed Dan. “I could look for hours
at that elephant and watch him curl his trunk up. Why weren’t we made
with trunks, do you suppose?”
“I suppose little boys like Tommy would only have suit cases?” inquired
Bob.
“Robert, that is a bum joke,” answered Dan severely. “Only the
consideration that you are weak and faint from want of food restrains
me from punishing you severely. Also Nel.”
“What have I done?”
“It’s what you didn’t do. You didn’t wake me up when the circus walked
into our bedroom. Don’t you think I like to see camels and lions and
things as well as you do? And hot coffee too! You were pretty mean to
have all that fun by yourself.”
“That’s what!” concurred Tom.
“Well, there’s the telegraph office,” said Bob. “Say, fellows,
supposing--supposing it hasn’t come!”
“Maybe it hasn’t--yet,” said Dan anxiously. “It’s only a little after
eight, and if dad didn’t send it last night----”
“We ought to have said ‘Send immediately,’” interrupted Bob regretfully.
“That’s so,” agreed Tom; “immediately, if not sooner. But pshaw, why, I
can just smell that money!”
“Wish I could smell the breakfast,” laughed Nelson. “Here we are.”
“Good morning,” said Dan. “Anything here for me?”
The operator shook his head.
“Nothing yet,” he answered.
They looked disappointed, and he added:
“Brooklyn’s sort of slow this morning, though; maybe your message is
coming.”
“It’s more the money I want than the message,” said Dan.
“Oh, well, the money wouldn’t be likely to get here for an hour or so
yet. When was it sent?”
“I don’t know. Last night, I hope.”
“If it was sent last night it ought to be here now,” said the operator.
“What’ll we do?” asked Dan.
“I’m going back to the circus,” said Tom. “If I’ve got to starve I’d
rather do it there where I can keep my mind off my troubles.”
“So am I,” said Nelson.
“I guess we might as well all go,” said Dan. “I’ll come back in an
hour,” he added to the operator. “It ought surely to be here by that
time, don’t you think?”
“I should think so,” answered the operator. “Sorry I haven’t got it for
you now.”
“Thanks. It isn’t your fault, though. Come on, fellow-poverns.”
“What’s a povern?” asked Tom.
“It’s a chap who hasn’t any money,” answered Dan glumly, “like you and
me, Tommy, and Bob and Nelson--and Barry.”
“Oh,” said Tom disappointedly; “I thought maybe it was something to
eat. I guess I was thinking of muffins.”
“Don’t do it; that way lies madness.”
When they turned into the circus grounds again they put Barry back
on his leash, for he showed a most unchristian attitude toward the
elephant and camel. For an hour they wandered about or sat on some
packing boxes at the back of the dressing tent and tried to forget
that they were hungry. Then Dan and Barry left them and set off for
the telegraph office once more. By that time the scene had become
animated again. The horses were being hitched to the wagons and
chariots, performers in costume were issuing from the dressing tent,
and the elephant and camel were being decked in spangled red blankets.
Tom made inquiries and learned that there was to be a parade through
Millford and on a mile farther to where the summer colony was situated.
Things were quite exciting for the next half hour and when all was in
readiness the boys went down to the road to watch the procession pass
out.
First there was an intensely dignified gentleman in hunting costume,
pink coat, high hat, and all, who rode ahead on a big white horse.
Then came the band, eight dejected-looking men in red tunics sitting
in a boat-shaped barge. After them followed the elephant conducted by
an Irishman in Arab dress who carried a short spear. The elephant’s
name, if the faded red blanket was to be believed, was Hercules.
The blanket said so in large letters. But the Irish Arab called
him “Charlie.” A lady with golden hair, attired in a flowing white
costume of cheesecloth made up according to the fashions prevailing
in Greece many centuries ago, stood in a golden chariot and drove
three well-behaved black horses abreast. A second chariot, drawn
by three bay horses, was presided over by a red-faced gentleman in
Roman costume. A line of animal cages followed. Then came a small
pony cart hauled by a black-and-white pony and driven by a clown,
a very sad-looking individual indeed. More cages, many empty; a
calliope with the musician smoking a big black cigar; a float upon
which five white-cheesecloth-attired ladies sat in various attitudes
of discomfort; two lady jockeys driving white horses in tandem;
more clowns, one riding a donkey and the others occupying a small
carriage; the camel ridden by a man in a pair of baggy blue trousers
and a green jacket; three trick ponies led by small boys; an ancient
barouche occupied by four gentlemen in full dress and bearing placards
advertising the show. That was the last of it. It trailed slowly away
in the direction of the village, and the boys slipped off the fence.
“Let’s go and find Jerry,” suggested Nelson. “He said he wasn’t busy at
ten, and I guess it must be pretty near that time now. Gee, but I miss
my watch!”
“And I miss my money,” said Tom.
“Wait a minute,” said Bob. “Here comes Dan. Did you get it, Dan?”
Dan shook his head sadly.
“Thunder!” muttered Tom.
“Do you suppose your father’s away?” asked Bob.
“I don’t believe so. He doesn’t very often go away. Anyhow, mother
would be pretty sure to open the message.”
“I think one of us had better telegraph,” said Nelson.
“Wait until noon,” said Bob.
“We’ll be starved by that time,” objected Tom.
“Look here, fellows,” said Dan. “If that money doesn’t come by twelve
o’clock, I’ll get some dinner for you.”
“How?”
“I don’t know how yet. But I’ll do it, so don’t you worry. I’m mighty
sorry, and I don’t see what the trouble can be.”
“Oh, don’t bother,” said Bob, noting Dan’s downcast looks. “We’ll do
well enough. Who wants to eat, anyway?”
“Not I,” said Nelson. “Food has no attraction for me; I’m above it.”
“It’s bad for the digestion,” added Tom. “Let’s find Jerry. Maybe he’ll
present us with a crust of bread.”
“If you ask him for food,” threatened Bob, “I’ll lick you, Tommy, till
you can’t stand up--or sit down either, for that matter.”
“Who’s going to ask him?” muttered Tom. “I was only in fun.”
They found Jerry sitting on one of the trestles outside the mess tent
reading a book. When they hailed him he laid the book aside rather
hurriedly, but later Nelson caught a glimpse of the cover. It was a
battered arithmetic. Jerry shook hands all around and was formally
introduced to Barry, and they climbed to the trestle beside him and
asked dozens of questions. Above all they wanted to know how Jerry came
to be with the circus.
“It sort of happened,” he said. “The day after you all was at the farm,
dad sent me over to Newbury with a load of hay for the circus. I got
there about eight o’clock and after I’d thrown the load off I hitched
the horses and looked around a bit. And I happened to get along to the
mess tent just when Mr. Foley--that’s the head cook and the man that
gave you the coffee--was tellin’ Mr. Wirt--he’s one of the proprietors,
you know--that he wouldn’t work another day without a boy to help him.
You see, the boy they had before I came, had run away two days before,
when they was showing at Flushing. So after the boss went away I up and
asked Mr. Foley did he want a boy. He said he did, and I said I’d like
the job. He looked me over and said for me to go and see Mr. Wirt. So I
seen Mr. Wirt, and he hired me. Then I drove the hayrick home and came
back in the afternoon.”
“That was slick,” said Tom. “Do you like it?”
“Yes, I like it. It’s kind of hard, but Mr. Foley and Mr. Jones are
mighty good to me. I get three dollars and a half a week and plenty to
eat.”
“Did your father want you to go?” asked Nelson.
Jerry shook his head.
“No; but after I’d explained to him he didn’t mind--much. You see,
it’s kind of lonesome for dad without me there. But I told him I had to
earn some money because I was going to school next year, and he said it
was all right. Course I ain’t goin’ to stay here all winter. The show
goes South next month, and I’m goin’ to quit then. I got a place on a
farm promised me in October, over near Barrington.”
“That’s fine,” said Nelson. “You still intend to go to Hillton?”
“Yes. Do you--do you think I could?”
“Of course you can,” answered Nelson heartily. “Only--you’d better
study whenever you get a chance.”
“I’m goin’ to.”
“It would be nice,” said Dan, “if you could go to one of the schools
around here this winter.”
“Yes; I thought of that,” answered Jerry, “but I couldn’t do it, I
guess; leastways, not if I was to make any money. And I got to have
money,” he added doggedly.
Dan looked inquiringly at Nelson and Bob, but each shook his head,
counseling silence as to their conspiracy.
“Does the circus make much money?” asked Tom.
“I guess so,” Jerry replied. “Sometimes we don’t have very big crowds,
and then again sometimes we have to pack ’em into the tent like oats
in a grain bin. A good deal depends on the weather, they say. They’re
sort of lookin’ for a big crowd this afternoon an’ a slim one to-night.
This ain’t a very good show place, Mr. Foley says, but it’s better to
make a little here than to miss a performance, like we’d have to do if
we went right on to Patchogue.”
Jerry put his hand in his pocket and brought out four soiled oblongs of
red pasteboard.
“I thought maybe you fellers would like to go,” he said, handing the
admission tickets to Dan. “Those ain’t for reserved seats, but the
reserves ain’t much better’n the others, far’s I can see.”
“That’s awfully kind of you,” said Dan, and the others echoed his
sentiment.
“Can you get all the tickets you want?” asked Nelson.
“N-no,” answered Jerry; “they don’t give many away.”
“Well, they must like you, Jerry, to give you all these,” said Tom.
Jerry studied his hands a moment.
“I--they didn’t exactly give me them,” he owned finally.
“Do you mean that you bought them?” asked Tom.
“Yes; but ’tain’t anything,” Jerry responded with elaborate
carelessness.
“But--but--!” stammered Tom.
Nelson reached across with his foot and kicked Tom’s shin.
“It’s mighty good of you, Jerry,” he said gratefully. “Are you going to
be there?”
“Somewheres about, I guess.”
“Well, couldn’t you go with us and--and sort of explain things?”
Jerry’s face lighted eagerly.
“Guess I could if you want me to,” he answered.
“All right. We’ll look for you here, then. What time does it begin?”
“Half-past two. I’ll be here and I’ll look for you. You won’t see as
good a show as usual, though,” he continued apologetically. “You see,
we ain’t got Donello any more. He left us day before yesterday.”
“Who’s he?” asked Bob.
“He’s the fellow does the high dive,” answered Jerry. “Ain’t you seen
the show bills? He climbs up a ladder on to a little platform about
thirty feet in the air an’ dives into a tank an’ turns a somersault
comin’ down. The bills say that there ain’t but three feet of water in
the tank, but that ain’t so, ’cause the tank’s set down in the ground
about two feet. It’s a fine trick, that is, an’ the first time I seen
it I was most scared to death. But he an’ Mr. Murray had a quarrel, an’
he lit out. Mr. Murray’s been telegraphin’ around ever since tryin’ to
get some one to take his place, but I guess he ain’t found anyone.”
“How far did you say he dives?” asked Dan.
“’Bout thirty feet, but it looks a lot more. An’ when he gets up there
he says ‘Ready!’ in a little squeaky voice that sounds like he was
about a mile away. An’ then the drums beat an’ he comes down headfirst
a ways. Then he flips himself over, an’ the ringmaster he shouts ‘In
mid-air!’ an’ then Donello he comes plump into the tank headfirst; an’
everyone sets up a shoutin’ an’ a clappin’. It’s certainly”--Jerry
searched for a word--“in-_spi_-rating.”
“It must be,” said Dan gravely. “I wonder what time it is.”
Jerry looked up at the sun.
“’Bout eleven, I guess,” he answered. “I got to get to work. The
parade’ll be back in about half an hour, an’ we have dinner at
half-past twelve.”
“Well, we’ll meet you here at about a quarter past two,” said Nelson as
they slid off the trestle.
“What’ll we do now?” asked Tom.
“Guess I’ll go back to the telegraph office,” said Dan.
“We’ll all go,” said Nelson. “Then if the money’s there we can find
some place to have some dinner. We don’t want to miss the show. Isn’t
Jerry a corker?”
“He’s all right, Jerry is,” agreed Bob. “What was that word of his?
Inspi----?”
“In-_spi_-rating,” answered Tom, laughing. “I wish Donello, or whatever
his name is, was going to do his stunt. It sounds pretty fine.”
“Shucks!” said Nelson, “that isn’t very much. Why, look here, Dan,
you’ve done twenty-five feet often up at camp. And as for turning
somersaults----!”
“That’s all right,” responded Tom warmly, “but I’ll bet you couldn’t do
it, nor Dan either. It’s one thing to dive into a lake where there’s
twelve feet of water and another to dive into a little old tank.”
“Five feet’s as good as twelve,” answered Dan calmly.
“Not for me it isn’t,” said Tom.
“I know, Tommy; it takes more water to float you.”
“Huh!” grunted Tom. “I can beat you floating!”
“I don’t believe you could sink if you tried,” said Dan.
“Then what did you just su-su-say it took more water----”
“Shut up, you fellows,” interrupted Bob. “Here’s the office. Let’s
learn the worst.”
It was soon learned. The operator shook his head before Dan could ask a
question. Tom groaned loudly.
“I’ll stay here awhile,” said Dan soberly. “You fellows go on back if
you want to. I’ll be there at a little after twelve.”
“Well, all right,” said Nelson. “Only if you don’t hear by that time
I’d better telegraph to my folks. Supposing I write out a message now?
Then if you don’t get any word you can send it.”
So Nelson wrote a demand for fifty dollars “_immediately_,”
underscoring the “immediately,” although, as Bob pointed out, the
operator couldn’t send italics.
“I don’t care,” replied Nelson. “It gives me satisfaction.”
They left Dan and, after sauntering around the streets of the little
village for a while, returned to the circus field in the wake of the
parade. On the way they paused to admire a lithograph of “Donello,
Prince of High Divers, in his Perilous Plunge of Fifty Feet into
Thirty-six Inches of Water!”
“But, look here,” objected Tom, “how many of him are there?”
Sure enough, according to the lithograph there were three distinct
Donellos. One was poised on the little platform at the summit of the
ladder, while two others were turning somersaults on the way down to
the tiny tank.
“Oh, that’s just poetic license,” explained Nelson. “It shows him at
various points in the trip. It’s the same chap, see? Blue-black hair,
pink tights, and a green velvet thingumbob around the middle of him.”
“All the same,” answered Tom, “it’s a lie, that picture.”
“As far as I can see,” responded Bob sadly, “circus posters are most
all lies. I guess if they just showed what there really was to see no
one would go.”
“Sure,” said Nelson. “Besides, they’re mighty interesting lies. I
suppose a circus man’s got as much right to tell lies in his pictures
as authors have to write them in books.”
“It isn’t the same,” objected Tom. “Authors don’t tell lies to get your
money out of you, and circuses do.”
“No; authors get your money first,” laughed Bob.
“Besides,” Tom continued, “that poster says fifty feet, and Jerry says
it’s only thirty.”
“Poetic license again, Tommy,” said Nelson soothingly.
“It isn’t right, though,” was the stubborn response.
“Well, don’t you care, old chap; it isn’t your fault.”
“Hunger is driving Tommy into a frightful condition of pessimism,” said
Bob.
“Wish I had a fried egg,” said Tom gloomily.
“Yes, all kind of golden on top and brownish around the edges,”
supplemented Bob with a grin.
“Oh, cut it out,” sighed Nelson. “You’re making me have spasms inside.
I suppose we might go and stand around the cook until he offered us
something to eat to get rid of us, but it would be pretty low down.”
“Couldn’t be any lower down than I feel right now,” said Tom.
“Oh, I guess Dan’ll get the money this time,” said Bob hopefully.
They found a comfortable place in the sun and stretched themselves out
to wait. Nelson said he was going to try to go to sleep and forget
it. But he didn’t succeed. It was long past noon when Barry pounced on
them and heralded Dan’s approach. They sat up quickly and looked the
question none dared to ask. Dan shook his head smilingly. Tom rolled
over on the grass and muttered. Even Bob lost his temper for an instant.
“You needn’t look so thundering pleased about it,” he growled.
Dan laughed and tossed something at him. Bob snatched it up. It was a
two-dollar bill.
“What did you lie for?” he demanded.
“I didn’t,” answered Dan. “The money hasn’t come, nor any message
either. But there’s enough for dinner.”
“Wh-wh-wh-wh-where--” began Tom.
“You needn’t ask where it came from,” said Dan, “because I’m not going
to tell you. But I got it honestly, and all you’ve got to do now is to
find something to eat.”
“It sounds good to me,” said Nelson, jumping up. Bob and Tom joined
him, eying Dan curiously.
“Aren’t you coming?” asked Bob. Dan shook his head.
“I’ve had mine,” he answered lightly.
“I’ll bet you haven’t! Don’t be an ass, now; there’s more than enough
for the four of us.”
“Honor bright, I have, Bob.”
“Where?”
“I won’t tell you. Go on and get your dinners, you chaps, and I’ll tell
you all about it later. And--er--do you mind taking Barry with you? I
don’t believe he had enough.”
“Will you be here when we come back?” asked Nelson suspiciously.
“Yes, somewheres around,” was the careless answer.
“There’s something mighty funny about it,” grumbled Tom as they took
themselves off, Barry following unwillingly at the end of the leash.
“You bet there is,” answered Nelson. “Dan’s been up to mischief, that’s
what!”
“Well, he says it’s all right,” said Bob cheerfully, “and Dan doesn’t
lie. I vote we get some dinner and----”
“Hold on a bit!” cried Nelson. “Let me see that bill.”
He took it and looked it over carefully. Then he gave a sigh of relief.
“It seems to be all right,” he said. “I didn’t know but what it might
be a fake or something. You never can tell what Dan will do.”
“That’s so,” the others agreed.
And a few hours later they were more certain of it than ever.