WITNESSES THE FIRST APPEARANCE OF “DANELLO”
They found their dinners at the first house they applied at, and good,
generous dinners they were. At a quarter of two they were returning
to the circus ground, and not alone. The vicinity for two weeks past
had been well sprinkled with glowing posters advertising “America’s
Greatest Circus and Hippodrome,” and now the result was in evidence.
The road to the field was lined with pedestrians and filled with
vehicles. The mud-specked family carryall of the farmer or the spring
wagon with boards forming extra seats for the accommodation of a large
family rubbed hubs with the natty phaeton or rubber-tired station ’bus
from the summer settlement. That thoroughly American vehicle, the
buggy, showed the national spirit of independence by rattling along in
the way of impatient and arrogant English carts and supercilious French
touring cars. Tom’s eyes hung out of his head.
“I didn’t know there were so many people on the whole island!” he
exclaimed.
“They’ll have a full house this afternoon, all right,” said Nelson.
When they reached the field they had difficulty in working their way
over to the mess tent, so great was the throng. The side show was being
liberally patronized. In the shade of the pictured canvas a man, in a
high silk hat and wearing a flannel shirt with a large yellow diamond
in it, stood upon a box and pointed out the attractions with a long
stick.
“This way, ladies and gentlemen!” he cried. “Don’t forget the Side
Show, the Palace of Mysteries, the Greatest Aggregation of Natural
Curiosities ever placed before the American Public. Step up, ladies and
gentlemen! It is only ten cents, a dime, the tenth part of a dollar!
’Twill neither make nor break! The Performance in the Main Tent does
not begin for half an hour. You have plenty of time to visit the Hall
of Wonders! See the Snake Charmer in her wonderful demonstration
of Psychic Force! A beautiful young girl who handles the deadly
rattlesnake, the formidable boa constrictor, and the treacherous Indian
Cobra as a child fondles a kitten! Only a dime, ten cents! See Boris,
the Wild Man of the Tartary Steppes! Lives on raw flesh, sleeps but one
hour in the twenty-four, and speaks no word of any known language! A
puzzle to the Scientists of all Countries! Listen to the Albino Patti,
whose voice has the greatest range of any singer in the world and has
delighted the ears of Royalty all over the Civilized Globe! Step up!
Step up! Step up! Have your fortunes told by Queen Phyllis! Tells the
past and the future! Reads your mind like an open book! Advises you in
affairs of business for the ridiculously small price of fifteen cents.
The greatest Fortune Teller of the Age! This way to the Side Show! Step
up! Step up! Step up! Step up!”
Tom listened with open mouth.
“Let’s go in,” he whispered. “We’ve got half a dollar yet.”
“Oh, come on,” laughed Nelson, dragging him forcibly away from the
enticing “barker” and the lurid canvas. “It’s nearly quarter past, and
we’ve got to find Jerry.”
They pushed their way through the jostling throng, seeking the mess
tent. Since morning dealers in lemonade, sandwiches, photographs,
souvenir post cards, and many other things had set up their tables. A
five-cent photograph tent was doing a rushing business, and a man with
a cane-toss outfit was fast becoming rich. Bob wanted to linger at the
post-card booth, but Nelson pulled him away only to discover the next
instant that they had lost Tom. He was discovered finally, watching
the efforts of a country youth to capture a pocket-knife by throwing a
wooden ring over the head of a cane.
“Say, Bob, lend me ten cents, will you?” he begged. “I’ll just bet I
can do that!”
“No, sir,” answered Bob firmly; “you come along here.”
Eventually they reached the mess tent and found Jerry awaiting them.
“Have you seen Dan?” they asked.
“Dan?” repeated Jerry, looking about as though that youth might be
hidden under the wagon or the trestles. “He ain’t here. Have you lost
him?”
“We left him an hour ago and he promised to be around here, but he
didn’t say where. I thought maybe he was with you,” answered Nelson.
Jerry shook his head again.
“No, he ain’t here.”
“Well, we’ll wait awhile. Maybe he’ll turn up if he hasn’t got lost.”
But he didn’t, and when the strains of the band reached them from the
big tent Tom refused to sit still a moment longer.
“Come on,” he said impatiently. “He’s got his ticket. Maybe he’s in
there now. We’re missing half the fun.”
So, led by Jerry, who seemed strangely excited for a boy who had been
part and parcel of the show for several days, they made their way to
the main tent, Nelson carrying Barry in his arms to keep him from
being walked on. They fought their way through the narrow entrance and
found seats near the end of the tent. There was one ring and a stage.
Suddenly Tom nudged Nelson.
“Look, I’ll bet they’ve got Donello back,” he said. “See there? That’s
the ladder and the tank like pictures show them.”
“Yes,” said Jerry; “I heard they’d found a fellow to take Donello’s
place, but it ain’t Donello himself. Here comes the grand march.”
The curtains at the far end of the tent were pulled aside, and a
procession of horses and chariots and animals entered and lumbered
around the tan bark to the martial strains of the overworked band.
Hercules wobbled along in a world-weary way, swaying his trunk as
though keeping time to the music. The camel followed. Tom said he
looked as though he was trying to do a cake walk. Then the three clowns
suddenly appeared, fell over the ropes in time-honored fashion, and
the performance began. It wasn’t a half-bad show, the boys agreed, Bob
pointing out the fact that it was an advantage to have only one ring
because you didn’t get cross-eyed trying to see two or three things at
the same time. The bareback riding was good, the trick roller-skaters
fair, and the clowns quite as funny as clowns ever are. Everybody ate
peanuts and threw the shells on everybody else, the air grew heavy with
dust, and the band played tirelessly. Tom sat with fascinated gaze and
saw everything that went on. Jerry told interesting inside history of
the performers, and was greatly pleased at the evident enjoyment of his
friends. It was the first time in his life that Jerry had ever treated
anybody and acted as host, and he was proud and elated. The afternoon
wore along and the performance with it. The ringmaster mounted the
stage and invited everybody to remain for the Minstrel Show and Popular
Concert to be held immediately after the conclusion of the performance.
“An amusing, instructive, and moral entertainment,” he declared,
“that no one should miss. Tickets are ten cents apiece. Gentlemanly
agents will now pass through the audience, and all wishing to do so
may purchase tickets to the Concert. Remember, they are but ten cents
apiece. Keep your seats, Ladies and Gentlemen! The best part of the
afternoon’s performance is still to be seen!”
Whereupon, as if by magic, vociferous men appeared everywhere shouting
“Tickets to the Minstrel Show and Concert! Only ten cents! Tickets
here! Who wants a ticket?”
“Here he comes!” whispered Jerry excitedly.
“Who?” asked Nelson.
“The fellow that’s going to dive,” answered Jerry. “That’s him coming
along there by the ropes. See?”
But they couldn’t see very well, for Donello’s substitute was at the
other end of the tent from them and various persons intervened. They
did, however, catch sight of a figure in pink fleshings with green
velvet trunks. Then the ringmaster introduced “Signor Donello, the
World-Renowned Aërial Diver,” and the drums rolled while the figure in
pink fleshings bowed gracefully and turned to the ladder. Up he went,
nimbly, hand over hand, until he stood on the tiny two-foot platform
attached to the top of the ladder high up under the creamy canvas roof.
Then he turned and looked down, and for the first time the boys saw his
face.
Nelson gasped, Bob half rose from his seat, Tom shouted:
“_Dan!_”
Nelson pulled him back to his seat.
“Shut up, you idiot!” he whispered hoarsely. “He’ll hear you and get
nervous.”
“Bu-bu-bu-but he’ll bu-bu-bu-break his nu-nu-neck!” cried Tom.
“Not Dan,” answered Nelson, but with more confidence than he felt.
“Just the same, it’s a fool stunt.”
“He ought to be licked,” growled Bob nervously.
“Do you think he’s tried it?” asked Nelson.
“Yes; he practiced before the tent opened,” said Jerry. “I knew about
it, but he made me promise not to tell.”
“I’ll bet he did,” said Nelson savagely. “He knew plaguy well we’d have
stopped him. That’s where he got the money he gave us, I guess.”
“Wh-wh-why don’t he jump?” asked Tom, squirming in his place. “Do you
su-su-suppose he’s scared?”
“That’s part of it,” explained Jerry. “Donello always did that. It gets
you sort of scared-like and anxious.”
It certainly did. Tom’s face looked like a piece of white paper. Bob
was scowling at his programme. Even Nelson, in spite of his confidence
in Dan’s ability to do most anything he made up his mind to do, looked
rather miserable. Jerry was the least anxious of the four,--but he had
witnessed the trials. The only entirely unperturbed member of the group
was Barry. Barry was sniffing the mingled odors of the tent with calm
curiosity.
High up above the ridiculously tiny tank of water, which to the
uninitiated seemed barely deep enough to bathe in, stood Dan. He held
a handkerchief in his hand the while he measured the distance. Then,
carefully, he stepped to the edge of the little ledge, dropped the
handkerchief, which went fluttering slowly down, accentuating the
distance, and let his arms fall straight to his sides.
There was scarcely a sound throughout the crowded tent. The audience
sat with upturned faces and fast-beating hearts. Tom’s fingers were
gripped fiercely into his legs as he watched with staring fascinated
eyes. Bob was breathing like a steam engine. Nelson, hands stuffed into
pockets, held his underlip between his teeth and made no sound. Barry
was standing in his lap and was now sniffing excitedly, his little nose
pointing toward the figure on the platform and twitching violently.
The ringmaster held up one gloved hand. The bandmaster raised his baton.
“_Ready!_”
The voice sounded a quarter of a mile away, and Nelson shivered. The
pink-clad figure gave a little hop from the edge of the platform and
shot downward like a flash of light. The drums broke into a roll. The
ringmaster cried “_Hi!_” and snapped his long whip. When a third of the
way down “Signor Donello’s” arms shot out and his body revolved.
“_In mid-air!_” cried the ringmaster exultantly.
Another drop and again the falling body turned head over heels, while
the drums rolled faster and the cymbals crashed. The new Donello had
beaten the old one at his own trick! The next instant there was a
splash and a cloud of flying spray as the body plunged headfirst into
the tank.
A gasp of relief arose from the audience, and then the applause
thundered forth, applause which quickly turned to laughter. For, as the
performer climbed over the edge of the tank, a white streak bounded
across the ring and leaped at his face. Barry had found his master.