"What is the trouble?" Derrick asked, in a perfectly calm, almost casual
way.
The man who was holding the horse turned to him with a grin.
"We're going to show your man how to do the trick, mister," he said.
"He's a fool-man, to think he can come over here and teach us boys how
to ride."
Derrick had not been to a public school for nothing. He caught the
spirit of the thing in a moment, and with that readiness which makes the
Britisher the master of circumstance wherever he goes, he nodded and
smiled, and clapped the cowboy on the shoulder.
"Right you are! Go ahead," he said, cheerfully, and the cowboy,
evidently surprised by Derrick's complaisance, stepped back.
The horse was set going, the cowboy walked slowly in the proper
direction, the audience watching him in intense silence, then, with a
run and a bound, he alighted on the horse's back, performing the trick
to perfection. The audience thundered its applause, and Derrick, to
round off the thing properly, took the cowboy's rough hand, shook it,
and whispered,
"Bow, bow, and get back to your place at once. Off with you!"
Amidst cheers and laughter, the now shy and confused amateur obeyed, and
Derrick, with his hands in his pockets, strolled across the ring, as if
the whole incident had been planned.
A group of persons awaited him; men and women who had paled beneath
their paint, for they had expected trouble. But they were flushed now,
and the women's eyes were sparkling with admiration. Isabel, in all the
glory of her costume, was the first to greet him.
"It was splendid," she said, in her deep contralto, and, as if
involuntarily, she held out her hand. "You saved the show."
Derrick, with the wholesome red of modesty mantling in his cheeks,
gently pushed by them.
"Nonsense! There was no danger, not a bit. Keep it going; we're all
right."
And so it proved; for the audience, highly pleased with itself and the
member who had distinguished himself, received the rest of the bill with
marked satisfaction and pleasure.
"The guv'nor wants you, Mr. Green," said Sidcup, who had not joined in
the congratulations and admiration of the rest.
"All right," said Derrick. "Be with him in a moment."
He went in search of Jackman, and found him, with a bottle of whisky,
just outside the men's quarters. He looked up and snarled as Derrick
approached him. Derrick took the bottle from him, and then looked down
at him with an air of doubt and uncertainty.
"I'm trying to make up my mind whether I should give you your discharge
or a good hiding. I don't like sacking a man in a strange land, and
you're not in a condition for a fair fight. What do you think I ought to
do?"
Jackman staggered to his feet and glared at him.
"You've hit me once before, Mr. Green," he said. "Hit me again--just lay
your hand on me, and it'll be the last man you ever bash. You're an
upstart, that's what you are. You think, because you can come over that
old fool, that you're going to lord it over everybody. You can play that
sort of game with the women, but you can't with me. I'm engaged for this
trip, and you can't sack me because I made a slip of it in the ring just
now. I know the law, Mr. Green. You think I'm drunk. I'm sober enough to
best you, anyhow."
Thinking to take Derrick unawares, the foolish man aimed a blow at him;
but Derrick caught the arm, and almost gently forced Jackman into his
seat again.
"If you hadn't gone for me I'd have sacked you; but I see there's some
good left in you, anyhow. Pull yourself together, man, and don't be an
idiot. Cut this stuff"--he tapped the bottle--"and do your job properly.
I'll talk to you in the morning. No, I won't; but if I find you playing
the giddy goat again, I'll give you your choice of a hiding or a
discharge."
As Derrick hurried off to the manager's office he asked himself why he
had been so merciful, for the man had deserved all with which Derrick
had threatened him. But Derrick knew, for as he had stood looking down
at the man, he had remembered a certain young man who had been saved
from playing the fool by a girl; and the remembrance would never leave
him, would always make him merciful towards the folly of other men.
Mr. Bloxford was not wearing his fur coat, but he nodded to the garment,
where it hung on a chair behind him.
"Help me on with it, will you? Took it off--thought there was going to
be a row," he said, with the air of a man who is quite able alone to
quell a disturbance. "You managed that very well, Mr. Green." This was
the first time he had honoured Derrick with a prefix. "The neatest thing
I've seen. Yes, you're a cool hand, young man. At first I thought you
were going to come the high and mighty over that cowboy, and if you had,
you'd have raised Hades and Thomasus. We should have had the rest of
them on us and the show wrecked, like they did that other one. I tell
you I was out of that coat before you could say Jack Robinson. But
before you were half across the ring I twigged your game. And you played
it for all it was worth. You're made of the right stuff. Yes, you're the
sort of man I've read about in the silly story books; but I little
thought I should ever come across him. Now, I wonder why it is?"
He cocked his bald head and peered at Derrick thoughtfully.
"Of course, they'd say in the books it's because you're a 'gentleman.'
Well, up to now, I've always given the grin to that highfulutin notion;
but--I dunno. Anyhow, I'm much obliged to you."
He held out a grubby paw and shook the now very much embarrassed Derrick
by the hand.
"Of course, I'm going to raise your screw. We'll say, double it, and no
palaver."
Derrick expressed his thanks, but Mr. Bloxford waved him away.
"As for that pig Jackman, we'll fire him out, of course."
Derrick pleaded for the man, and Bloxford yielded, but with a shrug of
the shoulders and a dissenting shake of the head.
"All right," he said, grudgingly. "It's up to you, of course. But don't
you forget what I told you when you and he had a shindy on board. He's
the kind of man who'll wait and lay for you when he gets a chance."
Derrick laughed easily as he proceeded to count the money.
They drew good audiences for the whole of their stay, and then prepared
to move on. As before, the heaviest of the responsibility fell on
Derrick's shoulders, but it was made as light as possible for him by the
good will the company bore him, which it expressed by rendering prompt
obedience and willing assistance. Jackman had given no further trouble,
but had gone about his work with a sullen demeanour, and he markedly
avoided any meeting with Derrick, who treated him exactly as he treated
every other member of the company.
On the morning of their departure Derrick was standing in the centre of
the tent, superintending the displacement and packing up of the seats
and other properties. He was immediately beneath a large and heavy
circular lamp which afforded the principal light, and up above him was
Jackman, who had been sent to lower it. He was waiting for the word from
the chief baggage man, who was standing at a little distance from
Derrick.
Derrick was moving away, when suddenly he heard a warning cry. He looked
up and saw the mass of metal descending, though the baggage man had not
given the word. It was a swift upward glance, and as swiftly he swerved
aside. Then he felt a sharp but heavy pain on his shoulder, and fell. He
was conscious of a number of voices shouting, of vague forms hurrying
towards him, then all became a blank.
When he recovered consciousness he found himself lying in one of the
living vans. He tried to move, but the upper part of his body felt as if
it were made of lead. He opened his eyes and looked round him. Someone,
a tall figure, bent over him, and laid a hand on his forehead. He looked
up and, with a struggle for consciousness, saw that the face above him
was Isabel's.
"What's the matter--what is it?" he asked, and, to his surprise and
consternation, his voice sounded hollow and weak.
She dropped on her knees beside him, her hand still on his brow.
"You've been ill," she whispered. "Don't move. I don't think you ought
to speak. Stay quite still."
"But why?" he asked, with gentle impatience. "Why am I lying here, and
what's the matter with me?"
"You've been hurt," she said, in a voice that was trembling as well as
low. "It was the lamp. Don't you remember?"
Derrick knit his brows and tried to recall the past just before he
became unconscious.
"The lamp--Jackman!" he said, with a frown that turned to a grin; for
even at that moment he appreciated the neatness of Mr. Jackman's
revenge.
"Don't think of it," Isabel said, her hand becoming caressing, as she
passed it over his forehead. "You needn't be afraid; the beast has
disappeared. Yes, he bolted, or it would have been the worse for him.
The men----" Her eyes flashed, her white, even teeth clenched together.
"It was a wonder you weren't killed; if you hadn't moved, just at the
moment you did----"
"Am I badly hurt?" asked Derrick, anxiously. "Am I going to be laid up?
Awful nuisance!"
"No," she said; "it was your collar-bone. It is all right now. It struck
your head, too. That's why you were unconscious. We brought a doctor
along with us. He'll be here presently. They wanted to take you to the
hospital, but Mr. Bloxford--all of us--couldn't leave you behind."
"I'm glad you didn't," said Derrick. "I shall be all right presently. I
feel better already. And you have been nursing me?" he asked.
A blush rose to the clear olive of her face, and she smiled, a heavenly
smile, for this was a very beautiful woman, and when a beautiful woman
smiles the gods nod approval.
"You see, I was used to it. I was a nurse once; but I couldn't stick
it--too quiet. Alice has been helping me," she added, as if forced to
make the admission.
"I say, you have been awfully good to me," said Derrick, gratefully.
"Oh, that's all right," she said. "I--I like it. Like old times, you
know. I must go and tell Mr. Bloxford; he's been like a sick monkey
fretting over its young."
She stood beside the bed, her eyes downcast, her face pale now, but an
expression on her proud and haughty lips which would have befitted a
schoolgirl.
"Let me give you some broth. The doctor said you might have it, if you
came to."
She brought him a cup, but to Derrick's disgust he could not grasp it,
and she held it to his lips while he drank.
"You're an angel," he said; "yes, an angel. You look pale; you've been
nursing me all this time. How long is it?"
"Four days," she said, in a low voice. They had been the happiest four
days of her life.
"Good lord!" he muttered. "Four days! Oh, here, I say, I wish I could
thank you properly, but I can't."
"There's no need," she said, in a low voice. "I'll go and tell the
doctor and Mr. Bloxford."
She smoothed the clothes about him, her eyes still downcast, but as she
went to the door she turned and looked at him. Derrick met the gaze of
the dark eyes full blank, and as he did so the colour rose to his face,
and it was his turn for his eyes to become downcast.
He had learned her secret, and his heart was heavy within him, for,
though they were unlike, the eyes of that other girl, who was always in
his thoughts, flitted between him and Isabel.