THE GREAT CIRCUS
On the morning after the wonderful escape from the ravine, the whole
company were, for a while, rather quiet and subdued.
Nothing was to be seen of Baby Jane but the top of her golden head. Her
boys and beasts were huddled close round, trying to help her with sleepy
suggestions, mostly silly, for raising an army to convert the Bad Band
of the Black Mountains.
But as they squatted there on the soft sand in the drowsy warmth of the
sun, the councillors began to grow sleepier and their counsels sillier,
till suddenly--
'What ho!' said Sammy, and they all woke up. 'Let us have a "greatest
show on earth," with a circus and gymnastics, and a play-act to follow.
That will catch 'em all alive like a fly-paper, and Miss Jane can enlist
the lot! But first we must crawl along in a string in a gutter, if we
can find one, rigged out with boards with fine words on them:
'BABY JANE'S GIGANTIC JUBILEE CIRCUS
BUNNY THE FUNNY
AND CROCKY THE FAIR
MOUNTED ON MARY THE MUSICAL MARE.'
'No, I won't!' interrupted Mary Carmichael angrily; 'I don't mind being
a tight-rope dancer, but I _won't_ be a spotted horse!'
Sammy went on calmly:
'COMICAL CAPERS
AND MARVELLOUS FEATS,
_Two shilling, shilling, and sixpenny seats_.'
'Splendid!' said Baby Jane. 'All except the last words, which are
wrong. The seats are all _nothing_ seats.'
Sammy looked crestfallen--he had thought of the circus an hour before,
but had spent all that time in inventing those beautiful lines.
A little later a string of 'sandwich-men' might have been seen walking
in step slowly and solemnly across the desert, each bearing before him a
beautiful poster (drawn by himself, with a bit of burnt wood on white
stuff stretched across four sticks).
'Don't let us tell any one we are sandwich-men,' whispered Mary
Carmichael nervously; 'they might think we meant it and take a plateful
of us!'
At the end of the procession came Edouardo and the barrow as a caravan.
'It's a pity,' thought Baby Jane with a sigh, 'the barrow has no
looking-glasses and gold things and a Britannia on the top and a band
inside; but they won't know what a real circus is like, so perhaps we
can amuse them.'
It is little wonder that a procession, so rarely seen in those parts,
should attract the creatures who saw it from afar, and, as each one ran
round the corner and beckoned and shouted to his friends to come along
quick, the solemn line of sandwich-men was soon escorted by an expectant
rabble. They all seemed of the right sort--beasts really bad at heart
despised harmless fun like this.
Greater still was the curiosity aroused when Baby Jane and her troupe
came to a stop in a shallow round hollow with sloping banks like the
rising tiers of seats in a real circus. Round the bottom of this hollow
Sammy drew a line in the sand, and the following crowd were marshalled
into their seats outside it.
Then the circus began. The Bear had just the proper fat figure and gruff
voice for a ring-master, and he cracked the whip (ordinarily used to
encourage Edouardo) in the most correct way. The Rabbit made an
excellently idiotic clown.
The first item was a tight-rope dance by Mary Carmichael. She _would_ do
it in spite of every one's advice that she was being too ambitious.
Dressed in a silly little muslin skirt and carrying the umbrella
coquettishly over her shoulder, she skipped up to the rope that had been
stretched between two posts, and, with the help of the Bear, clambered
on to it. For a moment all went well. With a simpering smile she went
trip-tripping along the rope; but then she gave a frightful stagger,
swung out her legs in all directions, twisted her back cruelly in a wild
effort to recover herself, and fell with a clatter to the ground,
smashing the umbrella beneath her.
The whole audience roared with delight, thinking it part of the fun, but
there were tears in Mary's eyes as she limped out of the ring.
'I am afraid I have spoiled the whole show with my silliness,' she said
in a choking voice. 'I had better be a common spotted horse now.'
As it was Miss Crocodile's turn to appear as the Queen of the Ring, they
took Mary at her word, though she had not meant it, and, having taken
away her skirt and put it on Miss Crocodile, they spotted her like a
leopard and she had to canter round the ring, watering the sand with
bitter tears, while Miss Crocodile, looking very winsome with her little
legs crossed, sat sideways upon her and smiled at the audience.
Miss Crocodile was at first quite a brilliant success. Twice she leapt
nimbly through the hoop of bent bamboo held aloft by the Bear, but by
the third round Mary's sadness had turned to spite.
As before, Miss Crocodile rose into the air and shot through the hoop,
but to her dismay she found no horse on the other side for her to come
down upon, and she alighted on her chin, balanced for a moment with her
tail pointing to the sky, and then fell flat on her back. Mary
Carmichael had stopped short under the hoop!
[Illustration: Mary Carmichael had stopped short under the hoop.]
At this moment the Rabbit came racing into the ring mounted on a curious
four-legged animal which looked strangely like the Piccaninny and Patsey
joined together and covered with a rug.
'A race!' squeaked the Rabbit. 'My pony Joey against old
Spots-and-corners!'
The spotted Horse appealed to the Ring-master to stop the Rabbit's
rudeness, but all the same began to gallop furiously to show that she
could do at least one thing well. But the Rabbit, being nearer the
middle of the ring, had a much shorter course, and would have won easily
if only Patsey, who was the hind legs, could have run as fast as the
Piccaninny. As it was, the strange pony grew longer and longer, until
the Rabbit, who had a foot on each, was nearly pulled in half. Suddenly
the Pony broke in the middle, and both halves and the Rabbit, all mixed
up in the ring, joined in a fearful battle on the ground.
'The silly little cuckoos!' squeaked the Rabbit breathlessly, as he
arose from the tangled heap. 'I warned them about that.'
After that the three children were led in with ropes round their necks
and let loose within a little fence, which represented a cage. Then
'Leo, the heroic Baby Tamer,' trembling visibly, entered, and holding
out a stick for that ferocious creature Baby Jane to jump over, tried to
subdue her by the power of the eye. But she seemed to consider his
magical gaze merely rude, and, looking as like Miss McColl in a temper
as she could, she crept towards him. She must have looked very like,
for, with a screech of real fright, the Lion fell flat on his back.
Before the wretched creature had time to rise the three savage brutes
were upon him.
It was a fearful scene and caused a panic in the audience. Mother-bears
clutched their baby-bears, young lady crocodiles fainted, and young
lions stood up bravely--and shouted for the police. They were only
reassured when the children and the Lion came out of the cage and
publicly shook hands to show there was no ill-feeling.
'Oh, that was fun!' cried Baby Jane, pushing aside the golden locks
that, now unbound, hung like curtains against her flushed cheeks.
'Oh, was it?' said the Lion, ruefully rubbing himself, but smiling
affectionately at her.
When the circus was over there was an interval for dinner, and such was
the good-nature called forth by that enjoyable show that as many of the
audience got up from dinner as had sat down.
They followed the example of Baby Jane's family and dined on the
delicious foods that grew in the groves and thickets. An ill-mannered
cub may have inquired 'Who's for pudding?' but he was instantly cuffed
and made to ask '_What's_ for pudding?'
'It is so economical too!' whispered the matrons to one another. 'Of
course, one must have a missionary at Michaelmas and so forth, but at
other times I shall try to make my family keep to it.'
It was a much larger audience that returned to the arena after the meal,
for youngsters had been despatched, grumbling and whimpering, to bring
in distant relatives, and the far-reaching whiffs of the dinner itself
had brought in other beasts full-pelt.
And now began the Great Gymnastic Display. Baby Jane had been only a
beginner in the gymnasium of her school, and Sammy's knowledge was of
the kind gained on park-railings and lamp-posts, but the spectators knew
nothing at all and thought it very fine.
First the Lion and Patsey, under Sammy's direction, had a trial of skill
on the Parallel Bars. Sure, and it was a sweet sight to see Patsey with
his little shillelagh brandished in one foot and his hat in the other,
dancing a jig wrong side up. On the other hand, the Lion tried to be
stately. Now, it is nearly always a mistake to try to be stately while
standing on your head, and so the Lion found, for in straightening
himself out a little too far he slowly toppled backwards and fell flop
on top of Patsey, who, not having eyes in the part of him then
uppermost, could not see what was coming.
They rescued Patsey and found him crushed in body but not in spirit; on
the contrary, he struggled to go and fight a duel with the Lion.
Next, fixing up a post in the middle of the arena, they fastened ropes
to the top of it, and then, holding the other end of these ropes, they
swung round and round at a giddy pace, touching the ground lightly with
their toes. Of course this sport, especially with the slender pole that
they had, was only for the graceful little ones, and Baby Jane, the
Piccaninny, and the Rabbit were growing breathless with the delightful
sweep and swing of it, when that Mary Carmichael, who was as vain as she
was sentimental, and thought herself an airy young thing, came tripping
across the ring, and, hooking her great hoofs in the loop at the end of
a rope, struck the ground with her hind legs as if she were starting at
omnibus. Twice she went slinging round after the others and
then--crack!--the pole gave way, and the four performers were slung like
stones amongst the crowd. The other three landed safely and softly on
broad backs, but heavy, bony Mary descended in the lap of a cross old
spinster bear, who was gossiping with two cronies.
[Illustration: Mary descended in the lap of a cross old spinster bear.]
'Now, can't you look where you are going?' snapped Miss Bear, bundling
Mary off her lap on to the ground.
'Oh, I'm sure I beg your pardon!' said Mary hotly; and then, losing her
temper--'You don't imagine I want to join in the conversation of persons
who certainly aren't ladies, and don't look it!'
And then she flounced away, while they made scathing remarks to one
another about her at the top of their voices.
It can easily be understood that she was much too upset to play the part
of a vaulting-horse as it should be played, but she had to do it,
trembling all over with spite, and occasionally, to the great
inconvenience of the gymnasts, jerking half round to glare at the three
spinsters, who were laughing loudly at her undignified position.
Sammy led the line that raced nimbly up to the vaulting-horse, placed
his hands upon her back and turned a neat somersault over her. The
others all got over in some way or other, and all went well until Miss
Crocodile lost her head.
Instead of running round the horse and vaulting from the same side as
before, she turned straight back, bounded lightly into the air,
and--_met the Bear as he turned a somersault in the opposite direction_!
There was a terrible collision, and, worse and worse, the other vaulters
could not stop themselves and joined in the crash. It was an awful
sight--a whirling mass of heads, legs, bodies, and tails high in the
air!
Mary Carmichael thought that a blizzard and a thunderstorm had met
overhead, and made for shelter. It was well for her that she did so, for
the next two seconds it rained beasts and babies on the spot where she
had stood.
This succession of disasters, though painful to the performers, called
forth thunders of applause from the spectators--indeed, they would not
stop clapping, and it turned out they wanted the tumbles all over again.
But Baby Jane and her troupe sadly needed the rest they enjoyed at
tea-time, during which they made plans for the play that was to end the
day's pleasure.
'It is growing dark,' said Baby Jane; 'we shall have to have something
that happens at night. I know! I've read some stories from Shakespeare.
_Romeo and Juliet_ and _Hamlet_ both have nice night-scenes; they would
mix beautifully into one play. Oh yes, this is it! Prince Hamlet, who is
unkind to Ophelia because he is really in love with Juliet, has a sort
of tame ghost, and, when he finds Romeo saying loving things to the
window of Juliet's room, he sets his tame ghost on to him. Then, of
course, Romeo runs away chased by the ghost, and Juliet, who has heard
the loving things, comes out and sees Hamlet and thinks it was he who
said them, so she tells him to climb up and kiss her, and they are
married and live happily ever afterwards.'
'But what happens to that other poor lady, Ophelia?' asked the
chivalrous Lion.
'Oh, she doesn't appear,' said Baby Jane, 'so it doesn't matter; but I
expect she marries Romeo or the ghost and _they_ live happily ever
afterwards too.'
The play went off splendidly. The crowd was now immense, and there was
no need this time to have tortoises laid on their backs for spectators.
A number of tortoises, who probably had been used for the tableaux, did
come and turned over on their backs of their own accord, but they were
promptly turned right-side up and chased out of the place.
The audience took everything very seriously; indeed, it was lucky no
actor had to play the part of a villain, for they would certainly have
paid him the compliment of eating him.
How they roared with excitement! 'Go it, ghost! Go it, Romeo!' as the
ghost scuttled round and round after Romeo until he laid his paw on a
tree and cried 'Touch wood!' when the spectre uttered a shuddering
shriek and faded away into the night.
'And a capital match for her,' said the matrons, when Hamlet married
Juliet. 'Fancy a prince so grand that he keeps a ghost as you or I might
keep a canary!'
All were pleased at this happy ending, and just in the mood to hear Baby
Jane's speech.
She began as she had heard a recited speech begin at school: 'Friends,
Romans, Countrymen, I hope you've enjoyed yourselves. I want you to come
and be my beasts. You only want to be shown how to be nice and happy,
but there are some poor beasts who can't be nice of their own accord. Of
course, it's much best to make things so good for the good ones that
everybody wants to become good; but if that won't do, then you _have_ to
make things so bad for the bad ones that nobody wants to stay bad. Now
I've got to make things awfully bad for the poor Black Mountain Band, so
that they shall be happy afterwards. Will you help me? I want a
regiment of Lions (loud cheers from the Lions present), and a regiment
of Bears (prolonged applause from the Bears), and a regiment of Rabbits
(enthusiastic squeaks). Here are my Captains!' and she held out her hand
towards her own body-guard.
At this point the vast audience rose as one beast and waved their paws
and shouted:
'We will die for our Queen, Baby Jane!'