Reddy had laid his plans so well that all the intending partners were
where they could easily be found on this evening when Toby's consent was
to be won, and Ben Cushing was no exception. On the hard, uneven floor
of his father's barn, with all his clothes discarded save his trousers
and shirt, he was making such heroic efforts in the way of practice,
that while the boys were yet some distance from the building they could
hear the thud of Ben's head or heels as he unexpectedly came in contact
with the floor.
[Illustration: BEN PRACTICING IN HIS FATHER'S BARN.]
When the three visitors stood at the door and looked in, Ben professed
to be unaware of their presence, and began a series of hand-springs that
might have been wonderful if he had not miscalculated the distance, and
struck the side of the barn just as he was getting well into the work.
Then, having lost his opportunity of dazzling them by showing that even
when he was alone he could turn any number of hand-springs simply in
the way of exercise, he suddenly became aware of their presence, and
greeted his friends with the anxiously asked question as to what Toby
had decided to do about entering the circus business.
Bob and Reddy, instead of answering, waited for Toby to speak; it was a
good opportunity to have the important matter settled definitely, and
they listened anxiously for his decision.
"I'm goin' into it," said Toby, after a pause, during which it appeared
as if he were trying to make up his mind, "'cause it seems as if you had
it almost done now. You know, when I got home last summer, I didn't ever
want to hear of a circus or see one, for I'd had about enough of them;
an' then I'd think of poor Mr. Stubbs, an' that would make me feel awful
bad. I didn't think, either, that we could get up such a good show; but
now you fellers have got so much done toward it, I think we'd better go
ahead--though I do wish Mr. Stubbs was alive, an' we had a skeleton an'
a fat woman."
Reddy Grant cheered very loudly as a means of showing how delighted he
was at thus having finally enlisted Toby in the scheme, and Bob, as
proof of the high esteem in which all the projectors of the enterprise
held this famous circus-rider, said:
"Now you know all about circuses, Toby, an' you shall be the chief boss
of this one, an' we'll do just what you say."
Toby almost blushed as this great honor was actually thrust upon him,
and he hardly knew what reply to make, when Ben ceased his acrobatic
exercises, and with Bobby and Reddy stood waiting for him to give his
orders.
"I s'pose the first thing to do," he said at length, "is to see if Jack
Douglass is willin' for us to have his hoss, an' then find out what
Uncle Dan'l says about it. If we don't get the hoss, it won't be any use
to say anything to Uncle Dan'l."
Reddy was so anxious to have matters settled at once that he offered to
go up to Mr. Douglass's house then, if the others would wait there for
his return, which proposition was at once accepted.
Mr. Douglass was an old colored man who lived fully half a mile from the
village; but Reddy's eagerness caused quick travelling, and in a
surprisingly short time he was back, breathless and happy. The coveted
horse was to be theirs for as long a time as they wanted him, provided
they fed him well, and did not attempt to harness him into a wagon.
The owner of the sightless animal had expressed his doubts as to whether
he would ever make much of a circus horse, owing to his lack of sight
and his extreme age; but he argued that if, as was very probable, the
animal fell while being ridden, he would hurt his rider quite as much as
himself, and therefore the experiment would not be tried so often as
seriously to injure the steed.
It only remained to consult Uncle Daniel on the matter, and of course
that was to be attended to by Toby. He would have waited until a fitting
opportunity presented itself, but his companions were so impatient, that
he went home at once to have the case decided.
Uncle Daniel was seated by the window as usual, looking out over the
distant hills as if he were trying to peer in at the gates of that city
where so many loved ones awaited him, and it was some moments before
Toby could make him understand what it was he was trying to say.
"So ye didn't get circusin' enough last summer?" asked the old
gentleman, when at last he realized what it was the boy was talking
about.
"Oh yes, I did," replied Toby, quickly; "but you see that was a real
one, an' this of ours is only a little make-believe for three cents. We
want to get you to let us have the lot between the barn an' the road to
put our tent on, an' then lend us old Whitey. We're goin' to have Jack
Douglass's hoss that's blind, an' we've got a three-legged cat, an' one
without any tail, an' lots of things."
"It's a kind of a cripples' circus, eh? Well, Toby boy, you can do as
you want to, an' you shall have old Whitey; but it seems to me you'd
better tie her lame leg on, or she'll shake it off when you get to
makin' her cut up antics."
Then Uncle Daniel returned to his reverie, and the show was thus decided
upon, the projectors going again to view the triangular piece of land so
soon to be decorated with their tents and circus belongings.
Each hour that passed after Toby had decided, with Uncle Daniel's
consent, to go into the circus business, made him more eager to carry
out the brilliant plan that had been unfolded by Bob Atwood and Reddy
Grant, until his brain was in a perfect whirl when he went to bed that
night.
He was sure he could ride as well as when he was under Mr. Castle's
rather severe training, and he thought over and over again how he would
surprise every one who knew him; but he did not stop to think that there
might be a difference between the horse he had ridden in the circus and
the lame one of Uncle Daniel's, or the blind one belonging to Mr.
Douglass. He had an idea that it all depended upon himself, with very
little reference to the animal, and he was sure he had his lesson
perfectly.
Early as he got up the next morning, his partners in the enterprise were
waiting for him just around the corner of the barn, where he found them
as he went for the cows, and they walked to the pasture with him in
order to discuss the matter.
Ben Cushing was in light marching and acrobatic costume, worn for the
occasion, in order to give a full exhibition of his skill; and Reddy had
been up so long that he had had time to procure Mr. Douglass's wonderful
steed, which he had already led to the pasture, so that he could be
experimented upon.
"I thought I'd get him up there," he said to Toby, "so's you could try
him; 'cause if we don't get money enough to hire one of Rube Rowe,
you'll have to ride the blind one or the lame one, an' you'd better find
out which you want. If you try him in the pasture, the fellers won't see
you; but if you did it down by your house, every one of 'em would huddle
'round."
It was a warm job Bob had undertaken, this leading the blind animal
along the ill-defined line that marked the limits of the ring, for the
sun shone brightly, and there were no friendly trees to lend a shelter;
but he paid no attention to his discomfort, because of the fact that he
was doing something toward the enterprise which was to bring them in
both honor and money.
The poor old horse was the least interested of the party, and he
stumbled around the circle in an abused sort of way, as if he considered
it a piece of gross injustice to force him on the weary round when the
grass was so plentiful and tender just under his feet.
Ben was busily engaged in lengthening Mr. Douglass's rather weak and
aged bridle with a small piece of rope, and from time to time he
encouraged the ambitious clown in his labor.
"Keep it up, if it is hot!" he shouted, "an' when we get him so's he can
do it alone, he'll be jest as good a circus hoss as anybody would want,
for we can stuff him with hay an' grass till he's fat," and Ben looked
at the clearly defined ribs in a critical way, as if trying to decide
how much food would be necessary to cover them with flesh.
"Oh, I can keep on as long as the hoss can," said Bob, as he wiped the
perspiration from his face with one hand, and clung firmly to the
forelock of the animal with the other; "but we've been round here as
many as six times already, an' he don't seem to know the way any better
than when we started!"
"Oh yes, he does," cried Reddy, who was practicing for his duties as
ring-master, anxious that his education should advance as fast as the
horse's did; "he's got so he knows enough to turn out for that second
knoll, though he does stumble a little over the first one."
By this time Ben had the bridle adjusted to suit him, Toby was ready to
make his first attempt at riding since he left the circus, and the more
serious work was begun.
Ben bridled the horse after some difficulty, Reddy drew out from its
hiding-place a whip made by tying a piece of cod line to an alder
branch, and Toby was about to mount, when Joe Robinson came in sight.
He had been running at full speed, and was nearly breathless; but he
managed to cry out so that he could be understood after considerable
difficulty:
"Hold on! don't go to ridin' till after we get some hoops for you to
jump through."
"I guess I won't try any jumpin' till after I see how he goes," said
Toby, as he looked rather doubtfully, first at the horse's weak legs,
and then at his sharp back; "besides, we can't use the hoops till he
gets more used to the ring."
Joe threw himself on the ground as if he felt quite as much aggrieved
because he was thus left out of the programme as the horse apparently
did because he was in it, and Bob consoled him by explaining that he had
no reason to feel slighted, since he, who, as the clown, was to be the
life of the entertainment, could take no other part in these preparatory
steps than to lead a blind horse round a still blinder ring.
"Hold him while I get on," said Toby, as he clutched the mane and a
portion of the prominent backbone, drawing himself up at some risk of
upsetting the rather shaky steed.
But there was no necessity of his giving this order, for, although four
boys sprang to do his bidding, the weary horse remained as motionless as
a statue, save for his hard breathing, which proclaimed the fact that
the "heaves" had long since singled him out as a victim.
Toby succeeded in getting on the animal's back after some exertion; but
he found standing there an entirely different matter from standing on
the broad saddles that were used in the circus, and the boy and the
horse made a shaky-looking pair.
"Shall I start him?" asked Bob, while Reddy stood as near the centre of
the ring as he could get, prepared to snap his cod-line whip at the
first signal.
Toby hesitated a moment; he knew that to attempt to stand up on, or on
either side of, that prominent backbone, after its owner was in motion,
would be simply to invite his own downfall; and he said, as he seated
himself carefully astride the bone:
"Let him walk around once till I see how he goes."
Reddy cracked his whip without producing any effect upon the patient
steed, but, after much coaxing, Bob succeeded in starting him again,
while Toby bounced up and down much like a kernel of corn on a griddle,
such a decided motion did the horse have.
"He won't ever do for a ridin' hoss," said Toby, with much difficulty,
when he was half-way around the circle, "'cause you see his bones is so
sharp that he feels as if he was comin' to pieces every time he steps."
"Jest get him to trottin' once, an' then you can tell what he's good
for," suggested Reddy, anxious to try the effect of his whip; and
without waiting for the rider's permission, he lashed the unfortunate
animal with the cod line until he succeeded in rousing him thoroughly.
It was in vain Toby begged him to stop, and Bob shouted that such a
course was not the proper one for a ring-master to pursue. Reddy was
determined the rider should have an opportunity of trying the horse
under full speed, and the result was that the animal broke loose from
Bob's guiding hand, rushing out of the imaginary ring into the centre of
the pasture at a rate of speed that would have surprised and frightened
Mr. Douglass had he been there to see it.
Shaken first up, then down, and from one side to the other, Toby
stretched himself out at full length, clasping the horse around the neck
as the patched bridle broke, and shouting "Whoa!" at the full strength
of his lungs.
After running fully fifty yards, until it seemed to Toby that his head
and his body had been pounded into one, the horse stopped, leaned one
heel up against the other, and stood as if dreamily asking whether they
wanted any more circus out of him.
"Couldn't anybody ride him, he jolts so," said Toby to his partners, as
they came running up to where he stood. "You see, in the circus they had
big, wide saddles, an' the hosses didn't go anything like him."
"Well, we can fix a saddle," said Bob, thoughtfully; "but I don't know
as we could do anything to the hoss."
"Perhaps old Whitey'll go better, 'cause she's lame," suggested Reddy,
feeling that considerable credit was due him for having made it possible
to test the animal's qualities in so short a time.
"I wouldn't wonder if this one would be all right when he gets a saddle
on an' is trained," said Joe; and then he added, quickly, "I hain't got
anything more to do to-day, an' I'll stay up here an' train him."
The partners were only too glad to accept this offer; and while Joe led
the horse back to the supposed ring, Ben gave a partial exhibition of
his acrobatic feats, omitting the most difficult, owing to the uneven
surface of the land.
Then the partners retired to the shade of some alder bushes, where they
could fight mosquitoes and talk over their plans at the same time, while
Joe was perspiring in his self-imposed task of educating the blind
horse.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]