When Toby told Uncle Daniel that night of their intention to go on with
the work of the long-delayed circus, and that Abner was to ride up to
the pasture, where he could see everything that was going on, the old
gentleman shook his head doubtingly; as if he feared the consequence to
the invalid, who appeared very much exhausted even by the short ride he
had taken.
Abner, interpreting Uncle Daniel's shake of the head the same way Toby
did, pleaded hard to be allowed to go, insisting that he would be no
more tired sitting in the little carriage than he would in a chair at
home; and Aunt Olive joined in the boys' entreaty, promising to arrange
the pillows in such a manner that Abner could lie down or sit up as best
suited him.
"We'll see what the doctor has to say about it," replied Uncle Daniel,
and with much anxiety the boys awaited the physician's coming.
"Go? Why, of course he can go, and it will do him good to be
out-of-doors," said the medical gentleman when he made his regular
afternoon visit, and Uncle Daniel laid the case before him.
Toby insisted on bringing Mr. Stubbs's brother into the invalid's room
as a signal mark of rejoicing at the victory the doctor had won for
them, and Abner was so delighted with the funny pranks the monkey played
that it would have been difficult to tell by his face that the morning
ride had tired him.
Mr. Stubbs's brother was quite as mischievous as a monkey could be; he
capered around the room, picking at this thing and looking into that,
until Aunt Olive laughed herself tired, and Uncle Daniel declared that
if the other monkey was anything like this one, Toby was right when he
named him Steve Stubbs, so much did he resemble that gentleman in
inquisitiveness.
The day had been so exciting to the boy who had been confined to one
room for several weeks that he was quite ready to go to bed when Aunt
Olive suggested it; and Toby went about his evening's work with a
lighter heart than he had had since the night he found his crippled
friend lying so still and death-like in the circus wagon.
The next morning Toby was up some time before the sun peeped in through
the crevices of Uncle Daniel's barn to awaken the cows, and he groomed
the tiny ponies until their coats shone like satin. The carriage was
washed until every portion of it reflected one's face like a mirror, and
the harness, with its silver mountings, was free from the slightest
suspicion of dirt.
Then, after the cows had been driven to the pasture, Mr. Stubbs's
brother was treated to a bath, and was brushed and combed until, losing
all patience at such foolishness, he escaped from his too cleanly
disposed master, taking refuge on the top of the shed, where he
chattered and scolded at a furious rate as he tried to explain that he
had no idea of coming down until the curry-comb and brush had been put
away.
But when the pony-team was driven up to the door, and Toby decorated the
bridles of the little horses with some of Aunt Olive's roses, Mr.
Stubbs's brother came down from his high perch, and picked some of the
flowers for himself, putting them over his ears to imitate the ponies;
then he gravely seated himself in the carriage, and Toby had no
difficulty in fastening the cord to his collar again.
Aunt Olive nearly filled the little carriage with pillows so soft that a
very small boy would almost have sunk out of sight in them; and in the
midst of these Abner was carefully placed, looking for all the world, as
Toby said, like a chicken in a nest.
Mr. Stubbs's brother was fastened in the front in such a way that his
head came just above the dash-board, over which he looked in the most
comical manner possible.
Then Toby squeezed in on one side, declaring he had plenty of room,
although there was not more than three square inches of space left on
the seat, and even a portion of that was occupied by a fan and some
other things Aunt Olive had put in for Abner's use.
Both the boys were in the highest possible state of happiness, and Abner
was tucked in until he could hardly have been shaken had he been in a
cart instead of a carriage with springs.
"Be sure to keep Abner in the shade, and come home just as soon as he
begins to grow tired," cried Aunt Olive, as Toby spoke to the ponies,
and they dashed off like a couple of well-trained Newfoundland dogs.
"I'll take care of him like he was wax," cried Toby as they drove out
through the gateway, and Mr. Stubbs's brother screamed and chattered
with delight, while Abner lay back restful and happy.
It was just the kind of a morning for a ride, and Abner appeared to
enjoy it so much that Toby turned the little steeds in the direction of
the village, driving fully a mile before going to the pasture.
When they did arrive at the place where the first rehearsal was to be
held, they found the partners gathered in full force; and although it
was not even then nine o'clock, they had evidently been there some time.
Joe Robinson ran to let the bars down, while the ponies pranced into the
field as if they knew they were the objects of admiration from all that
party, and they shook their tiny heads until the petals fell from the
roses in a shower upon the grass.
Mr. Stubbs's brother stood as erect as possible, and was so excited by
the cheers of the boys that he seized the flowers he had tucked over his
ears, and flung them at the party in great glee.
The carriage was driven into the shade cast by the alders; the ponies
were unharnessed, and fastened where they could have a feast of grass;
and Toby was ready for business, or thought he was. But just as he was
about to consult with his partners, a scream from both Abner and the
monkey caused him to quickly turn toward the carriage.
From the moment they had entered the pasture, Mr. Stubbs's brother had
shown the greatest desire to be free; and when he saw his master walking
away, while he was still a prisoner, he made such efforts to release
himself that he got his body over the dash-board of the carriage, and
when Toby looked he was hanging there by the neck as if he had just
committed suicide.
Toby ran quickly to the relief of his pet; and when he had released him
from his uncomfortable position, the other boys pleaded so hard that
Toby gave him his freedom, which he celebrated by scampering across the
pasture on all four paws, with his tail curled up over his back like a
big letter O.
It seemed very much as if Mr. Stubbs's brother would break up the
rehearsal, for he did look so comical as he scampered around that all
the partners neglected their business to watch and laugh at him, until
Toby reminded them that he could not stay there very long because of
Abner's weakness.
Then Bob and Reddy straightened themselves up in a manner befitting
circus proprietors, and began their work.
"Leander is goin' to commence the show by playin' 'Yankee Doodle,'" said
Bob, as he consulted a few badly written words he had traced on the back
of one of his father's business cards, "an' while he's doin' it Joe'll
put in an' howl all he knows how, for that's the way the hyenas did at
the last circus."
The entire programme was evidently to be carried out that morning, for,
as Bob spoke, Leander marched with his accordion and a great deal of
dignity to a rock near where a line representing the ring had been cut
in the turf.
"Now you'll see how good he can do it," said Bob, with no small amount
of pride; and Leander, with his head held so high that it was almost
impossible to see his instrument, struck one or two notes as a prelude,
while Joe took his station at a point about as far distant from the ring
as the door of the tent would probably be.
Leander started with the first five or six notes all right, and Joe
began some of the most wonderful howling ever heard, which appeared to
disconcert the band, for he got entirely off the track of his original
tune, and mixed "Yankee Doodle" with "Old Dog Tray" in the most reckless
manner, Joe howling the louder at every false note.
Almost every one in that pasture, save possibly the performers
themselves, was astonished at the din made by these two small boys; and
Mr. Stubbs's brother, who had hung himself up on a tree by his tail,
dropped to his feet in the greatest alarm, adding his chatter of fear to
the general confusion.
Familiar as he was with circus life, nothing in the experience of Mr.
Stubbs's brother had prepared him for a rehearsal such as he now had the
honor to attend. There was an amount of noise and a peculiarity about
the acrobatic feats that completely upset his nerves.
But the two performers were not to be daunted by anything that could
occur; in fact, Joe felt rather proud that his howling was so savage as
to frighten the monkey, and he increased his efforts until his face was
as red as a nicely boiled beet.
For fully five minutes the overture was continued; then the band stopped
and looked around with an air of triumph, while Joe uttered two or three
more howls by way of effect, and to show that he could have kept it up
longer had it been necessary.
"There! what do you think of that?" asked Reddy, in delight. "You
couldn't get much more noise if you had a whole band, could you?"
"It's a good deal of noise," said Toby, not feeling quite at liberty to
express exactly his views regarding the music. "But what was it Leander
was playin'?"
"I played two tunes," replied Leander, proudly. "I can play 'Yankee
Doodle' with the whole of one hand; but I think it sounds better to play
that with my thumb an' two fingers, an' 'Old Dog Tray' with the other
two fingers. You see, I can give 'em both tunes at once that way."
The monkey went back to the tree as soon as the noise had subsided; but
from the way he looked over his shoulder now and then, one could fancy
he was getting ready to run at the first sign that it was to commence
again.
"Didn't that sound like a whole cageful of hyenas?" asked Joe, as he
wiped the perspiration from his face, and came toward his partners. "I
can keep that up about as long as Leander can play, only it's awful hard
work."
Toby had no doubt as to the truth of that statement; but before he could
make any reply, Bob said:
"Now this is where Ben comes in. He starts the show, an' he ends it, an'
I sing right after he gets through turnin' hand-springs this first time.
Now, Leander, you start the music jest as soon as Ben comes, an' keep it
up till he gets through."
Ben was prepared for his portion of the work. His trousers were belted
tightly around his waist by a very narrow leather belt, with an
enormously large buckle, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up as high as
he could get them, in order to give full play to his arms.
"He's been rubbin' goose-grease all over him for as much as two weeks,
an' he can bend almost any way," whispered Reddy to Toby, as Ben stood
swinging his arms at the entrance to the ring, as if limbering himself
for the work to be done.
Leander started "Yankee Doodle" in slow and solemn strains; Ben gathered
himself for a mighty effort, and began to go around the ring in a series
of hand-springs in true acrobatic style.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]