WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO RIVERPORT
"You'll go home if we can get you there, won't you, Tom?" asked Fred,
after a little time had clasped, and the poor fellow on the hay seemed
better able to reply, having mastered his emotions.
"I'd be a fool not to say yes!" he exclaimed, eagerly. "'Specially when
you tell me my folks they want me home again. I've lived a dog's life
ever since I run away. Hain't never dared to ask about news from
Riverport, 'case I reckoned Chief Sutton he must be alookin' everywhere
for me. I'll go home, and thank you, fellers; you jest better b'lieve I
will!"
That settled one thing; Fred knew he could not expect to finish that run.
Indeed, the roads were not in the best of condition after the storm for
anything like comfort, and perhaps it might be just as well for them all
to give up trying to foot it along the rest of the course.
Having hastily considered this matter, he broached the subject to the
others.
"Let's look at the thing, boys," he began, as they gathered around him,
knowing that a plan of campaign was being considered. "What we wanted
most of all was to get familiar with this cut-off up here."
"No trouble about the rest of the route," ventured Colon, "because it's
going to be along the open roads, and every fellow can get it down pat
from studying the map they've posted. But this cut-off is left blank."
"Meaning that you can go all the way around, making three miles, or else
take your chance in cutting across country," Bristles added.
"Well, my plan is something like this," continued Fred. "Let's pick out
the first good afternoon next week, get a car from somewhere, if we can
borrow one, and run up here. Then we can cross over to the toll-gate,
and back again. That ought to fix things so we'll never miss the way
when the big date comes along."
"Hear! hear!" cried Bristles.
"We like your plan, Fred," replied Sid, "and for one I'm ready to call
this run off. The weather is against us, and we'd have a high old time
splattering through the mud for about thirteen miles."
"Besides," added Colon, "we think we ought to be along when you take Tom
Flanders home to his folks. I happen to know how bad they've felt about
his being gone!"
That seemed to settle the matter in so far as continuing the trial spin
went. Fred was not sorry, because he felt that he would enjoy having his
cheery chums along with him.
"Then the next question is, how we're going to get home?" and he turned
to the injured boy, to say; "You haven't told us just how you came to
break your leg, Tom, and why you didn't manage to crawl to the house so
as to get help?"
"I knowed the old man an' his wife they was all away to-day, that's why,"
was the reply Tom made; "an' as for my accident, it happened so quick I
couldn't hardly tell about it. Reckon I ketched my foot in some loose
board up in that leetle loft, where I was adoin' somethin'. Fust thing I
knowed I felt myself flyin' every which way, over the edge, and kim down
on the ground, with my leg doubled under me. Then I jest seen things
aswimmin' all around me. Guess I fainted, for next thing was when I kim
to, an' found myself groanin' bad. When I moved ever so little it nigh
made me jest scream."
"How long do you suppose you've been lying here?" asked Bristles, softly,
for he had been much affected by what he saw and heard.
"Mebbe hours, for all I know, Bristles. They went off jest after
daylight, meanin' to take the load to Peyton, where they deals in the
grocery line. Wouldn't let me do it, 'case they meant to buy the old
woman a 'frock, you see. Is it near night time, now, Bristles?"
"Oh! no, the morning isn't more than half over, Tom," replied Bristles.
"But how about some sort of rig we could borrow, to give you a lift to
Riverport? Have the old couple taken the only outfit along. Tom?"
"I hear a horse munching hay over there somewhere," announced Colon.
"Yes, there is a critter in here," Tom admitted, with the nearest
approach to a smile that had thus far come upon his wan and pain-racked
face; "and under the shed stands what you might call a wagon, if you shut
your eyes, an' didn't care much what you was asayin'. If old Dominick
didn't keel over, and kick the bucket on the way, he might pull us ten
miles or so; always providin' you give him some oats before you started
him, and then kept temptin' him on the road with more of the same."
Bristles gave a shout.
"Oh! we'll fix old Dominick, never you fear, Tom. I'll look up the oats
right away, and let him get busy, while the rest of you pull that wagon
out of the shed, and find something in the way of harness. We don't care
a red cent for looks, as long as we get there. The end justifies the
means. You remember we learned that lots of times at school. Get a move
on, boys; everyone to his duty!"
Thus inspired, and spurred on, the others hastened to do their part. Two
of them hunted until they found the lean-to, under which a ramshackle
wagon stood that excited the laughter of Colon.
"If Bristles thought the vehicle that little girl had along with her in
Riverport was a terror, what'll he ever say to this?" he remarked, after
he had doubled up several times in explosive merriment. "Now, if the
hoss is anything like what Tom says, I c'n see what a sensation we'll
kick up when we strike town. Why, they'll ring the fire bells, and get
the chemical engine out to parade after us. Guess they'll think the
circus has struck Riverport early this year."
Meanwhile Bristles had succeeded in discovering a small amount of oats in
a bin, and he emptied a generous lot of these in the trough of the
antiquated looking horse. The animal had started whinnying the instant
he heard the boy moving over in that corner, where he must have known the
grain was kept, though he seldom had more than a handful at a time.
It was a whole hour before they managed to get the rig fixed up. Indeed,
only by the united efforts of all the boys was the bony horse dragged
away from his feed trough, where he had kept munching the oats
delightedly.
Then they hunted up all the old horse blankets, and empty gunny-sacks
they could find about the place, and made a soft bed in the wagon. A
stretcher was also improvised from some boards, and when four of them
took hold they managed to carry poor Tom to the nearby vehicle, and
deposit him on the sacks.
Being guided by directions which Tom gave them, they found how a road
wound through the woods to the road, striking the main thoroughfare just
above where they had come out on their previous trip, and with the
toll-gate in sight.
"Here's where we gain something, boys," Fred told them, "and this Good
Samaritan job may count in our favor next week when we make that run."
Fred had been thoughtful enough to write a little note, addressed to the
owner of the wretched outfit, whose name it seemed was Ezekial Parsons.
In it he explained just how they happened to find poor Tom, and that they
had borrowed the rig to get him to his home, where he could have proper
care.
He had also promised that the horse and wagon should be returned in due
time, and hinted that his father and mother might be expected to run up
and make the acquaintance of the old couple who had been so kind to Tom,
although not really able to keep a hand about the place.
The man at the toll-gate stared, as well he might, when that antiquated
rig came in sight, with the four boys partly bundled in faded horse
blankets and gunny-sacks. The weather had not yet cleared, and the air
was chilly for fellows as devoid of clothing as runners always are.
When he heard about the accident that had happened to Tom, he was loud in
his praise of the action of the boys in giving up their trial spin just
to get the injured boy home.
"If I had a hoss myself, I'd gladly loan him to you, boys," he told them.
"Oh! never fear but we'll be able to get there before sun-down,"
laughingly declared Fred, while Bristles ran around in front, and held
the measure of oats close to the nose of the horse, starting him to
snorting wildly, and taking a step forward in the effort to obtain the
feed, kept so tantalizingly just beyond his reach.
Bristles continued backing away, and always keeping just so far in front,
so that the horse was impelled to move along quite briskly. If he lagged
at any time the measure was moved closer, and once Bristles even let him
thrust his nose into it.
On the wagon the boys had a very merry time of it, singing, and laughing
at the actions of the poor old horse.
"Please don't excite him too much, Bristles," begged Sid, "for he's
likely to strain so he'll smash this beautiful harness all to flinders."
So they kept up the work, Bristles and Colon between them dancing on
ahead, and tempting the animal between the shafts to renewed exertions.
With that measure of oats held within smelling distance of his nose he
kept plodding steadily along, and mile after mile was placed in their
rear.
Once they halted, and watered old Dominick at a wayside spring, besides
letting him have a delightful five-minute communion with the oat crop.
Then the forward movement was begun, again, and the boy who held the
measure of oats continued to dance just ahead of the deluded Dominick.
It was about two o'clock on that Saturday afternoon when a great
commotion broke out in the outskirts of Riverport. Boys and girls
flocked to the spot, and loud cheers rent the air. Indeed, plenty of
people actually made sure that the circus must have arrived ahead of
time, and as this was an event in which every citizen was supposed to be
interested, since he would be compelled to take his youngsters to the
show, plenty of men were in the throng that gathered.
Dogs barked, chickens set up a cackling and crowing, and there was a
perfect Bedlam of sounds along the main street. Down this came that
wonderful vehicle with sundry creaks and dismal groanings, as though
threatening to break down at any minute. Ahead strode a boy in running
costume, tempting the tired old horse to walk along by holding a peck
measure under his nose, and occasionally just letting him snap up a few
of the oats.
Three other fellows sat in the wagon some of them trying to keep warm by
covering themselves with gunny-sacks, and all laughing, and joining in
the cheers of the crowd.
Of course everybody thought it was only a boyish prank, but when they saw
the old wagon draw up in front of the Flanders home, and then those four
boys start to gently lift a figure out from the bed of the vehicle, the
noise ceased as if by magic.
"Why, it's sure enough Tom Flanders come back home, after his folks had
given him up for lost!" one good woman told a new arrival. "They do say
Fred and the running boys found him up-country, where he'd broke his leg.
Poor fellow, he looks that peaked and pale I reckon he's had a terrible
time. And see how his maw hangs over him, like she was the happiest
woman in all Riverport this day. And we all hope that Tom'll turn over a
new leaf after this, and make his folks proud of him. But wasn't it fine
of Fred and his friends to bring him home that way?"
And certainly, when those four lads witnessed the wild delight of that
mother and father at having their only son restored to them again, as
well as noted how the erring boy cried when he allowed himself to be
carried into the house, none of them had the slightest reason to regret
that circumstances had caused them to take refuge from the storm in that
old barn standing near the trail through the woods.