AN ACT NOT ON THE BILLS.
“We ought to have some other attraction besides ourselves,” observed
Neka. “People will think they are not getting the worth of their
money if they pay ten cents and only see a few fire tricks and hear a
humorous recitation.”
“I shall dress up in a character costume and give them a song also,”
said Wadsworth. “I used to sing funny songs, and they always take in
the open air.”
But Neka was not quite satisfied. He was in for giving people “their
money’s worth.”
“If we do that, we’ll do better in the end,” he said. “A slim show
never prospers.”
“Well, I don’t see what we can add to our combination, my son. We
might take in a third partner, but I don’t believe in dividing
profits with too many.”
“Let us try to hire somebody to do a turn,” rejoined the youth.
This appeared difficult, but proved quite easy. On leaving the
grounds that night, Neka ran across a fellow named Jack Bindley, who
had been attached to Daniel Bambo’s circus. Bindley was out of a
place, and out of money, and he jumped at the chance to earn three
dollars a day at the grounds.
Jack Bindley was billed in the circus as a bareback rider, but he
could do a dozen other things, including tricks with cards and a
black-faced act which was side-splitting. Moreover, he was a good
hand with a brush to paint signs, and Longfellow Wadsworth was
pleased when Neka brought him in.
A programme to last half an hour was arranged, and Bindley set to
work painting a number of large signs and banners, telling of the
many wonders to be seen in the Neka-Wadsworth Oriental Parlor of
Wonders. Neka was described as an Imp from the Infernal Regions, who
would take a bath in a roaring fire, and Longfellow Wadsworth as
a mimic who had performed before all the crowned heads of Europe.
Bindley called himself Leon Canavair, from Paris, the Wizard of
Cards, and also set himself down as Ole Jim Backus, the Original
Georgia Corncracker and Plantation Singer.
A quiet Sunday was spent on the fair grounds, and at five o’clock
Monday morning Neka and the others arose to put the finishing touches
to the place.
A small stage had been built at the back end of the tent. There were
no benches, as visitors at fair exhibitions usually stand. Outside
Longfellow Wadsworth had constructed a stand out of a large drygoods
box. Tickets he intended to sell out of his hand satchel.
It looked a little like rain, and consequently the crowd was slow in
coming in. But about eleven o’clock it brightened and shortly after
the noon hour the fair grounds began to fill up.
Neka and Bindley were ready to appear, and while a hired boy took
tickets at the entrance, Longfellow Wadsworth mounted his box and
began to exhort the people to enter.
His loud voice soon drew a crowd, and by telling a funny joke or two
he put them in good humor. Then he told of the marvels to be seen,
and half a dozen entered in a bunch and as many more followed.
In fifteen minutes the tent was full, and Bindley opened the
exhibition. He was followed by Wadsworth, who did but a short “turn.”
Then came Neka, who was undoubtedly the star attraction. At the end
of half an hour the audience, numbering exactly forty-six people,
filed out, well satisfied.
“A first dose of four dollars and sixty cents,” whispered Longfellow
Wadsworth. “I wonder if we can’t do better the next time.”
One of the men on going out had said it was the best show on the
grounds. The elocutionist stopped him, and had him repeat the
assertion. Then he dilated on it, and as a consequence the tent was
soon packed, seventy-two being inside.
Nine performances were given that day and by night Neka and his
partner found themselves just thirty-six dollars richer than before.
They had taken in fourteen dollars more than this, but three had gone
to Bindley, three for the tent, seven for the ground, and a dollar to
the boy.
Neka and the elocutionist talked the matter over, and raised
Bindley’s wages to five dollars a day.
It was arranged that Bindley should remain in the tent all night,
while Neka and his partner put up at a hotel just outside of the
grounds.
The making of so much money had one bad effect on Longfellow
Wadsworth. He drank a number of times, and would have become most
woefully intoxicated had not the youth prevailed upon him to go up to
his room in the hotel and retire for the night.
In this respect the elocutionist was a fair type of a large class
of people on the variety and regular stage. With talents of no mean
order, they are the victims of their appetites, and find it next to
impossible to break off drinking while traveling around from place to
place and meeting hail-fellows-well-met wherever they go.
“I must get him to break off,” said Neka to himself. “He would be
a first-rate fellow were it not for his appetite for drink and his
habit of drawing the long bow. I think I can reform him.”
The youth understood that he had undertaken a big task, but he had
taken a strange liking to Longfellow Wadsworth, in spite of the
latter’s eccentricities, and he was willing to shoulder the burden
and do his best.
How well Neka was repaid for sticking to this strange individual and
giving him his moral support will be seen as our story progresses.
The next day opened well, for the crowd came early and performances
were started at ten o’clock. At noon the fair grounds were packed,
for the “middle” day of a fair is always the best.
“We’ll have to do with only a bite for dinner to-day,” laughed Neka.
“We can’t afford to knock off for a regular meal.”
“Never mind, we’ll make hay while the sun shines,” replied Bindley,
who was always light-hearted.
Bindley had been questioned concerning Daniel Bambo. He could,
however, tell but little outside of the fact that the circus had been
attached at Ryetown. There had been twenty dollars coming to him, and
he had left the concern as a rat leaves a sinking ship.
“And I never want to see Daniel Bambo again,” said Bindley. “He is
the hardest fellow to work for I ever struck.”
“You are right,” said Neka. “If I, too, can keep out of his sight, I
shall be satisfied.”
The tent of the “combination” was situated in the midst of a number
of shows. To one side of them was a fakir with a lot of dolls and
baseballs with which to knock the puppets down for prizes, and on the
other the proprietor of the trained animal exhibition. Beyond this
was another combination, of bearded ladies, jugglers, and mimics and
a merry-go-round and a shooting stand.
From time to time a wild scream, half-human, half-savage, disturbed
Neka and his companions. It came from the trained animal exhibition,
and finally Neka asked what was the cause.
“It’s the chimpanzee,” replied the proprietor. “I can’t do a thing
with him. He has been suffering with the toothache, and is as ugly as
a bear with a sore head. We had him loose yesterday, but I guess I’ll
have to chain him up.”
“Yes, that would be better,” replied Neka. “At a circus I was with we
once had a gorilla who got the toothache and he bit his keeper most
horribly. No matter how tame they are, they are not to be trusted
when suffering such pain.”
A minute after this the two separated, and Neka went back to his tent
to do his turn. He heard a number of screams from the animal tent,
but paid no attention. Heating his iron daggers red-hot, he brought
them before the audience and rubbed them on paper, which, of course,
was instantly burned up.
The dagger was on a platter. Setting the platter on a low stand, he
proceeded to pick the daggers up one after another and throw them up
into the air in a circle.
He was in full swing of this fire trick when a scream ten times
louder than any of the others was heard.
“Stop him! Stop the beast!” he heard somebody cry. “Stop him, before
he chews somebody up!”
Then came a crash and a ripping of canvas, and a huge chimpanzee
leaped onto the stage, close to Neka’s side. The creature looked
hideous in the extreme, for its eyes rolled horribly, and the white
foam poured from its mouth in a stream.
For a single instant the mad creature paused. Then it crouched for a
spring, and launched itself straight for Neka’s throat!