When Toby awoke it was nearly dark, and the bustle around him told very
plainly that the time for departure was near at hand. He rubbed his eyes
just enough to make sure that he was thoroughly awake, and then jumped
down from his rather lofty bed, and ran around to the door of the cage
to assure himself that Mr. Stubbs was safe. This done, his preparations
for the journey were made.
Now Toby noticed that each one of the drivers was clad in rubber
clothing, and, after listening for a moment, he learned the cause of
their waterproof garments. It was raining very hard, and Toby thought
with dismay of the long ride that he would have to take on the top of
the monkeys' cage, with no protection whatever save that afforded by his
ordinary clothing.
While he was standing by the side of his wagon, wondering how he should
get along, Old Ben came in. The water was pouring from his clothes in
little rivulets, and he afforded most unmistakable evidence of the damp
state of the weather.
“It's a nasty night, my boy,” said the old driver, in much the same
cheery tone that he would have used had he been informing Toby that it
was a beautiful moonlight evening.
“I guess I'll get wet,” said Toby, ruefully, as he looked up at the
lofty seat which he was to occupy.
“Bless me!” said Ben, as if the thought had just come to him, “it won't
do for you to ride outside on a night like this. You wait here, an' I'll
see what I can do for you.”
The old man hurried off to the other end of the tent, and almost before
Toby thought he had time to go as far as the ring he returned.
“It's all right,” he said, and this time in a gruff voice, as if he were
announcing some misfortune; “you 're to ride in the women's wagon. Come
with me.”
Toby followed without a question, though he was wholly at a loss to
understand what the “women's wagon” was, for he had never seen anything
which looked like one.
He soon learned, however, when Old Ben stopped in front--or, rather, at
the end--of a long, covered wagon that looked like an omnibus, except
that it was considerably longer, and the seats inside were divided by
arms, padded, to make them comfortable to lean against.
“Here's the boy,” said Ben, as he lifted Toby up on the step, gave him a
gentle push to intimate that he was to get inside, and then left him.
As Toby stepped inside he saw that the wagon was nearly full of women
and children; and fearing lest he should take a seat that belonged to
someone else, he stood in the middle of the wagon, not knowing what to
do.
“Why don't you sit down, little boy?” asked one of the ladies, after
Toby had remained standing nearly five minutes and the wagon was about
to start.
“Well,” said Toby, with some hesitation, as he looked around at the two
or three empty seats that remained, “I didn't want to get in anybody
else's place an' I didn't know where to sit.”
“Come right here,” said the lady, as she pointed to a seat by the side
of a little girl who did not look any older than Toby; “the lady who
usually occupies that seat will not be here tonight, and you can have
it.”
“Thank you, ma'am,” said Toby, as he sat timidly down on the edge of the
seat, hardly daring to sit back comfortably, and feeling very awkward
meanwhile, but congratulating himself on being thus protected from the
pouring rain.
The wagon started, and as each one talked with her neighbor, Toby felt a
most dismal sense of loneliness, and almost wished that he was riding on
the monkey cart with Ben, where he could have someone to talk with. He
gradually pushed himself back into a more comfortable position, and had
then an opportunity of seeing more plainly the young girl who rode by
his side.
She was quite as young as Toby, and small of her age; but there was an
old look about her face that made the boy think of her as being an old
woman cut down to fit children's clothes. Toby had looked at her so
earnestly that she observed him, and asked, “What is your name?”
“Toby Tyler.”
“What do you do in the circus?”
“Sell candy for Mr. Lord.”
“Oh! I thought you was a new member of the company.”
Toby knew by the tone of her voice that he had fallen considerably
in her estimation by not being one of the performers, and it was some
little time before he ventured to speak; and then he asked, timidly,
“What do you do?”
“I ride one of the horses with mother.”
“Are you the little girl that comes out with the lady an' four horses?”
asked Toby, in awe that he should be conversing with so famous a person.
“Yes, I am. Don't I do it nicely?”
“Why, you're a perfect little--little--fairy!” exclaimed Toby, after
hesitating a moment to find some word which would exactly express his
idea.
This praise seemed to please the young lady, and in a short time the
two became very good friends, even if Toby did not occupy a more exalted
position than that of candy seller. She had learned from him all about
the accident to the monkey cage, and about Mr. Stubbs, and in return
had told him that her name was Ella Mason, though on the bills she was
called “Mademoiselle Jeannette.”
For a long time the two children sat talking together, and then
Mademoiselle Jeannette curled herself up on the seat, with her head in
her mother's lap, and went to sleep.
Toby had resolved to keep awake and watch her, for he was struck with
admiration at her face; but sleep got the better of him in less than
five minutes after he had made the resolution, and he sat bolt upright,
with his little round head nodding and bobbing until it seemed almost
certain that he would shake it off.
When Toby awoke the wagon was drawn up by the side of the road, the sun
was shining brightly, preparations were being made for the entree into
town, and the harsh voice of Mr. Job Lord was shouting his name in
a tone that boded no good for poor Toby when he should make his
appearance.
Toby would have hesitated before meeting his angry employer but that he
knew it would only make matters worse for him when he did show himself,
and he mentally braced himself for the trouble which he knew was coming.
The little girl whose acquaintance he had made the night previous was
still sleeping; and, wishing to say goodby to her in some way without
awakening her, he stooped down and gently kissed the skirt of her dress.
Then he went out to meet his master.
Mr. Lord was thoroughly enraged when Toby left the wagon, and saw the
boy just as he stepped to the ground. The angry man gave a quick glance
around, to make sure that none of Toby's friends were in sight, and then
caught him by the coat collar and commenced to whip him severely with
the small rubber cane that he usually carried.
Mr. Job Lord lifted the poor boy entirely clear of the ground, and
each blow that he struck could be heard almost the entire length of the
circus train.
“You've been makin' so many acquaintances here that you hain't willin'
to do any work,” he said, savagely, as he redoubled the force of his
blows.
“Oh, please stop! please stop!” shrieked the poor boy in his agony.
“I'll do everything you tell me to, if you won't strike me again!”
This piteous appeal seemed to have no effect upon the cruel man, and he
continued to whip the boy, despite his cries and entreaties, until
his arm fairly ached from the exertion and Toby's body was crossed and
recrossed with the livid marks of the cane.
“Now let's see whether you'll 'tend to your work or not!” said the
man as he flung Toby from him with such force that the boy staggered,
reeled, and nearly fell into the little brook that flowed by the
roadside. “I'll make you understand that all the friends you've whined
around in this show can't save you from a lickin' when I get ready to
give you one! Now go an' do your work that ought to have been done an
hour ago!”
Mr. Lord walked away with the proud consciousness of a man who has
achieved a great victory, and Toby was limping painfully along toward
the cart that was used in conveying Mr. Lord's stock in trade, when he
felt a tiny hand slip into his and heard a childish voice say:
“Don't cry, Toby. Sometime, when I get big enough, I'll make Mr. Lord
sorry that he whipped you as he did; and I'm big enough now to tell him
just what kind of a man I think he is.”
Looking around, Toby saw his little acquaintance of the evening
previous, and he tried to force back the big tears that were rolling
down his cheeks as he said, in a voice choked with grief: “You're awful
good, an' I don't mind the lickin' when you say you're sorry for me. I
s'pose I deserve it for runnin' away from Uncle Dan'l.”
“Did it hurt you much?” she asked, feelingly.
“It did when he was doin' it,” replied Toby, manfully, “but it don't a
bit, now that you've come.”
“Then I'll go and talk to that Mr. Lord, and I'll come and see you again
after we get into town,” said the little miss, as she hurried away to
tell the candy vender what she thought of him.
That day, as on all others since he had been with the circus, Toby went
to his work with a heavy heart, and time and time again did he count the
money which had been given him by kind hearted strangers, to see whether
he had enough to warrant his attempting to run away. Three dollars and
twenty-five cents was the total amount of his treasure, and, large
as that sum appeared to him, he could not satisfy himself that he
had sufficient to enable him to get back to the home which he had so
wickedly left. Whenever he thought of this home, of the Uncle Daniel
who had in charity cared for him--a motherless, fatherless boy--and of
returning to it, with not even as much right as the Prodigal Son, of
whom he had heard Uncle Daniel tell, his heart sank within him and he
doubted whether he would be allowed to remain even if he should be so
fortunate as ever to reach Guilford again.
This day passed, so far as Toby was concerned, very much as had the
others: he could not satisfy either of his employers, try as hard as he
might; but, as usual, he met with two or three kindly disposed people,
who added to the fund that he was accumulating for his second venture of
running away by little gifts of money, each one of which gladdened his
heart and made his trouble a trifle less hard to bear.
During the entire week he was thus equally fortunate. Each day added
something to his fund, and each night it seemed to Toby that he was one
day nearer the freedom for which he so ardently longed.
The skeleton, the fat lady, Old Ben, the Albino Children, little Ella,
and even the sword swallower, all gave him a kindly word as they passed
him while he was at his work, or saw him as the preparations for the
grand entree were being made.
The time had passed slowly to Toby, and yet Sunday came again--as
Sundays always come; and on this day Old Ben hunted him up, made him
wash his face and hands until they fairly shone from very cleanliness,
and then took him to church. Toby was surprised to find that it was
really a pleasant thing to be able to go to church after being deprived
of it, and was more light hearted than he had yet been since he left
Guilford when he returned to the tent at noon.
The skeleton had invited him to another dinner party, but Toby had
declined the invitation, agreeing to present himself in time for supper
instead. He hardly cared to go through the ordeal of another state
dinner; and besides, he wanted to go off to the woods with the old
monkey, where he could enjoy the silence of the forest, which seemed
like a friend to him, because it reminded him of home.
Taking the monkey with him as usual, he inquired the nearest way to a
grove, and, without waiting for dinner, started off for an afternoon's
quiet enjoyment.