At last it was possible for Toby to speak of his loss with some degree
of calmness, and then he immediately began to reckon up what he could
have done with the money if he had not lost it.
“Now see here, Toby,” said Ben, earnestly, “don't go to doin' anything
of that kind. The money's lost, an' you can't get it back by talkin'; so
the very best thing for you is to stop thinkin' what you could do if you
had it, an' just to look at it as a goner.”
“But--” persisted Toby.
“I tell you there's no buts about it,” said Ben, rather sharply. “Stop
talkin' about what's gone, an' just go to thinkin' how you'll get more.
Do what you've a mind to the monkey, but don't keep broodin' over what
you can't help.”
Toby knew that the advice was good and he struggled manfully to carry it
into execution, but it was very hard work. At all events, there was no
sleep for his eyes that night; and when, just about daylight, the train
halted to wait a more seasonable hour in which to enter the town, the
thought of what he might have done with his lost money was still in
Toby's mind.
Only once did he speak crossly to the monkey, and that was when he put
him into the cage preparatory to commencing his morning's work. Then he
said:
“You wouldn't had to go into this place many times more if you hadn't
been so wicked, for by tomorrow night we'd been away from this circus
an' on the way to home an' Uncle Dan'l. Now you've spoiled my chance
an' your own for a good while to come, an' I hope before the day is over
you'll feel as bad about it as I do.”
It seemed to Toby as if the monkey understood just what he said to him,
for he sneaked over into one corner, away from the other monkeys, and
sat there looking very penitent and very dejected.
Then, with a heavy heart, Toby began his day's work.
Hard as had been Toby's lot previous to losing his money, and difficult
as it had been to bear the cruelty of Mr. Job Lord and his precious
partner, Mr. Jacobs, it was doubly hard now while this sorrow was fresh
upon him.
Previous to this, when he had been kicked or cursed by one or the other
of the partners, Toby thought exultantly that the time was not very far
distant when he should be beyond the reach of his brutal taskmasters,
and that thought had given him strength to bear all that had been put
upon him.
Now the time of his deliverance from this bondage seemed very far off,
and each cruel word or blow caused him the greater sorrow, because of
the thought that but for the monkey's wickedness he would have been
nearly free from that which made his life so very miserable.
If he had looked sad and mournful before, he looked doubly so now, as he
went his dreary round of the tent, crying, “Here's your cold lemonade,”
or “Fresh baked peanuts, ten cents a quart”; and each day there were
some in the audience who pitied the boy because of the misery which
showed so plainly in his face, and they gave him a few cents more than
his price for what he was selling, or gave him money without buying
anything at all, thereby aiding him to lay up something again toward
making his escape.
Those few belonging to the circus who knew of Toby's intention to escape
tried their best to console him for the loss of his money, and that kind
hearted couple, the skeleton and his fat wife, tried to force him to
take a portion of their scanty earnings in the place of that which the
monkey had thrown away. But this Toby positively refused to do; and to
the arguments which they advanced as reasons why they should help him
along he only replied that until he could get the money by his own
exertions he would remain with Messrs. Lord and Jacobs and get along as
best he could.
Every hour in the day the thought of what might have been if he had not
lost his money so haunted his mind that finally he resolved to make one
bold stroke and tell Mr. Job Lord that he did not want to travel with
the circus any longer.
As yet he had not received the two dollars which had been promised him
for his two weeks' work, and another one was nearly due. If he could get
this money it might, with what he had saved again, suffice to pay his
railroad fare to Guilford; and if it would not, he resolved to accept
from the skeleton sufficient to make up the amount needed.
He naturally shrank from the task; but the hope that he might possibly
succeed gave him the necessary amount of courage, and when he had gotten
his work done, on the third morning after he had lost his money, and Mr.
Lord appeared to be in an unusually good temper, he resolved to try the
plan.
It was just before the dinner hour. Trade had been exceptionally good,
and Mr. Lord had even spoken in a pleasant tone to Toby when he told him
to fill up the lemonade pail with water, so that the stock might not be
disposed of too quickly and with too little profit.
Toby poured in quite as much water as he thought the already weak
mixture could receive and retain any flavor of lemon; and then, as his
employer motioned him to add more, he mixed another quart in, secretly
wondering what it would taste like.
“When you're mixin' lemonade for circus trade,” said Mr. Lord, in such a
benign, fatherly tone that one would have found it difficult to believe
that he ever spoke harshly, “don't be afraid of water, for there's where
the profit comes in. Always have a piece of lemon peel floatin' on the
top of every glass, an' it tastes just as good to people as if it cost
twice as much.”
Toby could not agree exactly with that opinion, neither did he think
it wise to disagree, more especially since he was going to ask the very
great favor of being discharged; therefore he nodded his head gravely,
and began to stir up what it pleased Mr. Lord to call lemonade, so that
the last addition might be more thoroughly mixed with the others.
Two or three times he attempted to ask the favor which seemed such a
great one, and each time the words stuck in his throat, until it seemed
to him that he should never succeed in getting them out.
Finally, in his despair, he stammered out: “Don't you think you could
find another boy in this town, Mr. Lord?”
Mr. Lord moved round sideways, in order to bring his crooked eye to bear
squarely on Toby, and then there was a long interval of silence, during
which time the boy's color rapidly came and went and his heart beat very
fast with suspense and fear.
“Well, what if I could?” he said, at length. “Do you think that trade
is so good I could afford to keep two boys, when there isn't half work
enough for one?”
Toby stirred the lemonade with renewed activity, as if by this process
he was making both it and his courage stronger, and said, in a low
voice, which Mr. Lord could scarcely hear:
“I didn't think that; but you see I ought to go home, for Uncle Dan'l
will worry about me; an', besides, I don't like a circus very well.”
Again there was silence on Mr. Lord's part, and again the crooked eye
glowered down on Toby.
“So,” he said--and Toby could see that his anger was rising very
fast--“you don't like a circus very well, an' you begin to think
that your uncle Daniel will worry about you, eh? Well, I want you to
understand that it don't make any difference to me whether you like a
circus or not, and I don't care how much your uncle Daniel worries.
You mean that you want to get away from me, after I've been to all the
trouble and expense of teaching you the business?”
Toby bent his head over the pail and stirred away as if for dear life.
“If you think you're going to get away from here until you've paid me
for all you've eat, an' all the time I've spent on you, you're mistaken,
that's all. You've had an easy time with me--too easy, in fact--and
that's what ails you. Now you just let me hear two words more out of
your head about going away--only two more--an' I'll show you what a
whipping is. I've only been playing with you before when you thought you
were getting a whipping; but you'll find out what it means if I so much
as see a thought in your eyes about goin' away. An' don't you dare to
try to give me the slip in the night an run away; for if you do I'll
follow you an' have you arrested. Now you mind your eye in the future.”
It is impossible to say how much longer Mr. Lord might have continued
this tirade had not a member of the company--one of the principal
riders--called him to one side to speak with him.
Poor Toby was so much confused by the angry words which had followed his
very natural and certainly very reasonable suggestion that he paid no
attention to anything around him until he heard his own name mentioned;
and then, fearing lest some new misfortune was about to befall him, he
listened intently.
“I'm afraid you couldn't do much of anything with him,” he heard Mr.
Lord say. “He's had enough of this kind of life already, so he says, an'
I expect the next thing he does will be to try and run away.”
“I'll risk his getting away from you, Job,” he heard the other say; “but
of course I've got to take my chances. I'll take him in hand from eleven
to twelve each day--just your slack time of trade--and I'll not only
give you half of what he can earn in the next two years, but I'll pay
you for his time, if he gives you the slip before the season is out.”
Toby knew that they were speaking of him, but what it all meant he could
not imagine.
“What are you going to do with him first?” Job asked.
“Just put him right in the ring and teach him what riding is. I tell
you, Job, the boy's smart enough, and before the season's over I'll have
him so that he can do some of the bareback acts, and perhaps we'll get
some money out of him before we go into winter quarters.”
Toby understood the meaning of their conversation only too well, and he
knew that his lot, which before seemed harder than he could bear,
was about to be intensified through this Mr. Castle, of whom he had
frequently heard, and who was said to be a rival of Mr. Lord's so far as
brutality went. The two men now walked toward the large tent, and Toby
was left alone with his thoughts and two or three little boy customers,
who looked at him wonderingly and envied him because he belonged to the
circus.
During the ride that night he told Old Ben what he had heard,
confidently expecting that that friend at least would console him; but
Ben was not the champion which he had expected. The old man, who had
been with a circus, “man and boy, nigh to forty years,” did not seem to
think it any calamity that he was to be taught to ride.
“That Mr. Castle is a little rough on boys,” Old Ben said, thoughtfully;
“but it'll be a good thing for you, Toby. Just so long as you stay with
Job you won't be nothin' more 'n a candy boy; but after you know how to
ride it 'll be another thing, an' you can earn a good deal of money an'
be your own boss.”
“But I don't want to stay with the circus,” whined Toby; “I don't want
to learn to ride, an' I do want to get back to Uncle Dan'l.”
“That may all be true, an' I don't dispute it,” said Ben; “but you see
you didn't stay with your uncle Daniel when you had the chance, an' you
did come with the circus. You've told Job you wanted to leave, an' he
'll be watchin' you all the time to see that you don't give him the
slip. Now what's the consequence? Why, you can't get away for a while,
anyhow, an' you'd better try to amount to something while you are here.
Perhaps after you've got so you can ride you may want to stay; an' I'll
see to it that you get all of your wages, except enough to pay Castle
for learnin' of you.”
“I sha'n't want to stay,” said Toby. “I wouldn't stay if I could ride
all the horses at once an' was gettin' a hundred dollars a day.”
“But you can't ride one horse, an' you hain't gettin' but a dollar a
week, an' still I don't see any chance of your gettin' away yet awhile,”
said Ben, in a matter of fact tone, as he devoted his attention again
to his horses, leaving Toby to his own sad reflections and the positive
conviction that boys who run away from home do not have a good time,
except in stories.
The next forenoon, while Toby was deep in the excitement of selling to
a boy no larger than himself, and with just as red hair, three cents'
worth of peanuts and two sticks of candy, and while the boy was trying
to induce him to “throw in” a piece of gum, because of the quantity
purchased, Job Lord called him aside, and Toby knew that his troubles
had begun.
“I want you to go in an' see Mr. Castle; he's goin' to show you how to
ride,” said Mr. Lord, in as kindly a tone as if he were conferring some
favor on the boy.
If Toby had dared to, he would have rebelled then and there and refused
to go; but, as he hadn't the courage for such proceeding, he walked
meekly into the tent and toward the ring.