WHEN THE CIRCUS CAME TO TOWN
Twelve Scouts, nearly half of Quarry Troop No. 1, now popularly known as
the Boy Scout Engineers, were gathered in the meeting room at
headquarters. In fact, they had been literally driven there when the
Woodbridge Academy let out at halt past two on Friday afternoon. You
see, it was raining so hard that there was no other place to go. But,
then, the old machine shop was the best place in the world for the boys,
rain or shine, so _that_ didn't make much difference. What really did
matter was the monotony of it all. For five days now the region round
about Woodbridge had been literally deluged with a spring downpour.
Otter Creek had swollen to twice its normal size, springs were gushing
from most unheard-of places and rivulets were racing down hillsides that
usually were, to quote Nipper Knapp, "dry as a smoked herring."
"By George, I do wish this rain would let up. What we want is a chance
to get out of doors a bit. I haven't stretched my legs in a week," said
Romper Ryan glumly, as he gazed out of the big front window.
"Well," said fat Babe Wilson with his usual sarcasm, "if it don't dry up
soon the whole blamed world is liable to shrink." Then, as an after
thought, he added, "That might bring St. Cloud City so near Woodbridge
that we could at least see the circus parade."
"Aw-w, what'er you bringing up that circus subject for again," said
Jiminy Gordon, who didn't like to be reminded of the pleasure he had
decided to forego.
"Yes," chorused two others who were equally reluctant about facing the
sacrifice they had voted themselves; "forget about that blooming
circus."
"Say, you fellows needn't hop on me just because I want to have a little
fun with you," protested Babe. "I'm as good a sport as any of you.
Don't you suppose I agreed when you voted not to go to the circus. I
know it would be foolish to spend most of the thirty dollars in the
troop's treasury for a day's outing. You needn't talk, Jiminy Gordon;
you were the first one to suggest the idea last week when you saw the man
posting the bills."
"Yes, I know I was," said Jiminy, somewhat embarrassed, "but I said it
without thinking. When we got to discussing it last night I saw how
ridiculous it was. By Jiminy, I'd rather see the money go toward a new
camping outfit, or the lumber for the troop's power boat. I wouldn't
spend that thirty dollars to see three circuses, I wouldn't."
Judging from the conversation, the circus question referred to had died a
hard death. To tell the truth, its demise had really been quite painful
so far as most of the boys were concerned, for all of them had rather
liked the idea of being able to enjoy "the World's Mightiest, Most
Magnificent Combination of Clever Animals and Human Skill and Daring,"
etc., which was booked to show in St. Cloud City a few days hence.
For a week the temptation to spend the troop's thirty dollars had haunted
the lads day and night, until finally with a great effort they had laid
the ghost by a unanimous vote that the money must not be spent on the
profitless amusement. It really was a sacrifice, for every Scout had set
his heart on a hike to St. Cloud and a day crowded full of gaiety and
glitter, not to mention a stomach crowded fuller with peanuts, popcorn
and lemonade.
"Fellows, I am just as much disappointed as the rest," said Bruce
Clifford, leader of the Owl patrol, "but I think we decided wisely last
night. We can all do without going to the circus, even if it is the
biggest one that has visited this neck of the woods in years. The
possibility of a new set of tents or the lumber for a motorboat appeals
to me more than blowing the money in on a show; that is, it does when I
stop and think soberly about it."
"Right-o!" said Romper.
"That's what I call common sense," asserted Nipper Knapp.
"Just the way we all should look at it," insisted Bud Weir, leader of the
Blue Heron patrol. "And if we were to--sh! Listen, fellows! Some
one's calling!" In an instant everybody was silent.
Bruce inclined his head toward the wire room at the other end of the
building where the headquarters' telegraph key and the instruments
connected with the wireless aerials on the roof were located. Out of the
doorway seemed to tumble a confusion of dots and dashes quite
unintelligible to any one not familiar with the Morse International Code.
....-.-,....-.-,..-.-..-.-..-..--.
"Headquarters, Ford calling," read Bruce. "Fellows, Mr. Ford is trying
to raise us. Wonder what he wants!"
He hurried into the wire room with the rest at his heels, and taking the
low operator's chair opened the key and answered the call. Then he
closed it again and waited. The boys were all attention, for most of
them were second-class scouts and could "read" Morse well.
"Mayor--Worthington--just--'phoned--me," clicked the instrument.
"Wants--to--see--Scouts--at--Town--Hall--at--four--I--would--like--to--
have--you--go. -- Ford--Asst--S'ct--M's't'r--3:10--p--m."
"All--right--Shall--we--wear--uniforms--Bruce--L'd'r--Owl--P't'r'l--
3:12--p--m," Bruce flashed back over the wire.
"Yes--careful--don't--get--too--wet--G'd--by--Ford--3:14--p--m," came
the answer.
"Cracky! Something interesting! Wonder what's up!" said Bruce
excitedly, as he began calling on the loop telegraph wire that was
connected to an instrument in every Scout's home.
The three patrols of Quarry Troop stood at attention in the broad
corridor of the Woodbridge Town Hall, awaiting the coming of Mayor
Worthington. Their campaign hats were water-soaked, and rain dripped
from the edge of their slickers and gathered in little pools about their
feet. They must have been uncomfortable. But if they were, they gave
no signs of it. All their attention was riveted on the doors that led
the way into the Mayor's private office.
Presently these doors swung open, and the tall, broad-shouldered figure
of the town's chief executive strode forth, followed by his secretary and
Timothy Cockran, the Commissioner of Streets and Highways. Every back
stiffened and every hand went up in salute as these men advanced and took
their position in front of Bruce, the recognized spokesman of the troop.
The Mayor acknowledged the salute in quite the proper manner, as did the
others; then, clearing his throat, he spoke.
"Scouts, I have asked you here because you can be of service to
Woodbridge. The town needs you. Are you willing to do a good turn for
the welfare of us all?"
"We're ready for anything, sir. We try to do a good turn daily, rain or
shine," said Bruce, once more saluting.
And his answer was echoed by the score or more of brown-clad youths
ranged in line beside him.
"Thank you, Scouts," said Mr. Worthington, crisply. "Now to business.
The rains of the last few days have raised havoc in this end of Champlain
Valley. So much water has fallen that the high roads leading north and
south on either side of the valley have been made dangerous by wash outs
and landslides. In several places the banks have slipped down from
above, but the most dangerous sections are those where the roads have
been washed away almost entirely. Vehicles traveling at night are very
apt to have serious upsets and the life and limb of the occupants are
endangered, in spite of the fact that we have marked the washouts with
red lanterns hung on short posts.
"What I would like to have you boys do is to organize a road patrol to
keep a careful watch over these red lamps and see that they are all
lighted between the hours of nightfall and midnight at least. After
twelve o'clock there is hardly enough traffic to make the patrolling
worth while. The first patrol can light the lamps at a given hour and
thereafter at certain intervals Scout patrols can visit each lamp and see
that it is in good working order. How would you like the job, boys?"
"Fine!" shouted some.
"Just the kind of work we like," cried others.
"All right," said the Mayor, shortly. "Scouts, you are hereby appointed
Guardians of the High ways by order of the Mayor and the Commissioner of
Streets and Highways. Each morning at half past eight one of your number
will be expected to make a report at the Town Hall of the night's work."
"The Commissioner here has a map of these thoroughfares showing each
washout and just where each lamp is located. You can organize your
patrols this afternoon and start to-night. I think the storm will be
somewhat abated by that time. It is letting up a little now. Good-day
and good luck."
Though the rain had decreased considerably the Scouts lost little time in
getting from the Town Hall to Scout headquarters, where the details of
organizing the road patrols were worked out. It required the rest of the
afternoon to do this, and the dinner hour arrived almost before the boys
were aware of the time.
"Say, fellows, this is going to be fine," said Bud Weir. Then, glancing
out of the window, he exclaimed: "By Jove, the storm's nearly over; the
clouds are breaking out there beyond the mountains. This will be a fine
night for--Cracky, fellows, I almost forgot; the circus comes through
town to-night. It will come down the valley from Collinsville and take
the north road to St. Cloud."
"By George, you're right," exclaimed Bruce. "Say, fellows, that makes
our work doubly important. These heavy circus vans may get into trouble
if all the lamps aren't in good order. You fellows be sure and report
for duty, will you?"
"Don't worry; there'll be enough of us to patrol to-night. I guess we're
all going to stay up and see the circus go through town, if it isn't
raining, aren't we, fellows?" asked Bud. And from the chorus of
affirmatives it was evident that few of the troop would be abed when the
"World's Mightiest, Most Magnificent Combination of Clever Animals and
Human Skill and Daring" rumbled through town.
By seven o'clock the rain had stopped entirely and, when the
lamp-lighting patrols started out in the gloaming, the storm clouds were
fast disappearing in the southwest, their edges splashed with the gold
and vermilion fire of the setting sun.
Indeed, by the time the second patrol had reported back at headquarters
and the third group of night watchers had started out, a big yellow moon
had appeared and the stars were twinkling merrily up above.
After the last patrol had been gone an hour the Scouts who, when their
duties were finished, had gathered in headquarters, moved on to the top
of Otter Creek hill. They had decided that this would be the best place
to watch the coming of the circus cavalcade.
The valley presented a queer appearance at that hour. Here and there
were red lights standing out against the darkness, while from various
points along the highway came the glow of tiny battery lamps as the
Scouts signaled to each other.
"They look like a lot of fireflies," said Bruce, after he had watched the
series of dots and dashes that the boys were flashing back and forth.
"Yes," said Bud, "just like mighty big fli--. Hi, fellows, here comes the
circus! See 'em--that string of lights coming down Willow Street--hear
that rumble of the wagons?"
"Sure enough!" exclaimed Bruce, who was as enthusiastic as the rest.
Up the long hill, in view of the group of wide-eyed and thoroughly
interested boys, came the phantom-like caravan. A string of swinging
lanterns fastened to the center pole of each wagon marked its course.
First in line were the grumbling and rumbling red and blue animal vans,
followed by two rattling canvas wagons. Then a troop of little black and
white ponies appeared hitched in fours to light gilt and red vehicles
that held all sorts of odds and ends. In the rear of the ponies followed
the camels; great, long-legged creatures that grunted at every stride as
if they were indignant at being kept up so late. Gaudy band wagons, the
cook's outfit and a heterogeneous assortment of vehicles came next, all
of them moving slowly up the hill while the drivers dozed in their seats.
"Say, isn't it great?" cried Romper Ryan as he took in every little
detail.
"You bet it is!" returned Babe Wilson, breathlessly. "I wonder where the
elephants are. Oh, here they come!"
The clank of chains could be heard above the grumble of the wagons, and a
moment later five huge elephants appeared out of the darkness. They
lumbered along sleepily, their massive heads and long trunks swaying from
side to side at every stride. The forelegs of each beast were chained
together with stout links of iron, but there was little need of fetters,
for the animals were apparently so docile that the idea of running away
seemed farthest from their minds. The leader of the drove was, of
course, the largest and apparently the meekest, for as he scuffled by the
Scouts the boys saw that he walked with his tiny eyes closed exactly as
if he were asleep.
A string of a dozen red vans followed the elephants, and at the very rear
of the line was the big steam calliope. It was muffled and silent now,
out its driver was snoring lustily as if to keep its reputation.
"Gee, but that was worth staying up to see," said Ray Martin, the first
to find his tongue, after the cavalcade had passed on down the valley.
"You bet it was," said Bruce. "Jove, I'm almost sorry we decided--Say!
Look! Something has happened! See the lights down there by the old
quarry hole? The circus has stopped! Look, there are some signals!
It's the patrol! Can you read them?"
"'We--need--help. Elephant--in--in--'
What the dickens is he talking about? I couldn't get that last, could
you, Bruce?" asked Bud Weir.
"Yes; he said that an elephant is in the quarry hole. By George, one of
those big beasts has fallen down into Tollen's old quarry. There was a
washout down there. Come on, fellows!" And the Scouts started at top
speed down the North Valley road toward the scene of trouble.