TINKLE IN THE CIRCUS
“What does all this mean?” thought Tinkle to himself as he got up off
the pile of bags in the moving van, and tried to stand. But he found
that the motion of the big wagon, as it was rapidly driven away,
toppled him about so that it was easier to lie down than to stay on his
feet.
So Tinkle stretched out on the bags and tried to think what it all
meant. His eyes were getting used to the dark now, and he could see,
dimly, that he was in some place like his box stall. Only it was not as
nice, and Tinkle could not smell any sweet hay or oats.
“I wonder if they can be taking me where George is?” thought Tinkle,
for he had greatly missed the little boy and his sister who were
accustomed to ride him or drive him about.
On and on went the moving van with Tinkle locked inside. The horses
pulling the big wagon of course did not know they were taking a little
pony away from his home. Even if they had known there was nothing they
could have done. Poor Tinkle felt very sad and lonely. It was the
first time anything like this had ever happened to him.
Up on the seat the two men were talking.
“Well, we got that trick pony all right,” said the red-haired one.
“Yes, but if the folks who own him find out we have him they’ll have us
arrested,” said the short man.
“Oh, they’ll never find out. No one saw us take him, nobody but us
knows he’s in this van and we’ll soon be far enough away. We can make
money on this pony.”
On and on the moving van rumbled, farther and farther away, and pretty
soon Tinkle, locked inside, began to feel hungry. He got up, intending
to go about looking for something to eat. But the van tossed and tilted
about so on the rough road that Tinkle was thrown against the side and
bruised.
“I guess I had better stay lying down,” he said. “But I am very
thirsty!”
It was hot, shut up inside the big wagon, and Tinkle thought longingly
of the trough of cool drinking water in the stable yard and wished he
were back there.
The men who had taken Tinkle away made the horses drawing the van hurry
along, so they were soon out of the city where the Farleys lived. They
drove along a country road and, just as night was coming on, they came
to another city where they had their stable, and where they kept the
van.
“Well, let’s see how the pony stood the trip,” said the red-haired man
as he opened the big end doors.
“He seems to be all right,” replied the other. He held up a lantern and
looked inside. Tinkle got up from his bed on the old bags. He saw the
open doors and he smelled hay and oats, though the smell was not as
good as that which came from his stable at home.
“Lift him out, and we’ll put him in one of the stalls,” said the
red-haired man.
But Tinkle did not wait to be lifted out. He knew how to jump, and,
giving a leap, he was quickly on the ground. Then, as he did not like
the place where he was, nor the men who had taken him from his nice
home, Tinkle tried to run away.
But the men were too quick for him. One of them caught him by the mane
and the other by the nose, pinching so that it hurt Tinkle.
“Look out! He’s a lively chap!” cried the short man. “He wants to get
away.”
“Yes. We must put a halter on him and tie him in the stall,” said the
other.
Tinkle again tried hard to get away, but could not. If he had been a
big, strong horse he might have broken loose from the men. But, as I
have said, he was not much bigger than a large Newfoundland dog. The
men easily held him and led him into the barn.
This stable was not at all like the nice place in which Tinkle had
lived when he was the pet of George. The straw on the floor was not
clean, and when Tinkle was given a pail of water, after he had been
tied in the stall, the water was not clean, either. Still Tinkle was so
thirsty that he drank it. Then he felt a little better. But oh! how he
did want his own, nice, clean box stall.
For now he found himself in an ordinary stall, such as the other horses
had. The manger was too high for him to eat from, but one of the men
brought a low box and put some hay in it.
“There! he can eat out of that I guess,” said the man. “We’ll likely
sell him in a couple of days if we can find some one to buy him. He
ought to bring in some money if he can do tricks.”
Poor Tinkle did not understand or pay much attention to this talk. He
was too hungry, and, though the hay was not so sweet as that he got
at home, still he munched it. Suddenly he heard a voice speaking in a
language he understood.
“Hello in there!” was called to him. “Are you a new horse?”
“I’m a pony,” was the answer Tinkle made. “Who are you, if you please?”
“Ha! You’re polite, anyhow, which is more than I can say of some of the
horses in this stable,” went on the voice. “Where did you come from,
anyhow?”
“I belong to a boy named George,” answered Tinkle. “To George and his
sister Mabel. I don’t know where I am, nor why I was brought here. I
didn’t want to come. I’d rather be back in my own home.”
“Oh, ho!” exclaimed the voice, and by the light of a lantern hanging in
the stable Tinkle could see that it was a horse in the next stall that
was speaking to him. “Oh, ho! If you stay here long you’ll find there
are lots of things you don’t want to do. I don’t want to pull a heavy
moving van about the streets all day, but I have to,” said the horse,
and he gave something like a groan.
“Do all the horses here do that?” asked Tinkle, who felt very sad.
“Most of us,” answered his new friend. “Some horses haul big wagons
loaded with hay and feed, and the men don’t give us any too much to
eat, either. Sometimes, when I’m drawing a load of hay, I’m so hungry I
could just eat nearly all that is piled on the wagon. You won’t like
it here a bit.”
“Oh, what’s the use of making trouble?” asked a horse in the stall on
the other side of Tinkle. “He’s here, and he’ll have to stay.”
“Yes, I guess he will,” agreed the first horse. “But I don’t see what
kind of work he can do. He isn’t big enough to be hitched up with any
of us, and, if he was, he couldn’t pull the smallest moving van the men
have.”
“I can pull a pony cart!” said Tinkle who did not like the other horses
to think he was of no use in the world.
“Ha! Pony cart!” exclaimed one horse whose hide was covered with mud.
“You’ll find no pony carts around _here_! _Dump_ carts, more likely.
I’ve been hauling dirt in dump carts all day long, until I’m so tired I
can hardly stand. And there’s a big sore on my back, too!”
“I’m sorry for that,” said Tinkle kindly. “If Patrick were here he’d
put something on it to make it better.”
“Who’s Patrick?” asked the dirt-cart horse. “Is he one of us?”
“Patrick is the coachman who taught me to do tricks for George, the
little boy,” answered Tinkle, and he felt rather proud as he said this.
“Tricks, is it?” laughed the horse who had first spoken. “You’ll have
no time for tricks here. You must belong in a circus. Tricks indeed!”
“I wish I could go to a circus!” said Tinkle eagerly. “I’ve heard about
Tum Tum, the jolly elephant. He is in the circus.”
“Well, eat your supper and be thankful for what you have,” said the
dump-cart horse. “I hope they don’t work me so hard to-morrow. If they
do I’ll try to run away, though that isn’t much use,” and the horse
kept on with his supper of hay.
Tinkle was very sad and lonesome. It was not at all nice in the stable
where he was tied. It was dirty, and did not smell good. The horses
around him, though kindly, were poor, hard-working animals, and were
not like the sleek Prince and other horses in Mr. Farley’s stable. The
men who owned the work horses seldom took the time to use the currycomb
or brush on them. If a horse fell down in the dirt, as they often did
from pulling too heavy loads, the dirt stayed on until it dried and
blew off.
For several days Tinkle was kept tied in the stable. The men could not
use him on any of their heavy wagons and there was no time for him to
do his tricks, and no pony cart for him to ride children about in. Poor
Tinkle felt very bad, and many, many times he wished himself back in
his old home.
As best he could, in his stall, Tinkle practiced the tricks he had
learned from George and Patrick. He bowed and he did a little jumping,
but not much, as his stall was too small. And one day, when Tinkle was
practicing his bowing trick, the red-haired man suddenly happened to
come into the stable.
“Oh, ho!” he cried. “I forgot about that pony doing tricks! We must try
to sell him and get the money. I wonder who would buy him?”
“I know,” said the other man, coming into the stable just then.
“Who would?” asked the red-haired man.
“The circus people,” was the answer. “The big circus which came to the
city to-day. I have been down on the circus lot just now with a load
of hay for the elephants. I saw some little ponies there, and I asked
one of the circus men if they ever bought extra ones. He said they did
sometimes, and he said they needed a new trick pony just now as one of
theirs is sick.”
“That may be just the chance we’re looking for!” cried the red-haired
man.
“Good,” said the other. “We’ll take this pony to the circus and sell
him.”
Through the city streets one of the men led Tinkle and before long the
pony heard music playing. He looked up and saw the big white tents and
the gay fluttering flags.
“Oh, this must be the circus Dido, the dancing bear, told me about,”
Tinkle said to himself. “I wonder if I shall meet Tum Tum, the jolly
elephant?”
“Here’s the trick pony my partner was telling you about,” announced the
red-haired man to a man who came out of a tent where many ponies and
horses were eating their dinners.
“Can he do any tricks?” asked the circus man.
“Well, I’ve seen him make bows and jump. I don’t know what else he can
do.”
“I’ll soon find out,” stated the circus man. “He looks like a good
pony. I’ll buy him of you.”
So after some talk, the money was paid over and then Tinkle belonged to
the circus.
“I wonder what will happen to me now,” thought Tinkle, and very many
strange things were to happen. I am going to tell you about them.