THE TRAINED SEAL
The first opportunity he had Joe wrote to the man who had advertised in
the theatrical paper. The boy fish asked for all particulars regarding
the seal, inquiring especially if a stranger could put it through the
usual tricks, and if it would readily learn a few new ones.
Then Joe so anxiously watched the incoming mails that it got to be
quite a joke with some of the performers as they crowded around when
the epistles were distributed.
"What! hasn't she written yet, Joe?" asked Tom Jefferson, the strong
man. "Something must be wrong."
"There isn't any _she_ about it," Joe would retort, but he could not
help getting red in the face.
"You ought to send her a self-addressed envelope," added one of the
clowns. "Maybe she can't write, Joe."
"It's awful hard to get your mail when you're with a circus," sighed
the snake charmer. "I know I've lost dozens of perfectly good letters.
But don't worry, Joe. It may come yet."
"Helen, you'd better look out," joked Bill Watson. "Joe has another
friend now, outside the business."
"Oh, I'm not worrying," laughed Helen, but Joe thought she did look at
him in a peculiar manner, and she blushed slightly. For Joe's anxiety
over the letter was obvious to all.
And he did not want to tell even Helen his expectations and hopes for
fear he would be disappointed. He knew Helen would keep his secret if
he so requested, but he thought it better, everything considered, not
to say anything until he had had a reply from the man who offered the
trained seal for sale.
And at last a letter came for him. It had been delayed, reaching a
certain town after the circus had left, and it had been forwarded from
place to place, always getting there a day after the show had moved on.
So that when it finally did reach Joe it was about a week after it had
been written.
To Joe's delight the seal was guaranteed to be so kind and docile that
a stranger could, in a short time, put it through the course of its
tricks. And the animal was said to be young, so that it could be taught
new tricks.
"I think it is just what I'm looking for," mused Joe. "If only he
hasn't sold it to some one else on account of my delay in answering
because I didn't get this letter. I guess I'd better telegraph and say
I'll take it, but I'd like to look at it first."
The price asked for the seal was within Joe's means. He quickly decided
that, and he also made up his mind that he would take the seal, after
having seen it, and add it to his tank act if it came up to his
expectations.
One might think that Joe's proper course would have been to apply to
the owners of the circus and get them to buy the seal for him. But in
circuses, just as is often the case in theatrical companies, the
performers "dress" their own acts--that is, they provide all they need
to work with, and these accessories become their personal property. Of
course in big pageants, such as are sometimes seen with circuses, the
management provides the costumes and the weapons, chariots, thrones and
other spectacular pieces.
But in an act each performer usually provides his own things. A man
with trained dogs will own them personally, as a snake charmer owns her
crawling pets. Then, when he leaves one show and goes to another, which
is often done, he takes his property with him. It is his act.
In the case of the tank, that belonged to Benny Turton, and Joe was, in
a sense, only borrowing it. Now he proposed to add a seal as his
personal property. He knew the circus people would not object if the
act went well, and they would also provide transportation for the
animal, just as they did for Helen's horse, Rosebud, or for the trained
dogs.
"Yes, if I can only get this to work I'll make a hit; I'm sure I will,"
reasoned Joe.
He sent a telegram to the man who had advertised the seal for sale,
stating that he would buy it if the animal were as represented, and Joe
added that within two days he would call and talk matters over.
He found that the next day the circus would play in a town not far from
Elmwood, where the seal's owner lived, and by putting his tank act on a
little sooner Joe could get off in the afternoon in time to make the
visit and get back to the circus in season for the night's performance;
that is, if he made good train connections.
"That's the only trouble," thought Joe, on arrival. "I wouldn't want to
be stranded and have to cut out my act at night. That wouldn't look
very well. I wonder how I can manage it? If I only had an auto or an
airship."
But neither was available just then, though Joe began to think of
engaging an automobile if one could be hired in the town.
He was on the verge of making inquiries as to this shortly before the
afternoon performance, when, as he walked across the circus lot, he saw
a man who had been with the circus the previous season as a juggler.
The man was standing near a motor-cycle, and neither looked
particularly prepossessing. They were both covered with dust, though
the machine was of a standard make, and needed only a good cleaning.
"Hello, Joe!" called the performer. "How are you?"
"Why, it's Babson!" Joe exclaimed. "I haven't seen you in some time.
What are you doing? Are you with a show?"
"No, I wish I were," came the answer. "I'm sort of down on my luck.
After I left the Sampsons I did well for a while, and then I had an
accident to my hand, and I had to quit juggling."
He held out a hand on which were two crooked fingers which seemed
permanently out of shape.
"How did it happen?" asked Joe.
"Oh, I had an accident riding this machine. I wish I'd never bought it.
I could use the money now to good advantage."
"That's too bad," said Joe, sympathetically.
"I wonder if there's any chance to get on here," went on Babson. "I
could help in an animal act--I know something about the cats."
"You might try," Joe said. "I saw Jim Tracy around a while ago."
"What are you doing?" Babson asked. "Same trapeze work?"
"Oh, no; I've got a new act--Turton's tank. He gave out, you know. Come
on in and watch. It makes quite a hit. I've put in a lot of new stuff,
and I'm thinking of adding more." Then, in a sudden burst of
confidence, Joe told about the seal, though it was the first time he
had mentioned his new idea to any one.
"I'm going to see about it now, as soon as I finish," Joe said.
"Getting back from Elmwood is all that bothers me, though. The train
connections are pretty close. I was just going to see about hiring an
auto. Know where I can get one in this town?"
"What do you want with an auto when I have my little jitney?" asked
Babson, indicating the motor-cycle. "She's a good machine, but I
haven't cleaned her lately. She'll carry double, too. Hop up behind me
and I'll have you at Elmwood in no time. I'll bring you back, too,
though I won't promise to carry the seal. Time is no object to
me--now," and he laughed rather grimly.
"Say, I believe I'll take you up," Joe said. "That is, if you'll allow
me to pay you as I would have to pay a chauffeur."
"Pay nothing!" exclaimed the man. "I guess I can do you that favor. If
you feel like spending any money why don't you buy this machine? I'll
sell it cheap, and you could have a lot of fun with it. Take your wife
out for a run between performances."
"I haven't one," laughed Joe.
"Well, you may have one some day. That's no reason for not buying my
motor-cycle. I'll let you have it cheap."
"I don't know how to run one," objected Joe.
"It won't take you long to learn. Come on, I'll take you over and you
can look at the seal, and I'll be giving you instructions on the way."
"All right," agreed Joe. "But first come in and watch my act. Then you
can see Tracy, too."
And so it was arranged. Babson was disappointed in not securing work
from the ring-master, who said, though, that there might be an opening
later. But the former juggler enjoyed Joe's act, and said so.
"Don't say anything about the seal proposition," Joe cautioned him, as
he went out with Babson after the performance in the tank. "I don't
want it known until I actually have the seal."
"Oh, I'll keep quiet. But say, Joe, that act of yours, as it stands
now, is a dandy! It sure is!"
"Glad you like it. I'm going to make it better yet, I think."
Joe enjoyed the trip on the motor-cycle. It was not his first one, for
a boy he once knew in Bedford owned one, and Joe had frequent rides on
it. But now he took a new interest, since he began to consider buying
this one.
"It wouldn't be such a bad idea," he told himself as Babson explained
how simple it was to ride and operate one. "And I suppose Helen would
come for a ride now and then. It wouldn't be any bother taking it with
me. A motor-cycle, more or less, wouldn't matter to a circus."
Joe found the seal still unsold. The man had owned several of the
intelligent creatures which he took about with him giving performances
in theatres. But his health had broken down, and he had been forced to
give up his act and had advertised his seals for sale.
"I only have this one seal left," he explained to Joe, "but she is the
best of the lot. I hate to part with her."
They went out to the barn, where there was a large tank of water.
Stepping up to it Mr. Blossom, the seal's owner, called loudly:
"Here, Lizzie!"
The water had been calm and placid, but in a moment it was violently
agitated, and a queer snakelike head was thrust up, while there came a
series of loud cries:
"Hook! Hook! Hook!"
"There she is," said Mr. Blossom. He leaned his head over close to the
water, and the seal, swimming to him, seemed to kiss him.
"That's the girl, Lizzie!" Mr. Blossom exclaimed. "And now I suppose
you want your reward."
From a pail near the tank he took up a dead fish. The seal held up her
head high from the water. Mr. Blossom balanced the fish on the animal's
nose, and raised a finger.
"No, no. Not yet, Lizzie!" he cried. "Wait a moment."
Turning to Joe, the trainer said: "Count three, and then snap your
fingers."
Joe did so, and no sooner had the snap come than the seal, which had
fixed its intelligent eyes on Joe, tossed the fish up into the air,
caught it in its mouth as it came down and swallowed it. Then, with
another loud "Hook!" the animal dived and swam rapidly to the far side
of the tank.