TAMING A LION TAMER
Agnes was both frightened and angry as she listened to the man in the
topboots. He was such a coarse, rude fellow (or so she decided on the
instant) that she found herself fairly hating him!
Beside, she was well aware that he referred to Neale O'Neil. He had come
for Neale. He threatened to beat Neale with every snap of his heavy
riding whip along the leg of his shiny boots. He was a beast!
That is what Agnes told herself. She was quick to jump at conclusions;
but she was not quick to be disloyal to her friends.
Nor was she frightened long; especially not when she was angry. She
would not tremble before this man, and she gained complete control of
herself ere she spoke again. She was not going to deliver Neale O'Neil
into his hands by any mistake of speech--no, indeed!
The name of Twomley & Sorter's Herculean Circus and Menagerie struck a
cord of memory in Agnes' mind. It was one of the two shows that had
exhibited at Milton the season before.
This man said that Neale had run away from this show. He claimed his
name was really Neale Sorber!
And all the time Neale had denied any knowledge of circuses. Or, _had_
he done just that? Agnes' swift thought asked the question and answered
it. Neale had denied ever having attended a circus as a spectator. That
might easily be true!
Agnes' voice was quite unshaken as she said to the red-faced man: "I
don't think the person you are looking for is here, sir."
"Oh, yes he is! can't fool me," said the circus man, assuredly. "Young
scamp! He run away from his lawful guardeens and protectors. I'll show
him!" and he snapped the whiplash savagely again.
"He sha'n't show him in _that_ way if I can help it," thought Agnes. But
all she said aloud was: "There is no boy living here."
"Heh? how's that, Miss?" said Sorber, suspiciously.
Agnes repeated her statement.
"But you know where he does hang out?" said Sorber, slily, "I'll be
bound!"
"I don't know that I do," Agnes retorted, desperately. "And if I did
know, I wouldn't tell you!"
The man struck his riding boot sharply again. "What's that? what's
that?" he growled.
Agnes' pluck was rising. "I'm not afraid of you--so there!" she said,
bobbing her head at him.
"Why, bless you, Miss!" ejaculated Sorber. "I should hope not. I
wouldn't hurt you for a farm Down East with a pig on it--no, Ma'am! We
keep whips for the backs of runaways--not for pretty little ladies like
you."
"You wouldn't _dare_ beat Neale O'Neil!" gasped Agnes.
"Ah-ha?" exclaimed the man. "'Neale O'Neil?' Then you do know him?"
Agnes was stricken dumb with apprehension. Her anger had betrayed Neale,
she feared.
"So that's what he calls himself, is it?" repeated Sorber. "O'Neil was
his father's name. I didn't think he would remember."
"We can't be talking about the same boy," blurted out Agnes, trying to
cover her "bad break." "You say his name is Sorber."
"Oh, he could take any name. I thought maybe he'd call himself
'Jakeway.' He was called 'Master Jakeway' on the bills and he'd oughter
be proud of the name. We had too many Sorbers in the show. Sorber,
ringmaster and lion tamer--that's _me_, Miss. Sully Sorber, first
clown--that's my half brother, Miss. William Sorber is treasurer and
ticket seller--under bonds, Miss. He's my own brother. And--until a few
years ago--there was Neale's mother. She was my own sister."
Agnes had begun to be very curious. And while he was talking, the girl
was looking Sorber over for a second time.
He was not all bad! Of that Agnes began to be sure. Yet he wanted to
beat Neale O'Neil for running away from a circus.
To tell the truth, Agnes could scarcely understand how a boy could so
dislike circus life as to really _want_ to run away from even Twomley &
Sorber's Herculean Circus and Menagerie. There was a glitter and tinsel
to the circus that ever appealed to Agnes herself!
Personally Mr. Sorber lost none of his coarseness on longer
acquaintance, but now Agnes noticed that there were humorous wrinkles
about his eyes, and an upward twist to the corners of his mouth. She
believed after all he might be good-natured.
Could she help Neale in any way by being friendly with this man? She
could try. There was a rustic bench under the Baldwin tree.
"Won't you sit down, Mr. Sorber?" suggested Agnes, politely.
"Don't care if I do, Miss," declared the showman, and took an end of the
bench, leaving the other end invitingly open, but Agnes leaned against
the tree trunk and watched him.
"A nice old place you've got here. They tell me it's called 'the Old
Corner House.' That's the way I was directed here. And so that rascal of
mine's been here all winter? Nice, soft spot he fell into."
"It was I that came near falling," said Agnes, gravely, "and it wasn't a
soft spot at all under that tree. I'd have been hurt if it hadn't been
for Neale."
"Hel-_lo_!" exclaimed Neale's uncle, sharply. "What's this all about?
That rascal been playin' the hero again? My, my! It ought to be a big
drawin' card when we play this town in August. He always _was_ a good
number, as Master Jakeway in high and lofty tumbling; when he rode
bareback; or doing the Joey----"
"The Joey?" repeated the girl, interested, but puzzled.
"That's being a clown, Miss. He has doubled as clown and bareback when
we was short of performers and having a hard season."
"Our Neale?" gasped Agnes.
"Humph! Dunno about his being _yours_," said Sorber, with twinkling
eyes. "He's mine, I reckon, by law."
Agnes bit her lip. It made her angry to have Sorber talk so confidently
about his rights over poor Neale.
"Let me tell you how he came here," she said, after a moment, "and what
he's done since he came to Milton."
"Fire away, Miss," urged the showman, clasping his pudgy hands, on a
finger of one of them showing the enormous seal ring.
Agnes "began at the beginning," for once. She did not really know why
she did so, but she gave the particulars of all that had happened to
Neale--as she knew them--since he had rushed in at that gate the man had
so lately entered and saved her from falling into the big peachtree by
the bedroom window.
Mr. Sorber's comments as she went along, were characteristic. Sometimes
he chuckled and nodded, anon he scowled, and more than once he rapped
his bootleg soundly with the whip.
"The little rascal!" he said at last. "And he could have stayed with us,
hived up as us'al in the winter with only the critters to nuss and tend,
and been sure of his three squares.
"What does he rather do, but work and slave, and almost freeze and
starve--jest to git what, I ax ye?"
"An education, I guess," said Agnes, mildly.
"Huh!" grunted Sorber. Then he was silent; but after a while he said:
"His father all over again. Jim O'Neil was a kid-gloved chap. If he
could have let drink alone, he never would have come down to us show
people.
"Huh! Well, my sister was as good as he was. And she stayed in the
business all her life. And what was good enough for Jim O'Neil's wife
was good enough for his kid--and is good enough to-day. Now I've got
him, and I'm a-going to lug him back--by the scruff of the neck, if need
be!"
Agnes felt her lip trembling. What should she do? If Neale came right
away, this awful man would take him away--as he said--"by the scruff of
his neck."
And what would happen to poor Neale? What would ever become of him? And
Miss Georgiana was so proud of him. Mr. Marks had praised him. He was
going to graduate into high school in June----
"And he shall!" thought the Corner House girl with an inspired
determination. "Somehow I'll find a way to tame this lion tamer--see if
I don't!"
"Well, Miss, you'd better perduce the villain," chuckled Mr. Sorber. "If
he goes peaceable, we'll let bygones be bygones. He's my own sister's
child. And Twomley says for me not to come back without him. I tell ye,
he's a drawin' card, and no mistake."
"But, Mr. Sorber!" cried Agnes. "He wants to study so."
"Shucks! I won't stop him. He's allus readin' his book. I ain't never
stopped him. Indeed, I've give him money many a time to buy a book when
I needed the chink myself for terbacker."
"But----"
"And Twomley said I was doin' wrong. Less the boy learned, less he'd be
like his father. And I expect Twomley's right."
"What was the matter with Neale's father?" questioned Agnes, almost
afraid that she was overstepping the bounds of decency in asking. But
curiosity--and interest in Neale--urged her on.
"He couldn't content himself in the show business. He was the
high-tonedest ringmaster we ever had. I was only actin' the lions and a
den of hyenas in them days. But I cut out the hyenas. You can't tame
them brutes, and a man's got to have eyes in the back of his head and in
his elbers, to watch 'em.
"Well! Jim O'Neil was a good-looker, and the Molls buzzed round him like
bees round a honey pot. My sister was one of them and I'll say him
fair--Jim O'Neil never raised his hand to her.
"But after the boy come he got restless. Said it was no life for a kid.
Went off finally--to Klondike, or somewhere--to make his fortune. Never
heard of him since. Of course he's dead or he'd found us, for lemme tell
you, Miss, the repertation of Twomley & Sorber's Herculean Circus and
Menagerie ain't a light hid under a bushel--by no manner o' means!"
Not if Mr. Sorber were allowed to advertise it, that was sure. But the
man went on:
"So there you have it. Neale's mine. I'm his uncle. His mother told me
when she was dying to look after him. And I'm a-going to. Now trot him
out, Miss," and Mr. Sorber mopped his bald brow under the jaunty stiff
hat. He was quite breathless.
"But I haven't him here, sir," said Agnes. "He doesn't live here."
"He ain't here?"
"No. He is living near. But he is not at home now."
"Now, see here----"
"I never tell stories," said Agnes, gravely.
Mr. Sorber had the grace to blush. "I dunno as I doubt ye, Miss----"
"We expect Neale here about four o'clock. Before that my sister Ruth
will be at home. I want you to stay and see her, Mr. Sorber----"
"Sure I'll meet her," said Mr. Sorber, warmly. "I don't care if I meet
every friend Neale's made in this man's town. But that don't make no
differ. To the Twomley & Sorber tent show he belongs, and that's where
he is a-goin' when I leave this here town to-night."