THE CIRCUS
At the first cross-roads a field wagon containing a farmer, his wife and
half-a-dozen children whirled into Andy Wildwood's view. A merry
juvenile chorus told Andy that they were bound for the circus.
"Trace loose, mister," he called out as he noticed the trailing strap.
"Whoa," ordered the driver, halting with a jolt, and Andy adjusted the
faulty harness and smiled back cheerily at an eager little fellow in the
wagon who inquired if he was going to the show, too.
"Jump in, youngster, if ours is your way," invited the farmer.
Andy promptly availed himself of the offer. He sat with his feet
dangling over the tailboard. The farther he got from Fairview the less
he thought of the manifold troubles and complications he was leaving
behind him there.
Andy did not intend to run away from home. He had business in view which
demanded his presence in Fairview the next day. He was, however,
resolved to go to Centreville. He would at least see the outside of the
circus, and could put on the time until evening.
It was only six miles from Fairview to Centreville, and they soon came
in sight of the county seat.
Andy caught more and more of the circus fever as they progressed. At
every branch road a new string of vehicles joined the procession. They
passed gay parties of ruralites on foot. Andy leaped down from the wagon
with a "Thank you" to his host, at the first sight of the mammoth white
tents over on the village common.
This was the second day of the circus at Centreville. It was scheduled
to remain one more day. Its coming was a great event for the town, and
the place was crowded with pleasure-seekers.
Andy reached the principal street just as the grand pageant went by. It
was a spectacle that dazzled him. The music, the glitter, the pomp, the
fair array of wild animals made him forget everything except that he was
a boy enjoying a rare moment of existence.
It was the inner life of the circus people, however, that attracted
Andy. It was his great ambition to be one of them. He was not content to
remain a spectator of the outside veneer of show life. He wanted to know
something of its practical side.
Andy did not dally around the ticket seller's booth, the side shows or
the crowded main entrance of the show.
Once, when a small circus had visited Fairview, he had gotten a free
pass by carrying buckets of water to the cook's tent.
He had now a vague hope that some such fortunate chance might turn up on
this new occasion.
Andy soon discovered, however, that the present layout was on a far
different scale to the second-class show he had seen at Fairview.
It was a city in itself. There were well-defined bounds as to the circus
proper. Ropes strung along iron stakes driven into the ground kept
curious visitors at a distance.
The performers' tent, the horse tents, the cook's quarters and the
sleeping space of the working hands were all guarded, and intruders
warned to keep their distance.
Everything was neat and clean, and a well-ordered system prevailed
everywhere.
The savory flavor of roasting meat made Andy desperately hungry. He saw
a fat, aproned cook hastily gathering up some chips near a chopping
block. Andy offered to split him some fresh wood, but received only an
ungracious:
"Get out! No trespassers allowed here."
Andy wandered about for a long time. He greatly envied a lad about his
own age who, adorned with a gilt-braided jacket, was walking a beautiful
Arabian steed up and down.
While he was staring at the circus boy, two popcorn boys connected with
the show ran into him purposely and tripped him up. They went off with a
laugh at his mishap. Andy concluded he was getting in the way as a
gruff, grizzled old fellow with a bludgeon ran forward and yelled to him
to make himself scarce.
"I wish I could get into the show," murmured Andy "There seems no way to
work it, though," he added disconsolately. "I wonder if they'd let me
stay here? When that canvas flaps I can see right into the main tent."
Andy was right near the canvassed passageway leading from the
performers' tent to the main one.
If no one disturbed him he could have occasional glimpses of what was
going on inside, and that was better than nothing.
Fate, however, was against him. He heard quick breathing, and turning
saw the big watchman rapidly making for him, club uplifted.
"Trying to get in under the canvas, eh?" roared the man.
"Not I--I wouldn't steal anything, not even a sneak into the show,"
declared Andy.
He retreated promptly, but in doing so tripped over a guy rope and went
flat.
Andy got up, his mouth full of fine shavings, but grasping something his
hand had come in contact with and had clutched in his fall.
He ran out of range of the watchman, who brandished his stick at the lad
threateningly. At a safe distance Andy inspected his find.
"Only a handkerchief," he said, "and a rather mussy one at that. But
there's something knotted in it. I wonder what it is?"
It was a large dark-colored silk handkerchief. It had an odor of resin,
and two of its corners were knotted.
Untying one knot, Andy disclosed a mysterious device resembling two hard
rubber shoe horns, joined in the centre by a concave piece of metal.
He could not possibly imagine its use or value. Then Andy laughed
outright. The other knot undone revealed a small rabbit's foot.
"Not much of a find," he ruminated. "Queer kind of plunder, though.
Wonder who owns it, and what that fandangle thing is?"
Andy pocketed the find and was about to move away from the spot, when
the flap of the performers' tent moved apart.
A man came out, all arrayed in tights and spangles for the circus ring.
He wore a loose robe over his show costume and big slippers on his feet.
His hair was nicely combed and his face powdered up for the performance.
He looked very anxious and excited. Andy at once saw that he was looking
for something in great haste and suspense.
The man walked all around outside of the performers' tent, eagerly
scanning the ground. Then he enlarged the scope of his survey
and search.
"Hey, Marco!" sang out another man, sticking his head past the flap of
the tent. "Time to get in line."
"Wait a minute," retorted the other. "I've lost something, and I won't
go on till I find it."
The speaker looked positively distressed as he continued a disappointing
search. A sudden idea struck Andy, and he drew the handkerchief and its
belongings from his pocket.
Just then the circus performer nearly ran against him. He looked up and
made a forward jump. He seized the handkerchief and the two odd objects
it contained with a fervent cry that astonished the bewildered Andy.
"Give them to me," he exclaimed eagerly. "They're mine. Where did you
find them? Boy, you've saved my life!"