A BEAR ON THE RAMPAGE
"Hoop-la!"
All a-spangle, to the blare of quick music, the great tent ablaze with
light, the rows of benches crush-crowded with excited humanity, Andy
Wildwood left the spring-board. For a second he whirled in midair. Then,
gracefully landing on the padded carpet, he made his bow amid pleased
plaudits and rejoined the row of fellow tumblers.
"You've caught the knack," spoke the ringmaster encouragingly. "Be
careful on the double somersault, though."
"It's just as easy to me," asserted Andy.
He proved his words when his turn came again. He was breathless but all
aglow, as he and his seven fellow acrobats bowed in a row and retired to
the performers' tent.
Andy was delighted with himself, his comrades, his
environment--everything. In fact, a constant glamour of excitement and
enjoyment had come into his life.
This was the second day after his strange interview with his aunt. It
was the last evening performance of the show at Tipton.
Andy had been away from the circus for two days. The morning after
handing in the contracts, the manager had selected him to accompany the
chief hostler and four of his assistants on a trip into the country.
The show was to make a long jump after closing the engagement at Tipton.
While Mr. Harding joined a second enterprise he owned in the West, the
present outfit was to take up a route in the South.
Many of those connected with the show were to leave. This cut the
working force down. They had too many horses, and with a string of fifty
of these the chief hostler started out to sell off the same.
The expedition continued a day and a half. When Andy came back, he found
himself in time for two rehearsals. That evening he made his first
appearance in public as a real professional.
Outside of the charm of being seen, appreciated and applauded by others,
Andy loved the vigorous exercise of the spring-board. The mechanical
athletic and acrobatic equipments of the show were superb. He made up
his mind he could about live among the balancing bars and trapezes, if
they would let him.
One disappointment Andy met with that somewhat troubled him. When he
came back from the horse-selling expedition, he found that Luke Belding
had left the show.
Billy Blow told Andy that Luke had been to his tent a dozen times to see
him. That morning early, before Andy's return, the side show Luke was
with had packed up and shipped by train to join a show going east.
"So I'll never find out what I'm heir to," smiled Andy. "Oh, well, of
course it was some absurd guess of Luke's. It's funny, though. That
fellow, Jim Tapp, had the same delusion. By the way, Aunt Lavinia seems
to have been in earnest. Nobody appears to be looking for me to go back
to Fairview. I am free to do as I choose. Now, then, to make a record."
Sunday was passed at Tipton. Of the better class in the show, nearly all
the lady performers and some of the men went to church, and Andy went
also. In the afternoon Billy Blow went the rounds of some friends, and
took Andy with him.
It revealed a new phase of circus life, the domestic side, to Andy.
There was no "shop talk." The boy passed a pleasant hour among several
very charming family circles.
Next day everybody pitched into genuine hard work. The circus train had
been sent for, and occupied a long railroad siding.
Andy was amazed at the system and order of the proposed transit. The
train was on a big scale. The manager had a car to himself. The star
performers were cared for in luxurious parlor coaches. Even the minor
employees were well-housed, and feeding arrangements for man and beast
were perfect.
In order to reach their destination, which was Montgomery, a central
southern city, the train made many shifts from one railway line to
another. This took time, and necessitated many unpleasant stoppages
and waits.
It was the second day of the trip when they were side-tracked at a
little way station. Here it was given out they would remain from noon
until midnight, awaiting a fruit express which would pick them up and
deliver them at terminus.
Billy Blow, his Boy Midget, and Andy had a compartment in a tourists'
car. When the long stop was announced, Andy was glad to get a chance to
stretch his limbs.
He interested himself for more than an hour watching the menagerie men
attend to the animals. They were fed and watered, their quarters neatly
renovated, while a veterinarian went from cage to cage examining them
professionally and treating those that were sick or ailing.
Big Bob, the star bear of the show, had in some way run a great sliver
into one paw. This had festered the flesh, and bruin, bound with stout
ropes, had been brought out of his cage on a wheeled litter, and laid on
the grass for careful treatment.
Andy watched the skilful doctoring of the big, bellowing fellow with
curiosity. Then he strolled off into a stretch of timber to enjoy a
brief walk.
He reached a deliciously cool and shady nook, and threw himself down at
the mossy trunk of a tree to rest in the midst of fresh air, peaceful
solitude and merrily singing birds.
Andy was lost in a soothing day dream when a great rustle made him sit
up, startled.
A dark object passed close by him in and out among the bushes. It was of
great size, and was making its way fast and furiously.
"I declare!" cried Andy, springing to his feet, "if it isn't the bear.
Now how in the world did he get loose?"
Andy stood for a moment staring in wonder after the disappearing animal.
It was certainly Big Bob. The animal was fully familiar to Andy. The
beast wobbled to one side as it ran, and this the boy discerned was due
to the sore paw. He was a fugitive, and his escape had been discovered.
Andy could surmise this from shouts and calls in the distance, back in
the direction of the circus train.
Big Bob had a bad reputation with the menagerie men. At times placid and
even good-natured, on other occasions he was capricious, savage and
dangerous. Even his trainer had narrowly escaped a death blow from one
of the animal's enormous paws when the brute was in one of its tantrums.
The bear was lumbering along as if bent on getting a good start against
pursuit. He chose a sheltered route as if instinctively cunning. Andy,
acting on a quick impulse, started after the bear.
The route led up a hill. Big Bob scaled a moderately steep incline and
disappeared over its crest.
Andy, reaching this, glanced backwards. From that height he could look
well over the country.
The belated train was in sight. From it, armed with pikes and ropes, a
dozen or more menagerie men were running.
The alarm had spread to the settlement of houses near by. Andy saw
several men armed with shotguns and rifles scouring adjacent wood
stretches.
"I won't dare to tackle the bear, but I'll try and run him down till he
gets tired," thought Andy.
He remembered many a discussion of the menagerie men over the real
danger and loss involved in the escape of an animal. The fugitive rarely
did much damage except to hen roosts, beyond scaring human beings. The
trouble was that armed farmers, pursuing, thought it great sport to
bring down the fugitive with a shot. Big Bob was worth a good deal of
money to the show. The principal aim of the menagerie men, therefore,
was to prevent the slaughter of an escaped animal.
Down the hill bruin ran and Andy after him. Then there was a country
road and Big Bob put down this. Andy could easily outrun the fugitive,
but this was not his policy for the present. The disabled foot of the
animal diminished his normal speed. Andy believed that bruin would soon
find and harbor himself in some cozy nook.
At a turn in the road Andy noticed that there was a house a few hundred
feet ahead. Beyond this several other dwellings were scattered about the
landscape.
"I don't like that," mused Andy. "It may mean trouble. I'd rather see
the old scamp take to the open country. Wonder if I can head him off?"
Andy leaped a field fence. He doubled his pace, got even with Big Bob,
then ahead of him. He snatched up a pitchfork lying across a heap of
hay, and bolted over the fence to the road again.
Extending the implement, he stood ready to challenge the approaching
fugitive, and, if possible, turn bruin's course.
Big Bob did not appear to notice Andy until about fifty feet distant
from him. Then the animal lifted his shaggy head. His eyes glared, his
collar bristled.
With a deep, menacing roar the bear increased his speed. He headed
defiantly for the pronged barrier which Andy extended. Big Bob ran
squarely upon the pitchfork. Its prongs grazed the animal's breast.
Andy experienced a shock. He was forced back, thrown flat, and the next
minute picked himself up from the shallow ditch at the side of the road
into which he had fallen.
"Well," commented Andy, staring down the road, "he's a good one!"
Big Bob had never stopped. He was putting ahead for dear life. Andy
watched him near the farm house.
The animal turned in at a road gateway. He ran rapidly up to an open
window at the side of the house.
Its sill held something, Andy could not precisely make out what at the
distance he was from the spot. He fancied, however, that it was dishes
holding pies or some other food, put out to cool.
Big Bob arose erect on his hind legs, his fore feet rested on the window
sill. His great muzzle dipped into whatever it held.
At that moment from inside the farmhouse there rang out the most
curdling yell Andy Wildwood had ever heard.