BILL BENNER AND HUNCH JOIN A CIRCUS.
The musicians went first to Barberry, where they gave a concert, at
which the advance agent of a circus was present on a complimentary
ticket given him by Bill Kellar.
There was a small audience, but the performers were not discouraged.
They began the programme with a trio, which was rather noisy than
melodious. Of this Bill was rather glad, for, although not discordant,
it was sufficiently vigorous to warn the devil that there was ample
discord in reserve to overcome the wooing of the violin should he
instigate it to tempt the violinist.
Next came a violin solo by Bill, which he began nervously but played to
the end without distress. The audience demanded more, and he gave an
improvisation, a slow, insinuating thing that held the senses of the
hearers with the winsome spell of an opiate.
Hunch followed as the "Human Bagpipes," introduced by Bill, who spoke of
him as "the unpremeditated, one of impulsive Nature's whims, a man full
of unexpected things and bountifully provided with breathing apparatus."
"The hump on his back," Bill continued, "is not a deformity, but an
abundance. Consumption would grow weary in trying to absorb his lungs,
and pneumonia hesitates to attack him. He is triple-lunged, and the bump
on his back is the home of the third one. In this curved space the
superfluous, yet useful, lung inflates and collapses, and from it are
emitted the musical notes which you will now listen to. It is with great
pleasure, ladies and gentlemen, that I introduce to you Mr. Blair."
Hunch got up on the platform and made a bow that caused everybody to
laugh, it was so comically affected. Bill noticed with pride that the
circus agent paid more attention to the bagpipe imitation than he had
done to his own solo. A veritable Scotchman Hunch seemed as he wriggled
his back and piped the "Campbells are coming." For an encore he gave
"Annie Laurie." He himself could not give an explanation of the manner
of producing the peculiar tones that so closely resembled the bagpipes.
He knew only that his mouth was partly open while it emitted the sounds,
and that instinctive, rather than intended, movements of his jaws,
assisted by nervous contractions and expansions of his throat and chest,
forced out the notes. When he finished the encore he was loudly
applauded, and a repetition was insisted upon. Hunch was obliging, and
played on his larynx the ever-popular "Bessie, the Maid of Dundee."
The next thing on the programme was a series of magical tricks performed
by Bill, who claimed to have been a pupil of Signor Blitz. These pleased
the audience, and they cried for more. He executed all he knew, and then
treated them to some ventriloquism, which was not good, but delighted
them nevertheless.
The musicians remained in Barberry another night, and the school-house
would not hold the crowd that came to hear the demon-driven fiddler, his
blind second, and the human bagpipes.
The circus agent was again in attendance, and concluded that it would be
wise to compromise with the opposition show. So he made the musicians a
liberal offer, which they accepted, thus becoming a part of Barkup's
Colossal Aggregation. With it they wandered from town to town,
exhibiting twice a day, but doing none of the drudgery attendant upon
the pitching and striking of the tents.
They gave their performances in a side-show, and during the exhibition
in the big tent played with the band. Only here Blind Benner handled the
bow, playing second to Bill, who was leading violin.
The season was almost over, and the circus was working towards the
Eastern city whence it started. One dismal night the flickering fires of
pine-knots in the iron crates on the posts in front of the tents shot
long quivering lances into the darkness without seeming to illuminate
it. The glib ticket-seller stood before the side-show, active and
picturesque in the ruddy gleams. One minute he was half in shadow, at
the next in bold relief, as the blaze of the fires bent toward him as
though giving him its undivided attention, while he cried the list of
curiosities, phenomena, and attractions to be seen inside the tent for
the small sum of a dime.
Just as the words "human bagpipes" fell from his lips, three men emerged
from the darkness and stopped a few paces from the tent. They were tall,
muscular, and seemed to be listening to his fluent and wordy narrative
of the annex-show. He noticed them and, beginning anew, he directed his
harangue to them. Amused smiles spread over their faces when they
realized to whom his descriptions applied, and, buying tickets, they
entered with the other sight-seers.
Hunch mounted the platform and began his bagpipe imitations. The
peculiar position of his head in this vocal exercise required him to
look towards the top of the centre-pole of the tent, so that he could
not see his audience except when making his bow.
When he finished, and the audience was tumultuously encoring him, a hand
was laid on the arm of the tallest of the three men, who stood apart
from the crowd. Hunch, who was bowing to the mixed assemblage, missed
Blind Benner from his accustomed seat, just before the stage. Hunch soon
caught sight of his blind friend, who was saying:
"Oh, I'm so glad ter see yer, Levi."
Levi started in surprise at the naturalness of the greeting. After
scrutinizing the blind eyes for a moment, he waved a hand close to them,
but they stared at him without blinking.
Hunch jumped from the platform and elbowed a way through the astonished
spectators.
"Gee-whittaker, fellers! we thought yer was dead, er lost, er back in
the Sisters. We've been huntin' yer."
"Say, Benner, when did you leave the Sisters?" Cassi asked.
"'Bout a week after yer fellers."
"And Lizzi was well then?"
"Yes, she was well."
The blind man had turned toward the stage, where Bill was standing
violin in hand, and was waiting reverently to hear the music.
Hunch shouted familiarly:
"Say, Bill, don't yer know yer old frien's?"
The audience laughed at this ingenuous inquiry.
Signor Kellar, as he was denominated on the bills, did not smile, but
bowed gravely and slipped the violin under his chin.
"They might 'Signor' Hunch Blair all they'd a mind ter, he'd stop the
biggest show on earth ter shake han's with Lizzi's brothers," the dwarf
muttered.
The liquid notes of "Home, Sweet Home" floated to him as he stood by the
exit. The air seemed to rise and fall in long undulations set in motion
by the violin. In these waves the brothers bathed their weary souls. The
melody caressed them, and, thinking of their own home, they wept
silently.
Blind Benner crouched at Bill's feet. A silence almost of pain held the
incongruous crowd.
Hunch alone seemed untouched--apparently he was beyond the power of
spells. He made no effort to guard Bill from the fascination of the
instrument.
"Bill don't need no horn ter let him loose," he growled. "There ain't no
devil in that tune. He don't kick his feet ter eny sech. Guess Bill's
playin' fer the angels."