FUN AT THE CIRCUS
“The Monkey he’s a friend of mine,
In fact, I’ve heard it stated
That me and he and he and me
Is distantly related.
I guess it’s true, for I can do
Most all the tricks that he cuts,
And me and he and he and me
Is awful fond of peanuts!”
Thus sang Alf as, arm in arm with Tom, he swaggered across the bridge
on the way to Greenburg and the circus. Behind walked Dan and Gerald
and Paul Rand. Still further behind came more of Yardley, and further
ahead were others. Yardley was turning out _en masse_ for the circus.
Cuts had been granted in all afternoon recitations and here was a
half-holiday with nothing to do but have a good time! And every fellow
was determined to have it.
“Next verse!” shouted Dan.
“No, chorus first! All together now!”
“I’d like to be a Monkey monk
And live up in a tree;
I’d like to be a big Baboon,
An Ape or Chimpanzee!
I’d wear a monkey-jacket and
Eat cocoanuts and candy;
I’d wave the Stars and Stripes and be
A Monkey Doodle Dandy!”
“Next verse!” commanded Dan again.
“Oh, behave,” ordered Tom. “Cut out the comedy.”
“He’s jealous of my beautiful voice,” said Alf. “Oh, look at the pretty
pictures. I shan’t go another step until I’ve seen all the pretty
pictures.”
So they stopped in front of a board fence which was gaudily adorned
with circus posters while Alf feasted his eyes.
“It’s a good idea, you know,” he explained philosophically, “to enjoy
the pictures, because they’re fifty times better than the circus.
Now, Gerald, there, in his innocence, doubtless expects to see seven
elephants doing a cake-walk and balancing themselves on red and
blue seesaws, like that. But the fact is that there’ll be just two
elephants, one old, old elephant, moth-eaten and decrepit, and one
extremely young and frolicsome elephant about the size of a Shetland
pony. And the old elephant won’t do much because he’s too aged, and the
young elephant will just look on because he’s too young and tender for
work. Lies, lies, beautiful lies!”
“Oh, come on,” laughed Dan. “We won’t get any seats if we don’t hustle.”
“Wait, wait until I see the boa-constrictor and the be-oot-shus
lady. She thinks he’s a new set of furs. See the way she’s wrapping
him around her neck? Someone ought to tell her; it’s a shame. I’ll
undeceive her when I arrive, all right, all right. And, oh, the cunning
little zebras! Wouldn’t you love to have a cunning little zebra to ride
on, Dan? My, oh my! I’d ride to Chapel on it every morning and hitch it
to the statue of Apollo outside Room D. And, fellows, fellows! Observe,
pray, the marvelous--”
But he was dragged resisting away.
“Say, didn’t you ever just _cry_ to be in a circus, Tom?” he inquired
as they took up their journey again. “I have. Why, I used to think that
if I could wear pink tights and hang from a trapeze by my toes at the
top of a circus tent I’d be happy for life! If I ever get very, very
wealthy I shall have a circus of my own, Tom. And I’ll let Dan and
Gerald come in free, but you will have to pay, Tom, because you’re so
hard-hearted and wouldn’t let me see the pictures; you’ll have to pay
all of seventeen nice bright pins!”
“Oh, shut up,” growled Tom. “Folks’ll think you’re dippy.”
“Great scheme!” Alf exclaimed radiantly. “When we get to the tent I’ll
put my cap on inside out and make faces and jibber and be a Wild Man
from Wissining! And you chaps can collect dimes from the audience and
we’ll go up to Parker’s afterwards and buy ice-cream sodas. Marvelous!
_Marvelous!_”
The circus occupied a waste lot on the farther side of the town, and it
was a good half-hour’s walk from Yardley. But they reached it in plenty
of time to view the animals in the outer tent before it was time to
repair to the circus proper. And Alf had a glorious time and kept the
others in a continual howl of laughter. Several other Yardley fellows
joined their party and listened convulsed while Alf addressed the
rhinoceros.
“Beautiful Beast!” declaimed Alf. “Child of the trackless jungle!
Denizen of the African waste, we salute you! (Salute, you idiots!)
Thou art indeed handsome! Thou art verily the Tom Dyer of the Animal
Kingdom. Thou art even more so and then some, for Tom has no horn
on his nose. Even thy beautiful feet resemble his and thou hastest
the same simple grandeur of contour, whatever that is. And thou
also hastest a noble grouchiness of expression which remindest us
of our dear Tom. Hast a name, Little One? No? Sayest thou so? Alack
and well-a-day! Thou shalt be named and right nobly, O Timorous
Nightingale of the Dark Continent! Hereafter thou shalt be known as
Tom. Arise, Tom, and chortle thy glee and dance flitsomely! See him
dance flitsomely, fellows?”
The rhinoceros neither altered attitude nor expression, however, and
Alf was dragged away to see the Royal Bengal Tiger, whom he addressed
as “Kitty.”
“Say, Tom,” said Dan presently, when they had completed the circuit of
the tent, “I’ll bet all Broadwood is here. I’ve seen dozens of fellows
already.”
“Really?” asked Tom, with a grin. “Say, we’ll have some fun, then.” He
acquainted the others with Dan’s news and a howl of glee arose.
“We’ll get our crowd all together,” said Alf, “and have a little
cheering to waken things up a bit. Come on.”
So they made their way into the tent, which was already half filled,
and chose seats in an unoccupied section. Then:
“Yardley, this way!” was the cry. “Yardley, this way!”
Yardley responded quickly and in two minutes that section of the stand
was filled with some two hundred youths.
“Now, fellows,” announced Alf, who had constituted himself Master of
Ceremonies, “let’s give a cheer for the elephant!”
They gave it; and followed up with one for the tiger; and followed that
up with one for the monkeys.
“And now, fellows,” Alf cried gleefully, “let’s have one for Broadwood!”
So they cheered Broadwood--after the monkeys--amidst much laughter from
their own section and the adjoining ones. No laughter, however, came
from the stand across the tent where Broadwood was concentrating her
forces. A minute afterwards Broadwood accepted the challenge and began
cheering, following the cheers with football songs. And in the midst of
that there was a blare of music from the red-coated band and the grand
procession appeared. Yardley applauded mightily and cheered everything
and everybody that passed. And then comparative quiet returned and the
exhibitions in the rings began.
It wasn’t a very large circus, but it was a good one, and the fellows
enjoyed it all hugely. When the trick donkey appeared with the leading
clown seated on his back belaboring him with a bladder on the end of a
stick Paul Rand made the hit of the afternoon by bawling loudly;
“_Whoa, Broadwood!_”
Even Broadwood thought that rather funny and laughed. But they tried
for revenge later by dubbing the trick elephant “Yardley.” And when he
finally managed to get all four feet onto a big red and yellow ball of
wood they demanded; “Touchdown, Yardley, touchdown!”
And so the performance drew triumphantly to its close while attendants
passed around selling tickets for the “Grand Concert and Minstrel
Entertainment to begin immediately after the show.”
Gerald, who had had a wonderful time all afternoon, leaned forward and
begged Dan to remain and see the minstrel show. But Alf, who overheard,
said;
“It isn’t worth the price, Gerald. You stay with the crowd and you’ll
have lots more fun.”
“Why?” Gerald asked curiously. But Alf only shook his head and looked
mysterious. Then the performance came to an end and the audience surged
toward the single exit. This was not the way they had entered; instead
of leading back to the smaller tent it deposited the throng out in
the open air in front of the side-shows. This exit was a good twelve
feet wide and was formed by an opening in the big tent and a canvas
passageway some fifteen feet in length. The passageway was a smaller
tent open at each end and supported by half a dozen light poles and as
many guy-ropes. The inner walls were covered with cordial and gaudy
invitations to the side-shows, and a “barker,” armed with a small cane
and a resonant voice, stood under the alluring placards and recited the
attractions of “Fatima, the Turkish Fortune Teller” and “Mademoiselle
Marcelle, the Most Marvelous Snake Charmer of the Century.”
“Hurry up,” whispered Alf as he seized Gerald’s arm and dragged him
through the throng. The exit was close to the seats occupied by the
Yardley contingent and so they were soon outside. There the Yardley
fellows lined up about the entrance and began cheering. Gerald, craning
his head over Alf’s shoulder, watched the exit in excited expectation.
He didn’t know what was going to happen but he was certain something
would. Broadwood, hearing the Yardley cheers, came to a similar
conclusion and kept her forces well together as she made for the exit.
For a minute or two the emerging stream was composed of townsfolk, and
the Yardley cheers continued. Gerald looked about for Dan, but couldn’t
see him. Alf, when questioned, replied enigmatically that Dan had been
assigned to duty. Gerald’s further inquiries were interrupted.
“Here they come!” someone announced in a stage-whisper, and Gerald
saw the fore-rank of Broadwood emerging from the big tent into the
passageway. Instantly Alf was leading a mighty cheer for “Broadwood!
Broadwood! Broadwood!” Some of the oncoming army grinned approval at
the compliment, but there were more who scowled suspiciously, pulled
their caps firmer on their heads, and buttoned their jackets.
“Oh, oh!” murmured Alf delightedly. “Like sheep to the slaughter! Good
old Broadwood! A-ay, Broadwood! Broadwood!”
And then, just as the first of the Broadwood fellows had reached the
outer end of the passageway, a voice shouted “_Let her go!_” Gerald
found himself being pressed back. There were cries of delight all about
him. The canvas passageway swayed, the roof and walls settled inward
and the tent descended calmly, inexorably upon the struggling crowd
beneath. There was a wild and prolonged howl of joy from Yardley, a
smothered babel of alarm and consternation from under the heaving
canvas, and then Gerald, with Alf dragging him along, found himself
flying wildly from the scene, tripping over ropes, colliding with
persons, and shouting triumphantly as he went.
A quarter of a mile away the flying hordes of Yardley drew pace
and breath, cheered approvingly for themselves and tauntingly for
Broadwood, and then, forming into lines eight abreast, marched in
triumph back to school singing their songs. When, breathless and
exultant, Tom, Alf, Dan, and Gerald found themselves in Number 7
Dudley, Gerald alone expressed a regret.
“Why didn’t you let me help cut the ropes?” he asked Alf.
“Cut the ropes?” asked Alf. “Why, child, how you do talk! Nobody didn’t
cut no ropes!”
“Then how did they get the tent down?” persisted Gerald, looking from
Alf to Dan and from Dan to Tom.
“Well,” said Alf, settling himself comfortably on the window-seat,
“that’s what you might term a coincidence. Of course we don’t know
anything for certain, but it does look as though the guy-ropes all got
loosened at the same moment. Then the natural thing happened; the tent
came down. It certainly was a surprise to me! Why, I no more looked for
anything like that to happen than--than--”
“Well,” laughed Tom, “it means that there won’t be any circus for
Yardley next Spring.”
“Which is a very good thing,” responded Alf virtuously. “I am convinced
that circuses are bad for us; they take our thoughts away from our
studies, and--and lead us into temptation. No circus, no tent; no tent,
no guy-ropes; no guy-ropes, no--ahem--coincidences!”
“Besides,” said Tom, “you and I will be too busy trying to pass final
exams to have any time for circuses.”
“That’s all right for you fellows,” said Gerald mournfully, “but I like
circuses, and I want to go next year.”
“Away with vain regrets,” cried Alf gayly. “Comfort yourself with the
knowledge that you have witnessed the glorification of Yardley and the
discomfiture of Broadwood. Recall, I pray, the lines of the poet:
“‘Something accomplished, something done
To earn a night’s repose!’”
Of course the Faculty didn’t remain long in ignorance of the incident
and the next morning Mr. Collins read the School a short but eloquent
lecture on the subject of Behavior in Public. But the matter ended
there. A Second Class boy named Farnham, seeking Mr. Collins’ room
the evening before by appointment, had found the host and Mr. Austin,
another of the instructors, laughing loudly, and although they had
sobered down instantly when they had heard his knock on the partly
opened door, Farnham had overheard enough to convince him that the
subject of their mirth had been the tent episode. When this had
percolated through School, as it very shortly did, all fear of
punishment faded. Mr. Collins wasn’t formidable when he laughed.
A few days later Mr. Pennimore’s retinue of servants came down from the
city and opened Sound View for the summer. Gerald spent an hour at the
station that morning between recitations watching the stablemen unload
the horses and traps and hobnobbing with Higgins, the chauffeur, who,
having driven his car down by road, was taking a hand in the unloading.
In the afternoon Gerald went over home and patronized the housekeeper
until the good soul was quite in awe of him. The house was all ready
for Mr. Pennimore’s arrival, and that gentleman was expected in two or
three days. Gerald spent a half hour in his own rooms going through
his belongings. Strange to say, many things which had been precious to
him not much more than six months before to-day held no attractions.
Very soon he had a pile of toys and playthings in the middle of the
floor and was directing their removal and destruction. He got his stamp
albums down and looked through them listlessly, replacing them with a
frown.
“Any fellow can collect stamps,” he muttered. “I’m going to give those
away to someone. Maybe Harry would like them.”
Then he climbed the stairs to the gymnasium which his father had had
arranged for him three years before and looked about it superciliously.
It wasn’t much like the gymnasium at school, he thought. He did the
giant swing on the rings, pulled once or twice at the chest-weights and
turned his back on the room.
“Good enough for a kid,” he muttered as he went downstairs, “but I
won’t use it much, I guess.” He looked at his watch, found he had still
time to reach the field before baseball practice ended, and took his
departure.
Two days later, just at noon, as he was crossing from Oxford to Clarke
the boom of a gun reached him. Hurrying to the edge of The Prospect, he
looked seaward. There, circling in toward Sound View, a little cloud of
smoke still wreathing at her bow, was a great white steam yacht. It was
the Princess! With beating heart Gerald watched. The big boat slowed
down, an anchor splashed into the sea, and the jar and jangle of the
chain running through the hawse-hole came to him. Amidship a boom swung
outward, a little launch was lowered from deck to water, white-clad
figures moved here and there, and then a form in dark clothes went down
the steps, and--
But now Gerald was racing down the terrace, across the bridge and along
the wood path to meet his father.