THE CIRCUS
“Miss Prince really is a brick!” said Bill, and the others agreed.
Miss Prince had earned this highest form of praise by granting a whole
holiday on the strength of the circus, the mysterious tramp’s return,
and the first day’s real haymaking.
The circus had passed on up the road to the village green. The horses
had been taken out of the shafts and hobbled. Smoke rose in little
blue columns from the caravan chimneys. Small brown children, with
bare feet, clambered up and down the little ladders that led up to the
caravan doors, where their mothers sat--stout ladies, with very black
hair and gold rings in their ears.
With much hammering and shouting, an enormous round tent was being
pitched in Farmer Brown’s field. Also in this field strong men
struggled with boat swings, and big boys arranged cocoanut shies.
Black Bill strode round calling everybody bad names and making himself
generally beastly, but getting the work done in double-quick time.
Of course the entire population of the village looked on. The Cubs,
feeling as if some wonderful fairy story had at last come true, stood
with wide eyes, drinking it all in. Their blood ran cold as they heard
the lion roar. But when they saw the lady who trained him they were not
surprised that he obeyed her; she was truly fearsome.
They peered about round the caravan containing the fat lady, in hopes
of catching a glimpse of her, but she was apparently too bashful to
come out. The first performance was not to take place until the next
day, though the “stunts” would be open to the public that evening. The
Cubs would have hung round the gipsy camp all day had not Danny made a
suggestion.
“Look here,” he said, “I vote we go over to Farmer Higgins’ now. I
hear he is short-handed, and wants to get his hay in while this lovely
weather lasts. I believe he would be glad of our help. And then in the
dinner hour we will see our tramp, and hear of all he’s been doing
since he went away.”
The thought of haymaking and the tramp was sufficient attraction to
draw the cubs away from the circus, and with light hearts they set out
for the farm.
Mr. Higgins was delighted to see them. He provided them with pitchforks
and big wooden rakes, and said that if they worked very hard that day
and got the hay dry enough to cart to-morrow they might have rides on
top of the loaded wagons. It had always been a cherished dream of the
twins to ride on a hay-cart, but up till now the farmers had been
their enemies, and none of them would have allowed “one of ’em terrors”
in his field.
“After all,” said David reflectively, “it’s much jollier being friends
with everybody, instead of enemies. I’m glad Miss Prince and Danny came
and turned us into Cubs.”
They worked like niggers all the morning. Jerseys soon came off, and
scarves were turned into a kind of Arab headgear. David and Nipper
raked the hay into long lines, and Bill and Danny turned these over
with pitchforks.
At about one o’clock the womenfolk belonging to the haymakers began to
arrive with dinners tied up in red handkerchiefs.
Suddenly a cheer went up from the Cubs.
“Miss Prince--bringing _us_ dinner!” They were as hungry as wolves, and
it made you feel so like a real farm hand to have your dinner brought
you. So they made a camp in a shady corner of the field, and while Miss
Prince and the Cubs unpacked the basket, Danny went off in search of
the tramp.
Before long they returned together. The tramp still looked very thin,
but his face had been burned brown by exposure to the sun during his
long hours of farm work. The Cubs leapt at him like a crowd of real
young wolves and dragged him down into their hay fort. “Tell us a
story!” “No, draw us a picture!” “Make the cuckoo noise; perhaps a real
one will answer now!” Everyone shouted at the same time.
The tramp laughed.
“_I_ should say, have some lunch first!” said Miss Prince. “You must
all be hungry.”
So everybody settled down to ham sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs, and
cucumber, and cake, and gooseberry turnovers, and lots and lots of
lemonade. Of course the food got all mixed up with hay, grasshoppers,
and little wee spiders, but no one seemed to mind.
“A funny thing, my turning up here again, isn’t it?” said the tramp.
“It was quite by accident. In fact, I didn’t know I was coming here
until I arrived at the cross-roads, and recognized the place by that
little church. A man I worked for, for a few days, said he knew of a
farmer friend of his who badly wanted help with his hay, and so he
offered to give me a forty-mile lift on a motor-lorry of his that
was coming this way. I never asked where the place was, but I felt
Providence had meant me to come back when I found myself at those
cross-roads again!”
“How did you get on all the winter?” asked Miss Prince.
The tramp shuddered. “Ugh! The winter!” he said. “I want to forget all
about that! It’s summer now--glorious summer!”
He lay back in a patch of sun.
“I wish it was always summer, and there were always hay jobs. I’ve
tried my hand at many kinds of work since I saw you last. I’m a huge
success as a painter of signs. I couldn’t stick begging any longer. By
the way,” he said, turning to Miss Prince, “that shilling was the last
I ever took for doing nothing!”
Miss Prince laughed. She had already noticed that he was wearing a
shilling piece on a piece of string round his neck.
“Now it’s a mascot?” she said.
“Yes,” said the tramp. “I believe if I’d carried it loose I’d have
spent it one day. When you’re hungry you cease to be superstitious or
sentimental.”
These long words bored the Cubs.
“Tell us a story!” said the twins, and Nipper suddenly smothered the
tramp with an enormous armful of hay.
“No, no,” he said, “I must get back to work. Perhaps this evening I
will tell you a story--when work’s done.”
And so haymaking started again, and the Cubs learnt that _doing your
best_ can be very hot work, especially when you have a tyrant of a
Scout to shout, “Dyb, dyb, dyb!” every time you happen to feel like
having a rest or a hayfight.
After tea the Cubs knocked off work and went down to the circus. They
swung in the boats till they felt sick, and then rode galloping horses
on the roundabout by way of a remedy. They knocked down cocoanuts
and won china vases off the hoop-la. They paid 2d. and saw the fat
lady--and she _was_ fat! They managed to persuade the man who looked
after the animals to let them go round behind, where nobody is allowed
to go, and made friends with the white ponies and performing dogs.
Then, when it began to get dark and a rough crowd of big boys and farm
hands began to come, Danny took them home.
The next day there was to be the great performance--that was what they
were longing for.
The next day was as glorious as ever. The hay was to be carried. The
Cubs were far too useful to be spared. That meant another holiday!
It was frightfully exciting to sit on a mountain of hay, and go jolting
across the field. The Cubs took turns at it, but between whiles they
worked like slaves. The tramp had lunch with them again, and afterwards
he took them to see the barn where he had made himself a fine little
camp.
At last the splendid moment came when the Cubs were sitting in a row on
the narrow little seats, made of planks, and covered with red baize.
They had the top row, and were well raised above people’s heads.
Punctually at 2.30 the performance began. There were tight-rope walkers
in pink tights and spangles, and performing dogs, and people who rode
on white horses standing up, and jumped through paper hoops, and many
other things. But of course they liked Buffalo Bill the best, with the
Indians and horses and the thrilling noise of revolvers.
One thing disappointed them, and that was that the Indian Jugglers and
Famous Dancer did not appear at the afternoon performance. They were
to be on that night. The evening show was not till 8 o’clock, and Miss
Prince said, “No,” when they asked if they might go to it.