JACK HAS ENEMIES
The circus performance was almost over. They were getting ready for the
chariot and other races which would bring the program to an end. Jack
went to the tent where he had made-up as a clown. He found scores of
the men performers getting off their ring outfits and putting on their
regular garments. The clowns were washing off the grease paint.
“There he is now!” exclaimed a voice as Jack entered the tent. “There’s
the fresh kid that spoiled my act. He did it on purpose, too. If I find
out who put him up to it----”
“Look here!” exclaimed Jack, who intended to maintain his rights. “You
needn’t say that, for it isn’t so. I’ve told you it was an accident.”
“Well, I say it wasn’t.”
“What’s the row?” asked Sam Kyle, coming into the tent after a burst of
applause had testified to his abilities as an entertainer. “What’s up,
Ted? You seem angry, my child,” and he assumed a playful, theatrical
air.
“Cut that out!” replied Ted in a surly tone.
“Ah, you are peevish, little one,” went on Sam, who was a great joker,
outside as well as inside the ring.
“Ted says the new kid spoiled his auto act,” remarked a clown whose
specialty was to lead a little dog about the ring with a rope big
enough to hold a battleship fastened on the beast’s neck.
“That’s what he did,” spoke Ted. “He jumped right down on me with those
paper hoops, and spoiled my act.”
“It was an accident,” put in Jack hotly.
“We’ll see what Mr. Paine thinks,” went on Ted wrathfully. “I’m going
to report to him.”
“You’ll report to me first,” declared Sam. “I’m in charge of this part
of the show. Jack, let’s hear your story.”
Without stopping to remove his clown dress, Jack told exactly what had
happened, and how the thing had occurred so quickly that it had been.
“Now it’s your turn,” said the head clown to Ted, and the latter made
it appear that it was Jack’s fault. Some of the other performers,
however, had seen what had taken place, and their version made it clear
that it was an accident.
“You can report to Mr. Paine if you want to,” said Sam, when he had
declared that he believed our hero, “but that’s all the good it will
do. Jack stays.”
“Oh, he does, eh?” replied Ted. “We’ll see about that.”
But he did not go to Mr. Paine, for which Jack was grateful, for the
boy thought perhaps, in spite of Sam Kyle being his friend, the manager
might discharge him.
“Don’t mind Ted,” said the head clown as he took Jack aside and showed
him how best to remove the grease paint from his face. “He thinks every
performer is trying to spoil his act. He’s jealous, that’s all. But
look out for him. He’ll try to make trouble for you, and he has an ugly
temper. Keep away from that part of the ring where he is, and you’ll
get along all right. I watched you to-night. You did pretty well. Keep
at it.”
“Thanks,” replied Jack gratefully. “I think I can do a better act when
I get my flying machine. Where do we show next?”
“At Haddington. That’s a big city. But you’d better hustle, now, and
get to the train.”
Jack finished removing his make-up, and then donned his street clothes.
He was given a trunk by Sam, in which to put his clown outfit and some
tubes of grease paint. So far his baggage was very light.
“Come on with me and I’ll see that you get a place in the
sleeping-car,” said Sam, for the Bower & Brewster Show had its own
special train, with quarters for the hundreds of performers, employees
and animals.
Outside the dressing-tent Jack found that very little of the circus
remained. The menagerie had entirely disappeared, and now men were
beginning to take down the big tent. It was quite a different scene
from the one of an hour before. Then it had been light, lively and gay,
with strains of music and the laughter of the crowd.
Now it was dark; on all sides were rumbling wagons drawn by struggling
horses, and men were shouting and calling to one another, trying to
get their vehicles loaded so they could drive them to the flatcars by
which they were transported. Yet though there was seeming confusion,
everything was done by a careful system.
Jack found that the interior of the sleeping-car was not much like the
regular Pullmans. But it answered the purpose, and he soon followed
the example of the other circus performers and crawled into his bunk.
He was tired, yet the excitement of what he had gone through kept him
awake. Then, too, there were many disturbing noises caused by making
up the train and loading the big wagons containing the tents, poles,
supplies and animal cages.
Gentle snores on all sides of him told Jack that his companions were
not disturbed by what, to him, were unusual things, for they fell
asleep almost as soon as their heads touched the pillows. Finally sharp
whistles of the locomotives told him that the train was ready to start,
and soon he felt himself being lulled to slumber by the motion of the
car and the steady click-clack as the wheels passed over the rail
joints.
He was roused from his sleep by some one shaking him, and he looked up
to see the good-natured face of Sam Kyle looking in on him.
“Time for breakfast,” announced the head clown.
“Breakfast? Is there a dining-car on the train?”
“Yes, for the manager and the star performers, but we’ll take ours in
the tent.”
“The tent? I thought--why--are we at the next place where we’re going
to show?”
“That’s what,” answered Sam. “Come on. It’s only a short walk to the
grounds, and if you don’t hustle there may be no steak left.”
Jack looked from the window of his berth. He saw that the train was in
a railroad yard, and from the flatcars men were sliding down the big
animal cages.
He hurriedly dressed, made his toilet in the washroom of the car, and
went out to find Sam waiting for him. They were soon at the circus
grounds, and the boy clown saw a crowd of men laying out the canvas for
the big tent. The animal tent was already up, as was the dining one.
While Jack had been sleeping the circus employees had been busy at work.
Many performers were arriving from the train, and there was an
appetizing smell of coffee and meat on the fresh morning air. Gathered
about were scores of small boys, and Jack remembered the time when he,
as a little lad, used to get up early to see the circus come in. Men
were leading the camels and elephants to water, hundreds of horses
were being driven here and there, there was the rumble of heavy wagons
containing tents and poles, the deeper thunder of the wheels of the
chariots and gilded cages that went in the street parade, the sound of
men yelling and shouting--seemingly confusion added to confusion. Yet
slowly order was coming out of disorder.
“Come on,” advised Sam. “There’s a good meal waiting for us, and we
don’t want to be left.”
Jack followed his friend toward the dining-tent. As he passed the heavy
cage containing the hippopotamus, he heard a man, concealed on one side
of it, saying:
“He says it was an accident, but I know better. Some one put him up to
it. I’ll spoil his act the first chance I get. I’ll be even with him.”
“Yes, and I’ll help you,” spoke another voice, and then Jack saw Otto
Mitz, the ringmaster, and Ted Chester walking away.
Jack had made two mean enemies since joining the circus, and through
no fault of his own, for though he could understand why the clown
should bear him a grudge, from not understanding how the accident had
occurred, he saw no reason for the ringmaster holding enmity against
him.