Thus encouraged, Alfred graphically related the adventures of the day,
not omitting any of the details save the dangling of his limbs out of
the milk wagon.
Charley was taken aback and thereafter his credibility was destroyed in
so far as the mother and Lin were concerned. He pouted and endeavored to
deny portions of the younger boy's recital but was met with such
positive assertions from Alfred that he retired entirely discomfited.
Lin's only comment was: "Durn ye; I'd be afeard to put my head in a
circus, much less a church." Lin looked upon one with as much reverence
as the other.
The boys missed the afternoon performance but were there early for the
night show. At the opening note of the hand organ in the side-show
Cousin Charley and Alfred were inside. The orator had eloquently
described the curiosities pictured on the long line of banners in front
of the side-show. But the most alluring object had not been mentioned,
namely, a long show case filled with jewelry, symbolic numbers, bank
notes of all denominations. A dice box on top of the glass-covered case
was the means by which the yokels were assured they could extract the
jewelry, bank notes, etc.
The father had given Charley ample funds to cover admission fees to all
shows and a liberal allowance for refreshments. Alfred was very much
interested in the big snake and the lady whom the lecturer introduced as
a snake charmer.
The lecturer announced that the performance was over, but another would
be given in fifteen minutes. All those wishing to remain for the next
performance were privileged to do so. Those congregated around the show
case whereon the dice rattled were the only ones to remain.
Alfred heard the man behind the case saying: "Try your luck again, young
man. You were within one number of the capital prize. You can't win it
every time. Try again."
Charley did try again and again. He did not win the capital prize but in
lieu of $4 he had two brass rings, a pair of brass cuff buttons and a
lead pencil with a sharpener on the end of it.
The shades of night were falling. The lights in the big tent could be
seen over the side wall. Hundreds of candles on a pyramid-shaped
candelabra made of boards. Think of it, ye modern Ringlings, candles the
only lights!
The band playing, Alfred imagined the show going on: the horses going
around. All the glories and beauties he had been anticipating for weeks
would be lost to him. He implored Cousin Charley to hurry up and
purchase their tickets.
Hundreds were buying tickets. The big red wagon was open, the ticket
seller handling the pasteboards with lightning-like rapidity. It was Ben
Lusbie. He was the lightning ticket seller of the circus world. Such was
his dexterity that Forepaugh afterwards lithographed him as an
attraction.
Alfred's urgent appeals to "hurry and get our tickets" were lost upon
Cousin Charley. He was seemingly dazed. The man at the big door shouted:
"Everybody hold their own ticket; all must have tickets."
The hustle and confusion made Alfred still more impatient. He gave the
older boy's arm a rough jerk as he urged him to get their tickets.
Cousin Charley seemed to wake up and the awful truth was
revealed--Cousin Charley had been robbed. Alfred must stand right there
until he took the jewelry back to the side show and recovered his money.
Alfred stood right there. Hundreds passed him, laughing and crowding
into the big show. The longer Alfred waited the more miserable he
became. Despair came over him. He waited, Cousin Charley did not come.
The crowd thinned out; deeper and deeper Alfred's heart sank within him.
Anger began to take the place of disappointment. He would beat Cousin
Charley black and blue with the first thing he could lay his hands on.
He would expose all he had been concealing in a hundred mean things
Charley had been guilty of.
The band played louder in the big tent. The feeling that he was missing
all came back to him stronger than ever, bringing the hot tears to his
eyes. They rolled down his cheeks until it seemed they would dampen the
earth at his feet.
Alfred saw a large man pushing his way to the ticket wagon. It was
Doctor Bob Playford, the biggest whole-souled friend any boy ever had.
When the circus came, it was the custom of Bob Playford to wait until
the crowd got in, then, collecting all the boys on the lot who could not
command the price of admission, make a contract with the door-keeper and
put them all in the show.
There are scores of men now, boys then, whose prayers have gone up that
kind hearted Bob Playford found it as easy to enter the gates above as
he made it for them to enter that heaven to a boy below--the circus.
Alfred knew full well that Doctor Playford would buy him a ticket but
his pride would not permit him to ask this.
Accompanying the Doctor were Willie Playford, his son, and Bob Kennedy,
his nephew. The boys, recognizing Alfred, asked if he were going in the
show. Endeavoring to swallow a big lump in his throat, his voice choked
as he answered: "No."
"Were you there this afternoon?"