THE RING-MASTER.
When the performance was over, Noddy, with the assistance of one of his
companions, dressed himself in "trunk and tights," and appeared in the
ring to take his first lesson in graceful movements. He could turn the
somersets, and go through with the other evolutions; but there was a
certain polish needed--so the ring-master said--to make them pass off
well. He was to assume a graceful position at the beginning and end of
each act; he must recover himself without clumsiness; he must bow, and
make a flourish with his hands, when he had done a brilliant thing.
Noddy had not much taste for this branch of the profession. He did not
like the bowing and the flourishing. If the feat itself did not please
the people, he could not win them by smirking. He was much pleased with
his costume, and this kept him good-natured, under the severe training
of the ring-master, for a time. Mr. Whippleby was coarse and rough in
his manners. During the show he had been all grace and elegance, and did
not use any big words, but now he was as rough as a bear, and swore like
a pirate. He was just like a cat's paw,--he kept the sharp claws down
while the dear people were present; but now he thrust them out.
Noddy found the "business" was no joke. Mr. Whippleby did not so regard
it, now that the training had commenced; and the novice found that he
had placed himself under a very tyrannical master. He made his bows and
flourished his arms, with all the grace he could command for a time; but
he did not come up to his severe teacher's standard.
"Do that again," said Mr. Whippleby, with savage emphasis. "Don't hurry
it."
Noddy did it again, as slowly as he could; but he was apparently just as
far from perfection as before.
"If you don't do better than that, I'll put the whip around your legs!"
shouted the impatient ring-master. "One of the mules could do it
better."
"I did it as well as I could," replied Noddy, rather tartly.
"You will do it better than that, or your legs will smart. Now do it
again."
Noddy obeyed. He did not think the ring-master really intended to strike
him with the long whip he held in his hand, but supposed he was so much
in the habit of threatening the clown with the lash, that he did it now
from the force of habit. His last attempt did not satisfy Mr. Whippleby,
who stormed at him more furiously than before.
"Do you think I have nothing better to do than waste my time over a
blockhead like you? I haven't had my bitters yet. Now do it again; and
if you fail this time you will catch it."
Noddy turned his somerset; but he had hardly recovered himself before he
received a smart cut from the whip in the tenderest part of his leg.
There was a young lion in the novice, and a blow from any man was more
than he could endure. He expressed his mind in regard to the outrage
with such freedom, that Mr. Whippleby lost his temper, if he ever had
any to lose, and he began to lash the unfortunate youth in the most
brutal manner.
Noddy, finding there was no satisfaction to be obtained by facing the
ring-master, fled from the spot, leaping up on the seats where the
spectators sat. He was maddened to fury by the harsh treatment he had
received; and thirsting for vengeance, he seized whatever missiles he
could find, and hurled them at his persecutor. His legs seemed to be on
fire from the effects of the blows he had received. He rubbed them for a
moment, while he hurled the most bitter denunciations at the
ring-master.
"Now, come down, and try again," called Mr. Whippleby, who did not seem
to be much disconcerted by what had taken place, when he had in some
measure recovered his equanimity.
"No, I won't!" replied Noddy.
"Have you got enough, Mr. Arthur De Forrest?"
"I will give _you_ enough before you get through."
While this colloquy was going on, the manager appeared in the ring.
Whippleby laughingly told him what had happened, and he seemed to be
much amused by it; but the ring-master had certainly changed his tone at
the appearance of the "head man."
"Come, my boy, come down, and let me see how well you do your business,"
said the manager.
"I've had enough of it," replied Noddy, as he returned to the ring.
"I'm not a horse, and I'm not going to be treated like one."
"That's your initiation, my boy," said Whippleby. "We always try new
beginners in that way, to find out what they are made of."
"You will find out what I'm made of, if you hit me again with that
whip."
"I know now. You won't need any more, if you try to do what you are
told."
"I'm not going to be whipped, whether I try or not," added Noddy,
doggedly.
"You shall not be whipped, my boy," said the manager. "Now show me your
ground act."
The novice was about to comply,--for he had already come to the
conclusion that the "head man" would protect him,--when he saw two men
enter the tent. They did not belong to the company, and Noddy was quite
sure he had often seen them in Whitestone.
"We don't allow visitors in here now," said the manager.
"We come on business. There is a boy here that we want to find," replied
one of the men.
"You must leave the tent," said the manager, rather sharply.
"I am a constable, and there is a boy about here that I want."
"What's his name?"
"They call him Noddy Newman."
"What do you want of him?"
"That's my business," answered the constable, rudely. "The boy came into
the ring this afternoon during the show, and I suppose he belongs to the
company."
"That's the fellow!" exclaimed the other constable, pointing to Noddy,
who was trying to take himself off without being noticed.
"That's Arthur De Forrest," interposed the manager.
"No, it isn't; I've known him this five years," said the man who had
recognized the culprit.
Both of them walked towards Noddy, with the intention, apparently, of
laying violent hands on him; but the young gentleman in "trunk and
tights" was not prepared to yield up his personal liberty, and he
retreated.
The officers were in a position where they could stop him from leaving
the tent by either of the two entrances; and Noddy, finding his exit
prevented, seized a rope which was hanging down by the centre-pole, and
climbed up out of the reach of his pursuers.
"What do you want of me?" demanded the young athlete, as he perched
himself in a comfortable position on the "slack-rope," which was
suspended to the pole.
"We shall not do you any harm, my boy," said one of the officers.
"What do you want of me?"
"There is good news for you; and you are wanted over at Squire Wriggs's
office."
"I know ye! You want to take me to the court-house. You can't humbug
me," said Noddy, fully confirmed in his suspicions by the conduct of the
men.
"We won't hurt you."
"You want to take me up."
"No, we don't; we only want to take you up to Squire Wriggs's office.
It's all for your good."
"No, you don't," replied Noddy. "You can't cheat me."
"We don't want to cheat you. We are only sent to find you. We will not
arrest you."
"I know better. You can't fool me. I heard Squire Wriggs say he wanted
to take me up to the court-house; and you don't catch me near no
court-house. I know what you mean."
"You are mistaken, my boy. Come down, and I will tell you all about it."
"When I do, you let me know," replied Noddy, who felt so secure from
arrest in his present quarters that he expressed his mind with perfect
freedom.
"We promise not to arrest you," persisted the constable who did the
talking. "We have been looking for you all day."
"You may look another day, if you like," added the defiant refugee. "You
want me for setting fire to the boat-house; but I am not to blame, if I
did do it."
"We don't know anything about the boat-house; Squire Wriggs has a lot of
money for you."
"You can't catch an old bird in any such trap as that," answered Noddy,
shaking his head significantly.
The officers used all their powers of persuasion to induce him to come
down; but Noddy, satisfied that they had been sent by Squire Wriggs, was
fully persuaded that they were trying to deceive him. The story about a
"lot of money" for a poor boy like him, who had not a friend in the
world, was too absurd, in his estimation, to be entertained for a
moment. He had heard the squire speak to Mr. Grant about thirty thousand
dollars; but such a sum was beyond his comprehension. He did not believe
any man, not even the owner of Woodville, had so much money; and of
course it was nothing to him.
The constables got out of patience at last; and though they showed no
signs of anger or malice, they exhibited an intention to catch him,
which was much worse. One of them commenced the ascent of the pole in
the centre of the tent. The circus people, who seemed to be in full
sympathy with Noddy, remained neutral, for the intruders were officers
of the law, and it was not prudent to oppose them.
Noddy perceived the object of his pursuers, and grasping one of the
tent-ropes, he scrambled up to the very apex of the canvas structure,
and crawled through the aperture around the pole. From this point he
slid down to the short poles, and then dropped upon the ground, before
the man in the ring could pass round to the outside of the tent. Dodging
under the curtains, he reached the place which served as a
dressing-room. Removing his "trunks," he hurried on his clothes, and
rushed out into the open air again.
His persecutors were not in sight, and he did not lose a moment in
putting a safe distance between himself and them. Precisely as a
well-educated duck or other water-fowl would have done, he hastened to
the river, as his most natural element. He had made a complete circuit
of the town in his flight. He did not dare to show himself to a living
being; for it seemed to him just as though the whole country was after
him. When he reached the river, he sat down on the bank, exhausted by
his efforts and by the excitement of the afternoon.
"I reckon I've got about circus enough," said he to himself,--for there
was no one else to whom he could say it. "That Whippleby is worse than a
heathen. I don't like any of them."
He rubbed his legs, which were not yet done smarting; and the pain
seemed to be an emphatic protest against circuses in general, and the
"Great Olympian Circus" in particular. But whether he liked the circus
or not, it was no longer safe for him to remain with the company. He had
taken "French leave" of the manager, and had cheated him out of the
tights which enveloped his body from neck to heels. This thought
reminded him that they did not feel at all comfortable, and he wished
the manager had his own again.
Having abandoned the circus profession in disgust, he wondered what he
should do next. It was useless for him to stay in the vicinity of
Woodville; and the only safe plan for him to adopt was, to go away to
some other part of the country, or go to sea at once. He could not
tolerate the idea of leaving without letting Bertha know where he was.
The officers were on his track, and he could not hope always to escape
them. The court-house was terrible, and prompt action was necessary.
He must have a sight of Bertha, even if he did not speak to her; and at
the risk of being captured, he determined to stay in the neighborhood of
Woodville till the next morning. Near the place where he sat there was a
skiff moored to the bank. He hauled it in, and took up the oars. He did
not mean to steal it, only to borrow it till the next morning. With this
comfortable reflection he cast off the painter, and pulled over to the
other side of the river.
It was now quite late in the evening. He had not eaten any supper, and,
like other boys, he was always hungry at meal times. He wanted something
to eat; and it occurred to him that there were generally some crackers
and cheese in the locker of the Greyhound, and he rowed down to her
moorings. He found what he wanted there, and made a hearty supper. He
was satisfied then, and soon went to sleep in the stern-sheets of the
sail-boat.
Fortunately for him he waked up about daylight, and was not seen by any
of the early risers at Woodville. Appropriating the rest of the crackers
and cheese for his breakfast, he got into the skiff and rowed up to the
Glen, where he hoped, in the course of the forenoon, to see Bertha.