THE CIRCUS
The Maxwells were, in fact, effectively stirring up the ambitions of
their flock, routing the older members out of a too easy-going
acceptance of things-as-they-are, and giving to the younger ones
vistas of a life imbued with more color and variety than had hitherto
entered their consciousness. And yet it happened at Durford, on
occasion, that this awakening of new talents and individuality
produced unlocked for complications.
"Oh yes," Hepsey remarked one day to Mrs. Betty, when the subject of
conversation had turned to Mrs. Burke's son and heir, "Nickey means to
be a good boy, but he's as restless as a kitten on a hot Johnny-cake.
He isn't a bit vicious, but he do run his heels down at the corners,
and he's awful wearin' on his pants-bottoms and keeps me patchin' and
mendin' most of the time--'contributing to the end in view,' as
Abraham Lincoln said. But, woman-like, I guess he finds the warmest
spot in my heart when I'm doin' some sort of repairin' on him or his
clothes. It would be easier if his intentions wasn't so good, 'cause I
could spank him with a clear conscience if he was vicious. But after
all, Nickey seems to have a winnin' way about him. He knows every
farmer within three miles; he'll stop any team he meets, climb into
the wagon seat, take the reins, and enjoy himself to his heart's
content. All the men seem to like him and give in to him; more's the
pity! And he seems to just naturally lead the other kids in their
games and mischief."
"Oh well, I wouldn't give a cent for a boy who didn't get into
mischief sometimes," consoled Mrs. Betty.
At which valuation Nickey was then in process of putting himself and
his young friends at a premium. For, about this time, in their efforts
to amuse themselves, Nickey and some of his friends constructed a
circus ring back of the barn: After organizing a stock company and
conducting several rehearsals, the rest of the boys in the
neighborhood were invited to form an audience, and take seats which
had been reserved for them without extra charge on an adjoining lumber
pile. Besides the regular artists there were a number of specialists
or "freaks," who added much to the interest and excitement of the
show.
For example, Sam Cooley, attired in one of Mrs. Burke's discarded
underskirts, filched from the ragbag, with some dried cornstalk gummed
on his face, impersonated the famous Bearded Lady from Hoboken.
Billy Burns, wearing a very hot and stuffy pillow buttoned under his
coat and thrust down into his trousers, represented the world-renowned
Fat Man from Spoonville. His was rather a difficult role to fill
gracefully, because the squashy pillow would persist in bulging out
between his trousers and his coat in a most indecent manner; and it
kept him busy most of the time tucking it in.
Dimple Perkins took the part of the Snake Charmer from Brooklyn, and
at intervals wrestled fearlessly with a short piece of garden hose
which was labeled on the bills as an "Anna Condy." This he wound
around his neck in the most reckless manner possible; it was quite
enough to make one's blood run cold to watch him.
The King of the Cannibal Islands was draped in a buffalo robe, with a
gilt paper crown adorning his head, and a very suggestive mutton-bone
in his hand.
Poor little Herman Amdursky was selected for the Living Skeleton,
because of the spindle-like character of his nethermost limbs. He had
to remove his trousers and his coat, and submit to having his ribs
wound with yards of torn sheeting, in order that what little flesh he
had might be compressed to the smallest possible compass. The result
was astonishingly satisfactory.
The Wild Man from Borneo wore his clothes wrong side out, as it is
well known wild men from Borneo always do; and he ate grass with
avidity. Wry-mouthed and squint-eyed, he was the incarnation of the
cubist ideal.
When all this splendid array of talent issued from the dressing-room
and marched triumphantly around the ring, it was indeed a proud moment
in the annals of Durford, and the applause from the lumber pile could
be heard at least two blocks.
After the procession, the entertainment proper consisted of some high
and lofty tumbling, the various "turns" of the respective stars, and
then, last of all, as a grand finale, Charley, the old raw-boned farm
horse who had been retired on a pension for at least a year, was led
triumphantly into the ring, with Nickey Burke standing on his back!
Charley, whose melancholy aspect was a trifle more abject than usual,
and steps more halting, meekly followed the procession of actors
around the ring, led by Dimple, the Snake Charmer. Nickey's entree
created a most profound sensation, and was greeted with tumultuous
applause--a tribute both to his equestrian feat and to his costume.
Nickey had once attended a circus at which he had been greatly
impressed by the artistic decorations on the skin of a tattooed man,
and by the skill of the bareback rider who had turned somersaults
while the horse was in motion. It occurred to him that perhaps he
might present somewhat of both these attractions, in one character.
Maxwell had innocently stimulated this taste by lending him a book
illustrated with lurid color-plates of Indians in full war paint,
according to tribe.
So Nickey removed his clothes, attired himself in abbreviated red
swimming trunks, and submitted to the artistic efforts of Dimple, who
painted most intricate, elaborate, and beautiful designs on Nickey's
person, with a thick solution of indigo purloined from the laundry.
Nickey's breast was adorned with a picture of a ship under full sail.
On his back was a large heart pierced with two arrows. A vine of full
blown roses twined around each arm, while his legs were powdered with
stars, periods, dashes, and exclamation points in rich profusion. A
triangle was painted on each cheek, and dabs of indigo were added to
the end of his nose and to the lobe of each ear by way of finishing
touches.
When the work was complete, Nickey surveyed himself in a piece of
broken mirror in the dressing-room, and to tell the truth, was
somewhat appalled at his appearance; but Dimple Perkins hastened to
assure him, saying that a dip in the river would easily remove the
indigo; and that he was the living spit and image of a tattooed man,
and that his appearance, posed on the back of Charley, would certainly
bring the house down.
Dimple proved to be quite justified in his statement, so far as the
effect on the audience was concerned; for, as Nickey entered the ring,
after one moment of breathless astonishment, the entire crowd arose as
one man and cheered itself hoarse, in a frenzy of frantic delight. Now
whether Charley was enthused by the applause, or whether the situation
reminded him of some festive horseplay of his youth, one cannot tell.
At any rate, what little life was left in Charley's blood asserted
itself. Quickly jerking the rope of the halter from the astonished
hand of Dimple Perkins, Charley turned briskly round, and trotted out
of the yard and into the road, while Nickey, who had found himself
suddenly astride Charley's back, made frantic efforts to stop him.
As Charley emerged from the gate, the freaks, the regular artists, the
gymnasts, and the entire audience followed, trailing along behind the
mounted tattooed man, and shouting themselves hoarse with
encouragement or derision.
As Charley rose to the occasion and quickened his pace, the heat of
the sun, the violent exercise of riding bareback, and the nervous
excitement produced by the horror of the situation, threw Nickey into
a profuse sweat. The bluing began to run. The decorations on his
forehead trickled down into his eyes; and as he tried to rub off the
moisture with the back of his hand the indigo was smeared liberally
over his face. His personal identity was hopelessly obscured in the
indigo smudge; and the most vivid imagination could not conjecture
what had happened to the boy. It was by no means an easy feat to
retain his seat on Charley's back; it would have been still more
difficult to dismount, at his steed's brisk pace; and Nickey was most
painfully conscious of his attire, as Charley turned up the road which
led straight to the village. At each corner the procession was
reinforced by a number of village boys who added their quota to the
general uproar and varied the monotony of the proceeding by
occasionally throwing a tin can at the rider on the white horse. When
Charley passed the rectory, and the green, and turned into Church
Street, Nickey felt that he had struck rock bottom of shameful
humiliation.
For many years it had been Charley's habit to take Mrs. Burke down to
church on Wednesday afternoons for the five o'clock service; and
although he had been out of commission and docked for repairs for some
time, his subliminal self must have got in its work, and the old habit
asserted itself: to the church he went, attended at a respectful
distance by the Bearded Lady, the Fat Man, the Snake Charmer, the King
of the Cannibal Islands, the Living Skeleton, and the Wild Man from
Borneo, to say nothing of a large and effective chorus of roaring
villagers bringing up the rear.
It really was quite clever of Charley to recall that, this being
Wednesday, it was the proper day to visit the church,--as clever as it
was disturbing to Nickey when he, too, recalled that it was about
time for the service to be over, and that his mother must be somewhere
on the premises, to say nothing of the assembled mothers of the entire
stock company--and the rector, and the rector's wife.
Mrs. Burke, poor woman, was quite unconscious of what awaited her, as
she emerged from the service with the rest of the congregation. It was
an amazed parent that caught sight of her son and heir scrambling off
the back of his steed onto the horse-block in front of the church,
clad in short swimming trunks and much bluing. The freaks, the regular
artists, the gymnasts, and the circus audience generally shrieked and
howled and fought each other, in frantic effort to succeed to Nickey's
place on Charley's back--for Charley now stood undismayed and
immovable, with a gentle, pious look in his soft old eyes.
For one instant, Mrs. Burke and her friends stood paralyzed with
horror; and then like the good mothers in Israel that they were, each
jumped to the rescue of her own particular darling--that is, as soon
as she could identify him. Consternation reigned supreme. Mrs. Cooley
caught the Bearded Lady by the arm and shook him fiercely, just as he
was about to land an uppercut on the jaw of the King of the Cannibal
Islands. Mrs. Burns found her offspring, the Fat Man, lying
dispossessed on his back in the gutter, while Sime Wilkins, the Man
Who Ate Glass, sat comfortably on his stomach. Sime immediately
apologized to Mrs. Burns and disappeared. Next, Mrs. Perkins took the
Snake Charmer by his collar, and rapped him soundly with the piece of
garden hose which she captured as he was using it to chastise the
predatory Wild Man from Borneo. Other members of the company received
equally unlooked-for censure of their dramatic efforts.
Nickey, meantime, had fled to the pump behind the church, where he
made his ablutions as best he could; then, seeing the vestry room door
ajar, he, in his extremity, bolted for the quiet seclusion of the
sanctuary.
To his surprise and horror, he found Maxwell seated at a table looking
over the parish records; and when Nickey appeared, still rather blue,
attired in short red trunks, otherwise unadorned, Donald gazed at him
in mute astonishment. For one moment there was silence as they eyed
each other; and then Maxwell burst into roars of uncontrollable
laughter, which were not quite subdued as Nickey gave a rather
incoherent account of the misfortune which had brought him to such a
predicament.
"So you were the Tattooed Man, were you! Well, I suppose you know
that it's not generally customary to appear in church in red tights;
but as you couldn't help it, I shall have to see what can be done for
you, to get you home clothed and in your right mind. I'll tell you!
You can put on one of the choir boy's cassocks, and skip home the back
way. If anybody stops you tell them you were practising for the choir,
and it will be all right. But really, Nickey, if I were in your place,
the next time I posed as a mounted Tattooed Man, I'd be careful to
choose some old quadruped that couldn't run away with you!"
"Then you aren't mad at me!"
"Certainly not. I'll leave that to my betters! You just get home as
fast as you can."
"Gee! but you're white all right--you know it didn't say nothing in
the book, about what kind of paint to use!"
Maxwell's eyes opened. "What book are you talking about, Nickey?" he
asked.
"The one you let me take, with the Indians in it."
Maxwell had to laugh again. "So that's where the idea for this
'Carnival of Wild West Sports' originated, eh?"
"Yes, sir," Nickey nodded. "Everybody wanted to be the tattooed man,
but seeing as I had the book, and old Charley was my horse, I couldn't
see any good reason why I shouldn't get tattooed. Gee! I'll bet ma
will be mad!"
After being properly vested in a cassock two sizes too large for him,
Nickey started on a dead run for home, and, having reached the barn,
dressed himself in his customary attire. When he appeared at supper
Mrs. Burke did not say anything; but after the dishes were washed she
took him apart and listened to his version of the affair.
"Nicholas Burke," she said, "if this thing occurs again I shall punish
you in a way you won't like."
"Well, I'm awfully sorry," said Nickey, "but it didn't seem to feaze
Mr. Maxwell a little bit. He just sat and roared as if he'd split his
sides. I guess I 'aint goin' to be put out of the church just yet,
anyway."
Mrs. Burke looked a bit annoyed.
"Never mind about Mr. Maxwell. _You_ won't laugh if anything like this
occurs again, I can tell you," she replied.
"Now, ma," soothed Nickey, "don't you worry about it occurrin' again.
You don't suppose I did it on purpose, do you? Gosh no! I wouldn't get
onto Charley's back again, with my clothes off, any more than I'd sit
on a hornet's nest. How'd you like to ride through the town with
nothin' on but your swimmin' trunks and drippin' with bluin water,
I'd like to know?"
Mrs. Burke did not care to prolong the interview any further, so she
said in her severest tones:
"Nicholas Burke, you go to bed instantly. I've heard enough of you and
seen enough of you, for one day."
Nickey went.
[Illustration]