CIRCUS THRILLS
There was a great celebration on the Rockledge campus that night in
honor of the victory. Rules were relaxed and the boys were allowed to do
just about as they chose. A great heap of boxes and barrels had been
piled up to a height of a dozen feet or more, saturated with oil and set
on fire, while the jubilant Rockledge boys did a snake dance around the
blazing pile. Even Pee Wee danced, and when that animated mountain so
far forgot his natural laziness as to indulge in dancing it was positive
proof that the occasion was worth it.
Bobby had been accorded the honor of setting the torch to the pile in
recognition of the part he had played in the winning of the pennant, but
when in addition he was called on for a speech he, blushing furiously,
took refuge behind his comrades, and Billy, who had no scruples against
being in the limelight, took his place and regaled the crowd with some
of his choicest jokes.
It was late when the flames at last died down and the tired but happy
boys agreed to call it a day and sought the beds that beckoned them.
The baseball game had practically marked the ending of the school term,
though one or two of the final examinations still remained. These,
however, had no terror for Bobby and Fred, who came through them with
flying colors. Then nothing remained but to pack up and make ready for
home and the long glorious summer vacation to which they had been
looking forward for so long.
It was a hilarious crowd that finally bade farewell to Rockledge School.
Skeets, Shiner, Mouser and Billy were to accompany Bobby and Fred for a
part of the way, though the first two were to separate from their
comrades at a junction a little way down the line.
If a dark shadow, dangerous and menacing, was hanging over some of the
party, they were blissfully unconscious of it. Life ran strong in their
veins and the future seemed to be made up of sunshine and roses. They
laughed, wrestled and frolicked, as full of vim and spirit as so many
young colts turned out to pasture.
Almost before they knew it, the junction was reached and they got off on
the platform. The train that Skeets and Shiner were to take was already
waiting, and they had barely time to scramble aboard with shouted
farewells to their comrades.
When Fred and Bobby consulted the station agent they learned that there
had been a change in the schedule and that the train they had expected
to take had left an hour before. There would not be another one on that
branch until nearly dark. This was somewhat disconcerting, as they had
counted on being home in time for supper and now found themselves faced
by the prospect of having to spend the long summer afternoon at this
forlorn little junction, where there was absolutely nothing that
promised amusement.
As they came out of the station to impart this information to their
friends, they found Mouser and Billy standing spellbound before some
gorgeous circus posters that had been plastered on the side of an old
barn at the far end of the platform.
There was the usual “unparalleled aggregation of matchless, magnificent
marvels, gathered together at vast expense from all quarters of the
habitable globe,” the wonderful trapezists and acrobats in their
“stupendous, death-defying leaps,” the “peerless queen of bareback
riders on her milk-white Arabian steed,” the glorious procession of
daring knights and fair ladies in the tournament of love and beauty and
all the other features that maintain their thrall and witchery for the
young.
Though duly impressed by these spectacular features, the boys had seen
similar ones before. What especially fastened their attention was the
picture of an Eskimo chief with his trained walrus. This was a novelty,
and as such had a special and instant appeal.
“Gee!” said Billy wistfully, “how I wish we could see them. This is the
same circus I was telling you fellows about a few days ago.”
“Where is it showing?” asked Bobby, as a thought struck him.
“Bayport,” replied Fred, reading from the bottom of the poster. “They’re
to be in that town to-day. Where is Bayport?”
Bobby rushed into the station.
“Can you tell me where Bayport is?” he asked the station agent.
“Sure,” replied the latter. “It’s about fifteen miles from here on a
branch line. Want to go there? A train will be along in about fifteen
minutes.”
“If we go there, can we get back this afternoon in time for the Clinton
train?” Bobby inquired.
“That depends on how long you want to stay there,” the agent answered.
“There’s a train leaves there about five that would bring you back here
in plenty of time.”
Bobby thought for a moment. The circus performance began at two. It
would probably be over by half past four. That would give them plenty of
time to catch the five o’clock train back.
He ran out to his friends.
“Say, fellows,” he shouted, “what do you say to taking in the circus?
I’ve just found out that we can go there and get back in time for our
train.”
What did they say? They fairly jumped at the proposal.
In a few minutes the train came along, and after having left their
suitcases in the charge of the good-hearted station agent they piled on
board, helter-skelter, and were off.
It took only about half an hour to reach their destination. They were
surprised to find that Bayport was a large shipping town. A multitude of
vessels of all sizes and descriptions were in the harbor, and the wharfs
were piled high with merchandise. It was a scene of busy life and
bustle, and the boys would have lingered to watch it had it not been for
the much greater fascination of the circus. Two o’clock was fast
approaching, and they hurried along so as to be in time for good seats.
Besides, they wanted to take in some of the side shows if possible
before the main performance began.
They heard the music of the band before they came in sight of the
grounds, and it still further stimulated their eagerness.
They turned a corner and there before them were the white circus tents
with a crowd already wandering about the grounds, the sideshows with the
bearded lady, the snake-charmer, the ossified man, the human-pincushion,
the fat woman, the midgets, the strong man and other freaks, the array
of elephants trumpeting and tossing their trunks, the small boys
carrying water for the animals and thus earning free admission to the
show, the peanut and lemonade booths, all pervaded by the unforgettable,
pungent smell inseparable from the city of tents.
They were walking about and taking in all the sights with the keenest
interest when Bobby put his hand suddenly on Fred’s arm.
“Look at those two fellows over there,” he cried, indicating a spot near
the ticket taker’s wagon.
Fred looked in that direction, but the crowd was constantly changing and
he saw nothing that explained Bobby’s exclamation.
“What is it?” he asked in wonderment.
“I thought I saw a couple of the bullies that we drove away from Dr.
Raymond’s apple tree,” replied Bobby, straining his eyes as he searched
the crowd.
“It might have been only a resemblance,” suggested Fred.
“Perhaps,” said Bobby dubiously. “But I was certain that one of them was
that Lemming, the leader of the gang. And the other looked like the
fellow that I doubled up with the baseball.”
“Well, even if it was, that wouldn’t be so surprising” rejoined Fred.
“This circus is drawing people from towns for many miles around and
those fellows are as likely to come as any one else. Do you think they
saw you?”
“They weren’t looking our way when I caught sight of them,” answered
Bobby. “As you say, it might have been only a resemblance. And, anyway,
they couldn’t put anything over on us in such a crowd as this.”
And in the multitude of things to see and hear the incident passed
entirely out of his mind.
“I say, fellows,” exclaimed Billy, “I’ll bet that fellow standing over
there is the Eskimo chief, the one they call Takyak on the circus
poster. He looks just like the pictures of the Eskimos I’ve seen.”
The man in question was a stocky Eskimo with the broad flat features
that proclaimed his race. He was standing rather moodily in the shadow
of one of the tents with a distant look in his eyes as though his
thoughts were far away.
He glanced carelessly at the boys as they drew near him, and then
something about them seemed to awaken his liking, for his face took on a
friendly smile.
They smiled in answer, and in response to a question that Bobby rather
timidly addressed to him he surprised them by answering in English. It
was broken and imperfect but easily understandable. They learned
afterward that he had picked it up from the traders who came to his
country for seals and fur, and of course his trip with the circus had
added considerably to his knowledge of the language.
The boys’ evident interest seemed to please him and he unbent a good
deal from the habitual reticence common with his people. They learned
from him that he was homesick and longing to be back in his native land.
“Too hot here,” he told them among other things. “Want snow. Plenty ice
up Baffin Land. Ice houses. Everything ice. That good for Eskimo.”
“Ice and snow,” murmured Fred. “I wonder—”
“Look out!” suddenly yelled Bobby. And then he made a quick move toward
the Eskimo and pushed him back.
Bobby had seen a tent pole swaying. Some guy ropes had broken and the
big pole was coming down directly where the Eskimo stood. It struck the
ground with a thud, missing Chief Takyak by a few inches.
“Great Caesar!” cried Billy. “Look at that, will you!”
“A close call for Takyak,” remarked Fred.
Some circus men came running forward, to ascertain if anybody had been
hurt, and to hoist the pole into place again. The Eskimo chief was
startled but speedily regained his composure.
“Boy push me just in time,” he said, with a queer little smile. “No push
out of way, big pole maybe kill old Takyak.”
“I’m glad I saw it coming,” answered Bobby. He was a good deal upset
himself—indeed they all were. They moved to another spot and the old
Eskimo put his hand on Bobby’s shoulder.
“Takyak thank you,” he said simply, and his manner showed that he was
deeply grateful.
“Oh, that’s all right,” answered Bobby, not knowing what else to say.
Now the boys felt better acquainted with the old chief and began to ask
him a number of questions.
When they asked him why he stayed in this country if he wanted so much
to go back to his own his brow clouded.
“Must stay,” he said. “Circus man give me money—make contract. He tell
me no go home. But I no want money. Heaps of money up North—yellow
money—gold. Old ship there. Men drown. Plenty m——”
But here he seemed to think he was talking too much and drew back into
his shell.
“Must go now,” he muttered, and vanished behind the curtain of the tent.
The boys gazed after the Eskimo in wonder.
“Gee, did you hear what he said?” declared Fred. “Heaps of money up
North. What did he mean?”
“I give up,” answered Bobby. “But come on. We came here to see the
show.”