Alger Horatio Jr.
The Young Acrobat of the Great North American Circus
CHAPTER XIII.
BREAKFAST IN THE CIRCUS TENT
Achilles entered the circus inclosure—the "lot," as it is generally called,—and made his way to a small tent situated not far from the one devoted to the performances. An attendant was carrying in a plate of hot steak and potatoes from the cook tent near by.
"Is breakfast ready?" asked Achilles.
"Yes; any time you want it."
"Is anybody inside?"
"Only Mademoiselle Louise."
"Well, I want three breakfasts—for myself and my two young friends here."
"I didn't know you had sons," said Mike, the attendant, regarding Kit and William with some curiosity.
"I haven't. One of these young men is an acrobat, who will be one of us. The other is his friend. Bring along the grub as quick as possible—we are all hungry."
"All right, sir."
Running the length of the tent, which was about twenty feet by ten, was a long table surrounded by benches.
The giant took his seat and placed the boys one on each side of him. Just opposite sat a woman of twenty-five or thereabouts, who was already eating breakfast.
"Good morning, Mlle. Louise," said the giant.
"Good morning, Mr. Henderson," responded the lady. "Who are your young companions?"
"I don't know their names, but this one," placing his hand on Kit's shoulder, "has been engaged by Mr. Barlow as an acrobat."
"Indeed! He looks young."
"I am sixteen," volunteered Kit.
"What circus have you traveled with before this season?" asked Mlle. Louise.
"I have never traveled with any, madam."
"But you are an acrobat?"
"I have had my practice in a gymnasium."
"How came Mr. Barlow to engage you?"
"At Smyrna I practiced a little with the Vincenti brothers."
"At Smyrna? Why, that's where the lion dashed into the arena!"
"Yes."
"Do you know the boy who had the courage to face him?"
Kit blushed.
"I am the boy," he said.
"You don't mean it!" exclaimed the lady, vivaciously. "Why, you're a hero. I must shake hands with you," and she reached across the table and gave Kit a hearty grasp of the hand.
"Is that so?" interposed Achilles. "Why, I didn't know you were the boy. I was not present at the time, and only heard of it afterwards. Mlle. Louise is right. You are a brave fellow."
"I am much obliged to you both for your favorable opinion," said Kit modestly, "but I didn't realize my danger till afterwards."
"Oh, heavens! I can see him now—that wicked beast!" exclaimed the lady. "I was nearly scared out of my senses. As for poor Dupont, he was nearer death than I ever want to be till my time comes."
"Was Dupont the clown?" asked Kit.
"Yes. The lion held him down, with his foot upon the poor clown's back, and but for your brave act he would have torn the poor fellow to pieces. Mr. Henderson, you missed the most thrilling act of the evening."
"So I begin to think. By the way, boys, I ought to have introduced this lady. She is the famous aerial artist, whom you saw the other evening in her wonderful feats upon the trapeze."
"Yes," said Mlle. Louise, complacently, "I think I have a pretty good act. I get plenty of applause, eh, Mr. Henderson?"
"That's true. I think I should leave the circus if I had to appear in your act. I never could summon up courage."
The lady laughed.
"Monsieur Achilles," she said, "I wouldn't advise you to emulate me. I don't believe you could find a rope strong enough to support you, and if you should fall, I pity the audience."
"You have convinced me. I shall give up all thoughts of it," said the giant, with mock gravity. "It would suit better our young friend here, who is an acrobat."
"Did you ever practice on a trapeze?" asked Mlle. Louise, turning to Kit.
"Yes, often," answered Kit, "but never at a great height."
"Would it frighten you to find yourself so high up in the air?"
"I don't think so; I have a cool head."
"You must practice. I will give you a few hints myself. If you are cool and courageous, as I judge you will soon learn. By the way, what is your name?"
"Kit Watson."
"It'll be something else when you begin work."
"Do all performers have assumed names?"
"Generally. Here I am Mademoiselle Louise Lefroy, but it isn't a bit like my real name."
Before this the boys had been served with breakfast. The steak was rather tough, and the coffee not of the best quality, but Kit and William thoroughly enjoyed it, and thought it about the best breakfast they had ever eaten. Mlle. Louise continued to converse with them, and was very gracious.
"Are you too an acrobat?" she asked William.
William became so confused that he swallowed some coffee the wrong way, and came near choking.
"No, ma'am," he answered bashfully, "but I'd like to go round with the show."
"You'll be better off at home if you've got one," said the giant. "You are not a performer; you are too small for a property man, and not strong enough for a razorback."
"What's a razorback?" asked William, in amazement.
Achilles smiled.
"It's a boy or man who helps load and unload the circus cars," he answered. "It is heavy work, and you would be thrown among a low lot of people—canvasmen, and such. Our young friend here, on the other hand, will have a good sleeping berth, eat at the first table, and be well provided for generally."
William looked disappointed. He had never thought particularly about traveling with a circus till now, but his meeting with Kit had given him a circus fever.
At ten o'clock Mr. Barlow came to the grounds, and Achilles volunteered to go with Kit to speak with him about his engagement.
CHAPTER XIV.
SOME CIRCUS PEOPLE
Mr. Barlow recognized Kit instantly.
"So you have kept your promise, my young friend," he said. "Well, have you come to join us?"
"Yes, sir, if your offer holds good."
"My offers always hold good; I never go back on my word."
Kit was glad to hear this, for he would have been placed in an embarrassing position if, like some men, Mr. Barlow had forgotten an offer made on the impulse of the moment.
"Have you any directions to give, sir?"
"You may report to my manager, Mr. Bryant. First, however, it may be well for you to see the Vincenti brothers, and arrange for a joint act."
"When do you wish me to appear, sir?"
"Whenever you are ready. You may take a week to rehearse, if necessary. Your pay will commence at once."
"Thank you, Mr. Barlow; you are very kind and considerate."
Mr. Barlow smiled, and, waving his hand, passed on.
He was very popular with all who were in his employ, and had a high reputation for kindness and strict integrity.
"I'd like to work for him," said William Morris, who had listened to the conversation between Kit and the circus proprietor.
"I should like to have you along with me," replied Kit, "but from what Mr. Henderson says there is no good opening."
It was not till eleven o'clock that Kit met his future partners, the Vincenti brothers.
"Good!" said Alonzo, in a tone of satisfaction. "We must get up a joint act. I suppose you haven't got a suit of tights?"
"No. I never expected to need one."
"I have an extra one which I think will fit you. Though I am ten years older than you we are about the same size."
Kit had occasion to remark that circus performers are short as a rule. Many of them do not exceed five feet four inches in height, but generally they are compactly built, with well developed muscles, and possess unusual strength and agility.
The circus suit was brought out. It proved to be an excellent fit.
William Morris eyed Kit with admiration.
"You look like a regular circus chap, Kit!" he exclaimed. "I wish I was in your shoes."
"Wait till you see whether I am a success, William," replied Kit.
"Now, if you are ready, we will have a little practice," said Alonzo Vincenti.
"May I look on?" asked William.
"Oh, yes; we don't generally admit spectators, but you are a friend of the boy."
They all entered the tent, and for an hour Kit was kept hard at work.
In the act devised by the Vincenti brothers, he stood on the shoulders of the second, who in his turn stood on the shoulders of the first. Various changes were gone through, in all of which Kit proved himself an adept, and won high compliments from his new associates.
"Can you tumble?" asked Antonio.
Kit smiled.
"I was afraid I should when I first got on your shoulders," he answered.
"That was what I meant,—something like this," and he whirled across the arena, rolling over and over on hands and feet in the manner of a cart wheel.
Kit imitated Antonio rather slowly and awkwardly at first, but rapidly showed improvement.
"You'll soon learn," said Antonio. "Now let me show you something else."
This something else was a succession of somersaults, made in the most rapid manner.
Kit tried this also, slowly at first, as before, but proving a rapid learner.
"In the course of three or four days you will be able to do it in public," said Alonzo.
"When do you advise me to make my first appearance?" asked Kit.
"To-night, in our first act."
"But shall I be ready?"
"You'll do. We may as well make a beginning."
"I wish I could see you, Kit," said William.
"Can't you?"
"I was going to the afternoon performance. It would make me too late home if I stayed in the evening."
"Won't there be some people over from Oakford that you can ride back with?"
"I didn't think of that. Yes, John Woods told me that his father was coming, and would bring him along. I could ride home with them."
"Good! then you'd better stay."
"Perhaps I'd better go over and buy a ticket."
But to William's satisfaction he was given free admission as a friend of Kit. Not only that, but he was invited to take dinner and supper at the circus table. In fact, he was treated with distinguished consideration.
"Kit," he said, "I was in luck to meet you."
"And it was lucky for me that I met you. I shouldn't like to have met Aaron Bickford single handed."
"I wish old Bickford would come to the circus to-night. Wouldn't he be surprised to see you performing in tights?"
"I think it would rather take him by surprise," said Kit, smiling.
Kit and William occupied seats at the afternoon performance as spectators, it having been arranged that Kit's début should be made in the evening. Our hero regarded the different acts with unusual interest, and his heart beat a little quicker when he heard the applause elicited by the performances of the Vincenti brothers, for he had already begun to consider himself one of them.
When the performance was over, and the audience was dispersing, Kit felt a hand laid upon his shoulder.
He turned and his glance rested upon a man of about forty, with a grave, serious expression. He was puzzled, for it was not a face that he remembered to have ever seen before.
"You don't know me?" said the stranger.
"No, sir."
"And yet you have done me a very great service."
"I didn't know it, sir."
"The greatest service that any one person can do to another—you have saved my life."
Then a light dawned upon Kit's mind, and he remembered what Achilles Henderson had said to him in the morning.
"Is your name Dupont?" he asked.
"Yes; I am Joe Dupont, the clown, whom you saved from a horrible death. I tell you, when Nero stood there in the ring with his paw on my breast I gave myself up for lost. I expected to be torn to pieces. It was an awful moment!" and the clown shuddered at the picture which his imagination conjured up. "Yes, sir; I wouldn't see such another moment for all the money Barlow is worth. I wonder my hair didn't turn white."
"Excuse me, Mr. Dupont, but I find it hard to think you are Joe Dupont, the clown," said Kit.
"Why?"
"Because you look so grave and sedate."
Joe Dupont smiled.
"I only make a fool of myself in the ring," he said. "Outside you might take me for a merchant or minister. Indeed, I am a minister's son."
"You a minister's son!" ejaculated Kit.
"Yes; you wouldn't think it, would you? I was rather a wild lad, as minister's sons often are. My poor father tried hard to give me an education, but my mind wasn't on books or school exercises, and at sixteen I cut and run."
"Did you join a circus then?"
"Not at once. I tried hard to earn my living in different ways. Finally I struck a circus, and got an engagement as a razorback. When I got older I began to notice and imitate the clowns, and finally I made up my mind to become one myself."
"Do you like the business?"
"I have to like it. No; I am disgusted with myself often and often. You can judge from one thing. I have a little daughter, Katy, now eight years of age. She has never seen me in the ring and never will. I could never hold up my head in her presence if she had once seen me playing the fool before an audience."
All this surprised Kit. He had been disposed to think that what clowns were before the public they were in private life also. Now he saw his mistake.
"You contribute to the public amusement, Mr. Dupont," said Kit.
"True; but what sort of a life record is it? Suppose in after years Katy is asked, 'Who was your father?' and is obliged to answer, 'Joe Dupont, the clown.' But I ought not to grumble. But for you I should have died a terrible death, and Katy would be fatherless, so I have much to be thankful for after all."
Kit listened to the clown not without surprise. He could hardly realize that this was the comical man whose grotesque actions and sayings had convulsed the spectators only an hour before. When he came to think of it, he felt that he would rather be an acrobat than a clown.
CHAPTER XV.
MR. BICKFORD GOES TO THE CIRCUS
When Aaron Bickford, balked of his prey, was compelled to get into his wagon and start for home, he felt uncommonly cross. To begin with, he was half famished, having harnessed up and set out on what turned out to be a wild goose chase without breaking his fast. Yet he could have borne this with comparative equanimity if he had effected the purpose which he had in view—the capture of his expected apprentice.
But he had been signally defeated. Indeed he had been humiliated in presence of Kit and William Morris, by being unceremoniously picked up and tossed over the fence. As William was an Oakford boy, he foresaw that his discomfiture would soon be known to all his fellow townsmen, and that public ridicule would be his portion. There seemed no way to avoid this, unless by begging William to keep silent, and this he could not bring himself to do, even if the request was likely to be granted.
"Where's the boy?" asked his wife, as, after unharnessing his horse, he went into the house.
"I don't know where he is," answered Bickford, in a surly tone.
"Didn't you find him?"
"Yes, I found him."
"Wouldn't he come back?"
"He didn't."
"I'd have made him if I were you."
"Perhaps you would, and then perhaps you wouldn't. Perhaps you couldn't."
"You don't mean to say, Aaron Bickford, that you let a whippersnapper like that defy you?"
"What could I do against a man eight feet high?"
"Goodness, Mr. Bickford, have you been drinking?" ejaculated his wife.
"No, I haven't been drinking."
"Do you mean to tell me that boy is eight feet high?"
"No, I don't mean to tell you the boy is eight feet high. But I won't answer any more foolish questions till you give me something to eat. I am fairly faint with hunger."
"Sit down, then, and I hope after you've gratified your appetite you'll be a little less mysterious."
Mrs. Bickford was privately of opinion that her husband had stopped at some drinking place—otherwise why should he prate of men eight feet tall?
Aaron Bickford ate almost ravenously, though the food set before him was not calculated to gratify the taste of an epicure. But all things are acceptable to an empty stomach.
When he seemed to be satisfied, his wife began anew.
"Who is it that is eight feet high?" she asked.
"The giant at the circus."
"What did you have to do with him?"
"Not much, but he had something to do with me," answered Bickford, grimly.
"How is that?"
"I overhauled the boy, and was dragging him back to the wagon, when this fellow hove in sight. It seems he knew the young rascal, and took his part. He seized me as easily as you would take up a cat, and flung me over the fence."
"I wish I'd been there!" exclaimed Mrs. Bickford, angrily.
"What could you have done. You would have been flung over too," said her husband, contemptuously.
"I would have got a good grip of his hair, and I guess that would have made him let go."
"You'd have to stand on a ladder, then."
"So the boy got away?"
"Of course he did."
"And where did he go?"
"I expect he went to the circus along with William Morris."
"Was that boy with him?"
"Yes."
"They were pretty well matched. What can they do at the circus?"
"I don't know. Perhaps their long-legged friend will give them a ticket to the show."
"Aaron, suppose we go to the circus?"
"What for?"
"You may get hold of the boy, and bring him back. The giant won't be with him all the time."
"I'd like to get the boy back," said Bickford, in a wavering tone. "I'd give him a lesson."
"And so would I. I guess between us we could subdue him. But of course he must be got back first."
"I'll think of it, Sarah."
Later in the day Mr. Bickford told his wife he would go to the circus, but he tried to evade taking her in order to save the expense of another ticket. To this, however, she would not agree. The upshot was, that after supper the old horse was harnessed up, and the amiable pair, bent on vengeance, started for Grafton.
CHAPTER XVI.
MR. BICKFORD AT THE CIRCUS
Mr. Bickford's chief object in going to the circus was to regain possession of Kit, his runaway apprentice, as he chose to consider him. But, besides this, he really had a curiosity to see the show, and thought this would afford him a good excuse for doing so. The same remark will apply to Mrs. Bickford, whose curiosity had been excited the year previous by seeing a circus procession. The blacksmith and his wife were not prejudiced against amusements, like many others, but were too frugal to attend them. Now that they could combine business with pleasure, they threw to the winds all hesitation.
"Do you think you'll get the boy, father?" asked Mrs. Bickford, as they jolted over the road to Grafton.
"I'll make a try for it, Sarah. He's a good strong boy, and he'll make a capital blacksmith. Did you notice his broad shoulders?"
"He looks like he'd have a hearty appetite," said the careful spouse.
"We won't pamper him, Sarah," replied Bickford, smiling grimly. "He won't get no such victuals as he did at home. Plain food and plenty of it, that's the way to bring up boys."
"Perhaps he won't be at the circus," suggested Mrs. Bickford.
"I'd be surprised if he wasn't. Boys have a natural hankering for the circus. I had when I was a boy."
"Did you ever go, Aaron?"
"No; I didn't have the money."
"Do you know how much they charge?"
"Fifty cents, I believe."
"It's an awful sight of money to pay for amusement. If it lasts two hours, that makes twenty-five cents an hour."
"So it does, Sarah. That's as much as I can earn by hard work in that time."
"I don't know as it's right to fling away so much money."
"I wouldn't do it if it wasn't for gettin' the boy back. He'll be worth a good deal to me if I do. He's a good deal stronger than Bill Morris."
"Of course that makes a difference. I don't care so much for the circus, though I should like to see the man stand up on a horse and jump through hoops. I wonder if the horse jumps through too."
"I don't know, but we'll soon know all that is to be known. The boy won't expect to see us, I reckon," concluded the blacksmith, with a chuckle.
At length they reached the circus grounds. All was bustle and excitement in the neighborhood of the lot.
"I declare, Aaron, it looks like Fourth of July," said Mrs. Bickford.
"So it does. It beats all—what a crowd there is."
They bought tickets and entered the inclosure.
In a small tent near the entrance were the curiosities. They were about to walk in when a young man curtly asked for tickets.
"We bought tickets at the gate. Here they are."
"All right; but you need separate tickets here."
"I declare that's a swindle," said Mrs. Bickford. "I thought we could see the whole show on these."
"We only charge ten cents extra for this."
"It's a shame. Shall we go in, Aaron?"
"I guess we will. I want to see that 'ere fat woman."
"I'd like to see the dwarf and the woman with hair five feet long. A circus is dreadful expensive, but bein' as we're here we might as well see the whole thing."
Twenty cents was paid at the door, and the economical pair, grown suddenly so extravagant, walked in.
The first object on which the blacksmith's eyes rested kindled him with indignation, and recalled mortifying memories. It was Achilles Henderson, the giant, who, on his side recognized Aaron Bickford.
"Good evening, my friend," he said, with a smile. "I believe we have met before."
"Do you know him?" asked Mrs. Bickford, in surprise.
Aaron's brow contracted as he answered:
"It's the ruffian that threw me over the fence this morning."
"I see you remember me," said Achilles, good-naturedly.
"I ought to remember you," retorted the blacksmith.
"Come, don't bear malice. It was only a little joke."
"I don't like such jokes."
"Well, well; I'll give you satisfaction. I'll let you throw me over the fence any time you want to, and I won't make a particle of resistance."
Somehow this proposal did not strike the blacksmith as satisfactory. He asked abruptly: "Where's the boy?"
"There were two boys."
"I mean the stout, broad-shouldered boy."
"I don't know just where he is at present."
"Do you know why I've come here this evening?"
"To see the show, I expect."
"I've come to get that boy. I've no doubt he's somewhere about here."
"Oho!" thought the giant; "I must put my young friend on his guard."
"If you'll help me I'll do as much for you some time."
"So you are going to carry him back with you?" went on Achilles, desirous of learning the extent of Kit's danger.
"Yes, I am."
"You say he is your apprentice?"
"Of course he is."
"And you've got the papers to show for it?"
"I don't need no papers. I've got his uncle's consent."
"I think, my friend, you're not familiar with the law," thought Achilles. "Kit won't go with you to-night."
But it was nearly time for the performance. Mr. and Mrs. Bickford left the smaller tent, and entering the big one took their seats. They watched the performance with great wonder and enjoyment till the entrance of Kit and the Vincenti brothers. They did not immediately discover him, but when he stood on the shoulders of Alonzo Vincenti, who, in turn, stood on the shoulders of Antonio, and the three-storied acrobat walked round the ring, Mrs. Bickford recognized Kit, and, pointing with her parasol to the young acrobat, as she half raised herself from her seat, she exclaimed in a shrill voice: "Look, Aaron, there's your boy, all rigged out in circus clothes!"
"Well, that beats all!" ejaculated the blacksmith, gazing with wide open mouth at Kit.
Just then, Kit, reversing his attitude, raised his feet in the air and was borne round the ring, amid the plaudits of the spectators.
"How do you think he does it?" asked Mrs. Bickford in astonishment.
"I give it up," said the blacksmith.
"He's a smart critter. Do you think they pay him?"
"I reckon he gets two or three dollars a week, but he hain't no business to hire out to the circus folks. He's going back with us to-night, and I'll turn him out a blacksmith in two years."
When Kit had finished his act, he went to the dressing room and changed his clothes.
"I wonder whether the old fellow is after me!" he thought. "What could have put it into his head that I was here?"
As he emerged from the dressing room he met Mr. Barlow, the proprietor of the circus, who advanced towards him, and shook his hand cordially.
"Bravo, my young friend!" he said. "You did yourself great credit. Are you sure you have never performed in a circus before?"
"Quite sure, sir."
"You went through your act like an old professional. You did as well as either of the other two."
"Thank you, sir. I am glad you are satisfied."
"I ought to be. I regard you as a decided acquisition to my show. Keep on doing your best, and I can assure you that your efforts will be appreciated. How much did I agree to pay you?"
"Ten dollars a week, sir."
"That isn't enough. I raise your salary at once to twenty-five."
Kit was dazzled by his good fortune. What! Twenty-five dollars a week and traveling expenses for a boy of sixteen! It seemed marvelous.
"I am afraid I am dreaming, Mr. Barlow," he said. "I can't believe that I am really to receive so handsome a salary."
"You will realize it to-night when you collect your first week's pay."
"But this won't be a full week, sir."
"Never mind! You shall receive full pay. Do you think I forget your heroic act at Smyrna?"
"Thank you, sir. I hope nothing will prevent my continuing in your employ."
"What should prevent?" asked Mr. Barlow, quickly. "Have you had an offer from another show?"
"No, sir; I am not well known enough for that; but I saw a man in the audience who would probably like to get me away."
"Who is it?"
"A blacksmith from Oakford."
"I don't understand. What have you to do with a blacksmith?"
Kit explained briefly.
"When do you think he will try to recover possession of you?" asked the circus proprietor.
"Just after the show is over."
"Has he any papers?"
"Not one."
"Then he has no claim on you. If he makes any trouble let me know."
"I will, Mr. Barlow."
