Alger Horatio Jr.
The Young Acrobat of the Great North American Circus
CHAPTER XX.
A CHAT WITH A CANDY BUTCHER
Kit had a berth assigned him in one of the circus cars. His nearest neighbor was Harry Thorne, a young man of twenty-four, who filled the position of candy butcher. As this term may sound strange to my readers, I will explain that it is applied to the venders of candy, lemonade, peanuts, and other articles such as are patronized by those who come to see the show. It is really a very profitable business, as will be explained in the course of the story.
Harry Thorne was social and ready to give Kit any information about the circus.
"How long is it since you joined a circus?" asked Kit, after getting acquainted.
"I was younger than you," answered Thorne.
"Why did you join? What gave you the idea?"
"A spirit of adventure, I think. Besides, there was a large family of us—I am the oldest—and it was necessary for me to do something."
"That's a queer name—candy butcher."
"It seems so to you, but I am used to it."
"Did you become a candy butcher at once?"
"Not till I was eighteen. Before that I ran errands and made myself generally useful. I thought of being an acrobat, like you, but I was too stout and not active enough."
"I shouldn't think there would be much money made in your business," said Kit.
"That shows you don't know much about circus matters. Last fall I ran in with seven hundred dollars saved, besides paying all my expenses during the six months I was out."
"You ought to be pretty well off now, if you have been a candy butcher for five or six years."
"I haven't a cent, and am owing two hundred dollars in Philadelphia."
"How is that?"
"You don't often find a circus man that saves money. It's easy come, easy go. But I send money home every season—three or four hundred dollars at least, if I do well."
"That's a good thing any way. But if I were in your place I would put away some money every season."
"I could do it, but it's hard to make up my mind."
"I can't see how you can make such sums. It puzzles me."
"We are paid a fixed salary, say twenty-five dollars a month, and commission on sales. I was always pretty lucky in selling, and my income has sometimes been very large. But I don't make much in large places. It is in the smaller towns that the money is made. When a country beau brings his girl to the circus, he don't mind expense. He makes up his mind to spend several dollars in having a good time—so he buys lemonade, peanuts, apples, and everything that he or his girl fancies. In the city, where there are plenty of places where such things can be bought, we don't sell much. In New York or Philadelphia I make very little more than my salary."
"What is there most profit on?" asked Kit.
"Well, I should say lemonade. You've heard of circus lemonade?"
"Is there anything peculiar about it?"
"Yes, something peculiarly weak. A good-sized lemon will make half a dozen glasses, and perhaps more. But there is something cheaper still, and that is citric acid. I remember one hot day in an Ohio town. The thermometer stood at 99 degrees and there wasn't a drop of spring or well water to be had, for we had cornered it. All who were thirsty had to drink lemonade, and it took a good many glasses to quench thirst. I made a harvest that day, and so did the other candy butchers. If we could have a whole summer of such days, I could retire on a small fortune in October."
"Do you like the circus business?"
"Sometimes I get tired of it, but when the spring opens I generally have the circus fever."
"What do you do in the winter?"
"It is seldom I get anything to do. I am an expense, and that is why I find myself in debt when the new season opens. Last winter I was more lucky. A young fellow—an old circus acquaintance of mine—has a store in the country, and he offered to supply me with a stock of goods to sell on commission in country villages near by. In that way I filled up about three months, making my expenses, but doing nothing more. However, that was a great thing for me, and I start this season only two hundred dollars in debt, as I think I told you a few minutes ago."
"Is it the same way with performers?"
"No; they have a better chance. Next winter, if you try, you can probably make an engagement to perform at some dime museum or variety hall, in New York or elsewhere. I once got the position of ticket seller for a part of the winter."
"I don't think I should like to perform in a dime museum," said Kit.
"What's the odds, if you are well paid for it?"
"I don't intend to make my present business a permanent one."
"That's different. What will you do next fall?"
"I may go to school."
Harry Thorne whistled.
"That will be a novelty," he said. "I haven't been to school since I was twelve years old."
"Wouldn't you like to go now?"
"No; I'm too old. Are you much of a scholar?"
"I'm a pretty good Latin scholar, and know something of Greek."
"I'll bet there isn't another acrobat in the country that can say that. What salary do you get, if you don't mind telling?"
"Twenty-five dollars a week."
"You're in luck. How came Barlow to give you so much?"
"I think he took a liking to me. Perhaps he wanted to pay me for facing the lion at Smyrna."
"Were you the boy who did that? I thought your face looked familiar. You've got pluck, Kit."
"I hope so; but I'm not sure whether it is I or the snuff that is entitled to the most credit."
"Anyhow it took some courage, even if you did have the snuff with you."
"Do you know what is to be our route this season?"
"I think we are going West as far as St. Louis, taking all the larger towns and cities on our way. We are to show a week in Chicago. But I don't care so much for the cities as the country towns—the one-night places."
"Does Mr. Barlow go with us?"
"Not steadily. He drops in on us here and there. There's one thing I can say for him—he won't have any man in his employ drink or gamble. We have to bind ourselves to total abstinence while we are in his employ—that is, till the end of the season. Gambling is the great vice of circus men; it is more prevalent even than drinking."
"Don't the men do it on the sly?"
"They run a risk if they do. At the first offense they are fined, at the second or third they are bounced."
"That doesn't trouble me any. I neither drink nor gamble."
"Good for you."
"Say, when are you two fellows goin' to stop talkin'?" was heard from a neighboring berth. "You don't give a fellow a chance to sleep."
Kit and his new friend took the hint and addressed themselves to slumber.
CHAPTER XXI.
KIT MEETS A SCHOOLMATE
Kit slept profoundly, being very tired. He was taken by surprise when, the next morning, he was shaken into a state of wakefulness, and opening his eyes met those of his neighbor Harry Thorne.
"Is it morning?" he asked, in a sleepy tone.
"I should say it was. It is a quarter after nine, and the parade starts at ten."
"The parade?"
"Yes; we give a morning parade in every place we visit. If you are not on hand to take part in it, you will be fined five dollars."
"I'll be up in a jiffy," said Kit, springing out of his berth. "But there's time enough, isn't there?"
"Yes; but not too much. You will want to get some breakfast. By the way, are you used to driving?"
"Oh, yes. I have done a good deal of it," answered Kit.
"I thought so, as you are a country boy. How would you like to drive a span of horses attached to one of the small chariots?"
Kit was extremely fond of a horse, and he answered promptly, "I'll do it."
"There are two. The other is driven by Charlie Davis, once a performer but now a ticket man. He is a little older than you."
"All right! I don't see how I came to sleep so late."
"You and Charlie are good matches. Once he went to bed Saturday night, and did not wake up till Monday morning."
"That beats my record!"
Kit was dressed in less than ten minutes.
"Where shall I get breakfast?" he asked.
"The regular breakfast is over, and you will have to buy some. There is a restaurant just opposite the lot. You might get in with one of the cooks, and get something in the cook tent."
"No; I'll go to the restaurant. To-morrow I'll be on hand at the regular breakfast."
The restaurant was a small one, with no pretensions to style, but Kit was hungry and not particular. At the same table there was a dark complexioned boy of about his own size, who had just begun to dispatch a beefsteak.
He looked up as Kit seated himself.
"You're the new acrobat, are you not?" asked the other.
"Yes; are you Charlie Davis?"
"Yes; how do you know me?"
"Harry Thorne was speaking of you."
"I see you're one of the late birds as well as I. I generally have to buy my breakfast outside. How do you like circus life?"
"I haven't tried it well enough to tell. This is only my second day."
"I went into it at fourteen. I've been an acrobat, too, but I have a weak ankle, and have gone into the ticket department."
"Are you going to remain in the circus permanently?"
"No, I'm trying to wean myself from it. A friend has promised to set me up in business whenever I get ready to retire. If I kept on, I would be no better off at forty than I am now."
"Yet circus people make a good deal of money, I hear."
"Right you are, my boy, but they don't keep it. They get spoiled for anything else, and soon or later they are left out in the cold. I've had a good deal of fun out of it, for I like traveling, but I'm going to give it up."
"I took it up because I had nothing else to do, but I shan't stay in it long. I'll tell you about it some day. I hear you drive one of the pony chariots."
"Yes."
"I am to drive the other."
"Good! Don't let them run away with you, my boy."
"I'll try not to," said Kit, smiling. "Is there any danger?"
"Not much. They're trained. Are you fond of horses?"
"I like nothing better."
"So it is with me. I'll wait till you are through breakfast, and then we'll go over together."
Half an hour later Kit sat on the box of a chariot, drawn by two beautiful ponies. The circus line had been formed, and the parade began. Behind him was a circus wagon, or rather a cage on wheels, through the gratings of which could be seen a tiger, crafty and cruel looking. In front was an elephant, with two or three performers on his back. Kit was dressed in street costume, his circus dress not being required.
In another part of the procession was Charlie Davis, driving a corresponding wagon.
Kit felt a peculiar exhilaration as he drove his ponies, and reflected upon the strangeness of his position, as compared with his previous experiences. He had from time to time watched circus processions, but not in his wildest and most improbable dreams had it ever occurred to him to imagine that he would ever himself take part in one. As he looked down from his perch he saw the streets lined with the usual curious crowd of spectators, among whom boys were largely represented.
"I suppose some of them are envying me," he thought to himself, with a smile. "Suppose there was some one who recognized me?"
No sooner had the thought come into his mind, than he heard his own name called in a voice indicating amazement.
"Kit Watson, by all that's wonderful!" were the words that fell on his ears.
Looking to the right, his glance fell upon Jack Dormer, a schoolmate, who had been attending the same academy with him for a year past.
Kit colored, feeling a little embarrassed.
"How are you, Jack?" he said.
"How came you in this circus procession, Kit?"
"I can't tell you now. Come round to the lot, after the parade is over, and I'll tell you all about it."
Jack availed himself of the invitation and presented himself at the circus grounds.
"What does it all mean, Kit?" he asked. "Have you really and truly joined the circus?"
"Come round this afternoon, and you'll see me perform. I am one of the Vincenti brothers, acrobats."
"But what put it in your head? That's what I want to know?"
"I thought I would like it better than being a blacksmith."
"But who ever dreamed of your being a blacksmith?"
"My uncle did. I'll tell you all about it."
Kit told his story. Jack Dormer listened with sympathetic interest.
"Do they pay you well?" he asked.
"I get twenty-five dollars a week, and all expenses."
"Can you get me a job?" asked Jack quite overcome by the magnificence of the salary.
"As an acrobat, Jack?" asked Kit, laughing, for Jack had the reputation of being one of the clumsiest boys in school.
"Well, no, I don't suppose I could do much in that way, but isn't there something I could do?"
"Take my advice, Jack, and give it up. You've got a good home, and there is no need of your going into any such business even if you were qualified."
"Don't you like it?"
"I can't tell yet. Of course it is exciting, but those who have been in it a good while advise against it. I may not stay in it more than one season."
"Shall I tell the fellows at school where you are?"
"No, I would rather you wouldn't."
"Does your cousin Ralph come back to school?"
"Yes."
"We could spare him a good deal better than you."
"I am not fond of Ralph myself, but the world is wide enough for us both."
Kit saw his schoolmate again after the afternoon performance, and received many compliments.
"I couldn't believe it was you," he said. "You acted as if you were an old hand at the business."
CHAPTER XXII.
NEW ACQUAINTANCES
Sunday was of course a day of rest for the circus employees. Most of them observed it by lying in bed unusually late. Kit, however, rose in good season, and found himself first at breakfast. When the proper time arrived, he walked to the village, and selecting the first church he came to, entered. He had always been in the habit of attending church, and felt that there was no good reason why he should give up the practice now that he was away from home.
He stood in the lobby, waiting for the sexton to appear, when a fine-looking man of middle age entered the church with a young girl of fourteen at his side.
He glanced at Kit with interest, and after a moment's pause walked up to him.
"Are you a stranger here?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," answered Kit.
"I shall be glad to have you accept a seat in my pew."
"Thank you, sir," said Kit, politely; "I was waiting for the sexton, intending to ask him for a seat."
"I have plenty of room in my pew, having only my daughter with me. Are you staying long in the town?"
"Only as long as the circus does," answered Kit.
The gentleman looked surprised.
"Are you connected with the circus?" he asked, quickly.
"Yes, sir."
By this time the young girl was examining Kit with interest and attention.
"Is it possible you are a performer?"
"Yes, sir."
"I wouldn't have dreamed it. You look like a young gentleman."
"I hope I am, sir."
"Pardon me, I meant no offense, but you don't at all answer my idea of a circus performer."
"I have only been two days with the circus," said Kit; "and that may account for my not having a circus look."
"It is time to take our seats. I will speak with you afterwards. First, however, let me introduce my daughter, Evelyn Grant."
"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Evelyn," said Kit, removing his hat. "My name is Christopher Watson."
Evelyn offered her hand with a smile.
"I had no idea circus young men were so polite," she said.
There was no chance for any further conversation, as they had entered the church. Mr. Grant's pew was in a prominent position. He drew back to let the two young people enter. They seated themselves at the lower end of the pew and Mr. Grant took his seat at the head. Kit noticed that several persons in neighboring pews regarded him with apparent curiosity.
Kit enjoyed the services, which were of an interesting character. He had expected to feel like a stranger, but thanks to the kindness of Mr. Grant, he felt quite as much at home as when he sat in his uncle's pew at Smyrna.
When the services were over, they filed slowly out of church. A new surprise was in store for Kit.
"If you have no engagement we shall be glad to have you dine with us, Master Watson," said Mr. Grant.
"You will come, won't you?" said Evelyn, with a smile.
"You are very kind," said Kit, in grateful surprise. "Nothing could be more agreeable to me."
Just then a gentleman approached Mr. Grant, and said: "I am glad to see you looking so well, Mr. Mayor."
"Is your father the mayor of the city?" asked Kit.
"Yes; he was elected last December."
"I am very fortunate to be invited to dinner by the mayor."
"And by the mayor's daughter. Don't forget that."
"You may be sure I appreciate that, too."
"How funny it seems to me to be walking with a circus performer! What do you do? You don't stand upon a horse's back, and jump through hoops, do you?"
"No, I can't do that."
"But what do you do?"
"I am an acrobat."
Kit explained to her what he did.
"It must be very hard."
"Oh, no! I learned to do it in a gymnasium, before I ever dreamed of being connected with a circus."
"Where was the gymnasium?"
"Attached to Dr. Codman's academy."
"Why, I had a cousin who attended there," said Evelyn, in surprise.
"What was his name?"
"Edward Moore."
"I know him very well. He is a nice fellow."
At this moment Kit, in looking around, was surprised to see the familiar face and figure of Mr. Barlow, the circus proprietor, who had evidently, like himself, been attending the service. Recognition was mutual.
"I am glad to see you here, Watson," said Mr. Barlow, offering his hand. "I always attend church myself when I have an opportunity, but I am afraid few in my employ follow my example. I always feel more confidence in any young man who seems to enjoy a church service."
Mr. Barlow was a man whose name was widely known, and Kit saw that Mr. Grant looked as if he would like to be introduced.
"Mr. Barlow," he said, "allow me to introduce a new friend, Mr. Grant, the mayor of the town."
"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Mayor," said the showman, offering his hand.
"The pleasure is mutual, sir," said the mayor. "I need not say that your name has long been familiar to me."
"I am glad you have taken one of my young men under your wing. He is a recent acquisition, but I have reason to think well of him."
"He is to dine with us to-day. I shall be glad to extend an invitation to you also, Mr. Barlow."
"You are very kind, and but for a previous engagement I would accept with pleasure. I shall be glad to see you at my show to-morrow with complimentary tickets."
"What a nice old gentleman Mr. Barlow is," said Evelyn, in a low voice.
"I have found him an excellent friend. He won't allow any of us to drink or gamble while we are in his employ."
"I hope you wouldn't want to do either, Mr. Watson."
"I have no disposition to do so. But, Miss Evelyn, I want to ask you a favor."
"What is it? If it isn't anything very great, I may grant it."
"Don't call me Mr. Watson."
"What shall I call you then?"
"My friends call me Kit."
"That's a nice name. Yes, I'll call you Kit."
It will be seen that the two young people were getting on famously.
"Do you live far away, Miss Evelyn?"
"About a quarter of a mile from here."
In turning the corner of a street, Kit met his friend Harry Thorne, walking with Charlie Davis. Both regarded Kit with surprise.
"Kit seems to be getting on," said Charlie. "Do you know who he is walking with?"
"No; do you?"
"With the daughter of the mayor."
"How do you know?"
"The gentleman in front was pointed out to me as the mayor. I shouldn't wonder if he were going to dine there."
When Kit returned to the circus tents about four o'clock in the afternoon, he met with some good-natured raillery which he took in good part. He felt that he had passed the day in a much more satisfactory manner than if, like the great majority of his companions, he had risen late and lounged about the circus grounds, beguiling the time with smoking and story telling.
CHAPTER XXIII.
KIT'S DARING ACT
Kit's acts thus far had been confined to the ring, but now a new one was expected from him. Early in the performance a series of flying leaps from a springboard, in which all the acrobats took part, was introduced. From a point thirty feet back the performer ran swiftly till he reached the springboard, from which a leap was made accompanied by a somersault, carrying him over a considerable space in advance.
It was the custom to place first one elephant, then a second, and finally a third, in front of the springboard. There was only one man who could leap over three elephants. The two Vincenti brothers took part regularly, but Kit, being a new hand, had thus far been excused. But one of the regular performers being temporarily unwell, it was considered desirable that his place should be supplied.
"Do you think you can do it?" asked Alonzo Vincenti, somewhat doubtfully.
"Yes," answered Kit, confidently.
"It will be sufficient if you jump over one elephant," continued his associate. "Then you can drop out."
"I can do better than that," said Kit.
"I don't know about that. My brother can only jump over two."
"You jump over three elephants."
"Yes; but I am the only one who can do it. It takes a good spring to clear even two. It won't do to lose your head."
"Can I have a chance to rehearse?"
"Yes, I will speak about it."
"Then I will appear this evening."
"But if you fail you are likely to hurt yourself."
"I know that. That is why I would rather make the first trial in the evening. The lights and the crowd will excite and help me."
Kit was not foolhardy in his undertaking, for he had already had some practice in similar feats with his old teacher. Besides, he was ambitious. In school his ambition had shown itself in his attempt to eclipse his schoolfellows in scholarship. In the gymnasium he had ranked first, and now that he had joined the circus he didn't like to be assigned to a place in the rear.
Let me take the opportunity here to advise my young readers not to imitate Kit in essaying dangerous parts. "Be bold, but not too bold!" is a very good motto.
During the forenoon Kit found an opportunity to practice in the empty tent, in order to settle the question whether he had lost any of his old-time skill. The result was satisfactory, and renewed his confidence.
"I can do better before a tent full of spectators than when practicing by myself," he decided.
The evening came.
Standing near the ticket seller half an hour before the show began, Kit heard his name called.
Turning quickly he saw his friends of the previous day, Mayor Grant and his daughter Evelyn.
"Good evening, my boy!" said the mayor cordially. "We have come to see what you can do."
"Then I hope I shall do myself credit," said Kit, shaking hands with the mayor and his daughter. "Have you engaged seats?"
"Not yet."
"Then let me select them for you."
"With pleasure. I am glad to have a friend at court."
Kit selected seats as near as possible to the ring where he was to perform.
"These are splendid seats," said Evelyn. "How soon do you appear?"
"In a few minutes. I shall have to leave you now, but I will be back after my first act."
"What a nice boy he is, papa!" said Evelyn.
"Yes; it is a pity he is attached to a circus."
"Why? Isn't it a respectable business?"
"Yes; but there are many temptations connected with it, and most circus performers never rise any higher."
Evelyn was not inclined to discuss the question, though there is no doubt that she took a more favorable view of the circus profession than her father. The procession had just begun to move round the inner ring of the circus, including the elephants, the riders, the clowns, and performers of all kinds. Kit appeared, as in the public procession, driving a span of ponies.
This was the introduction. Then the various parts of the programme succeeded. Soon Kit performed his act in the ring. He had a new act to-night. Standing on the shoulders of one of the Vincenti brothers, he turned a somersault and landed on the shoulders of the other, standing six to eight feet away.
"I don't see how he does it, papa," said Evelyn. "He must be very smart."
"I see you are determined to make a hero of this young man, Evelyn."
"Don't you admire him yourself, papa?"
"Admire is rather a strong word, daughter. I will admit, however, that I like him, and hope he will soon change his business."
After the act was over, Kit came round and received congratulations. Evelyn repeated what her father said.
"I agree with you, sir," said Kit, "I haven't selected this as my life business, but shall keep my engagement till the end of the season."
"How, on the whole, do you like your new associates? I don't need to be told that they are very different from those to whom you are accustomed."
"They are very kind to me, and generous to each other when there is need. They will divide their last dollar with a friend."
"They often come to their last dollar, don't they?"
"Yes; they can't keep money. They are always in debt when the new season opens, no matter how much they brought home with them at the end of the last."
"Are there no exceptions?"
"Yes, a few. I have heard of one circus manager who commenced as a candy butcher, and now is proprietor of a very fair-sized show. Of course he had to save up money or he would never have succeeded so well."
Kit had to cut short his visit, for the new act, already referred to, was near at hand.
In the list of leapers Kit came last. First of all, there was a simple somersault from the springboard. This was easy. Just after Kit came the clown, who, though really a clever acrobat, stopped short when he came to the board and merely jumped up and down to the amusement of the young spectators.
"He can't jump no more'n I can," said one small boy, contemptuously.
"I shouldn't think they'd let him try," said another.
Both boys were surprised when, in the next trial, where the task was to jump over an elephant, the despised clown made a good spring and landed fairly on his feet.
"I guess he was afraid before," said the first boy.
"No; he only pretended for fun. Do you see that boy? I wonder if he can jump over the elephant."
The question was soon answered. Kit took his turn and sprang with apparent ease over the great beast.
Next another elephant was driven in alongside of the first. Again the leapers advanced to try their skill. But two held back, not feeling competent for the task. The clown once more made a feint of jumping, but only jumped up and retired apparently filled with confusion.
Evelyn gazed in intense excitement.
"It must be awfully hard to jump like that, papa," she said.
"I don't think I shall ever try it, Evelyn."
Another elephant was driven alongside the other two, making three in all. The other contestants retired, for only Alonzo had succeeded hitherto in executing this difficult feat. He expected to be the only one now, but noticed with surprise that Kit seemed ready to follow him.
"You don't mean to try it, Kit?" he said, in amazement.
"Why not?"
"You will fail, and if you do, you may hurt yourself seriously."
"I shall not fail," said Kit, confidently.
Alonzo looked anxious, but there was no time to expostulate. He ran swiftly to the board, made a vigorous spring, and landed handsomely on the bedding which had been provided beyond. He had scarcely stepped aside, when, to the astonishment of the other acrobats, Kit gathered himself up, ran to the springboard, and exerting himself to the utmost, made his leap, and landed a foot ahead of Alonzo.
Then the tent rang with applause, and there were many exclamations of astonishment, not only among the spectators, but also among the circus performers.
Kit's face flushed with pleasure, and bowing his acknowledgments, he withdrew.
"He is certainly a wonderful boy," said the mayor.
