The Young Acrobat of the Great North American Circus
"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."
CHAPTER XVII.
KIT'S STRATAGEM
Kit, when dressed, sought the part of the house where he knew that William Morris was seated.
"How did I do, Will?" he asked.
"Splendidly!" answered the boy enthusiastically. "I felt proud of you."
"I think I have a right to be satisfied myself. I have had my pay raised."
"You don't mean to say you are to get more than ten dollars?" said his friend, opening his eyes in amazement.
"I am raised to twenty-five."
"You don't mean to say you are to get twenty-five dollars a week, Kit?"
"Yes, I do."
"And your board?"
"And my board and traveling expenses," added Kit, with a smile.
"I wish I were in your shoes, Kit," said William. "Think of me with only one dollar a week."
"Would you be willing to go through my acts for the money I am going to receive?"
William shook his head.
"I couldn't do it, Kit," he replied. "It always makes me dizzy when I have my head down. I don't believe I could ever do anything in a circus."
"Well, William, I won't forget you. If I save money, as I am sure to do, I'll see if I can't do something for you by and by. By the way, did you see Mr. and Mrs. Bickford?"
"No, you don't mean to say they are here?"
"Look over there!"
William followed the direction of Kit's finger, and he easily discovered the blacksmith and his wife.
"By gracious! You're right!" he said. "It's the first money I've known old Bickford to pay for any amusement for years."
"They came after me, William."
"You won't go back with them?"
"Not much. I don't care to give up twenty-five dollars a week for the privilege of learning the trade of a blacksmith."
"Suppose they try to carry you off?"
"That gives me an idea. With your help I'll try to play a trick on them. It'll be capital fun."
"Go ahead and tell me what it is, Kit. I'm with you!"
"My plan is that you should ride home with Mr. Bickford," said Kit.
"I don't understand," said William, looking puzzled.
"I'll tell you my idea. Bickford has come here with the intention of taking me back with him to Oakford."
"But you don't mean to go?"
"Of course not, but when the show is over I shall put myself in his way, and after a little objection agree to go. I will ask for five minutes to get ready. In that time I will change hats with you, and as it is dark you can easily pass yourself off for me."
"Capital!" exclaimed William, laughing. "Won't the old man look foolish when he finds out who is with him?"
"Don't let him know till you arrive, or he would force you to leave the carriage, and walk home alone, and a six mile walk is no joke."
"All right Kit! I understand, and I think I can carry out your idea. I haven't much love for the old man or his wife either, and I am glad of a chance to get even with them."
The performance continued till ten o'clock. The blacksmith and his wife enjoyed it beyond their anticipations. Amusements of any kind were new to them, and their pleasure was like that of children.
"I begin to think, Sarah, we shall get our money's worth," said Aaron cautiously, as the entertainment neared its end; "this is a great show."
"So it is, Aaron. I don't begrudge the money myself, though fifty cents is a pretty high price to pay. Then, besides, you'll have a chance to carry the boy home."
"That's so, Sarah. Just as soon as the show is over, foller me, and we'll try to find him."
At length the last act was ended, and the crowd of spectators began pouring from the tent.
Mr. Bickford hurriedly emerged from the audience, and began to look around for Kit. He had but little trouble in finding him, for the boy purposely put himself in his way. Aaron Bickford strode up to him.
"Well, I've caught you at last!" he said, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder.
"What do you want of me, Mr. Bickford?" said Kit.
"What do I want of you? Well, I want you to go home with me, of course."
"Won't you let me stay with the circus a week?" asked Kit, in a subdued tone.
"No, I won't. I've got the wagon here, and I'm goin' to take you back with me to-night."
"If you really think my uncle wishes it, perhaps I had better go," said Kit, in what appeared to be a wavering tone.
Mr. Bickford was quite elated. He feared he should have trouble in persuading Kit to accompany him. He would not have been surprised if the boy had disappeared, and given him trouble to find him, and his unexpected submissiveness was an agreeable surprise.
"Well, boy, it's time to be goin'. Oakford's six miles off, and we won't get home before midnight unless we start right off."
"I'll go and get my things, Mr. Bickford. Where is your horse and wagon?"
"Out by the entrance. It's hitched to a tree."
"All right! You go and unhitch the horse, and I'll be right along."
"But suppose you give me the slip? You'd better go along now."
"I'll bring him with me, Mr. Bickford," said the giant. "I'm sorry he isn't going to stay with us, and I'll see him off."
Achilles Henderson spoke in so straightforward a manner that Mr. Bickford was deceived.
"Very well," he said. "I'll go along with Mrs. Bickford. Don't keep me waitin', for it's gettin' late."
The blacksmith and his wife took up their march to the place where their team had been hitched. They found it safe, and untied the horse.
"We're goin' to have a dark ride home, mother," he said.
"Yes, Aaron, but you've done a good evening's work."
"That's so, Sarah. I expected I'd have more trouble with the boy."
"There's nothing like being firm, Aaron. When he saw you were in earnest, he gave up."
"I mean to keep a tight rein on him, Sarah. He's a boy that likes to have his own way, if I ain't greatly mistaken. We must break his will."
The horse was unhitched, and still Kit had not arrived. Mr. Bickford began to fear that he had been tricked after all, when two figures, contrasting strongly with each other, appeared. One was the giant, in his ample height, and the other was a boy.
"There they are, Aaron!" said Mrs. Bickford, who was the first to descry the oddly assorted pair.
"Where is the boy to sit?" asked Achilles.
"In the back seat. Mother and I will sit in front."
"All right! There you are!" said Mr. Henderson, lifting the boy in his arms, as easily as if he were a kitten, and putting him on the rear seat.
"Good-by, Kit!" he said. "I'm sorry you're going to leave us. Perhaps Mr. Bickford will let you off if we show anywhere near here."
"The boy will be at work, and can't be let off," said the blacksmith, stiffly. "But it is time we were off."
"Good-by, then, Kit!"
"Good-by!" said the supposed Kit, in a low tone, for he feared that the difference in his voice would be recognized. But Mr. Bickford had no suspicions. He was anxious to get started, for he and his wife were always in bed by this time ordinarily.
So the team started, and Achilles Henderson, suppressing a laugh, strode away to the circus cars, which were already being prepared for a midnight journey to the next place. It may be explained here that the circus of to-day generally owns its own cars, which are used for the conveyance of all connected with it, their luggage, the tents, the animals, and all the paraphernalia of the show. As soon as the show is ended, the canvas men set to work to take down and fold up the tents. All the freight is conveyed to the cars, and the razorbacks, already referred to, set about loading them. The performers, ticketmen, and candy butchers seek their berths in the sleeping cars and are often in the land of dreams before the train starts.
