CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VI

CIRCUS THRILLS

CIRCUS THRILLS

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.”

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