CHAPTER VII
A SUDDEN SHOCK
A SUDDEN SHOCK
A SUDDEN SHOCK
The billboards advertising this particular circus had not been of a very modest or retiring description, but for once the show almost came up to the lurid praises sung so enthusiastically by the press agent.
There was not such a wide variety of acts as the biggest circuses present, but all the acts there were seemed to be of the best quality. The acrobats performed marvelously on their dizzy, swinging trapezes, the clowns evoked the usual laughter, and the trained animal acts were good. Among the cleverest of these was the act of the old Eskimo with his trained walrus. This animal seemed gifted with almost human intelligence. It balanced itself on rolling barrels, juggled canes, and went through the whole performance as though it thoroughly enjoyed the doing of it, which it probably did. After each successful trick the old Eskimo would throw the walrus a small fish, which it would catch in mid-air and swallow in one gulp, and then go on to the next act with renewed enthusiasm.
When the act was over the audience applauded vigorously as the walrus flopped in its clumsy way back into its cage.
“Gee,” laughed Bobby, “one of those fellows would make a fine pet, if only he were a little more lively on his feet. I’ll bet you could teach him to do almost anything.”
“He seems to have a lot more brains than some people I know,” observed Billy Bassett. “I’m not naming any names, of course, but if that remark happens to apply to any of you fellows, I can’t help that.”
“Well, it’s pretty certain that walrus never tried to make up a joke in his life, and that proves that he’s got more sense than you,” retorted Bobby.
“That’s a true word, Bobby,” observed Fred, grinning, while Billy cast desperately about for a suitable retort. “Give me a walrus rather than a jokesmith any day in the year.”
“Yes, the walrus seems so intelligent,” said Bobby wickedly.
“Say, lay off, you fellows,” said Billy. “I was just thinking up a fine joke about a walrus when you started in with that nonsense and drove it out of my head.”
“And a good thing we did,” said Fred. “Every joke you forget is just that much gained for us. But now keep quiet and look at the show. Those clowns are working off some jokes that are the real thing, not mere amateur attempts.”
“Aw, I could think up better ones any day,” scoffed Billy. “Those fellows are nothing wonderful.”
“Yes, I’ll bet you’d make a first-class clown,” conceded Fred, with a wink at Bobby. “You seem to be specially fitted for that job, some way.”
“Just wait until we get outside,” threatened Billy. “I’ll bribe the keeper to feed you to the lions, see if I don’t.”
“Huh! Lions don’t bother me,” boasted Fred. “If they put me in the same cage with the lions, you’d see a wild mix-up for a few minutes, and then the poor beasts would come shooting out through the bars looking for some place of safety. There’s nothing I like better than throwing lions around.”
“It isn’t right to treat the poor animals that way,” said Bobby, pretending to take his friend seriously. “It’s much better to treat them kindly—pat them on the head and speak soothing words to them. That’s the way I do when I’m training wild tigers just out of the jungle.”
“Humph!” snorted Fred, with pretended contempt, and there the matter dropped.
All followed intently the further progress of the performance. At the last came the exciting chariot race, and the show was over.
The boys filed out with the crowd, and made the round of the stands and booths that were scattered about the circus lot. Pink lemonade and hot peanuts were to be had in riotous abundance, and they indulged in both these luxuries. Billy suggested that now would be a good time for his friends to exhibit their prowess with the lions and tigers, but as they were strangely reluctant, this project was dropped, but not without a few sarcastic remarks from Billy.
“Why, say, Billy, you know well enough we haven’t time for fooling around just now,” expostulated Fred. “We’ve got to get a train pretty soon, and here you are pestering us to go in and rough up a few poor animals that can’t help themselves.”
“That’s right,” said Bobby, in a tone of gentle reproof. “You ought to know better, Billy. Besides, the management wouldn’t stand for it, anyway. Those animals cost them a lot of money, and they wouldn’t like to have to buy new ones.”
“Huh! the management wouldn’t mind,” snorted Billy. “It would save them buying supper for the animals this evening. But you fellows are better at thinking up excuses than I am at thinking up jokes, so I suppose there’s no use talking to you any further.”
“Not a bit,” Bobby assured him cheerfully. “But speaking of Eskimos, isn’t that the old chief himself over there?”
The others followed the direction of his nod, and sure enough, there was Chief Takyak talking with a heavy, red-faced person, who carried himself like one who followed the sea for a livelihood.
The two were talking earnestly together, and as the boys watched them the seaman drew a notebook from his breast pocket and jotted down something in it. Then he and the old chief shook hands. The latter started for his tent while the seaman went off with the rolling stride that comes of walking on the heaving decks of ships.
“Wonder what they were talking about?” speculated Bobby.
“Maybe it had something to do with that ‘fortune’ that old Takyak hinted about to us,” replied Fred. “Maybe there’s something in it, after all.”
“Possibly,” said Bobby, seriously. “But we haven’t much time to talk about it right now. Our train is scheduled to leave in about half an hour, and I vote we get to the station as soon as we can. It’s better to wait a few minutes than to lose the train.”
The others agreed to this, and they set off at a rapid pace. They had not gone far when they turned at the sound of running feet behind them and a breathless small boy came panting up to them.
“Well, young fellow, what seems to be your trouble?” asked Fred. “You look as though you were in a hurry.”
“So I am,” said the youngster aggrievedly. “Youse fellers walk so fast I has to run my legs off to catch youse.”
“But what did you want to catch us for?” queried Bobby.
“Dere’s some friends o’ yours wants to speak wid youse,” said the urchin. “They told me to ast youse to visit dem.”
“Friends!” repeated Bobby, perplexed. “I’m sure I don’t know anybody in Bayport. Have any of you fellows got any friends or relatives in this town?”
None had, and they gazed questioningly at one another and then tried to elicit further information from the boy. But he could do little to enlighten them, and they decided to investigate.
“Lead on, kid, show us the way and be quick about it,” said Bobby, and they all followed in the wake of their small guide. He led them several blocks, then up a narrow street and around an abrupt corner into an alleyway. The boys’ mystification was suddenly dispelled, for from a doorway stepped Hen Lemming, followed by the members of his gang!