CHAPTER XIIITHE SAWDUST RING
The audience felt the usual circus thrill as they took their places on the narrow board seats; the tent that always gives a twilight dimness to the inside of a circus arena was not in evidence, there being no canvas large enough to borrow for that purpose, but the ground was thickly sprinkled with sawdust for the performers’ circle.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” began Uncle Ben, as he walked to the center of the ring. “The first number on our programme will be the Great Circus Parade in which all members of the Side Shows and the regular circus will take part. The music is furnished by the Little Citizens’ Brass Band. Kindly refrain from making remarks during the exhibition.”
The moment Uncle Ben concluded his short speech, Mr. Richards sprang up and said: “I surmise that we may make as many remarks aswe likebeforethe exhibition, so I wish to know who elected you Master of Ceremonies?”
The audience laughed and some clapped their hands at the question asked Uncle Ben. But he was equal to it.
“Not ‘Master of Ceremonies,’ my dear sir, but simply the ‘Ring Master,’” replied Uncle Ben, with a low bow.
“Then I take objection to being made to sit here and see a Ring Master without the customary long waxed mustachios and high silk hat—to say nothing of the lack of a swallow-tail coat and silver-handled whip!”
Of course everyone knew it was all in fun, so they laughed because Uncle Ben had no retort ready. After a moment’s hesitation, however, he said:
“I have been given authority to maintain order, and if I hear any further objections from one who came to see this show on acomplimentaryticket, I will forcibly expel him from the premises.”
The threatening tones and the scowl on the Ring Master’s face caused a great chorus of laughter from the audience, and from those performerswho knew that Uncle Ben and his dear friend Mr. Richards were trying to get the best of each other in the fun-argument.
But the blare of horns coming from back of the canvas curtain interrupted any further attacks, so the Ring Master retired to attend to the order of march.
A drum-major led the band. He was dressed in a high bearskin hat with gold tassels draped in front of it. His blue uniform was also elaborately trimmed with tinsel and gold ornaments that reminded everyone of Christmas Tree trimmings. In fact that is just what they were!
The Brass Band followed and blew its instruments so lustily that no attention was paid to time or notes. Noise, and plenty of it, was what every member was eager to accomplish.
After the band, the freaks and wild animals followed, but the Numidian lion had thrown back its head-piece and the boy’s hot face peeping out looked very strange as it surmounted the shaggy lion rug.
After the side-show members came the regular circus performers—bareback riders, acrobats, pugilists, etcetera.
Every Little Citizen in camp wished to be in the Grand Parade and everyone had some odd bit of decoration to distinguish his or her connection with so illustrious a company.
Some of the little girls had gathered great quantities of daisies and buttercups and other wild flowers, and had sewed them all over their camp dresses. Many of the little boys, too small to take part in the acting, were costumed in foliage-covered clothes or in fancy paper suits.
The parade over, the troupe sought refuge back of the canvas curtain to await the call of each performer. The selected “pieces” of the Brass Band now took their seats in front of the canvas and showed the audience what a volume of sound six members of the band could send forth.
“Our first number will be a clog dance. This is the public début of our famous Little Citizen Dancer, so I wish all present to take particular notice of his accomplishment,” announced the Ring Master, who now appeared with the drum-major’s bearskin upon his head, and the drum-major’s tinsel-decorated baton for a stick.
Uproarious applause followed the announcement,but it was never known whether the clapping was for the hat and stick or for the début of the clog-dancer.
The visitors were sincerely interested in the dancing and felt gratified that one of the Little Citizens should have been found with such ability—it became apparent that something might be made of the boy.
Following the clog-dancer, came Maggie to sing her songs. Miss Martin had had the piano moved from the Refectory to the ring, and now played the accompaniment while the little girl sang her favorite songs taught her by the Settlement Worker of the East Side.
As the pure tones of the “Prince of Peace,” then the inspired words and air of “Our America” were heard, the audience showed more than ordinary interest. The little singer was encored again and again and she smiled happily as she stepped to the Ring again and sang her other favorites. The visitors whispered together at the wonderful genius discovered in their midst, and again Maggie was encored to sing yet one more song. This last one was “Love’s Lullaby,” and was Maggie’s solace in times of trouble.
The applause given Maggie was a great encouragement to the other performers, so the orator of the camp, the elocutionist, and many other talented Little Citizens, found their efforts welcomed by the audience.
When the “Stars” had concluded their parts, Uncle Ben announced that the thrillers would take place.
“Miss Goldie Silverheels will now show her superb bareback riding,” said he, with a bow.
Immediately after this introduction, Miss Goldie rode in on Farmer Jones’ young horse. The steed was gorgeous in his colored trappings, and Miss Goldie was in the seventh heaven of delight, for she had on a tarletan dress all beflounced, and a wreath of flowers in her hair.
The horse, Bob, moved sedately about the sawdust ring, and it took some urging from his rider to coax him into a gallop.
The bareback rider was fearless and daring in her tricks and showed an unusual understanding of horses and the way to control them.
“Do you know what that girl can become? A wonderful instructor in a Riding Academy,” remarked one lady to another, as Miss Goldie rodeout of the ring with applause sounding acceptably in her ears.
“Yes, but I should hate to have her become a circus actor, don’t you know,” replied the lady.
“That’s just why she should be taken in hand at once, to train her for something worthy before a third-rate circus troupe discovers her courage and ability.”
“Make a note of it and refer the matter to Mr. Talmage,” advised the lady, and it was written down on a small pad.
“We have a most remarkable treat in store, now, for our New York friends. You have never seen anything better at a dog show, nor at a Circus or Hippodrome,” called Uncle Ben.
“This is Crummie, the dog-hero that saved one of our Little Citizens from drowning a short time ago,” he added.
At mention of his name, Crummie ran out into the Ring. But what a different-looking Crummie from the dirty, matted-wool dog that won the medal for bravery the day of the picnic!
Uncle Ben had superintended the task of clipping him, so that he presented a distinctly aristocratic appearance. His main body had beenshaven, leaving tawny patches of wool on ankles, neck and head. The tail, too, had a thick bunch of wool on its end and a ring of wool about the base. The long hair on his forehead was tied in a knot with a fancy ribbon.
“Crummie, salute the ladies!” said Uncle Ben.
The dog faced the audience and bowed politely to them. A general laugh rewarded him. Then Uncle Ben said:
“Now, Crummie, call for your master to take charge.”
The dog turned and looked at the Band and barked again and again, but no result followed.
“Crummie, go over and escort your master to the Ring.”
Then the dog ran directly to Bill and pulled at his feet. Bill laughingly arose, and the dog immediately took hold of his hand with his teeth and led him out. This brought a loud clapping from the visitors.
Then Bill put Crummie through his letter-writing trick, through his prayers, his dancing on hind legs, his lately acquired trick of playing fireman (taught him by the Fire Brigade) and the other things he could do. The audience thoroughlyappreciated it all and thought the performance was over when they saw Crummie run back of the curtain.
But he soon returned rolling a small drum before him. He left it just before his master and ran away again. This time he returned with the two drum sticks in his mouth. He held them until Bill took them from him, and Uncle Ben said:
“Crummie has just joined the Brass Band and has only been taking lessons in playing the drum for a week. If he does not keep good time, or hold the sticks according to the book, you must overlook the fact.”
Bill placed a drum-stick in the dog’s mouth and Crummie sat upon his haunches before the drum and began to rat-tat rat-tat-tat! rat-tat, rat-tat-tat! r-r-r-at-tat-tat! r-r-r-tat-tat! Er-r-r-r-r-rat! er-r-r-r-r-tat! er-r-r-r-r-rat-tattat-tattoo.
This syncopated playing he kept up until Bill laughingly clapped his hands, then Crummie dropped the stick and pranced about his master, showing how thoroughly he enjoyed music. The clapping was prolonged until the audience foundCrummie had still another form of music to render for them.
This time, Bill attached the cymbal to Crummie’s tail and tied a small hammer to one paw. The other paw had a string tied to it, and this string pulled a lever that sounded a whistle. Then the dog was given the drum-stick again, and the signal for music was sounded by his master.
This time, Crummie thumped the cymbals with his tail, while striking the glass-cylinders with the hammer fastened on his left paw. The string was jerked irregularly to sound the whistle, but the drum fared badly, as the dog was so intent on the other three instruments that he forgot to beat with the stick held between his teeth, except at rare intervals. But the sagacity shown by the animal won tremendous applause from the audience, so that both master and dog felt amply repaid for the tedious hours of practice.
“Now we have a scene between two Roman Gladiators in the open arena. This will end our performance, but the guests are all invited to the Refectory, where the Little Citizens wish to serve refreshments to them.”
After some arguing back of the canvas curtain,the visitors were amused to see a Roman chariot appear. Bob and Dobbin were hitched tandem to a two-wheeled dump-cart. But the cart had been white-washed—wheels and body, and festooned with wild flowers until it presented a gala appearance. The two horses balked at pulling the familiar cartà la tandemand Bob wished to precede Dobbin, and the latter wished to stop to investigate a sweet-smelling bunch of clover right in his pathway to glory.
Therefore, the two Gladiators who stood in the cart endeavoring to coax their steeds to more speed, felt abashed at the laughter accorded their entrance into the arena.
But once the imperfectly-matched horses had drawn the cart to its goal, the two athletic-looking boys jumped lightly out and posed in attitudes approved in boxing rings.
This last number was wildly applauded by the men present, but the ladies said they could see nothing entertaining in boxing! The bout being ended, the two contestants shook hands and looked about for the chariot which was to carry them back to the dressing room. The attentionof all present was thus attracted to the cart and horses, and a general laugh echoed over the field.
Dobbin being unaccustomed to the wreaths of wild clover blossoms and daisies hung about his neck and farm-harness, had managed to pull part of his decoration around to one side and stood calmly chewing it up. Bob on the other hand, had so resented being hitched to an old-fashioned nag as Dobbin was that he had twisted and backed and pulled until the not-too-secure tandem-harness hastily contrived of rope and bits of strap, broke and left him to gambol away to the fresh green grass growing on the banks of the brook.
So the exit of the Romans was made on their own pedals and Farmer Jones was sent to capture his two steeds and cart.