CHAPTER XVA KNIGHT OF KING ARTHUR
And so Danny was alone as he walked across the village green towards the circus field. He was keen to see those jugglers and the marvellous conjurer, for tricks appealed to the detective instinct in him, and he was wonderfully good at discovering how they were done.
The sun had just set, leaving in the sky a red glow that was fading quickly into green. In the soft purple dusk the flaring lights away ahead in the circus field looked very weird. Black figures hurried about, making a confused shouting. The boat swing swayed regularly like the pendulum of a huge clock. And over all there was the monotonous sound of the organ in the roundabout, playing the same tune over and over again.
Danny had the strange feeling in him which said, “Something is going to happen.” Butwhathe did not know. Before long he was through the gate, and himself one of the figures moving about between the flaring lights. He could hear now what the shouting was. It was the cocoanut-shy man persuading people to have a shy, while the lady at the toffee-stall tried to shout him down and make them spend their money with her instead.
Many other people were shouting, too, and stalkingabout in the field Danny noticed Black Bill. He was giving final orders before the performance began. Presently he went up to a big yellow caravan, mounted the steps, and banged on the door. Someone inside opened it—a very ugly old woman.
Black Bill spoke a few words to her, and she brought out someone else, all shrouded up in a big black shawl. Taking this figure rather roughly by the arm, Black Bill led it through the crowd towards the performers’ entrance of the big tent. Just then a bell was clanged and clashed, and the crowd began to surge into the performance.
Danny went with it. He had one of the reserved seats in the front row.
It was the same performance as he had seen in the morning, but at last came the time for the troupe of Indian Jugglers. They entered amidst loud applause. There were two jugglers, a conjurer, and the famous dancing girl. They all had dark-brown faces, and were dressed in gorgeous colours, and much gold lace. The jugglers performed first, juggling with plates and balls and knives. Then came the dancer. Danny thought he was going to be rather bored with her, but as soon as she began he was spellbound. He had never before seen anything so quick or active or graceful. And she was cheered and encored again and again, and each time her dance was different. At last she sank down tired out, and Danny had a chance of looking at her face.
The first thing that struck him was that she looked frightened. He saw her glance anxiously at Black Bill. Then it struck him that if she hadnot been dark brown she would have been very pretty. Then he noticed that she had grey eyes, and he began to feel sure that she was a white girl painted brown. He had just come to these conclusions when the conjurer stepped forward and began his tricks.
Unlike an English conjurer, he had no table, but kept all his things—strange baskets, silk cords, bangles, knives—on the floor. Behind sat the dancing girl on a cushion, and also the jugglers. Presently the conjurer asked for a volunteer to come and help with the trick.
Before any one had time to move Danny was over the balustrade, and had stepped up and offered his services. He always did this at entertainments, and had been able to discover many a trick by keeping his eyes open. It was a difficult trick; another volunteer was called for, and the two jugglers were also used to hold out a big Turkish rug. When Danny had done what was required of him for the moment he was told to sit down on one of the cushions and wait till he was wanted again. It was as he sat here, not far from the dancing girl, that something began to happen.
While the conjurer talked and the people laughed he heard a voice say in a faint whisper:
“Don’t turn your head, Scout, but listen to me.”
“Yes?” he said.
“I am being kept prisoner by Black Bill. I am miserable. Oh, rescue me, rescue me!”
“I will—but how?” said Danny, keeping his eyes on the conjurer, and pretending to laugh as if he was amused at his jokes.
“Come to the big yellow caravan at midnight. Knock three times. Black Bill will be out. The old woman sleeps sound. Then we can make a plan.”
Danny’s heart beat wildly. Here was an adventure such as he loved. And the chivalry of rescuing a maiden in distress made him feel he was like one of Arthur’s knights. Then a thought flashed into his mind—the tramp’s missing daughter!
As Danny sat in the centre of the circus ring with the gas-lights flaring and the band playing, it all seemed to him like some strange dream, or as if he had stepped back into the past and was part of a fairy tale. And there was a “princess” in the fairy tale, too. The frightened grey eyes of the poor little dancer, with her brown face and gleaming jewels, had awakened a chivalrous sense in him, that said, “I will save her, or die in the attempt!”
Before long the time came for him to step forward and help the conjurer once again—she had whispered her instructions only just in time. Danny cared no longer for the tricks; he scarcely noticed what was happening during the rest of the performance; his mind was working hard, turning over plans by which he could save the girl from the clutches of Black Bill, and get her out of the gipsy camp unseen.
The conjurer having finished all his tricks the Indian troupe went off, and ladies in pink tights came on, riding white horses. But Danny had no eyes for these; through a crack in the canvas hewatched Black Bill throw a cloak around the dancer and lead her out.
At last the show was over. The crowd surged out, and Danny with it. In such a crush it would be easy to get near the yellow caravan, unnoticed. Then it struck him that his scout uniform would make him a marked figure. He must look as ordinary as possible, so as to attract no one’s attention. Slipping into a dark corner between the big tent and the lion’s cage, he began to disguise himself as best he could. Taking off his hat he hid it under a heap of dirty straw. His red neckerchief he folded up and put in his pocket. Taking off his shirt he turned it inside out and put it on again, thus hiding from sight his badges, Leader’s stripes, shoulder names, etc. He pulled up his stockings over his knees, and then, as a last bright idea, tied an old piece of sacking round his waist, like an apron. He had noticed that the boy who cleaned out the animals’ cages wore just such an apron. Now, by the flickering light of the gas flares, he would pass as one of the circus hands.
Mingling with the crowd, he made his way towards the yellow caravan. It stood a little apart; there was no cover near enough to conceal his approach. What should he do? He stood looking about him. Hemusthide somewhere, for it was not quite eleven yet; there was over an hour to wait until the coast would be clear for him to go to the yellow caravan. At eleven all the people would be turned out of the circus field, and only the gipsies would be left. Then, to his relief, he noticed that the cart belonging to the boat swingswas the nearest one to the yellow caravan. It was empty save for the big tarpaulins used for covering the swings when they were packed up. It would be a perfect hiding place. He waited until some of the crowd moved that way, and then he went too. Climbing quickly up by the wheel he slipped softly inside and drew the tarpaulin over him. Breathlessly he listened, but there was no sound of any one following him.
Presently a clock struck eleven, and a bell, like a very loud muffin bell, clanged above the other circus noises, and Danny listened to the sound of the crowd going out at the gate and making its way homewards along the country roads. Then, very stealthily, he managed to peer out. He saw a crowd of the gipsies collected round the big camp fire. The red glow lit up their faces. Others hurried about, clearing up. And among them Black Bill strode to and fro, giving orders.
Danny had managed to arrange himself in such a way that he could see out quite easily, and yet not be seen. He watched anxiously while the gipsies moved about, and one by one retired to theircaravans.At last there was no one left but the two night watchmen by the fire. Black Bill had also retired to his caravan, which was drawn up alongside the yellow one. At about a quarter to twelve Danny saw him come out and walk towards the gate. The two watch men were evidently good scouts, for they both turned at once and watched him go.
“Now’s my time,” said Danny to himself, with a queer feeling within him, half of excitement,half of fear. The question of how he should cross the open space from his hiding-place to the yellow caravan troubled him, for the two night watchmen might very easily see him. “If only a cloud would pass across the moon, I would make a dash for it,” he told himself. Then he noticed something. The moon was throwing the black shadow of the boat swings right across the open space to the caravan. It was a narrow strip of shadow, but a good Scout can make use of the smallest cover.
Slipping softly down from the cart on the side farthest from the watchmen, Danny crawled round and lay quite flat for a moment in the shadow. But the men did not move or turn their heads—they had not heard him. Then, dragging himself along on his elbows, he slipped like a snake along the black line, which made him invisible. When he was half-way across, one of the ponies grazing near started, with a snort of surprise. The two men turned at once and looked straight in Danny’s direction. Instantly he dropped his head, hiding his face in the grass; it was the only white thing about him, and might attract their attention. With pounding heart he waited, not moving a muscle. But there was no sound of approaching footsteps. Slowly he raised his head and looked. Thank God, the men had not seen him!
Slowly, slowly he crept on, until he passed under the caravan. At last he was safe on the other side. Standing up on the hub of the wheel he tapped gently on the window. It was opened at once and he found himself face to face with the dancing girl.