Leo the Circus Boy: or, Life under the great white canvas

Soon Leo had to extinguish the sponge and put it away.

A gust sent the basket almost over to one side, and he had to let everything go in order to cling fast.

Sizz! A jagged streak of lightning crossed directly in front of the balloon!

He was now in the very midst of the storm and all grew black around him.

The change from the bright sunshine was terrible to the boy and he almost gave himself up for lost.

Back and forth rocked the balloon and the basket, and many were the times that he was in danger of being hurled to death.

Then the balloon began to descend.

The clouds were left behind, and there followed a deluge of rain which drenched Leo to the skin.

He fell so rapidly that a new danger presented itself.

Where or how would he land?

Would he break his neck or a limb?

Down, down he went! There were trees or bushes under him, he could not tell which.

Crash! The basket settled in the top of a tree.

Down came the folds of the balloon on top of it, and the boy was nearly smothered.

Yet he was exceedingly thankful that his life had been spared.

He crawled from the basket and carefully made his way down the tree to the ground.

The storm still raged, but gradually it moved onward, and the sun broke from beneath the scattering clouds.

Leo had traveled at least eight or ten miles, and he wondered what he should do next.

He had half a mind to run off and leave the balloon men to find their property as best they might.

But he soon changed his mind on that point.

“I’ll aid them all I can,” he said to himself.

The boy knew there was a road through the woods which ran almost directly to the fair grounds.

He made his way to this and walked on through the mud and wet.

It was not long before he came up to the men in the wagon.

At first they were inclined to be abusive, and they thought to have the boy locked up.

But Leo soon changed all this.

“Your balloon is all right,” he said. “And by going up I reckon I saved you the amount you were to get from the fair people. You wouldn’t get a cent if somebody hadn’t gone up.”

This was a new way of looking at it.

“Well, we won’t get paid for a parachute jump,” said the balloon manager. “But we can claim half money, true enough.”

The boy showed the men where the balloon was, and helped them load it on their wagon.

The men took to Leo, and as he helped them at the hardest work, they readily answered his questions about the circus and gave him full directions by which he could take a short cut to the grounds.

“That was a narrow escape,” murmured Leo to himself as he made his way back to the “Greatest Show on Earth.”

Arriving there, he had another long talk with Barton Reeve, who, as before stated, had taken a sudden and strong fancy to the brave lad.

The upshot of the matter was that Reeve bought Leo a trunk and advanced him money for several changes of clothing.

The next day, at Lendham, the circus tents were jammed with people.

Everything was again in order, and all the acts went off with a dash that drew round after round of applause.

Snipper was as sour as ever, but he took good care not to interfere with Leo.

As for the boy, he appeared perfectly at home; so much so that many said he was a born circus performer.

As a clown he caused the people to laugh heartily, and when he threw off his trunks and performed on the bars and rings he got more than a share of the applause.

As soon as the performance was over the circus packed up, and at half-past eleven began to move from Lendham to Middletown, seven miles distant.

Leo spent the night at the Middletown Hotel with Barton Reeve. The boy was now a protégéof the menagerie manager.

Before going to bed, Leo told Reeve much about his former life, and showed the manager the pictures of his folks.

Reeve became interested.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Leo,” he said. “I’ll go to this Squire Dobb and get him to release you in a lawful way. Then you will have nothing to fear from Daniel Hawkins.”

“But supposing Hawkins won’t let the squire release me?”

“I don’t believe he has any claim on you that would hold good in a court of law. I’ll make the squire show his authority over you first.”

“I wish you could get Squire Dobb to make a settlement of my parents’ estate,” went on Leo earnestly.

“You think he is holding money from you?”

“I know he is.”

“Well, I’ll investigate.”

Bright and early the next day the young lad and Barton Reeve drove over to the home of Nathan Dobb.

They found the squire busy in his office, looking over some legal papers.

Without preliminaries Barton Reeve introduced himself. The squire listened in silence, at the same time scowling at Leo.

“Want to quit the farm and become a circus performer, eh?” said Dobb at last. “Can’t let you do it. You’ll have to go back to Daniel Hawkins’ farm.”

“I never will!” returned Leo warmly. “I’ll run away entirely first.”

“We’ll see,” sniffed Squire Dobb.

Barton Reeve had sized up the lawyer at a glance. He saw that the man was a crafty villain, not to be trusted.

“Squire, would you mind showing me your authority over this boy?” he remarked firmly.

“Wh-what?” was the surprised exclamation.

“I would like to learn your legal authority over Leo.”

“It’s none of your business!”

“I shall make it my business.”

“Going to pry into matters, eh?”

“Yes, unless you consent to release Leo. He has been misused on the Hawkins’ place.”

The face of Nathan Dobb was a study. If there was one thing he feared it was the exposure of the past. Why he feared this will be explained later.

“I’ll have to see Hawkins first,” he said at last.

“When will you see him?”

“To-day. But what is Leo to do?”

“He is going to travel with me and perform in the circus.”

“He can’t do anything.”

“Never mind. I’ll teach him a thing or two,” replied Barton Reeve.

He was afraid if he told Squire Dobb what Leo could really do that the miserly lawyer would want money for the release.

After a little more talk Leo and Reeve left the squire’s house.

On the next day Reeve got a short note from Dobb. It read:

“I have given up all claim to Leo Dunbar, and so has Daniel Hawkins.”

Leo was much pleased. Barton Reeve smiled to himself.

“There is something in all this, Leo,” he said. “Next week, when I get time, I’ll look into your past and Squire Dobb’s doings.”

CHAPTER IX. – THE MAD ELEPHANT

From Middletown the circus went to Dover, and then to Grasscannon.

At each of these places a big business was done, and at every performance Leo did better.

The young gymnast became a great favorite with all but two people in the “Greatest Show on Earth.”

These two people were Jack Snipper, who remained as overbearing as ever, and Jack Broxton, the fellow discharged for intoxication.

Broxton had been following up the circus ever since his discharge, in the vain hope of being reinstated.

But the rules in the “Greatest Show on Earth” are very strict, and no intoxication is allowed.

After leaving Grasscannon, the circus struck up through New York State, and at the end of the week arrived at Buffalo.

It was while at this place that Broxton tried to play a dangerous trick upon Leo.

He met the young gymnast on the street one night after the performance.

He was under the influence of liquor at the time, and in his pocket he carried what is known by the boys as a giant torpedo.

As Leo turned a corner he threw the torpedo at Leo’s feet.

Luckily the torpedo failed to explode.

Had it gone off the young gymnast would have been sadly crippled.

“You rascal!” cried Leo, and he made for Broxton and landed him in the gutter.

Some of the other performers then came up.

“What’s the row, Leo?”

“Look what Broxton threw at me,” he replied, and handed the torpedo around for inspection.

While the explosive was being examined, Broxton sneaked off, and it was well for him that he did so, for otherwise the crowd would have pounced upon him and given him the greatest warming up of his life.

But that ended Broxton’s hope of rejoining the circus. The story of his attempt on Leo circulated, and he did not dare to show his face anywhere around the dressing tents.

After leaving Buffalo the circus turned southward toward Pennsylvania.

One night they arrived at Harmony Falls.

“To-morrow, if all goes right, I am going to take a train for Hopsville and see Squire Dobb,” said Barton Reeve to Leo.

“I hope you have luck,” replied the boy. “If he is keeping any of my property back from me I want to know it.”

The day in Harmony Falls opened very warm. A haze hung over the mountains to the westward.

“We’ll have a storm by night,” said Natalie Sparks to Leo.

The two were now warm friends.

“That will make it bad for the ticket-wagon,” laughed the young gymnast.

“Oh, I hate a storm during a performance,” went on the girl, “especially if it thunders and lightens.”

“Well, that’s what it’s going to do.”

“How do you know?”

“Oh, didn’t I live on a farm?”

“That’s so!” Natalie laughed merrily. “You don’t look much like a farm hand now.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” and Leo blushed.

During the afternoon it grew hotter and hotter. Under the big tents it was suffocating.

“Dandy weather for lemonade,” said the owner of the main drinking stand, but he was about the only person who appreciated the sudden rise in the thermometer.

At seven o’clock the circus tents were again crowded, and amid the general excitement but few noticed the flashes of lightning over in the west. The low rumblings of thunder they attributed to the lions in the cages.

At last the grand entrée was over, and then the performance settled down to the various specialties.

Then, as Leo and Snipper came on, a louder peal of thunder attracted every one’s attention.

To quiet fears the band struck up. Of course Leo and Snipper could not talk against the music, and so they tumbled around instead, Leo casting himself into the most awkward of shapes.

The rain began to fall, but as the canvases were waterproof this did no great harm.

Then the wind freshened up, and every one realized that a big storm was at hand.

Leo had just thrown off his clown’s dress and mounted up to a pair of rings when a fearful crack of thunder caused every one to leap up in terror.

The lightning had struck a pole in the menagerie tent!

Down came the heavy stick, straight across the backs of three of the largest elephants.

The thunder and the fall of the pole frightened the huge beasts. They roared and plunged and finally broke from their fastenings.

Two of them were secured without much difficulty, but the third, the largest, could not be managed.

With a fearful roar he rushed into the main circus tent, under the spot where Leo was performing, and directly in the faces of the crowd, which tried in vain to flee from his path.

CHAPTER X. – CAPTURING THE ELEPHANT

For the moment it looked as if the mad elephant would crush a dozen or more of the audience.

He was making straight for the crowd, which tried in vain to clear a path for him to pass.

The uproar was terrible, but it was nothing compared to the trumpeting of the gigantic beast.

Several attendants rushed toward the elephant with prods, but he was too angry to notice them.

“Turn him back!”

“He’ll walk right over the crowd!”

“Lasso him!”

“Shoot him!”

And so the cries went on.

The uproar had caused Leo to stop his performance; indeed, it had stopped everything but the stampede of the audience.

Suddenly the elephant ran directly under the young gymnast.

As he did so there came another crash of thunder.

The elephant raised up on his rear legs, and his trunk went up to where Leo swung.

And then a startling thing happened.

Leo dropped directly upon the beast’s head. With remarkable rapidity he slid back on to the neck.

“Throw me a rope!” he yelled to the nearest attendant, and the fellow did so.

Then the end of the elephant’s trunk came up angrily. He intended to catch hold of the young gymnast and hurl him to the earth, there to trample on him.

But Leo slipped further back, and at the same time threw the noose of the rope over the uplifted proboscis.

He hauled it taut, and with the end of the rope in his hand, sprang down and ran at lightning speed to the nearest centerpole.

Around this he went half a dozen times.

“Now keep him back with your prods!” he sang out.

More enraged than ever, the elephant tried to pull himself free.

But the rope held, and he was forced on his knees, roaring with pain, for an elephant’s trunk is his most sensitive organ.

A shout of approval went up, and the crowd paused in its hasty flight.

But the elephant was not yet a prisoner. He pulled and tugged, and had the centerpole not been so strong and so deeply set in the ground, he would surely have either broken it off or pulled it up.

But now he hesitated, and in that moment more attendants came up. One began to soothe him, while the others slipped a leather and iron harness over him. Soon he was a complete prisoner, and realizing this, he shambled back to the menagerie tent as mildly as a lamb.

The rain was now coming down in a perfect deluge, and the audience would not remain. In less than a quarter of an hour the circus grounds were deserted, saving for those who had to remain on duty, and the performers in the dressing-tents.

Every one praised Leo for what he had done; every one, that is, but Snipper. He had not a word to say, but looked more morose than ever.

Leo did not wait, however, to hear all that the others had to say. He donned his regular clothing just as quickly as he could, and with Natalie Sparks rode from the grounds to the hotel at which they were stopping.

Barton Reeve was nowhere around. He had gone off to Hopsville to see Nathan Dobb.

He came in about half-past ten, and then Leo and he had a long discussion concerning the boy’s past and future.

“The squire is a sly one,” said the menagerie manager. “It was about as easy to get information out of him as it is to get milk out of a stone.”

“Then you learned nothing?” returned Leo, much disappointed.

“I did and I didn’t. He admitted that your folks were once wealthy; but he said the money was lost in speculations before you were left an orphan.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Nor I. I asked him for some proofs, but he would give me none. Then I asked him flatly how much there was coming to you when your folks died, and he said not more than a couple of hundred dollars. I wanted to see the papers, but he wouldn’t show them.”

“Didn’t you tell him we would take the matter to court?”

“I did, and it worried him a good bit. That is what makes me think there is considerable at stake. If he had nothing to hide, what is he so scared about?”

“Just wait till I have money enough, I’ll stir him up!” cried Leo.

He had not yet forgotten how Nathan Dobb and Daniel Hawkins had mistreated him.

“We’ll both stir him up, Leo. But I guess before we go much further we had better get a lawyer’s advice. In a few weeks the circus will make two three-day stops and that will give us a little time, certainly more than we get when we go to a new town every day.”

They talked the matter over for some time longer, and when Leo went to bed it was with the fixed determination to make Squire Dobb “toe the mark.”

And while the young gymnast was meditating thus, Nathan Dobb was walking up and down his office, his face dark and full of cunning.

“The boy’s getting too big and he’s making too many friends,” he muttered to himself. “Why couldn’t he remain a simple farm hand, without trying to rake up the past and make a place for himself?” He took a turn or two and clenched his bony hands. “I wish I had stuck to my original idea and sent him to Africa on that freight steamer without a cent in his pocket.”

Then Nathan Dobb dropped into the chair beside his safe, and from the strong box took a package of documents. These he looked over for nearly half an hour.

“Ten thousand dollars!” he muttered. “It would be a fortune to him! But he shan’t have it. I’ve worked too hard for it to have it slip through my fingers at this late day. I had better burn all these papers and then concoct some scheme for getting him out of the way.”

Nathan Dobb’s soliloquy was interrupted by a crash in the rear of the house. Some one had broken into the kitchen, most likely a burglar.

CHAPTER XI. – A CRIMINAL COMPACT

There had been several robberies in Hopsville lately, so the squire was certain the burglar had now come to his house.

Instantly he turned out the light in the office. Then opening the door to the hall he listened attentively.

He was right; some one was moving cautiously about the kitchen.

Moving back to his desk the squire secured his pistol and also a club.

When he came out into the hall on tiptoe he heard the would-be burglar moving around the dining-room.

Presently the fellow struck a light, which he set on the table.

Then he began an examination of the silverware on the sideboard.

By the light the squire got a good look at the would-be burglar. He was astonished beyond measure.

“Hank Griswold!” he muttered, half-aloud.

The man whose name he mentioned had formerly been a tavern-keeper in Hopsville.

But he had been sent to jail for robbing and beating a drunken man. His discharge had taken place but two weeks before.

As Squire Dobb spoke, the would-be burglar turned swiftly.

“Collared!” he muttered laconically.

Then he tried to escape by a rear door, but Nathan Dobb covered him with the pistol.

“Stop, Griswold!”

“Confound the luck! The game is up!”

“It is. Stop where you are.”

“Don’t be hard on me, squire.”

“So you were going to rob me, eh?”

“Let me go this time, squire,” went on the man pleadingly.

“What for? So you can rob somebody else?”

“I ain’t got a cent to my name, squire.”

“I can’t help that.”

Suddenly a thought flashed over Squire Dobb’s mind.

“Griswold, step into my office.”

“Don’t lock me up, squire.”

“I won’t – if you will do as I wish you to.”

“I’ll do anything you say, only don’t arrest me again.”

“Step into the office, and see to it that you don’t wake up the whole household.”

Hank Griswold complied. The squire followed him, still, however, keeping his pistol ready for use.

But when the office was reached, and the door shut, Nathan Dobb’s manner changed. He took Griswold’s hand.

“Griswold, you are just the man I want to see.”

“I – I – don’t understand,” was the confused reply.

“I’ll explain. Sit down and take it easy. You love to smoke? Have a cigar,” and a box was shoved toward him.

“See here, Nathan Dobb, what’s your game now?”

“I want to throw some work in your hands, work that will pay well.”

“What kind of work?” asked Griswold suspiciously. He was half-inclined to believe Nathan Dobb was out of his mind.

“You just said you would do anything for me if I didn’t have you arrested.”

“So I will.” “Supposing I put a job in your way that will pay you an even hundred dollars – ”

“You’re foolin’ me, squire.”

“I mean it, Griswold, a hundred dollars. Would you do the work and say nothing?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a – a – job that isn’t strictly – ah – all right, you know.”

“I don’t care what it is,” returned Griswold recklessly. “I’ll do anything you say. You can trust me.”

“Will you?” cried Nathan Dobb eagerly. He hesitated. “I want to get a boy out of my way.”

“Who?”

“Leo Dunbar, who used to live with Dan Hawkins.”

“I know him. Didn’t his father once have my tavern shut up as a disorderly house?”

“Well, as I said, I want to get that boy out of my way.”

“Where is he now?”

“He is traveling as an acrobat with that circus which performed here a week or so ago.”

“And you want me to – to – ?” Griswold hesitated.

“I want him removed from my path. I never want to see him around here again.” “And you’ll give me a hundred for the job?”

“I will.”

“It’s not enough. Make it two hundred.”

“Well, I will.”

“In cash?”

“Yes.”

“When can I get the money?”

“You can get it right here as soon as – well, I’m sure Dunbar won’t bother me any more.”

“You’re a cool one, Dobb. But I said I’d go you, and I will. But, say?”

“Well?”

“You must let me have fifty dollars on account. I’ll have to hang around the circus for awhile and lay my plans. It’s no fool of a job to do as you wish.”

“Here are thirty dollars. And one word more, Hank. Never mention my name in this, and if I were you, don’t ever let Leo Dunbar see you.”

“I’ll remember,” replied Griswold.

Ten minutes later he left Nathan Dobb’s house as secretly as he had entered it.

CHAPTER XII. – THE STOLEN CIRCUS TICKETS

ON the following week the circus moved down through Pennsylvania. Fine weather favored the show, and the crowd at each performance was very large.

“This is going to be a banner season,” said Giles, the treasurer, “unless we get tripped up as we were last season.”

He referred to a serious matter, namely, that of thousands of stolen tickets, which during the previous summer had been secured and sold by outside speculators.

This season a few tickets had thus far been missing, but the number was not sufficient to cause a serious loss.

Leo’s performances in the ring improved every day. Already was he as good as Jack Snipper, and soon he would outrival the other acrobat in every way.

Leo’s acts, while disguised as a clown, were highly amusing, even better than some of the regular clowns, of which there were eight.

“He could do clown and get big wages, even if he didn’t know a thing about gymnastics,” remarked Natalie Sparks.

Natalie was now a warm friend to Leo, much to Snipper’s disgust.

The second-rate gymnast had always been enamored of the Fire Queen, but he could make no progress in his suit.

One day he met Natalie in the dressing-tent when no one else was present.

He began to talk familiarly to her, and then attempted to kiss her.

“Don’t you dare!” she cried angrily.

“I guess you won’t mind very much,” said Snipper, and then, despite her struggles, he bent over and stuck his repulsive face close to her fair cheek.

But just then Leo came on the scene. For a moment he stood in amazement.

“Leo, make the horrid fellow go away!” panted Natalie.

“Do as Miss Sparks wishes, Snipper!” cried the young gymnast.

“Mind your own business!” grumbled Snipper.

“This is my business,” returned Leo warmly.

And rushing up, he collared the second-rate gymnast and hurled him halfway across the tent.

Snipper was clearly in the wrong, and, as Natalie had called on Leo for assistance, he did not dare raise a row.

He sneaked out, shaking his fist at Leo as he did so.

“Oh, Leo, I am very thankful you came in,” panted Natalie as soon as she could recover.

“So am I,” went on the boy honestly, and then, as he looked at the beautiful girl, both blushed.

Following the scene just recorded, Jack Snipper was more ugly than ever. Whenever he met or passed Leo he would mutter something under his breath.

“Look out for him, Leo,” said Dick Pomeroy, the tumbler, one day. “He’s cutting a club for you.”

“I’ve got my optics peeled,” laughed Leo.

That afternoon, after the performance, Leo was walking around outside, near the side-show.

Presently he saw something that at once interested him.

A “flim-flam worker,” as such criminals around a circus are called, was trying to swindle a countryman out of twenty dollars.

He was working an old game, which consists in getting an outsider to hold the stakes in a bet with another flim-flammer.

The game is to mix the stakeholder up and make him put up his own money, and then secure all the cash in sight.

Leo was interested for two reasons.