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

And with this the boarding-housekeeper shut the door in their faces.

“Knocked out all around,” said Leo, with a grin.

It was not in his nature to grieve over misfortune.

“Where shall we go for the night?”

“I don’t know. Let us look around for Wampole.”

The two set out on a search. It availed nothing, and by midnight they were worn out.

Fortunately the night was warm, and coming to a deserted mill on the outskirts of the town, they determined to remain there and rest. They found some old sacks, and on these made their bed.

Carl awoke with a start the next morning. Looking up he saw a young man of eighteen standing near him. The young man had a pleasant face, and he was smiling.

“Thought I’d wake you up,” he said. “How is it you are bunking here for the night?”

“We are out of funds,” replied the young magician.

“Tramping?”

“Hardly that; but we may be soon.”

“We belonged to the specialty company that went to pieces last night,” explained Leo, who had roused up.

“Oh! Were you on the stage?” the young man asked of Carl.

“Yes.”

“Are you the magician?”

“Yes.”

“And he is the gymnast, isn’t he?”

“I am,” replied Leo.

“I saw you both. You did finely. So you are out of money and out of a job?”

“We are.”

“It’s strange. Do you know I intended to call on you to-day.”

“On us?” cried Carl in wonder.

“Yes. You see I am from Raymondsville, the next town. My name is Walter Raymond, and my father owns about half the place. My brothers and sisters are going to give a lawn party this afternoon, and I promised to see if I couldn’t get some of the members of your company over to liven things up.”

“I would like to appear for you, first rate,” said Carl quickly, thinking he saw a chance to make a few dollars.

“So will I appear,” added Leo.

“How much will you charge for an entertainment lasting say an hour?”

Carl looked at Leo. They did not wish to ask too much, and at the same time wanted to make all they could.

“Two city performers generally get twenty dollars,” said Leo; “but we might go a bit cheaper.”

“I wouldn’t mind giving twelve dollars,” replied Walter Raymond. “If you can come for that, I’ll drive you over as soon as you can get ready.”

A bargain was struck, and then the two performers returned to the vicinity of the theater. Nothing could be learned of Nathan Wampole, and an hour later they left for Raymondsville.

They found Walter Raymond very kind. He treated them to a liberal dinner, and aided them to get their stage things into proper shape.

“It’s lucky we got our stuff from the theater,” said Leo. “We may pick up quite a little money by giving private performances throughout this district.”

“That twelve dollars will help us to get our baggage from Mrs. Gerston,” said Carl.

The Raymond homestead was surrounded by beautifully laid out grounds, and directly after the noonday hour the guests began to arrive, to the number of a dozen or more. Carl and Leo had been given a dressing-room in the mansion, and here they prepared for their acts.

Leo was the first to perform, and at the conclusion of his initial act he was loudly applauded.

Then Carl appeared, followed by one of the house servants, who brought his paraphernalia.

“Isn’t he handsome!” whispered several of the girls.

Carl began to juggle with several balls and a hoop. He threw the balls through the hoop and around it. Then he brought forth several daggers and juggled them in one hand, while he kept the balls going with the other. The hoop he balanced on a stick set on the end of his nose, and placed a ball on top of all.

This was a remarkable feat, requiring great delicacy of touch and a keen eye. The boys and girls watched him breathlessly, and then began to clap their hands.

“Wonderful! wonderful!”

“I never saw anything to equal that!”

“It’s as good as a performance in a circus or a theater!”

The juggling continued, Carl getting down on one knee and also on his back, without making a miss of anything that was in motion.

At the very height of the act came a loud cry from the house.

“Help! help!”

“Look out for Jack Darrow’s dog!”

“The brute is mad!”

The cry was taken up on all sides. The boys and girls looked around in terror.

And well they might, for a few seconds later an ugly-looking bulldog with glaring eyes and mouth dripping with white foam leaped into their very midst.

For an instant he stared at the spectators – the next he turned toward Carl, and with a loud snarl leaped straight for the young performer’s throat.

CHAPTER XVII. – CARL SHOWS HIS BRAVERY

“A mad dog!”

“He is going to bite the young juggler!”

Shriek after shriek arose on the air and several of the boys and girls fled from the scene.

It was truly a thrilling moment, and a youth with less nerve than Carl Ross would have been paralyzed with terror.

But in knocking around during the past few years of his life the boy juggler and magician had more than once been thrown into a position of peril, and he realized that to lose his nerve would perhaps cost him his life.

As the mad beast leaped for his throat Carl dodged to one side and caught the animal by the left hind leg.

He whirled the body in the air and flung it with great force against a neighboring tree.

The shock was such that for the moment the enraged beast was stunned. It lay panting upon the grass, its glassy eyes rolling frightfully.

“Get into the house, all of you!” cried Leo, and picked up a wee bit of a girl that was standing near. She was too young to realize her peril, and gazed at him in wonder.

The crowd started pellmell, with Leo and his burden in the rear.

Scarcely had Leo moved when the dog recovered and stood up. He had his eyes on Carl, and leaped once more for him.

Carl ran to where he had been performing. The four daggers he had used were still on the ground and he picked them up.

Swish! One of the daggers flew through the air with lightning-like rapidity. It struck the brute in the forehead, inflicting a telling injury.

“He has knifed the dog!”

“That was a clever throw!”

Seriously wounded, the bulldog, with the tenacity of his race, still showed fight. He crouched down, then made another leap for our hero.

As he did this his breast became exposed, and launching forth a second dagger the young magician struck him fairly between the ribs. The shining blade sank deep into the flesh, and with a snarl and a yelp the mad bulldog rolled over – dead.

A shout went up from the neighborhood of the mansion. Nearly all who had attended the party had seen the skillful way in which the dangerous animal had been dispatched. Leo was the first to reach Carl’s side.

“By jove! Carl, that was great!” he ejaculated. “You did him up in jig time.”

“You are a brave young man and no mistake,” put in Walter Raymond. “Not one man in a hundred would have tackled that dog. I wouldn’t have done it for a thousand dollars.”

“I don’t want any more of it,” answered the young magician, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “Shall I go on with the performance?” he continued to the young man of the house.

“I don’t know as the folks are in the humor,” replied Walter Raymond.

“We’ll do a double act and make them forget the dog incident,” said Leo quickly.

The gardener was called, and he removed the body of the canine. As soon as this was accomplished Leo and Carl set to work to do some sleight-of-hand performances of a humorous nature.

Taking Leo by the nose, Carl pretended to extract from his mouth a handkerchief, a baseball cap, and then a live frog.

To those wishing to know how this was accomplished he would say they were purely tricks of dexterity. Carl had the articles mentioned about his person and concealed them in his hand as he reached for Leo’s mouth. A handkerchief and a baseball cap can be rolled into very small balls when it is necessary, and even a frog is small when tightly held.

Then, because Leo would not let him get anything else out of his mouth, Carl pretended to get angry.

“I’ll bang myself against the tree!” he cried, and, rushing up to the nearest hardwood tree, he brought his forehead up against the bark. A thump was heard and each time his head went forward another thump followed.

“Oh, he’ll hurt his head!” shrieked several of the girls.

But Carl did not hurt his head a bit. His head struck the tree very lightly. The thump was made by his fist, which, however, was kept concealed from the audience.

In the meantime Leo did some funny work on the ground, bending himself into an odd shape backward and hopping around after the released frog.

By this time a crowd had assembled in the grounds, for the grown folks were not supposed to come in until late. Seeing this, Carl stepped up on a little bench.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, I will give you an exhibition of one of my most wonderful tricks,” he said. “Is any one of you a good shot with a horse-pistol?”

There was a pause, and then an elderly gentleman with but one arm stepped forward.

“I fancy I can accommodate you,” he said with a smile. “I am considered a crack shot, and was an officer in the cavalry.”

“Very well, sir; I will give you the pleasure of shooting me.”

As Carl spoke he brought out a long pistol.

“Please examine this,” he went on, and as the pistol went the round of the crowd he opened his valise and brought forth a horn of powder and a good-sized ball.

“I wish you would mark this bullet so you will know it again,” he continued. “And will somebody bring me a nice, ripe apple?”

The apple was brought, and Walter Raymond marked the bullet with his knife. Then with great gravity Carl proceeded to load the pistol.

“There goes the powder, here the paper, here the ball, and here more paper. Did you all see it loaded?”

“Yes, yes!”

“Good! Thanks for the apple – I’ll eat it after I am shot. Now then, Mr. Cavalry Officer, kindly take your station over there, aim straight for my heart, and fire.”

“But – but I might kill you!” suggested the one-armed man nervously.

“Never mind – I’m like a cat that has nine lives. Go ahead. Ready?”

“Yes.”

Carl took the apple given him and held it on his palm at arm’s length.

“Now aim for my heart. Ready? Fire!”

Bang! With a loud explosion the pistol went off, and for a moment the spectators were enveloped in smoke.

As it cleared away the young magician was seen to be standing as before. There was a smile on his face.

“I am much obliged to you for shooting me,” he said. “But what has become of the bullet?”

Thus speaking he bit into the apple.

“Hullo! what’s this? The bullet, I declare! Look!”

He was right; the bullet, with the mark still upon it, was embedded in the heart of the apple!

CHAPTER XVIII. – A WONDERFUL TRICK EXPLAINED

“Wonderful!”

“That’s the best trick I’ve seen yet!”

“Really a remarkable performance,” said the old cavalry officer, who had done the firing. “How did you do it?”

To this question Carl, of course, made no reply. He was not in the habit of giving away his secrets.

But we will let our curious readers into the mystery. The way the trick was worked was as follows:

When Carl received the marked bullet back from Walter Raymond he substituted in its stead a similar-looking one made of amalgam of tinfoil and quicksilver. This bullet was rammed into the pistol so forcibly that it went to pieces beneath the paper. Even if it had not gone to pieces the firing of the weapon would have shattered it.

When Carl received the apple he split it partly open and dropped the marked bullet inside on the sly. The rest of the trick will now be readily understood.

The remarkable performance with the pistol and some additional acrobatic feats from Leo brought the entertainment to a close, and the two performers hurried to the house to get into their street dress.

“You must have dinner here before you leave,” said Walter Raymond as he paid them off. “It is but a slight return for killing that mad bulldog and saving the children.”

The performers were hungry, and readily accepted the invitation. While they were eating Walter Raymond sat close by.

“I wouldn’t mind knowing how to do some tricks,” he said. “It must be lots of fun.”

“Not so much when one performs for a living,” returned Carl. “To do tricks for your friends is amusing.”

“Can you show me some simple ones?” Walter pleaded.

Carl smiled.

“Let me have a cent,” he said, and after it was produced he took a knife and cut a little nick in one edge, turning the shaving of metal outward.

“Now this cent will stick on any door you place it,” he said, and illustrated by sticking it up with the metal shaving clinging to the woodwork. “Any boy can do this with ease.”

“That’s a nice trick.”

After this Carl explained a number of other simple tricks with coins and cards, and then he and Leo departed with a cheer from the young people as they walked away.

“Well, what’s to do now?” questioned Leo as they hurried on.

“I move we get our baggage from Mrs. Gerston. I need some of my clothing, especially if we are to give garden exhibitions.”

“That’s true. All right; Mrs. Gerston’s it is.”

The walk back to town did not take long. At first the boarding-house mistress frowned on them, but when they explained that they intended to settle up her expression changed.

It was too late to go anywhere that night, so a bargain was struck whereby she agreed to let them remain and have breakfast for one dollar more, or eleven dollars in all.

“That leaves us with just a dollar capital,” laughed Leo. “Not much, but a good deal better than nothing. The question is, what shall we do to-morrow?”

“We had better try to work our way from town to town,” replied Carl. “Perhaps we’ll be fortunate enough to give exhibitions on the way. Even if we can’t strike garden parties, we can show at country hotels and take up a collection. It’s not a nice way to do, but it’s better than begging.”

The next morning found the pair up bright and early. Their baggage – two satchels belonging to each, for their trunks had been lost – were soon strapped up, and after breakfast they set out to shake the dust of the town from their feet.

Hardly had the last house in the place been passed than Leo noticed that they were being followed by a burly fellow, who carried in his hand an ugly-looking rawhide whip.

The fellow soon caught up to them.

“Stop there, do yer hear?” he called out.

“What do you want?” asked Carl, coming to a halt.

“I want ter talk to yer. Ain’t you the chap as killed the dog over ter Raymond’s place?”

“I am.”

“I thought so. Do yer know I was the owner of that dog, an’ that he was a valuable beast?”

“If he was valuable, it’s too bad. He was mad and had to be killed,” put in Leo.

“He wasn’t mad – he only had a fit. He gits ’em often. I want yer to pony up twenty-five dollars fer him. If yer don’t I’ll fix ye, see?”

“I’ll not pay a cent,” cried Carl. “He was mad and we can easily prove it.”

“No sech thing, boy! Are yer goin’ ter pay?”

“No.”

“Then take that!”

The fellow raised the rawhide whip and brought it down with a whir over Carl’s head.

Had the rawhide descended as intended the young magician would have been seriously injured.

But Carl was not to be caught unawares.

He leaped aside, and before the man could raise the whip again, Leo wrenched it from his grasp.

“Give me that whip or I’ll fix yer, as sure as my name is Jack Darrow!” fumed the fellow.

“Stand back!” ordered the young gymnast. “You have no right to attack my friend.”

“I’ll show ye!” yelled Jack Darrow, and leaped upon Carl.

The young magician was on guard, and in a twinkle he put out his foot and sent the fellow on his back.

“Now leave me alone or I’ll shoot you,” he said sternly, and walked away. Leo threw the whip over a fence and followed.

Darrow got up and stood still. He shook his fist after them, then disappeared in search of his whip.

The next village was four miles distant, and when they reached the place, Carl, who had lamed his foot on a stone, was glad enough to sit down. He entered a tavern and took a seat by a corner table.

“I’ll be with you in a few minutes,” said Leo. “I want to see what the prospects are here.”

“All right, I’ll wait,” replied the young magician, and taking up a paper that lay handy he glanced it over.

Presently a man came in and dropped in a chair opposite to him. Carl glanced over the paper and saw it was Nathan Wampole.

CHAPTER XIX. – WAMPOLE’S NEW SCHEME

“Some ale,” said Wampole to the waiter, and it was quickly brought and set before him.

“What’s your order?” asked the waiter of Carl.

“I’ll wait till my friend comes back,” said Carl quietly.

Wampole had not yet seen him, but he heard the youth’s voice and now looked around the edge of the paper.

“Carl Ross,” he murmured, as he fell back in his seat.

“Yes, Mr. Wampole. You didn’t expect to see me here.”

“Well – er – not exactly. But it’s very fortunate, very fortunate, indeed!” went on Nathan Wampole, gathering himself together with an effort.

“Why, do you want to pay me off?”

“Well – er – not exactly that, Carl,” with a reproachful glance. “But the fact of it is, I’m thinking of reorganizing. I’ve seen four of our company already.”

As he spoke Nathan Wampole drew a folded document from his pocket and thrust it across the table.

“There’s my new scheme,” he said earnestly. “A grand thing, too. We’ll make money hand over fist. Of course you’ll go in.”

Carl looked at the paper.

“Hardly, sir. I don’t care to work for nothing but fame.”

“But this is dead sure, Carl, dead sure. A fortune – ”

“The other company was to bring me a fortune, Mr. Wampole. No, henceforth I’m going to travel with a responsible manager or on my own hook.”

“Do you mean to insinuate I’m not responsible?” cried Nathan Wampole, bristling up.

“You haven’t proved yourself to be.”

“I’ve had a misfortune, that’s all. But I’ll get on my feet again, and – hullo, here’s my friend, Leo Dunbar!”

“Nathan Wampole!” ejaculated the young gymnast.

“I want you for my newly organized company,” commenced the old manager, but Leo cut him short.

“I overheard your offer to Carl, Wampole. My answer is the same as his.”

“You won’t join me?”

“No.”

Nathan Wampole’s face grew dark and bitter.

“You’ll regret it – mark my words, you’ll regret it!” he hissed; and gulping down the liquor set before him, he arose and hurried from the place.

“The fraud!” murmured Leo. “I’ll never perform for him again.”

“Nor will I,” added Carl.

A little later they were eating dinner, not an elaborate meal, for they had little to spend.

“I’ve struck luck,” went on the young gymnast.

“I met a gentleman who was at Mr. Raymond’s yesterday, and he has hired us to perform at his house this evening from eight o’clock to nine. He is going to pay us the same amount, twelve dollars.”

This was good news, and on the strength of it Carl ordered some dessert, which cost him five cents additional.

They hired a room at the tavern, and leaving their baggage there took a walk out to see the sights. They walked further than they had intended and it was dark when they returned. The landlord of the place met them in surprise.

“Hullo, I thought you had changed your mind about coming back,” he said.

“Changed our minds?” queried Carl, puzzled.

“Yes.”

“Why so?”

“Didn’t you send for your baggage?”

“No.”

“What! why, a man came here not an hour ago and took all your things off.”

Carl and Leo gave a simultaneous whistle of surprise. Here was a pretty state of affairs.

“Who was the man?”

“I don’t know. He had a wagon and said you had sent him.”

Carl gave a groan.

“We have been robbed, Leo.”

“It looks like it, Carl. What are we to do? We must get our things back, and that quickly, or we won’t be able to perform to-night.”

“Do you mean to say that man was a thief?” demanded the landlord of the tavern, with intense astonishment.

“That’s just what he was,” answered Carl. “We never sent him here.”

“What sort of a looking man was he?” asked Leo.

“Tall and dark, with a cast in one eye,” was the reply. “I’ve seen him in these parts before.”

“A cast in his eye?” repeated Carl. “It must have been that Jack Darrow!” he burst out.

“That’s so,” returned the young gymnast. “He said he would get square.”

“Who is Jack Darrow?” questioned the landlord.

Matters were quickly explained.

“You had no right to let our baggage go,” said Leo severely.

“Can’t we go after the fellow? I’ll drive you to his house, if you know where it is.”

The landlord was very anxious to help them, realizing that he had “put his foot into it.” The matter was talked over for several minutes, and it was decided to take a fast team of horses and drive back to Raymondsville and ascertain where Jack Darrow resided.

Five minutes later found Leo, Carl and Mr. Cook on the way. They made fast time, and soon drove up to the first of the line of stores in the next town.

“Jack Darrow is a worthless scamp,” said the storekeeper. “He hasn’t any regular home, but I fancy you can find him hanging around Budd’s livery stable most any time.”

“We can if he’s not in hiding,” said Carl in a low voice, as they drove off again.

The town being a small one it was easy to find the livery stable mentioned. Outside of the building sat two hostlers talking and smoking.

“Is Jack Darrow anywhere around?” questioned Mr. Cook.

“Yes; just went over to yonder stable,” called back one of the hostlers. “Want to see him?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll call him,” went on the hostler, thinking there might be a chance to earn a dime.

“Never mind,” put in Carl. “Come on, Leo, we won’t give him a chance to run away.”

“That’s so; we won’t,” returned Leo, and followed the young juggler to the ground.

The stable pointed out was but a short distance down a lane, back of which flowed a good-sized brook. Making their way rapidly to the building, which was old and much out of repair, they entered the open doorway.

A sound in the rear greeted them.

“There he goes!” yelled Carl. “Stop, Jack Darrow!”

A muttered exclamation was the only response. They saw the good-for-nothing leave the barn and run for the brook.

“He’s going to leg it!” burst out the young gymnast. “Well, three can play at that game.”

Through the barn rushed Leo and Carl. Down by the brook the bushes grew to a height of several feet. Reaching the water’s edge, nothing was to be seen of the man they were after.

“He’s hiding somewhere, that’s certain,” said Carl. “You go up and I’ll go down the bank.”

This advice was followed, and both covered a distance of fifty feet, when a faint splash was heard.

“He’s crossing over!” cried out the young magician. “This way, quick!”

Regardless of the wetting, he plunged into the brook, which luckily was hardly a foot deep, and Leo came, too. The young man they were after had gone over in full view. He was running down a country road on the opposite side at top speed.

He was a good runner, and once having gained the road, Leo and Carl felt they had a lively chase before them.

But the thought of losing their baggage nerved them to do their best, and over the ground they flew in good shape, gradually closing the gap between them and the man they were after.

Evidently Jack Darrow was getting winded, for when a quarter of a mile had been passed he slowed up and turned around.

“Keep back or I’ll fire on yer!” he howled, making a suggestive movement, toward his hip pocket.

The two pursuers slowed up, but did not come to a halt.

“Do you think he’s got a pistol?” asked Leo.

“No; if he has he won’t dare to use it. Arm yourself with a stick or stone,” were Carl’s words.

As he spoke he picked up a stick lying near, and Leo followed his example. In another moment they were within ten feet of Jack Darrow, who had started to run once more.

“Stop!” cried Carl. “Stop, or I’ll fire!”