The Young Acrobat of the Great North American Circus

Kit was silent. His uncle's words were warm, and indicated strong sympathy for Kit's father, but his tone was cold, and there seemed a lack of earnestness. Kit could not repress a feeling of incredulity. There was another obstacle to his accepting with full credence the tale which his uncle told him. He had always understood from his father that his uncle was a poor and struggling man. How could he have in his possession the sum of twelve thousand dollars to lend his brother? This question was certainly difficult to answer. He paused, then refraining from discussing the subject, said:

"Why have you not told me this before, Uncle Stephen?"

"Would it have made you any happier?" returned Stephen Watson.

"No."

"Till you had acquired a fair education, I thought it better to keep the unpleasant truth from you. It would only have annoyed you to feel that you owed everything to my generosity, and were in fact a child of charity."

Kit's face flushed deeply as he heard this expression from his uncle's lips.

"Do you mean that my father left absolutely nothing?" he asked.

"Yes, absolutely nothing. Well, no, not quite that. I think there was a balance of a little over a hundred dollars left after paying all debts. That is hardly worth counting."

"Yes, that is hardly worth counting," said Kit in a dull, mechanical tone.

"Still, I determined to educate you, and give you equal advantages with my own son. I have done so up to the present moment. I wish I could continue to do so, but Ralph is getting more expensive as he grows older (and you also), and I cannot afford to keep you both at school. You will therefore stop studying, and I shall secure you some work."

"If things are as you say, I cannot complain of this," Kit said in a dull, spiritless tone, "but it comes upon me like a thunderbolt."

"No doubt, no doubt. I knew it would be a shock, and I have postponed telling you as long as possible."

"I suppose I ought to thank you. Have you anything more to say to me now?"

"No."

"Then, sir, I will leave you. I will ask further particulars some other day."

"He takes it hard," muttered Stephen Watson, eyeing the retreating form of his nephew thoughtfully. "I wonder if he will suspect that there is anything wrong. Even if he does, he is only a boy, and can prove nothing."

"What makes you so glum, Kit?" asked Dan Clark, when they met at seven o'clock, as agreed, to go together to the show.

"Not much, Dan, only I have learned that I am a pauper."

"But the estate—the house and the grounds?" said Dan, bewildered.

"Belong to my uncle."

"Who says so?"

"He says so. But I don't want to say any more about it now. Let us start for the circus, and I will try to forget my pauper position, for one evening at least."

Before they reached the lot, they heard the circus band discoursing lively music. They were in a crowd, for all Smyrna, men, women and children, were bound for the show. It was a grand gala night. In the city, where there are many amusements, the circus draws well, but in the country everybody goes.

Outside the great tent were the side shows. In one of them Kit found his friends of the morning, the giant, the dwarf, and the fat lady, with other curiosities hereafter to be mentioned. Just inside the tent, in what might be called the ante chamber, was the collection of animals. The elephants were accorded more freedom than the rest, but the lion, tiger, and leopard were shut up in cages. The lion seemed particularly restless. He was pacing his narrow quarters, lashing his tail, and from time to time emitting deep growls, betokening irritation and anger.

"How would you like to go into the cage?" asked Dan.

"I don't care for an interview with his majesty," responded Kit.

A stranger was standing near the cage.

"Don't go too near, boys!" he said. "That lion is particularly fierce. He nearly killed a man last season in Pennsylvania."

"How was that?"

"The man ventured too near the cage. The lion stretched out his claws, and fastened them in the man's shoulder, lacerating it fearfully before he could be released. He came near dying of blood poisoning."

Kit and Dan sheered off. The lion looked wicked enough to kill a dozen men.

At eight o'clock the performance commenced. First there was a procession of elephants and horses, the latter carrying the bareback riders and other members of the circus, with the curiosities and freaks. Then came two bareback riders, who jumped through hoops, and over banners, and performed somersaults, to the wondering delight of the boys. Then came tumblers, and in preparation for another scene a gaudily dressed clown entered the ring. Suddenly there was heard a deep baying sound, which struck terror into every heart. It was the lion; but seemed close at hand. In an instant a dark, cat-like form, rushing down the aisle, sprang into the ring.

The great Numidian lion had broken from his cage, and the life of every one in the audience was in peril. Ladies shrieked, strong men grew pale, and all wildly looked about for some way of escape.

Striking down the clown, and standing with one foot on the prostrate form, the lion's cruel eyes wandered slowly over the vast assemblage.

Only ten feet from him, in front seats, sat Kit and Dan.

Kit rose in his seat pale and excited, but with a resolute fire in his eyes. He had thought of a way to vanquish the lion.

CHAPTER V.

HOW KIT VANQUISHED THE LION

The danger was imminent. Under the canvas there were at least two thousand spectators. Smyrna had less than five thousand inhabitants, but from towns around there were numerous excursion parties, which helped to swell the number present. Had these people foreseen the terrible scene not down on the bills, they would have remained at home and locked the doors of their houses. But danger is seldom anticipated and peril generally finds us unprepared.

Dan Clark saw Kit about to leave his seat.

"Where are you going?" he cried.

"I am going into the arena."

"What? Are you out of your head?" asked Dan, and he took hold of Kit to detain him. But the boy tore himself from the grasp of his friend, and with blanched brow, for he knew full well the risk he ran, he sprang over the parapet, and in an instant he stood in the sawdust circle facing the angry monarch of the wilds, whose presence had struck terror into the hearts of two thousand members of a superior race.

The sudden movement of Kit created a sensation only less than the appearance of the lion.

The residents of Smyrna all knew him, but they could not understand the cause of his apparent fool-hardiness.

"Come back! Come away, for your life!" exclaimed dozens of Kit's friends and acquaintances.

"Who is that boy? Is he one of the circus men?" asked strangers who were present.

"You will be killed, Kit! Come back!" implored Dan Clark, appalled at the danger of his friend.

Kit heard, but did not heed, the various calls. He knew what he was about, and he did not mean to be killed. But there seemed the greatest danger of it. He was six feet from the angry beast, who lashed his tail with renewed wrath, when he saw his new and puny foe. Kit knew, however, that the lion's method of attack is to spring upon his victims, and that he needs a space of from twelve to fifteen feet to do it. He himself, being but six feet distant, was within the necessary space. The lion must increase the distance between them in order to accomplish its purpose.

Now it happened that Mr. Watson had in his kitchen an elderly woman, who had for years been addicted to the obnoxious habit of snuff taking—a habit, I am glad to be able to say, which is far less prevalent now than in former days. Just before Kit had started for the circus, Ellen, who was a Scotch woman, said: "Master Kit, if you are going near the store, will you buy me a quarter of a pound of snuff?"

"Certainly, Ellen," answered Kit, who was always obliging.

The snuff he had in his pocket at the time of the lion's appearance in the ring, and it was the thought of this unusual but formidable weapon that gave him courage. If he had merely had a pistol or revolver in his pocket, he would not have ventured, for he knew that a wound would only make the lion fiercer and more dangerous.

The lion stood stock still for a moment. Apparently he was amazed at the daring of the boy who had rushed into his presence. His fierce eyes began to roll wickedly and he uttered one of those deep, hoarse growls, such as are wont to strike fear alike into animals and men. He glared at Kit very much as a cat surveys a puny mouse whom she purposes to make her victim.

It was a few brief seconds, but to the audience, who were spellbound, and scarcely dared to breathe, it seemed as many minutes that the boy and lion stood confronting each other without moving. Indeed, Kit stood as if fascinated before the mighty beast, and a thrill passed through his frame as he realized the terrible danger into which he had impulsively rushed. But he knew full well that his peril was each instant growing greater. He could not retreat now, for the furious beast would improve the chance to spring upon him and rend him to pieces.

With curious deliberation he drew from his pocket a paper parcel, while the lion, as if stirred by curiosity, eyed him attentively. He opened it carefully, and then, without an instant's delay, he flung a handful of the snuff which it contained full in the eyes of the terrible animal.

No sooner had he done so than he gave a spring, and in a flash was over the parapet and back in his seat.

It was not a moment too soon!

The lion was blinded by the snuff, which caused him intense pain. He released the terrified clown, who lost no time in escaping from the arena, while the vanquished beast rolled around on the sawdust in his agony, sending forth meanwhile the most terrible roars.

By this time the circus management had recovered from its momentary panic. The trainer and half a dozen animal men (those whose duty it was to take care of the animals) rushed into the circle, and soon obtained the mastery of the lion, whose pain had subdued his fury, and who was now moaning piteously.

Then through the crowded tent there ran a thrill of admiration for the boy who had delivered them all from a terrible danger.

One man, an enthusiastic Western visitor, sprang to his feet, and, waving his hat, exclaimed: "Three cheers for the brave boy, who has shown more courage than all the rest of us put together! Hip, hip, hurrah!"

The call was responded to with enthusiasm. Men and even women rose in their seats, and joined in the cheering. But some of the friends of Kit amended the suggestion by crying, "Hurrah for Kit Watson!"

"Hurrah for Kit Watson!" cried the Western man. "He's the pluckiest kid I ever saw yet."

Kit had not been frightened before, but he felt undeniably nervous when he saw the eyes of two thousand people fixed upon him. He blushed and seemed disposed to screen himself from observation. But at this moment a tall, portly man advanced from the front of the tent, and came up to where Kit was sitting.

"My boy," he said, "do me the favor to follow me. I am Mr. Barlow."

It was indeed the proprietor of the circus. He had come in person to greet the boy who had averted such a tragedy.

Mechanically Kit followed Mr. Barlow, who led him again into the arena. Then the manager cleared his throat, and said:

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have nothing to show you here to-night that is better worth your attention than the young man whose heroic act you have just witnessed and profited by. I introduce to you the boy hero, Kit Watson!"

"Speech! speech!" exclaimed the spectators, after a liberal meed of applause.

Kit stood erect, and spoke modestly.

"I don't pretend to be a hero," he said. "I was as much frightened as anybody, but I thought of the snuff in my pocket, and I recalled to mind a story of a man who subdued a lunatic by means of it. So, on the impulse of the moment, I jumped into the ring. I am very much obliged to you for your cheers, and I wish I was as brave as you seem to think. I won't take up any more of your time, for I know you want the show to go on."

Kit retired amid a burst of applause, and resumed his seat.

The entertainment of the evening now proceeded, greatly to the satisfaction of the crowded ranks of spectators. But from time to time glances were cast towards the seat which Kit occupied.

"Kit," whispered Dan, "I am proud of you! I didn't think you had it in you."

"Don't say any more, Dan, or I shall become so vain you can't endure me. Look! there are our friends, the acrobats."

CHAPTER VI.

KIT'S POOR PROSPECTS

There was one of the spectators who did not admire Kit's heroic conduct, nor join in the applause which was so liberally showered upon him. This was Ralph Watson, who sat on the opposite side of the tent, with his chum, James Schuyler, a boy who had recently come to Smyrna from the city of New York. Ralph had been very pale when the lion first made his appearance in the arena, and trembled with fear, and no one had felt greater relief when the danger was past. But, being naturally of a jealous disposition, he was very much annoyed by the sudden popularity won by Kit.

"Isn't that your cousin?" asked James Schuyler.

"Yes," answered Ralph shortly.

"What a brave boy he is!"

Ralph shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't see much bravery about it," he said. "It isn't as if the lion was a wild one in his native forest. This one was tame."

"He didn't look very tame to me," rejoined James, who, though rather snobbish, was willing to admit the danger they had all incurred. "The people didn't think so either. Hear them cheer your cousin."

"It will make him terribly conceited. He will actually think he's a hero."

"I wouldn't have given much for any of our lives if he hadn't jumped into the ring, and blinded the lion."

Meanwhile Kit was enjoying the performance, and thinking very little of how his action would be regarded by Ralph, for whom he had no very cordial feeling, though they had been, from the necessity of the case, close companions for many years.

On their return home, Kit and Ralph reached the gate together.

"It seems you're a great hero all at once," said Ralph, with a sneer.

Kit understood the sneer, but did not choose to notice it.

"Thank you for the compliment," he responded quietly.

"O, I didn't mean to flatter you! You are puffed up enough."

"Are you sorry I jumped into the ring, Ralph?" asked Kit good-naturedly.

"I don't believe there was any real danger."

"Then I must congratulate you upon your courage. All the rest of us were frightened, and even Mr. Barlow admitted that there was danger."

"The lion was half tame. It isn't as if he were wild."

"He looked wild enough to me when I faced him in the ring. I confess that my knees began to tremble, and I wished myself at home."

"You'd better set up as a lion tamer," said Ralph.

"Thank you; I think I should prefer some other business, where my life would be safer."

"You are likely to have your wish, then."

"What do you mean?" asked Kit quickly, detecting a significance in Ralph's tone.

"I mean that father intends to have you learn a trade."

"Has he told you so?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't he propose to consult me?"

"Why should he? You are only a boy, and can't judge what is best for yourself."

"Still I am likely to be more interested than any one else in the way I am to earn my living. What trade are you going to learn?"

"What trade am I going to learn?" repeated Ralph, with the assumption of insulted dignity. "None at all. I shall be a merchant or a professional man."

"And why should not I be the same?" asked Kit.

"Because you're a poor boy. Didn't my father tell you this afternoon that you had no money coming to you?"

"Yes; but that needn't prevent me from becoming a merchant, or studying a profession."

"So you think. You can't expect my father to pay for sending you to college, or support you while you are qualifying yourself to be a merchant."

"I don't know yet what I am entitled to expect."

"You will soon know."

"How soon?"

"To-morrow. There's a blacksmith in the next town, Aaron Bickford, who has agreed to take you as an apprentice."

"So it's all settled, is it?" Kit asked, full of indignation.

"Yes, if Mr. Bickford likes your appearance. He's coming to Smyrna on business to-morrow, and will call here. You're to live at his house."

"Indeed! I am very much obliged for the information."

"Oh, you needn't get grouty about it. I've no doubt you'll have enough to eat."

"So I am to be a blacksmith, and you a merchant or–"

"Lawyer. I think I shall decide to be a lawyer," said Ralph, complacently.

"That will make quite a difference in our social positions."

"Of course; but I will help you all I can. If you have a shop of your own, I will have my horses shod at your place."

"Does your father think I am particularly well fitted to be a blacksmith?"

"He thinks you will get along very well in the business, if you are industrious. A poor boy can't choose. He must take the best he can get."

Kit did not sleep very much that night. He was full of anger and indignation with his uncle. Why should his future be so different from his cousin's? At school he had distinguished himself more in his studies, and he did not see why he was not as well fitted to become a merchant or a lawyer as Ralph.

"They can't make me a blacksmith without my consent," was his final thought, as he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Kit was up early the next morning. As breakfast was not ready, he strolled over to the hotel, which was only five minutes' walk from his uncle's house.

The circus tent had vanished. Late at night, after the evening performance was over, the canvas men had busied themselves in taking them down, and packing them for transportation to a town ten miles distant on the railroad, where they were to give two exhibitions the next day. The showy chariots, the lions, tigers, elephants and camels, with all the performers, were gone. But Mr. Barlow, the owner of the circus, had remained at the Smyrna Hotel all night, preferring to journey comfortably the next morning.

He was sitting on the piazza when Kit passed. Though he had never seen Kit but once, his business made him observant of faces, and he recognized him immediately.

"Aha!" he said, "this is the young hero of last evening, is it not?"

Kit smiled.

"I am the boy who jumped into the ring," he said.

"So I thought. I hope you slept well after the excitement."

A sudden thought came to Kit. Mr. Barlow looked like a kind hearted man, and he had already shown that he was well disposed toward him.

"I slept very poorly," he said.

"Was it the thought of the danger you had been in?"

"No, sir; I learned that my uncle, without consulting me, had arranged to apprentice me to a blacksmith."

Mr. Barlow looked surprised.

"But you look like a boy of independent means," he said, puzzled.

"I have always supposed that this was the case," said Kit, "but my uncle told me yesterday, to my surprise, that I was dependent upon him, and had no expectations."

"You don't want to be a blacksmith?"

"No, sir; I consider any kind of work honorable, but that would not suit me."

"You would succeed well in my business," said the showman, "but I am very careful how I recommend it to boys. It isn't a good school for them. They are exposed to many temptations in it. But if a boy has a strong will, and good principles, he may avoid all the evils connected with it."

Kit had not thought of it before, but now the question suggested itself: "Why should I not join the circus. I should like it better than being a blacksmith."

"How much do you pay acrobats?" he asked.

"Are you an acrobat?" asked Mr. Barlow.

Kit told the story of his practicing with the Vincenti Brothers.

"Good!" said Mr. Barlow. "If they indorse you, it is sufficient. If you decide to join my company, I will give you, to begin with, ten dollars a week and your expenses."

"Thank you, sir," said Kit, dazzled by the offer, "Where will you be on Saturday?"

"At Grafton on Saturday, and Milltown on Monday."

"If I decide to join you, I will do so at one or the other of those places."

Here the railroad omnibus came up, and Mr. Barlow entered it, for he was to leave by the next train.

CHAPTER VII.

AARON BICKFORD, THE BLACKSMITH

Kit returned to breakfast in good spirits. He saw a way out of his difficulties. Though he had no false pride, he felt that a blacksmith's life would be distasteful to him. He was fond of study, and had looked forward to a college course. Now this was out of the question. It seemed that he was as poor as his friend, Dan Clark, with his own way to make in the world. When he left school, at the beginning of the vacation, he supposed that he would inherit a competence. It was certainly a great change in his prospects, but now he did not feel dispirited. He thought, upon the whole, he would enjoy traveling with the circus. His duties would be light, and the pay liberal.

Before he returned to breakfast, Ralph had come down-stairs, and had a few words with his father.

"I think you are going to have trouble with Kit, father," he commenced.

"What makes you think so, and what about?" asked Mr. Watson.

"I told him last evening about your plan of apprenticing him to Mr. Bickford."

"You did wrong. I did not propose to mention the matter to him till Mr. Bickford's arrival. What did he say?"

"He turned up his nose at the idea. He thinks he ought to become a merchant or a professional man like me. He is too proud to be a blacksmith."

"Then he must put his pride in his pocket. It will be all I can do to pay the expenses of your education. I can't provide for two boys."

"When Kit is off your hands won't you increase my allowance, father?" asked Ralph, insinuatingly.

"Suppose we postpone that matter," replied Mr. Watson, in a tone of voice that was not encouraging. "I have lost some money lately, and I can't do anything more for you just at present."

Ralph looked disappointed, but did not venture to press the subject.

"Where have you been, Kit?" he asked, as he saw his cousin entering the gate, and coming up the path to the front door.

"I have been taking a walk," answered Kit, cheerfully.

"It's a good idea to rise early."

"Why?"

"Because you will probably be required to do so in your new place."

"What new place?"

"At the blacksmith's."

Kit smiled. To Ralph's surprise he did not appear to be annoyed.

"I see you are getting reconciled to the idea. Last evening you seemed to dislike it."

"Your father has not said anything about it to me."

"He will very soon."

"Won't you come round and see me occasionally, Ralph?" asked Kit, with a curious smile.

"Yes; I may call on Saturday. I should like to see how you look."

Kit smiled again. He thought it extremely doubtful whether Ralph would see him at the blacksmith's forge.

Half an hour after breakfast, while Ralph and Kit were in the stable, the sound of wheels was heard, and a stout, broad-shouldered man, with a bronzed complexion, drove up in a farm wagon. Throwing his reins over the horse's neck, he descended from the wagon, and turned in at the gate. Mr. Watson, who had been sitting at the front window, opened the door for him.

"Glad to see you, Mr. Bickford," he said.

"Is the boy ready?" asked the blacksmith. "I can take him right over with me this morning."

"Come into the house, I will send for him."

Mr. Bickford noticed the handsome appearance of the hall, and the front room, the door of which was partly open, and said: "If the boy's been used to livin' here, he must be kind of high strung. I can't give him no such home as this."

"Of course not, Mr. Bickford. He can't expect it. He's a poor boy, and will have to make his own way in the world. Beggars can't be choosers, you know."

A servant was sent to the stable to summon Kit. Ralph, who thought he should enjoy the scene, accompanied him.