The Young Acrobat of the Great North American Circus

Looking about him, he discovered on a chair by the bedside the overalls, and upon them a note and a silver dollar.

"What's all that mean?" he asked himself.

Looking closer he saw that the note was directed to him. Beginning to suspect that something was wrong, he opened it.

This was what the note contained:

Mr. Bickford—I leave you a dollar to pay for my food and lodging. I do not care to become a blacksmith. Good by.

Kit Watson.

"I'll have him back!" exclaimed Aaron Bickford, an angry look appearing on his face. "He ain't goin' to get the best of me."

Mr. Bickford harnessed up his horse, and started after the fugitive. But in what direction should he drive? He was not long at fault. He met a milkman who had seen two boys starting out on the Grafton road, and so informed him.

"I guess they're bound for the circus," he said.

"Like as not," returned the blacksmith.

But he had a long chase of it. It was not until he was within half a mile of the circus tents that he descried the two boys, trudging along, Kit with his valise in his hand. Hearing the sound of wheels, the boys looked back, and in some dismay recognized their pursuer.

The blacksmith stood up in his wagon, and pointing his long whip at Kit, cried out, "Stop where you are, Kit Watson, or I'll give you the worst thrashing you ever had!"

CHAPTER XI.

KIT FALLS INTO THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY

If Aaron Bickford expected to frighten Kit by his threat, he was destined to find himself badly mistaken.

Kit was startled at first, not having anticipated that the blacksmith would get upon his track so soon. But he was a boy of spirit, and had no thought of surrender. Mr. Bickford halted his horse, and Kit faced him.

"Didn't you find my note?" he asked.

"Yes, I did."

"Then you know that I don't care to work for you."

"What's that got to do with it? Your uncle and me have settled that you shall."

"Then you'll have to unsettle it. I have a right to choose my own occupation, and I don't intend to become a blacksmith. Even if I did, I should choose some one else as my teacher."

"None of your impudence, young man! You'll have a long account to settle with me, I warn you of that."

"I had but one account to settle—for my board and lodging—and I've attended to that. Good morning, Mr. Bickford."

Kit turned and began to continue his journey.

"Hallo! Stop, I tell you!" shouted the blacksmith.

"Have you got any more to say? If so, I'll listen."

"What more I have to say, I shall say with a horsewhip!" retorted Bickford, grimly, preparing to descend from his wagon.

"Come, William, we must run for it," said Kit. "Are you good at running?"

"Try me!" was the laconic reply.

By the time Aaron Bickford was out of his wagon, the boys had increased the distance between them by several rods.

"Oho, so that's your game, is it?" said the blacksmith. "If I don't overhaul them, my name isn't Aaron Bickford."

Kit was a good runner—quite as good as his pursuer—but he had one serious disadvantage. His valise was heavy, and materially affected his speed. He had carried it several miles, and though he had shifted it from one hand to the other, both arms were now tired.

"Let me take it, Kit," said his companion, who was now on intimate terms with him.

"It'll be just as heavy for you as for me."

"Never mind! He isn't after me."

"Well, if you don't mind carrying it a little while."

The advantage of the change was soon apparent. Kit increased his speed, and William, whose arms were not tired, was not materially retarded by his burden.

"If I had no valise I would climb a tree," said Kit, while running. "I don't believe Mr. Bickford is good at climbing."

"We haven't got far to go to reach the circus tents," returned William.

But though the boys held out well, Aaron Bickford gradually gained upon them. Many years at the anvil had given him plenty of wind and endurance. Besides, he was entirely fresh, not having taken a long walk already, as the boys had done.

"You'd better give up!" he cried out, in the tone of one who was sure of victory. "It takes more than a boy like you to get the best of Aaron Bickford."

It did indeed seem as if the boys must surrender. Within a few rods Bickford would be even with them.

Kit came to a sudden determination.

"Jump over the fence!" he cried.

There was a rail fence skirting one side of the road.

No sooner said than done. Both boys clambered over the fence, and with that barrier between them faced the angry blacksmith.

"Well, I've got you!" he cried, panting.

"Have you? I don't see it," answered Kit.

"You might as well give up fust as last."

"Suppose we discuss matters a little, Mr. Bickford," said Kit, calmly. "What right have you to pursue me?"

"What right? Your uncle's given me the charge of you."

"That is something he had no right to do."

"Why not? Ain't he your guardian?"

"No."

"Who is, then?"

"I have no guardian but myself."

"That's a likely story. I can't listen to no such foolish talk."

Aaron Bickford felt that it was time to move upon the enemy's entrenchments, and, putting one leg on the lower rail, he proceeded to climb over the fence.

But the boys had anticipated this move, and were prepared for it. By the time the blacksmith was inside the field, the boys, who were considerably lighter and more active, had crossed to the reverse side.

"Here we are again, Mr. Bickford," said William Morris.

The blacksmith frowned.

"Don't you be impudent, Bill Morris," he said. "I haven't anything to do with you, but I sha'n't let you sass me."

"What have I said that's out of the way?" asked William.

"Oh, you're mighty innocent, you are! You're aidin' and abettin' Kit Watson to escape from me, his lawful master."

"I have no master, Mr. Bickford," said Kit, proudly.

"Well, that's what they used to call 'em when I was a boy. Boys weren't so pert and impudent in them days."

Meanwhile the blacksmith was recrossing the fence.

Kit and William took the opportunity to run, and by the time Mr. Bickford was again on the roadside they were several rods away.

This naturally exasperated the blacksmith, who felt mortified at his failure to overtake the youngsters. A new idea occurred to him.

"You, Bill, do you want to earn a dime?" he asked.

"How?" inquired William.

"Just help me catch that boy Kit, and I'll give you ten cents."

"I don't care to earn money that way, Mr. Bickford," responded William, scornfully.

"Good for you, William!" exclaimed Kit.

"You won't earn ten cents any easier," persisted Bickford.

"I wouldn't do such a mean thing for a dollar, nor five dollars," replied William. "Kit's a friend of mine, and I'm going to stand by him."

The blacksmith was made angry by this persistent refusal. Then again he was faint and uncomfortable from having missed his breakfast, which seemed likely to be indefinitely postponed.

"I'll lick you, Bill Morris, as well as Kit, when I catch you," he said.

"Probably you will—when you catch me!" retorted William, in an aggravating tone. "Run faster, Kit."

The boys ran, but again they were impeded by the heavy valise, and slowly but surely the blacksmith was gaining upon them.

Kit, who was again carrying the burden, began to show signs of distress, and dropped behind his companion.

"I can't hold out much longer, Bill," he said, puffing laboriously.

Aaron Bickford heard these words, and they impelled him to extra exertion. At last he caught up and grasped Kit by the collar.

"I've got ye at last!" he cried, triumphantly.

CHAPTER XII.

MR. BICKFORD'S DEFEAT

Aaron Bickford was a strong man. By his work at the forge he had strengthened his muscles till they were like iron. So was Kit a strong boy, but it would be absurd to represent him as a match for the sturdy blacksmith.

"I've got ye at last!" repeated Bickford tightening his grasp of Kit's coat collar.

"Let go my collar!" cried Kit, not struggling, for he knew that it would be useless.

"I'll let go your collar when I've got ye in the wagon," answered the blacksmith, "and not till then. You, Bill, bring along his valise. I'll take ye home in the wagon, though it would be only right if I let ye walk."

"Mr. Bickford," said Kit, "you have no right to touch me. You have no authority over me."

"I ain't, hey? Well, we'll argy that matter when we get home."

And he commenced dragging Kit in the direction of the wagon.

It certainly seemed as if Kit's plans were destined, if not for defeat, to postponement. Unconditional surrender was his only choice against the superior strength of Aaron Bickford. It was certainly very vexatious.

But help was nearer than he anticipated.

They were now within sight of the circus tents, and Kit, to his joy, descried the giant, Achilles Henderson, taking a morning walk, and already within hearing distance.

"Mr. Henderson!" he called out, eagerly.

"Who is that you're calling?" asked the blacksmith sharply.

Achilles heard, and instantly recognized the boy who had talked with him at Smyrna.

It took but a few strides to bring him to the spot where Kit was held in captivity.

"What does this mean?" he asked.

"This man is dragging me away without authority," answered Kit.

"Who is he?" asked the giant.

"He is a blacksmith, and claims me as an apprentice, but I never agreed to work for him."

"That's a lie," said the blacksmith, "he's my runaway apprentice."

"I would believe the boy sooner than you," said Achilles, not favorably impressed by the blacksmith's bull dog look.

"It doesn't make any difference what you believe," said Bickford, rudely; and he began to pull Kit in the direction of the wagon.

"Let go that boy's collar," cried Achilles, sternly.

"I won't!" retorted the blacksmith. "I advise you to mind your own business."

Achilles Henderson, like most big men, was good natured, but he was roused by the other's insolence. He carried war into the enemy's camp by seizing the blacksmith and shaking him till he was compelled to release his grasp.

"What do you mean by this outrage?" demanded Bickford, furiously.

"It's only a gentle hint," said Achilles, smiling. "Now, my friend, I've got a piece of advice to give you. If that is your wagon back there you'd better get into it as soon as convenient—the sooner the better—and get out of my way or I'll give you a stronger hint."

The blacksmith was too indignant to be prudent. What! Confess himself vanquished, and go home without the boy! The idea was intolerable to him.

"I'm goin' to take the boy," he said, angrily, and darting forward he essayed to seize Kit by the collar again.

"Oho! You need a stronger hint," said Achilles. With this he grasped the blacksmith about the middle, and tossed him over the fence into the adjoining field as easily as if he were a cat.

Aaron Bickford did not know what had happened to him. He lay motionless for a few seconds, and then picked himself up with some difficulty, and confronted the giant with mingled fear and anger.

"I'll have the law of ye for this," he shouted.

Achilles laughed.

"It's as you like," he said. "I've got my witnesses here," pointing to the two boys.

Mr. Bickford got over the fence, and sullenly turned in the direction of his deserted wagon.

"You'll hear from me again, all of you!" he shouted, shaking his fist.

"Don't trouble yourself to write," said the giant, jocosely. "We can worry along without a letter."

The blacksmith was too full of wrath for utterance. He kept on his way, muttering to himself, and shaking his fist at intervals.

"Now what's all this about?" asked Achilles. "What's the matter with our amiable friend?"

Kit explained.

"So you don't want to be a blacksmith? Where are you going, if I may inquire?"

"I'm going to join the circus," answered Kit.

"In what capacity—as a lion tamer?"

"No; I shouldn't fancy that business. I am to be an acrobat."

"An acrobat! But are you qualified?" asked Achilles, somewhat surprised.

He had not heard of Kit's practice with the Vincenti brothers on the day of his first visit to the circus.

"I am pretty well qualified already," answered Kit, "I saw Mr. Barlow yesterday morning, and he promised me an engagement at ten dollars a week."

"Good!" said Achilles, heartily. "I am pleased to hear it. I took a liking to you the other day, and I'm glad you're going to join us. But do you think it wise to choose such a life?"

"You have chosen it," said Kit.

"Yes; but what could I do—a man of my size? I must earn more than a common man. My board and clothes both cost more. What do you think I paid for this suit I have on?"

"I couldn't tell, sir."

"Sixty dollars. The tailor only charges thirty dollars to a man of ordinary size, but I am so absurdly large that I have to pay double price."

"Why don't you buy your suits ready made?" asked Kit, smiling.

Achilles laughed heartily at the idea.

"Show me a place where I can get ready made clothes to fit me," he answered, "and I will gladly accept your suggestion."

"That may be a little difficult, I admit."

"Why, you have no idea how inconvenient I find it to be so large. I can't find a bed to suit me in any hotel. If I go to the theater I can't crowd myself into an ordinary seat. I have to have all kinds of clothing, inside and outside, made to order. My hats and shoes must also be made expressly for me."

"I suppose you get very well paid," suggested Kit.

"Seventy-five dollars a week sounds pretty large, and would be if my expenses were not so great. You wouldn't be a giant for that money, would you?"

"I am not so ambitious," replied Kit, smiling. "But there was a moment when I wished myself of your size."

"When was that?"

"When the blacksmith grasped me by the collar."

"You don't have to work very hard," said William Morris.

"My boy, it is pretty hard work to be stared at by a crowd of people. I get tired of it often, but I see no other way of making a living."

"You would make a pretty good blacksmith."

"I couldn't earn more than a man of average strength, and that wouldn't be enough, as I have explained."

"Were your parents very tall?" asked Kit.

"My father was six feet in height, but my mother was a small woman. I don't know what put it into me to grow so big. But here we are at the lot. Will you come in?"

"When can I see Mr. Barlow?" asked Kit, anxiously.

"He is at the hotel. He won't be round till half-past nine. Have you two boys had breakfast?"

"No," answered Kit; "I'm nearly famished."

"Come round to the circus tent. You are to be one of us, and will board there. I guess we can provide for your friend, too."

Never was invitation more gladly accepted. Both Kit and William felt as if they had not broken their fast for a week.

CHAPTER XIII.

BREAKFAST IN THE CIRCUS TENT

Achilles entered the circus inclosure—the "lot," as it is generally called,—and made his way to a small tent situated not far from the one devoted to the performances. An attendant was carrying in a plate of hot steak and potatoes from the cook tent near by.

"Is breakfast ready?" asked Achilles.

"Yes; any time you want it."

"Is anybody inside?"

"Only Mademoiselle Louise."

"Well, I want three breakfasts—for myself and my two young friends here."

"I didn't know you had sons," said Mike, the attendant, regarding Kit and William with some curiosity.

"I haven't. One of these young men is an acrobat, who will be one of us. The other is his friend. Bring along the grub as quick as possible—we are all hungry."

"All right, sir."

Running the length of the tent, which was about twenty feet by ten, was a long table surrounded by benches.

The giant took his seat and placed the boys one on each side of him. Just opposite sat a woman of twenty-five or thereabouts, who was already eating breakfast.

"Good morning, Mlle. Louise," said the giant.

"Good morning, Mr. Henderson," responded the lady. "Who are your young companions?"

"I don't know their names, but this one," placing his hand on Kit's shoulder, "has been engaged by Mr. Barlow as an acrobat."

"Indeed! He looks young."

"I am sixteen," volunteered Kit.

"What circus have you traveled with before this season?" asked Mlle. Louise.

"I have never traveled with any, madam."

"But you are an acrobat?"

"I have had my practice in a gymnasium."

"How came Mr. Barlow to engage you?"

"At Smyrna I practiced a little with the Vincenti brothers."

"At Smyrna? Why, that's where the lion dashed into the arena!"

"Yes."

"Do you know the boy who had the courage to face him?"

Kit blushed.

"I am the boy," he said.

"You don't mean it!" exclaimed the lady, vivaciously. "Why, you're a hero. I must shake hands with you," and she reached across the table and gave Kit a hearty grasp of the hand.

"Is that so?" interposed Achilles. "Why, I didn't know you were the boy. I was not present at the time, and only heard of it afterwards. Mlle. Louise is right. You are a brave fellow."

"I am much obliged to you both for your favorable opinion," said Kit modestly, "but I didn't realize my danger till afterwards."

"Oh, heavens! I can see him now—that wicked beast!" exclaimed the lady. "I was nearly scared out of my senses. As for poor Dupont, he was nearer death than I ever want to be till my time comes."

"Was Dupont the clown?" asked Kit.

"Yes. The lion held him down, with his foot upon the poor clown's back, and but for your brave act he would have torn the poor fellow to pieces. Mr. Henderson, you missed the most thrilling act of the evening."

"So I begin to think. By the way, boys, I ought to have introduced this lady. She is the famous aerial artist, whom you saw the other evening in her wonderful feats upon the trapeze."

"Yes," said Mlle. Louise, complacently, "I think I have a pretty good act. I get plenty of applause, eh, Mr. Henderson?"

"That's true. I think I should leave the circus if I had to appear in your act. I never could summon up courage."

The lady laughed.

"Monsieur Achilles," she said, "I wouldn't advise you to emulate me. I don't believe you could find a rope strong enough to support you, and if you should fall, I pity the audience."

"You have convinced me. I shall give up all thoughts of it," said the giant, with mock gravity. "It would suit better our young friend here, who is an acrobat."

"Did you ever practice on a trapeze?" asked Mlle. Louise, turning to Kit.

"Yes, often," answered Kit, "but never at a great height."

"Would it frighten you to find yourself so high up in the air?"

"I don't think so; I have a cool head."

"You must practice. I will give you a few hints myself. If you are cool and courageous, as I judge you will soon learn. By the way, what is your name?"

"Kit Watson."

"It'll be something else when you begin work."

"Do all performers have assumed names?"

"Generally. Here I am Mademoiselle Louise Lefroy, but it isn't a bit like my real name."

Before this the boys had been served with breakfast. The steak was rather tough, and the coffee not of the best quality, but Kit and William thoroughly enjoyed it, and thought it about the best breakfast they had ever eaten. Mlle. Louise continued to converse with them, and was very gracious.

"Are you too an acrobat?" she asked William.

William became so confused that he swallowed some coffee the wrong way, and came near choking.

"No, ma'am," he answered bashfully, "but I'd like to go round with the show."

"You'll be better off at home if you've got one," said the giant. "You are not a performer; you are too small for a property man, and not strong enough for a razorback."

"What's a razorback?" asked William, in amazement.

Achilles smiled.

"It's a boy or man who helps load and unload the circus cars," he answered. "It is heavy work, and you would be thrown among a low lot of people—canvasmen, and such. Our young friend here, on the other hand, will have a good sleeping berth, eat at the first table, and be well provided for generally."

William looked disappointed. He had never thought particularly about traveling with a circus till now, but his meeting with Kit had given him a circus fever.

At ten o'clock Mr. Barlow came to the grounds, and Achilles volunteered to go with Kit to speak with him about his engagement.

CHAPTER XIV.

SOME CIRCUS PEOPLE

Mr. Barlow recognized Kit instantly.

"So you have kept your promise, my young friend," he said. "Well, have you come to join us?"

"Yes, sir, if your offer holds good."

"My offers always hold good; I never go back on my word."

Kit was glad to hear this, for he would have been placed in an embarrassing position if, like some men, Mr. Barlow had forgotten an offer made on the impulse of the moment.

"Have you any directions to give, sir?"

"You may report to my manager, Mr. Bryant. First, however, it may be well for you to see the Vincenti brothers, and arrange for a joint act."

"When do you wish me to appear, sir?"

"Whenever you are ready. You may take a week to rehearse, if necessary. Your pay will commence at once."

"Thank you, Mr. Barlow; you are very kind and considerate."

Mr. Barlow smiled, and, waving his hand, passed on.

He was very popular with all who were in his employ, and had a high reputation for kindness and strict integrity.

"I'd like to work for him," said William Morris, who had listened to the conversation between Kit and the circus proprietor.

"I should like to have you along with me," replied Kit, "but from what Mr. Henderson says there is no good opening."

It was not till eleven o'clock that Kit met his future partners, the Vincenti brothers.

"Good!" said Alonzo, in a tone of satisfaction. "We must get up a joint act. I suppose you haven't got a suit of tights?"

"No. I never expected to need one."

"I have an extra one which I think will fit you. Though I am ten years older than you we are about the same size."

Kit had occasion to remark that circus performers are short as a rule. Many of them do not exceed five feet four inches in height, but generally they are compactly built, with well developed muscles, and possess unusual strength and agility.

The circus suit was brought out. It proved to be an excellent fit.

William Morris eyed Kit with admiration.

"You look like a regular circus chap, Kit!" he exclaimed. "I wish I was in your shoes."

"Wait till you see whether I am a success, William," replied Kit.

"Now, if you are ready, we will have a little practice," said Alonzo Vincenti.

"May I look on?" asked William.

"Oh, yes; we don't generally admit spectators, but you are a friend of the boy."

They all entered the tent, and for an hour Kit was kept hard at work.

In the act devised by the Vincenti brothers, he stood on the shoulders of the second, who in his turn stood on the shoulders of the first. Various changes were gone through, in all of which Kit proved himself an adept, and won high compliments from his new associates.

"Can you tumble?" asked Antonio.

Kit smiled.

"I was afraid I should when I first got on your shoulders," he answered.

"That was what I meant,—something like this," and he whirled across the arena, rolling over and over on hands and feet in the manner of a cart wheel.

Kit imitated Antonio rather slowly and awkwardly at first, but rapidly showed improvement.

"You'll soon learn," said Antonio. "Now let me show you something else."

This something else was a succession of somersaults, made in the most rapid manner.

Kit tried this also, slowly at first, as before, but proving a rapid learner.

"In the course of three or four days you will be able to do it in public," said Alonzo.

"When do you advise me to make my first appearance?" asked Kit.

"To-night, in our first act."

"But shall I be ready?"

"You'll do. We may as well make a beginning."