The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings Part 9

The lad hitched his trousers, took a critical squint at the canvas that was slowly mounting the center pole to the accompaniment of creaking ropes, groaning tackle and confused shouting.

"They're getting the menagerie tent up. I'll bet it's going to be a dandy show," he vouchsafed. "How'd you get the tickets?"

"Manager gave them to me."

"What for?"

"I did a little work for him. Helped get the lion's cage straightened up. How about it--are you going in on my pa.s.s?"

"N-o-o," drawled Teddy. "Might get me into bad habits to go in on a pa.s.s. I'd rather sneak in under the tent when the boss isn't looking."

CHAPTER V

WHEN THE BANDS PLAYED

Phil started for the Widow Cahill's on the run after having procured his tickets. "Here's a ticket for the circus, Mrs.

Cahill," he shouted, bursting into the room, with excited, flushed face.

"What's this you say--the circus? Land sakes, I haven't seen one since I was--well, since I was a girl. I don't know."

"You'll go, won't you?" urged Phil.

"Of course, I'll go," she made haste to reply, noting the disappointment in his face over her hesitation. "And thank you very much."

"Shall I come and get you, Mrs. Cahill, or can you get over to the circus grounds alone?"

"Don't worry about me, my boy. I'll take care of myself."

"Your seat will be right next to mine, and we can talk while we are watching the performers."

"Yes; you run along now. Here's a quarter for spending money.

Never mind thanking me. Just take it and have a good time.

Where's your friend?"

"Teddy?"

"Yes."

"Over on the lot."

"He going in with you, too?"

"Oh, no. Teddy is too proud to go in that way. He crawls in under the tent," laughed Phil, running down the steps and setting off for the circus grounds with all speed.

When he arrived there he saw at once that something was going on.

The tents were all in place, the little white city erected with as much care and attention to detail as if the show expected to remain in Edmeston all summer. The lad could scarcely make himself believe that, only a few hours before, this very lot had been occupied by the birds alone. It was a marvel to him, even in after years, when he had become as thoroughly conversant with the details of a great show as any man in America.

Just now there was unusual activity about the grounds. Men in gaudy uniforms, clowns in full makeup, and women with long glistening trains, glittering with spangles from head to feet, were moving about, while men were decorating the horses with bright blankets and fancy headdress.

"What are they going to do?" asked Phil of a showman.

"Going to parade."

"Oh, yes, that's so; I had forgotten about that."

"h.e.l.lo, boy--I've forgotten your name--"

"Forrest," explained Phil, turning. The speaker was Mr.

Sparling's a.s.sistant, whom the lad had seen just after saving the lion cage from turning over.

"Can you blow a horn as well as you can stop a wagon?"

"Depends upon what kind of a horn. I think I can make as much noise on a fish horn as anyone else."

"That'll do as well as anything else. Want to go in the parade?"

"I'd love to!" The color leaped to the cheeks of Phil Forrest and a sparkle to his eyes. This was going beyond his fondest dreams.

The a.s.sistant motioned to a clown.

"Fix this boy up in some sort of a rig. I'm going to put him in the Kazoo Band. Bring him back here when he is ready. Be quick."

A long, yellow robe was thrown about the boy, a peaked cap thrust on his head, after which a handful of powder was slapped on his face and rubbed down with the flat of the clown's hand. The fine dust got into the lad's nostrils and throat, causing him to sneeze until the tears rolled down his cheeks, streaking his makeup like a freshet through a plowed field.

"Good," laughed the clown. "That's what your face needs. You'd make a good understudy for Chief Rain-In-The-Face. Now hustle along."

Phil picked up the long skirts and ran full speed to the place where the a.s.sistant had been standing. There he waited until the a.s.sistant returned from a journey to some other part of the lot.

"That's right; you know how to obey orders," he nodded. "That's a good clown makeup. Did Mr. Miaco put those streaks on your face?"

"No, I sneezed them there," answered Phil, with a sheepish grin.

The a.s.sistant laughed heartily. Somehow, he had taken a sudden liking to this boy.

"Do you live at home, Forrest?"

"No; I have no home now."

"Here's a fish horn. Now get up in the band wagon--no, not the big one, I mean the clowns' band wagon with the hayrack on it.

When the parade starts blow your confounded head off if you want to. Make all the noise you can. You'll have plenty of company.

When the parade breaks up, just take off your makeup and turn it over to Mr. Miaco."

"You mean these clothes?"

"Yes. They're a part of the makeup. You'll have to wash the makeup off your face. I don't expect you to return the powder to us," grinned the a.s.sistant humorously.

The clowns were climbing to the hayrack. A bugle had blown as a signal that the parade was ready to move. Phil had not seen Teddy Tucker since returning to the lot. He did not know where the boy was, but he was quite sure that Teddy was not missing any of the fun. Tucker had been around circuses before, and knew how to make the most of his opportunities. And he was doing so now.