Dapples of the Circus/Chapter 8
TO a simple country boy like Freckles, who had scarcely been outside his own town before he joined the circus, the trip across the great western plains to California was a revelation. If he was amazed at the endless stretches of western prairie land, he was still more amazed at the sight of the Rockies with their snow-capped peaks. Higher and higher the train mounted, until the summit was reached, and then they dropped down into the land of sunshine, so beloved by all Californians.
They did not stop in the middle of the state, but journeyed southward toward Los Angeles, down into the southern portion of the state, and finally Freckles alighted at the small town where the circus had its winter quarters.
Mr. Williams was at the station to meet the boy, and he greeted him with almost a father's affection.
"Well, Freckles, my son," said the old circus man, "I am mighty glad to see you. You are certainly looking fit. It was a close call you had, but both you and Sir Wilton came out all right. How is the little horse?"
"Oh, he's just fine! He gets brighter and brighter every day. I have been teaching him some new tricks. I am going to surprise you when we show again."
Mr. Williams led the way to the circus headquarters, where everybody was already settling down to the winter task of repairing the damage and wear of the season just passed. Some would go home or seek other jobs, but many would stay all winter. The girls and women, under the direction of the circus mother, would repair the costumes and trappings and attend to the wardrobes of each member. So, although they were supposed to be laid off, yet it would be a busy season.
Sir Wilton did not arrive for nearly a week, and Freckles was very impatient until he came. When he did finally appear, the boy left his dinner untasted and hurried away to the freight yard for his friend. If Freckles was glad to see Dapples, the Shetland was also delighted to see his driver, and he nickered and pawed vigorously until he was unloaded, and then went nosing into Freckles's pockets, to see if he could find a lump of sugar, and, sure enough, he did.
Freckles and Sir Wilton at once set to exploring as much of southern California as they could reach in every direction by a day's ride.
The beautiful country was quite different from anything Freckles had ever seen. The great eucalyptus trees and the catalpas, the fruit farms, especially the prune orchards and citrus groves, asparagus fields, and the strange little patchwork farms of the Japanese, all made him open his eyes with wonder.
Of course there was the rainy season to reckon with. It rained an hour or two each day, but the earth was always so fresh and beautiful after it that they did not mind. Freckles had never imagined that there was a country where he could hear the quail whistling all through the winter, and where roses would bloom nearly the whole year through.
The strawberries, also, which were just as plenty in winter as in summer, were always in evidence on the table. Truly it was a wonderful country.
Then, for diversion, some of the moving-picture people hired the elephants and camels for pictures. Freckles was allowed to go along and see the fun. He saw battles between the drivers of heavily loaded caravans and dark Moors. He saw elephant hunts, and cowboy stunts that even amazed him, good horseman that he was.
Then Mr. Williams got leave from Mr. Bingham for Freckles and Sir Wilton to show in some of the local theaters. Dapples was so small that he trotted about on the theater stage like a large dog. He and Freckles were prime favorites with the children, and they became the matinée idols of southern California. Mr. Bingham allowed the boy half of what he made in this way, so that he saved several hundred dollars that winter. This amount the circus mother carefully hoarded for him.
The only tragic event in the circus that winter was a fire that came very near taking both Freckles and Sir Wilton from the show. It would seem that a circus, when in its winter quarters, would be perfectly safe, but this is not the case. Many of the large buildings in which the animals, birds, and snakes are kept, have to be artificially heated.
These heating plants are temporary and very crude, so that fires often occur. This, in fact, is the circus owner's winter bugbear.
Mr. P. T. Barnum lost nearly his entire circus through a big fire at Bridgeport, Connecticut, one winter, and he was burned out in New York City the same year.
The California fire started in the snake house. These reptiles are very sluggish in winter, and it is well not to let them get too thoroughly chilled. The bird house is also artificially heated, and the monkeys, which are tropical animals, have to be kept warm.
No one knew how the fire started. Perhaps it was set. The managers had discharged a couple of workmen the day before. The circus buildings were several blocks away from the main part of the town, so that the fire had gained considerable headway before it was discovered or word could be sent to the fire department.
When Mr. Williams and Freckles arrived on the scene, the snake house, in which were also the monkeys, the tropical birds, and many of the more delicate animals, was wrapped in flames. Most of the animals had been taken out.
Freckles gave the snake house only a hurried glance, and then sped away to several long, low buildings where the horses were kept.
These had been prune storehouses. In fact, nearly all the buildings now occupied by the circus had belonged to a bankrupt prune farm.
Several of the grooms slept in these buildings, so when Freckles arrived, he found a long row of most valuable circus horses lined up like cavalry horses, with their bridles snapped together and several men holding them. Of course Freckles's first thought was for Sir Wilton.
Up and down the line of restless steeds he raced, looking for his friend. None of the grooms had seen him, but they thought of course he was out of the building.
Finally Freckles, in his mad search, stumbled on a groom who had seen him.
"I am afraid he is in the building, boy," he said. "I saw him there, and tried to get him out, but he would not come. He was as spunky as a mule. So I said to him, 'Stay and burn if you want to, you little fool.'"
A cordon of rope surrounded the burning building, and several bluecoats stood around it, perhaps thirty feet apart.
"Whereabouts in the building was he?" asked Freckles, feigning not to care.
"In the third stall at this end. He is not far from the door, but the roof is liable to fall in any minute."
The groom turned to speak to one of the policemen, and Freckles slipped under the rope.
"Here, here, boy. What are you doing? Come back! For God's sake, come back," cried the policeman. "It is sure death to go in there."
Freckles paid no attention to this warning, but ran like a streak for the partly open door. A second later he slipped inside, and the dark, seething, burning building had hidden him from sight.
Freckles's first impression, as he darted into the flaming building, was that he could never live in it long enough to find Dapples. The smoke was so thick that he could scarcely draw a breath, while the flames in a more distant portion of the building roared and crackled ominously.
Should he go back, or should he go forward? The policeman had called to him to come back, perhaps he ought to. But then, in a flash, he thought of a hundred loving little acts of Dapples. How he had rubbed his face against his cheek in the hospital. How his soft lips went feeling over his hands, or prospecting curiously in his pocket for sugar. Sometimes it had seemed to Freckles, as he leaned against the little horse in the big top, where thousands of people were staring at them both, that he could fairly feel love come from him. Dapples had, in some unaccountable way, discovered him, when he was lifted from the wrecked sleeper and placed in the ambulance, and then had trotted on three legs to the hospital after him. Would he be less faithful than the little horse? No, not even if he burned to a crisp. He had come into the building to rescue his friend, and he would accomplish that feat or die in the attempt. Anyhow, life would not be worth living if he lost Dapples, so they might just as well burn together.
With this brave assurance, Freckles seemed to take heart. He held his head as low as he could, as the smoke was much thinner near the ground. So, with one hand thrust out in front of him in order to ward off danger, he crept forward. He reached the first stall, and felt between the partitions, but it was empty. Carefully he made his way forward to the second; that also was empty. Then he went forward to the third. The groom had said that Sir Wilton was in the third stall. The smoke was now so thick that it choked him terribly. It did not seem to him that he could draw another breath, but Dapples must be saved.
He reached the third stall and put out his hand, but that was as empty as the rest had been. Freckles groaned aloud, and nearly sank to the floor with a sudden weakness that came over him.
Then he remembered something which was almost like an inspiration.
He had taught Sir Wilton to neigh in answer to a shrill whistle. This was the way they talked. He would whistle and Dapples would nicker.
Perhaps the trick would help them now. So Freckles put his two fingers between his lips and blew a shrill whistle. To his great joy, the Shetland nickered, and the sound was very close to him.
He must be in the very next stall. The groom had been mistaken. He was in the fourth stall instead of the third. Joyously Freckles slipped in beside his pony friend and felt for the halter rope, but in his haste he pulled the rope the wrong way, and instead of having it come untied with almost a single pull, it tightened into a hard knot.
Frantically Freckles worked at the knot, but it was very persistent.
Some one was shouting and calling from the doorway for him to come out.
When he had nearly despaired of ever getting the rope untied, the knot yielded and Sir Wilton was free.
Then Freckles remembered that the groom had said Dapples was as stubborn as a mule. He had often read of horses that would not let their best friends lead them from a burning building until they were blindfolded. Would Sir Wilton fail him now he had risked so much?
He did not think so, but he would take no chances. So he slapped the little horse in a friendly way that he had when he wanted immediate and prompt obedience from him, and backed him out of the stall.
The smoke and the heat were now becoming unendurable. With all possible haste, he groped his way blindly to the door. He must be quick if he would save both himself and Dapples. The smoke was choking him like a great hand laid upon his throat. It also seemed that a heavy weight was on his chest. Then he stumbled into the outer daylight where strong hands caught both him and the end of Dapples's halter. They had barely dragged the two to safety when the roof fell in and a great shower of sparks flamed up to the heavens. It was a mighty close call, as Big Bill said, but, even so, Freckles fainted as he saw the building collapse.
He came back to life, however, a few minutes later, and found himself lying en the grass, while half a dozen of the circus people crowded about him.
"Is Sir Wilton all right?" he gasped feebly.
"You bet he is, and so are you," said Mr. Williams cheerily. "You just want a few minutes to get your wind."
It seemed to Freckles that he would want a long time to get back his breath and his strength, for now that the danger was all over he was scared nearly out of his wits. He wondered how he could ever have done it. But it had been worth the effort, even if he had fainted. Sir Wilton had stuck by him when he was half dead in the wrecked train, and he had stood by the little horse. They would always stand by each other as long as Sir Wilton lived.
And he remembered with a thrill of joy that Shetlands lived in some cases for thirty or even forty years. He and Dapples would yet have joyous days.
The following noon at dinner Mr. Bingham told the story of the heroic rescue to his now sadly diminished family, as they gathered in the special dining-room which they occupied at a small hotel. While he praised Freckles's act, yet he warned his employees against taking too great risks to save the animals under such conditions. "Because," he concluded, "you know we can buy Shetlands and any of the other animals that we may lose, but a human life cannot be duplicated."
Mr. Bingham was very kind, and Freckles appreciated his generous words, but just the same he knew that they could not buy another Dapples, not even with all Mr. Bingham's money.
But the rank and file of the circus people agreed with Freckles. Many of them would have done the same thing for the animals they loved. So they made up a purse for the boy, who was thunderstruck to find that it contained two hundred dollars.
This is the way the great circus family sticks together. They are true brothers and sisters. If one is in trouble, all are in trouble. No men or women in the world will dig deeper into their pockets for their friends, or a good cause, than they.
So it was that Freckles and Dapples wormed their way a little deeper into the kind hearts of their friends. More and more of that human love, which is so essential to our happiness, surrounded them and made them very glad, glad that they were alive and that they belonged to each other.
"Dapples, old pal," said Freckles confidentially one day as he put the small saddle on Sir Wilton, preparatory to taking a ten-mile ride into the country, "I am going to save up my money. Every cent I get I am going to save, and some day I am going to buy you of Mr. Bingham. Then we will leave the circus and go back home and be happy all the rest of our lives. What do you think of that, Dapples?"
Dapples thought it was fine, and said so as plainly as a small horse could, with several glad whinnies. Then Freckles sprung into the saddle, and they were off, to the glad rhythm of small hoofs.