Red Gilbert's flying circus

Introduction

Red Gilbert's Flying Circus is the story of a boy with Circus on the mind. Red, who is slightly older than Willie, must organize an amateur troupe and tour the country, giving per¬ formances; nothing less will satisfy him. And it doesn’t take him long to convince his four com¬ panions that their show will be “ the greatest show on earth.”

Of course there never was a boy like Red; there never was a pair of clowns like Creampuff and Vaseline or an aggregation of strange animals like Silverheels and Duke, King Richard and little Mex and those evil-plotting feline villains Erick, Fritz and Clarence, not to mention that wonder of wonders from darkest Egypt— Tut Ankh Amen, Jr. Yes, I admit it, there never was a boy like Red; but what schoolboy under the mysterious influence of Circus wouldn’t like to do what Red did!

To quote him in one of his most enthusiastic moods:

“Think of a whole summer on the road! Think of the days and nights under the great

4 INTRODUCTION

white canvas! Think of the fun, the applause and the gate receipts! Think of owning a circus all your own! I tell you, fellows, we’ll be the talk of the town. We’ll make folks sit up and take notice of us. And money? Why, it will simply roll in, dimes, quarters, halves and silver dollars! ”

The Author.

ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

He Turned and Looked Full Into the Face of a Tall, Spectacled Man in Shiny Serge . Frontispiece

Wasn’t There Something He Could Do? They Were Heading Straight for the Worst Part of the Stuff. 120

Red Personally Escorted Grace to a Seat and Left Hector Feeling in His Pockets for the Price of Admission. 220

CHAPTER i

Never before had the eagle screamed so loud in the town of Twin Rapids. Old Judge Mudge had the poor bird by the tail and seemed unable to let go. “Patriotism! My fellow citizens, just what is patriotism? Is it shooting off fire¬ crackers or waving a flag? Is it wearing a red, white and blue button in the lapel of your coat?

Is it-” The judge seemed to be full of “ is

it’s ” that glorious, hot, slam-bang, powderscented, finger-bandaged afternoon.

The good people of the town who were gathered round the bandstand on the green, where Judge Mudge was trying his best to make our national bird tailless as well as bald, shifted uneasily and began to cast furtive and reproach¬ ful glances at the chairman of the entertainment committee, who had engaged the long-winded, strong-fingered judge as the principal speaker. They were tired of words, especially “is it’s”;

what they wanted was ice-cream—and they didn’t want to have to drink it either.

“ Is patriotism a thing confined to us adults alone? ” shouted the judge.

“ No! ” he cried in answer to his own question. “A thousand times no! And another thing, patriotism, like charity, should begin at home, right here in our own snug little town. Now, you boys, what I’m about to say applies specially to you-”

Redfield Gilbert and his four companions, Pendleton Clark, Skipton Chase, Fred Nash and Paul Harmon, seated right in front of the band¬ stand, were suddenly aware that the speaker was looking directly at them. And as he continued with many a sweeping gesture and short snappy rhetorical question they began to move uneasily in their places on the hard bench—that is, all except Red; it would take more than a judge to move him. Each of Red’s companions was wish¬ ing that the orator would miss his step on the platform in one of his emphatic moments or knock the pitcher of water off in one of those fine sweeping gestures; each was thinking of the ice¬ cream slowly running to milk under the hot sun, and they longed to run after it. And all showed their thoughts in their faces. Red alone in all that great audience seemed interested in the judge’s oratory.

“ Why, when I was a boy,” continued the speaker, giving an extra tug at the tail feathers, “ we young fellows were patriotic, not only to our country, but to our home town as well. We did things! We worked for the good of the town. And after we’d finished work we played— and not until then! ” The judge paused for a glass of water, then resumed:

“ Times have changed. I mind how a certain group of boys in this town once started to build a public bath-house down by the river-”

Red’s companions squirmed more than ever. The judge had hit them in a tender spot. He followed the blow with what he meant to be a knockout:

“ But they couldn’t do it! They couldn’t earn enough money even to buy the nails! And,” he added with a note of challenge, “ there’s no bath¬ house there now, and there never will be if we wait for those boys or for any other groups of boys in this town to build it! Now when I was only knee-high to a-”

But in just what new and startling way the judge had distinguished himself when he was knee-high to something—perhaps a giraffe—was left unsaid, for Red Gilbert had risen to his feet and with his hand upraised, like a schoolboy who at last has found a word that he can spell, was waiting for the speaker to recognize him.

The judge, startled into silence at the boy’s daring, was reaching for the water pitcher. All whispering had ceased as if by magic. Even the leaves overhead were silent and motionless, as if eager not to miss a word from a boy who was bold enough to interrupt old Judge Mudge on the Fourth of July.

Red’s companions, no longer squirming, were looking at him half hopefully, half doubtfully. What in the world was Red up to now?

“ Well, my boy? ” said the judge in a voice that had discouraged many a budding lawyer.

But Red was as cool as the ice in the pitcher. “ Sir,” he replied in a tone that combined respect for age with the confidence of youth, “ sir, as the whole town knows, you are absolutely right about that bath-house; we didn’t make much of a stab at it. I just want to say, though, that by the end of the summer—that is to say, before high school opens in the fall—I and my four companions will have earned enough money to build a bath-house that is modern, first-class and thoroughly a credit to the town and to ourselves. In fact,” he added with bland shrewdness, “ we’ll start making our plans this afternoon as soon as we’ve had our ice¬ cream.”

“ That’s the stuff! ” cried a dozen voices— meaning the ice-cream of course.

Judge Mudge stood as still as a statue while Red sat down. Then, “ I like your spirit! ” he said. “ And for every dollar you boys earn I’ll add another to it! ”

Then after one final “ is it,” followed swiftly by a definite “ it is,” he let go the tail feathers, and the whole assembly made a noisy rush for the ice-cream, which soon was melting in the place where all good ice-cream should melt.

Red’s companions were nothing if not abrupt. When they had melted three dishes of cream apiece, and there was nothing left but ice, rock salt and salt water, they made a rush for him. Having licked their spoons, they were ready to lick their leader. Fred and Paul caught him round the neck and bore him to the ground. Pendleton sat on his legs. Skipton sat on his chest—that is, on Red’s chest.

“ Are you crazy, Red? ” demanded Skip ton from the top of Red’s wish-bone.

“ No, but I’m afraid you birds are,” replied Red.

“ What did you mean by saying those things to the judge? ” continued Skipton. “ Do you realize that now we’ll have to spend the summer working like slaves? We can’t back out now; we’d be the laughing stock of the town! A whole summer ruined! You’re some boy orator, I’ll say!”

“ Let me up,” replied Red, grinning.

Red Gilbert had a way about him that was hard to resist. Skipton got reluctantly from his companion’s chest. Pendleton let go his legs, and Fred and Paul yanked their leader to his feet. Thereupon Red adjusted his necktie, brushed his mop of sunburned hair back where it belonged, nodded pleasantly to one or two in¬ terested spectators and, sitting down on a con¬ venient bench, took out his note-book and began to write.

For perhaps three minutes his companions watched him in doubtful and somewhat indignant silence.

“ Now, Skip,” he said, looking up at last,

" listen carefully and you’ll hear how I’ve ruined our summer vacation. You own a mouse-colored mule named Silverheels, I believe.”

Skip nodded and wanted to know what a mouse-colored mule had to do with it.

Red only glanced first at his note-book and then at Pendleton. “ And you, Pen, own three apparently worthless cats—Erick, Fritz and Clarence, I think you call them—when you’re not calling them something not so nice.”

Of course Pendleton wanted to know what his cats had to do with it.

But Red only glanced again at his note-book and then up at Fred. “ And you, Fred, own a Mexican hairless hound that you call Mex. Am I right? Good.”

Fred was quite as curious as Skip and Pen and perhaps a little less polite, but once more Red consulted his note-book and then turned to Paul. “ You, Paul,” he said, “ are the proud possessor of King Richard the Lion Hearted, a peach of a Saint Bernard, and also of two white mice, Bonnie Prince Charley and Little Lord Fauntleroy, though how you tell ’em apart is more than I can say.”

“ Red, are you crazy? ” demanded Paul.

u

But Red only smiled in a mysterious way that he had. “And'I,” he continued, “own an old spring wagon and a big black horse named Duke, not to mention my pearl gray Egyptian talking parrot, Tut Ankh Amen, Jr., whose great-great¬ grandfather’s grave was robbed about a year ago.” He paused and, putting the note-book back into his pocket, began to whistle in an un¬ concerned way.

“ Red,” demanded his companions, looking as if they were planning another rush, “ what in the name of mud are you driving at? ”

“ Can’t you guess? ” inquired Red in astonish¬ ment.

“ No, we can’t!”

“ Well, then I’ll have to tell you. We’ll take my spring wagon and all the aforementioned creatures—Duke, the horse, Erick, Fritz, and Clarence, the cats-”

“ Never mind the names,” said Paul impa¬ tiently.

“ Very well, we’ll take the aforementioned creatures, organize ourselves into a flying circus and tour the county, giving performances. Wait a minute! ” he cautioned them, for they had all begun to speak at once. “We can do it and make money at it. I’ve had the idea in mind for at least a month. A few days of rehearsal and we’ll be fit to start. We can scare up a couple of tents easily enough, and I’ll have some hand bills printed. Fellows, I tell you it’s a great stunt! ”

Then Red really became enthusiastic. “ Think of a whole summer on the road! Think of the days and nights under the great white canvas! Think of the fun, the applause and the gate receipts! Think of owning a circus all your own! I tell you, fellows, we’ll be the talk of the town. We’ll make folks sit up and take notice of us. And money? Why, it will simply roll in, dimes, quarters, halves and silver dollars! Already I can see that bath-house down by the river. Already I can read the sign above the door—big letters cut into the concrete: f Erected in the year of our Lord 1924 by P. Harmon, F. Nash, S. Chase, P. Clark and R. Gilbert ’! ”

Red stopped only for lack of breath, and from that moment the bunch were with him.

“ Red,” said Skip, “ do you really mean it? ”

“ Of course I do! ”

“ But how about initial expenses? ” asked Pen —he had flunked his bookkeeping course at high school, but you couldn’t keep him from using some of the words that had helped to spoil his examination paper.

“Initial expenses?” repeated Red. “He means, fellows, how are we going to get started. Simple enough! I’ve got a little saved, and each of you has a little—if that’s not enough, I’ll go to Judge Mudge and borrow something in advance from him.”

Now right there you have Red Gilbert in a nutshell. If any one of his four companions could have mustered enough nerve to go to the rich judge at all for such a purpose, he would have said: “ I’ll try to borrow something.” But Red seldom was doubtful about a thing; he had the self-assurance of a bantam rooster.

“ Red,” said Paul, “ I guess you win. I guess it’s a good stunt all right, and I guess there’ll be a bath-house down by the river.”

“ How do the rest of you fellows feel? ” asked Red when Paul had finished guessing.

“ I’ll bank on you every time,” said Pen. “ Let’s go! ”

“ Yes, let’s get started! ” exclaimed Fred and Skip.

“ Very good,” said Red. “ Meet at my house to-night right after supper, and we’ll draw up plans.”

What a night that was for Twin Rapids! Sky rockets, Roman candles, pinwheels, firecrackers, singed eyelashes, burnt whiskers, powder stains on white dresses, a blazing barn or two, and small boys crying with the stomachache—almost as much fun as a circus! And in the midst of it five high school lads were in Red Gilbert’s room planning a circus that was to be more fun than a barrel full of monkeys all in dress suits!

“ Now,” said Red, “ first of all, what shall we call ourselves? ”

“ Red Gilbert’s Flying Circus,” replied Pen, and the others added, “ Good enough! ”

“ Very well,” replied Red modestly. “ When you fly, fly high. Red Gilbert’s Flying Circus, the greatest show on earth—you have to add that, or folks won’t think they’re getting their money’s worth. Now for the clowns—we’ll need two.”

“ Fred and Paul,” said Skip promptly. “ They won’t need to practice much.”

That remark almost broke up the meeting, but when Mrs. Gilbert in the room below had rapped three times on the ceiling, and the smoke of battle had blown off, Fred and Paul were the official clowns—Creampuff and Vaseline respectively.

“ Now somebody/' continued Red, “ will have to keep the books—an important job, for we'll probably handle a good deal of money. My vote is for Pen. He flunked his course at high, and this will be good practice for his make-up exam in the fall.”

“ All right,” said Pen. “ I’ll get a ledger and begin the debit and credit sheet to-morrow.”

“ I'm glad that’s settled without a row,” said Red. “ Now for a fortune teller in the side tent.”

“ How about you for that, Red? ” suggested Paul.

“No, I'll be needed in the big tent. Skip can do it, though, can’t you, Skip? It’s simple enough. Just trace out the lines on their palms. Tell the men you see good business ahead—don’t tell ’em how far ahead, though. Tell the girls you see a light man and a dark man, and that they’ll be happy with the one and not with the other. But don’t tell ’em which is which, unless you want to fight somebody. If a mother comes wdh her little boy, tell her the kid will surely be President if he always does what his mother says and keeps away from the bad boys down by the gas house. If the kid comes alone, tell him the next time he climbs for a bird’s nest he’ll fall and hurt himself. You know how to do it, Skip; use your imagination and don’t be too definite.”

“ Sure,” said Skip. “ It’s a lot like writing an exam paper in English when you haven’t read the books.”

“ You’ll do,” said Red. “ Now for our itiner¬ ary.”

“ Our what? ” inquired Pen, wondering vaguely whether he had met the word before in his bookkeeping course.

“ Our route, the towns we’re going to show at.” Red took a map from his desk, and the boys bent over it.

“ How about Clearwater? ” suggested Fred.

“ Won’t do at all,” Red replied. “ It’s too close to Twin Rapids. We want to go where folks don’t know us. Now here’s Sleepy Bend— suppose we open there.”

“ Never heard of the place,” said Paul.

“ Neither did I,” replied Red, “ but it’s a good way from here, and it’s a fair-size town on the map. From there we can swing south through Dirksville, Meadowbrook, Raven Rock and so on, reaching Twin Rapids, say, the first of Sep¬ tember, where we’ll give one big wind-up per¬ formance.”

“ Sounds all right,” said Paul.

“ Now for the stunts we’re to pull,” said Red. “ Listen to this-”

It was long after the last Roman candle had spit in the wrong direction and the last fire¬ cracker had exploded prematurely that the boys finally left Red Gilbert’s house and, with circus on the mind and excuses on their lips, set off toward their own. And the following morn¬ ing they started to turn their houses upside down to find such necessary articles as calico to make clowns’ pants, flowing silk or muslin for the fortune teller’s robes, vari-colored ribbons and rosettes for Duke and Silverheels, green felt to make a double blanket for Mex, the hairless hound, and, oh, a hundred and one other things!

Chapter II

That afternoon while sewing-machines were singing industriously and needles in the hands of pretty sisters and cousins were pulling spools and spools of thread through yards and yards of giddy cloth, Red Gilbert paid his first visit to the home of old Judge Mudge. Except on the Fourth of July the judge was really a pleasant and interesting neighbor; we all have our faults, as the cat said when it drank the baby’s milk, and the judge’s main fault after all was a virtue. He loved his country, he loved his home town, to a degree that was almost fanatic.

“ How do you do, sir? ” he said to Red at the door. “ Come right in. Yes, I know you—I’d never forget a face like yours.”

Red assumed for his own sake that his host had uttered a compliment and followed him into the parlor. Then Red showed his tact and sound common sense. He praised the judge’s speech, moderately yet sincerely; he spoke of his brother, who had served with the A. E. F., and on being questioned he spoke of his own ambition to enter 21 the diplomatic service—a remark by the way that won the judge’s heart.

Finally as the conversation swung back to home affairs Red spoke of the Flying Circus and of its ultimate purpose.

“ I see,” said Judge Mudge; “ you believe with Barnum that there’s one bom every minute.”

“ Oh, much oftener than that,” replied Red, and the judge’s eyes sparkled.

“ It sounds fair enough,” he said. “ Have you considered expenses? ”

“ That,” replied Red, “ is the secondary object of my visit. I’d like your advice, sir.”

And he got it—lots and lots of it! Moreover, he got the thing he had wanted from the start. To make a long story short, when Red finally left the judge’s house he carried with him a check for one hundred dollars—a loan that he had agreed to pay back with interest at the end of three months.

“ Fellows,” he said that night in his room, where they were all gathered, “ we’re all set. Judge Mudge has advanced us one hundred dol¬ lars.” He handed the check to Pen. “ Here you are, Pen; have it cashed and enter the amount under credit.”

“Red, you pirate!” exclaimed Skip. “Do you mean to say you kidded the judge into giv¬ ing us that amount? ”

“ Not at all,” replied Red. “ It was a plain business deal, and I didn’t say a single word to him that I didn’t believe, myself. Besides,” he added with dignity, “ the money is not a gift but a loan. Get that, a loan! We’ve got to make good now; if we don’t, I’m a gone goose! ”

“ Jinks! ” said Fred softly. “ I wouldn’t have dared! ”

“ Now how are things going? ” inquired Red.

“ Good,” replied his companions.

“ How are the animals? ”

“ Erick is sick,” replied Pendleton. “ He’s been eating grass all day.”

“ He’ll be able to eat nails by the end of the summer,” said Fred.

“ Say, Red,” said Pen with a worried look, “ I think we’re making a mistake in taking those cats.”

“ Why? ”

“Well, they’re mischief-makers! They’re always into something.” Pen made a wry face. “ I don’t like cats. I hope Erick dies.”

“ But cats are always funny,” replied Red.

“ That’s the trouble, they’re too funny. All right, we’ll take 'em along, but you just wait and see what they do. I think Erick got sick on pur¬ pose.”

“ Well, we’ll cure him,” said Paul. “ Other¬ wise there’ll be a catastrophe-” which shows

that Red chose well when he picked Paul to be a clown.

Three sharp raps on the ceiling and Skip let go of Paul’s hair; then the meeting relapsed into order again.

Three days later Red Gilbert’s Flying Circus was ready to fly. It was a bright hot morning, and the whole town was wide awake and on hand. At the northern end in the middle of the road stood Duke and Silverheels hitched to the big spring wagon, which now was covered with a huge brown canvas top so that it looked like a prairie schooner; behind was hitched a small two¬ wheeled trailer heaped high with properties. In¬ side the spring wagon were more properties, not to mention food for the animals and for the other performers.

On the front seat, handsome and dignified, sat King Richard; now and then he looked down in a kindly, fatherly way at the little Mexican hairless hound, which in spite of a green felt double blanket and the hot July sun was shivering as if he had had nothing to eat but ice-cream and jelly all his life. The two dogs were already close friends, the one so big and strong and with so much warm flowing hair, the other so little and helpless and naked. Behind them under the canvas, sullen and doubtless plotting revenge, were the three cats. Erick had so far recovered from his slight indisposition—if indeed he had been sick at all—as to prefer stolen milk to grass; only that morning Mrs. Clark had caught him in the pantry with his face and whiskers all white and moist. Circumstantial evidence only of course, but many a cat has been drowned on less. Now Erick was telling Fritz and Clarence all about it.

On top of the trailer, superintending the boys who were adjusting the last straps and knots, sat Tut Ankh Amen, Jr. Now and then he turned his bright eyes from the poor slaves on the ground to Bonnie Prince Charley and Little Lord Fauntleroy, who were chasing their tails in their wire cage, which hung near the top of the hood on the spring wagon. Egyptian parrots are not carnivorous, but from the way Tut was eyeing the royal mice no one would have thought so.

The crowd had pressed closer. Mr. Cleaves and Mr. Cowpens, the town’s rival butchers, were marking off imaginary cuts on Silverheels’ flank, and the mule, with ears laid back, was waiting only for a chance to do a little marking, himself.

“ Right there,” said Cleaves, pointing, “ that’s where you find the best steak on a mule or a boss either.”

Silverheels’ ears went back a little farther, and the whites of his eyes showed largely. It’s rather annoying to hear anyone talk of cutting steaks from you.

“ It’s a great outfit, huh, Mr. Stringer? ” said a small boy. “ Wisht I could go! ”

Stringer, who happened to be the meanest grocer in town, only shook his head and looked at Mr. McCann, who was a close second. “ Too bad they’re not takin’ more provisions,” he said.

“ Too bad,” echoed McCann.

“Tut, tut, tut!” said the parrot at that moment, and everybody laughed except the grocers.

“ Now they’re all ready! ” someone shouted.

Red Gilbert climbed into the driver’s seat beside little Mex and King Richard. “ All right back there? ” he shouted.

“ All right,” replied Skip.

“ Giddap, Duke! Giddap, Silverheels! ”

Wheels and harness creaked. The wagon lurched forward; the trailer jerked after it. Tut Ankh Amen, Jr., lost his balance and sat down and then rose again with a flash of his bright eyes at the white mice and with many an indig¬ nant “ Tut! ” You might have thought the mice had pushed him. Fred and Paul followed on foot at either side of the trailer; Skip and Pen took their places behind.

“Good-by, boys!” called a score of voices. “ Take good care of yourselves. Good-by! Good luck! ”

Red leaned over the side and waved his hand, and would you believe it, the faces of half a dozen girls turned crimson for absolutely no reason at all!

“ Well,” said Skip, “ it’s a pretty good send-off, don’t you think? ”

“ Great! ” replied Pen. “ Say, did you notice Grace Overton’s face when Red waved? ”

“ Did I notice it? ” replied Skip. “ Ask me if I noticed the sun! But for that matter, why pick on poor Grace? There were a dozen others! ”

“ Grace’s father,” said Pen, grinning, “ is in the diplomatic service.”

“ What’s that got to do with it? ”

“ Oh, nothing, I guess.”

About a mile outside the town limits Red halted in the shade at the top of a long hill, and the boys examined straps and ropes again to make sure that everything was in good shape.

“ Did we make a good showing? ” Red asked.

“ I’ll say we did! ” replied Fred.

“ Say, Red,” said Pen with a wink at Skip, “ there’s at least one girl in town who’ll feel bad if we don’t make a success of this show.”

“ Is there? ” inquired Red innocently.

Pen winked again at Skip, but Red apparently was thinking of other things; anyway he wasn’t a bit interested. At last he went to the trailer, fastened a thong to Tut’s foot and tied the other end to a strap on top. “ I’d hate to lose you, Tut,” he said. “ There now, stop your winking; don’t you know it’s bad manners? Any fool can wink!”

Pen coughed behind his hand, and Red looked up at him innocently. “ Isn’t it funny how a bird will wink sometimes? I suppose it’s the sunlight.”

“ Probably,” replied Pen, and Skip grinned. You had to be more than wide awake to “ put one over ” on Red Gilbert.

“ Well, let’s all get aboard now,” said Red. “ It’s all down-hill to that stream there, and we may as well ride when we can.”

He climbed into the driver’s seat again. Skip and Pen got into the back of the spring wagon and, pushing the cats aside, sat down. Fred and Paul climbed aboard the trailer, where they sat on either side of Tut, with arms folded across their chests, like artillerymen on a caisson.

“ Giddap! ” said Red, and they were on their way toward the narrow wooden bridge at the foot of the hill.

Perhaps it was Fate that a moment later sent a big horsefly skimming through the air right at poor old Silverheels; and perhaps Fate was familiar with the big mule’s state of mind at that moment. At any rate the fly struck him right on the flank at the precise spot where Mr. Cleaves had contemplated cutting a few pounds of steak. Silverheels may have been thinking of sharp knives when the horsefly sat down.

The big mule stopped short and shivered all over. Deeper and deeper went the point of that butcher knife! Back went his ears; out came the whites of his eyes. Then Red spied the fly and made a brush at it with his whip. But it was too late. Silverheels shot forward and dragged Duke with him.

“ Whoa! ” cried Red, leaning back on the lines. “ Whoa! Whoa! ”

Silverheels thought otherwise, and in an instant he had the black horse thinking the same way. Down the long slope they rushed neck and neck. Clatter! Clatter! Clatter! ”

“ Hey! ” cried Skip. “ Red, Red, what’s the matter? ”

“ E-e-e-yo-w-w-o-o! ” wailed the three cats, all of them cowards at heart.

“ Squeak—squeak! ” came from the royal mice.

And back on the trailer Fred and Paul with the breath fairly jolted out of them were clinging to the baggage like monkeys to a palm tree in a hurricane.