The Circus Boys On The Flying Rings(飞指环上的马戏团男孩)

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The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings

The Circus Boys on the

Flying Rings

Edgar B.P. Darlington

The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings

CHAPTER I

THE LURE OF THE CIRCUS

"I say, Phil, I can do that." "Do what, Teddy?" "A cartwheel in the air

like that fellow is doing in the picture on the billboard there." "Oh, pshaw!

You only think you can. Besides, that's not a cartwheel; that's a double

somersault. It's a real stunt, let me tell you. Why, I can do a cartwheel

myself. But up in the air like that--well, I don't know. I guess not. I'd

be willing to try it, though, if I had something below to catch me," added

the lad, critically surveying the figures on the poster before them. "How'd

you like to be a circus man, Phil?" Phil's dark eyes glowed with a new

light, his slender figure straightening until the lad appeared fully half a

head taller. "More than anything else in the world," he breathed. "Would

you?" "Going to be," nodded Teddy decisively, as if the matter were

already settled. "Oh, you are, eh?" "Uh-huh!" "When?" "I don't know.

Someday--someday when I get old enough, maybe." Phil Forrest surveyed

his companion with a half critical smile on his face. "What are you going

to do--be a trapeze performer or what?" "Well," reflected the lad wisely,

"maybe I shall be an 'Or What.' I'm not sure. Sometimes I think I should

like to be the fellow who cracks the whip with the long lash and makes the

clowns hop around on one foot--" "You mean the ringmaster?" "I guess

that's the fellow. He makes 'em all get around lively. Then, sometimes, I

think I would rather be a clown. I can skin a cat on the flying rings to

beat the band, now. What would you rather be, Phil?" "Me? Oh,

something up in the air--high up near the peak of the tent--something

thrilling that would make the people sit up on the board seats and gasp,

when, all dressed in pink and spangles, I'd go flying through the air--"

"Just like a bird?" questioned Teddy, with a rising inflection in his voice.

"Yes. That's what I'd like most to do, Teddy," concluded the lad, his face

flushed with the thought of the triumphs that might be his. Teddy Tucker

uttered a soft, long-drawn whistle. "My, you've got it bad, haven't you?

Never thought you were that set on the circus. Wouldn't it be fine, now,

if we both could get with a show?" "Great!" agreed Phil, with an emphatic

The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings

nod. "Sometimes I think my uncle would be glad to have me go away--

that he wouldn't care whether I joined a circus, or what became of me."

"Ain't had much fun since your ma died, have you, Phil?" questioned

Teddy sympathetically. "Not much," answered the lad, a thin, gray mist

clouding his eyes. "No, not much. But, then, I'm not complaining."

"Your uncle's a mean old--" "There, there, Teddy, please don't say it. He

may be all you think he is, but for all the mean things he's said and done to

me, I've never given him an impudent word, Teddy. Can you guess

why?" "Cause he's your uncle, maybe," grumbled Teddy. "No, 'cause he's

my mother's brother--that's why." "I don't know. Maybe I'd feel that way

if I'd had a mother." "But you did." "Nobody ever introduced us, if I did.

Guess she didn't know me. But if your uncle was my uncle do you know

what I'd do with him, Phil Forrest?" "Don't let's talk about him. Let's talk

about the circus. It's more fun," interrupted Phil, turning to the billboard

again and gazing at it with great interest. They were standing before the

glowing posters of the Great Sparling Combined Shows, that was to visit

Edmeston on the following Thursday. Phillip Forrest and Teddy Tucker

were fast friends, though they were as different in appearance and

temperament as two boys well could be. Phil was just past sixteen, while

Teddy was a little less than a year younger. Phil's figure was slight and

graceful, while that of his companion was short and chubby. Both lads

were orphans. Phil's parents had been dead for something more than five

years. Since their death he had been living with a penurious old uncle

who led a hermit-like existence in a shack on the outskirts of Edmeston.

But the lad could remember when it had been otherwise--when he had

lived in his own home, surrounded by luxury and refinement, until evil

days came upon them without warning. His father's property had been

swept away, almost in a night. A year later both of his parents had died,

leaving him to face the world alone. The boy's uncle had taken him in

begrudgingly, and Phil's life from that moment on had been one of self-

denial and hard work. Yet he was thankful for one thing--thankful that his

miserly old uncle had permitted him to continue at school. Standing high

in his class meant something in Phil's case, for the boy was obliged to

work at whatever he could find to do after school hours, his uncle

The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings

compelling him to contribute something to the household expenses every

week. His duties done, Phil was obliged to study far into the night, under

the flickering light of a tallow candle, because oil cost too much.

Sometimes his candle burned far past the midnight hour, while he applied

himself to his books that he might be prepared for the next day's classes.

Hard lines for a boy? Yes. But Phil Forrest was not the lad to complain.

He went about his studies the same as he approached any other task that

was set for him to do--went about it with a grim, silent determination to

conquer it. And he always did. As for Teddy--christened Theodore, but

so long ago that he had forgotten that that was his name--he studied, not

because he possessed a burning desire for knowledge, but as a matter of

course, and much in the same spirit he did the chores for the people with

whom he lived. Teddy was quite young when his parents died leaving him

without a relative in the world. A poor, but kind-hearted family in

Edmeston had taken the lad in rather than see him become a public charge.

With them he had lived and been cared for ever since. Of late years,

however, he had been able to do considerable toward lightening the

burden for them by the money he managed to earn here and there. The two

boys were on their way home from school. There remained but one more

day before the close of the term, which was a matter of sincere regret to

Phil and of keen satisfaction to his companion. Just now both were too full

of the subject of the coming show to think of much else. "Going to the

show, Phil?" "I am afraid not." "Why not?" "I haven't any money; that's

the principal reason," smiled the boy. "Are you?" "Sure. Don't need

any money to go to a circus." "You don't?" "No." "How do you manage

it?" "Crawl in under the tent when the man ain't looking," answered Teddy

promptly. "I wouldn't want to do that," decided the older lad, with a shake

of the head. "It wouldn't be quite honest. Do you think so?" Teddy

Tucker shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Never thought about it.

Don't let myself think about it. Isn't safe, for I might not go to the show if I

did. What's your other reason?" "For not going to the circus?" "Yes."

"Well, I don't think Uncle would let me; that's a fact." "Why not?" "Says

circuses and all that sort of thing are evil influences." "Oh, pshaw! Wish

he was my uncle," decided Teddy belligerently. "How long are you going

The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings

to stand for being mauled around like a little yellow dog?" "I'll stand most

anything for the sake of getting an education. When I get that then I'm

going to strike out for myself, and do something in the world. You'll hear

from me yet, Teddy Tucker, and maybe I'll hear from you, too." "See me,

you mean--see me doing stunts on a high something-or- other in a circus.

Watch me turn a somersault." The lad stood poised on the edge of the ditch,

on the other side of which the billboard stood. This gave him the

advantage of an elevated position from which to attempt his feat. "Look

out that you don't break your neck," warned Phil. "I'd try it on a haymow,

or something like that, first." "Don't you worry about me. See how easy

that fellow in the picture is doing it. Here goes!" Teddy launched himself

into the air, with a very good imitation of a diver making a plunge into the

water, hands stretched out before him, legs straight behind him. He was

headed straight for the ditch. "Turn, Teddy! Turn! You'll strike on your

head." Teddy was as powerless to turn as if he had been paralyzed from

head to foot. Down he went, straight as an arrow. There followed a

splash as his head struck the water of the ditch, the lad's feet beating a

tattoo in the air while his head was stuck fast in the mud at the bottom of

the ditch. "He'll drown," gasped Phil, springing down into the little stream,

regardless of the damage liable to be done to his own clothes. Throwing

both arms about the body of his companion he gave a mighty tug. Teddy

stuck obstinately, and Phil was obliged to take a fresh hold before he

succeeded in hauling the lad from his perilous position. Teddy was

gasping for breath. His face, plastered with mud, was unrecognizable,

while his clothes were covered from head to foot. Phil dumped him on the

grass beneath the circus billboard and began wiping the mud from his

companion's face, while Teddy quickly sat up, blinking the mud out of his

eyes and grumbling unintelligibly. "You're a fine circus performer, you

are," laughed Phil. "Suppose you had been performing on a flying trapeze

in a circus, what do you suppose would have happened to you?" "I'd have

had a net under me then, and I wouldn't have fallen in the ditch," grunted

Teddy sullenly. "What do you suppose the folks will say when you go

home in that condition?" "Don't care what they say. Fellow has got to

learn sometime, and if I don't have any worse thing happen to me than

The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings

falling in a ditch I ought to be pretty well satisfied. Guess I'll go back

now. Come on, go 'long with me." Phil turned and strode along by the

side of his companion until they reached the house where Teddy lived.

"Come on in." "I'm sorry, Teddy, but I can't. My uncle will be expecting

me, and he won't like it if I am late." "All right; see you tomorrow if you

don't come out again tonight. We'll try some more stunts then." "I wouldn't

till after the circus, were I in your place," laughed Phil. "Why not!" "Cause,

if you break your neck, you won't be able to go to the show." "Huh!"

grunted Teddy, hastily turning his back on his companion and starting for

the house. Phil took his way home silently and thoughtfully, carrying his

precious bundle of books under an arm, his active mind planning as to

how he might employ his time to the best advantage during the summer

vacation that was now so close at hand. A rheumatic, bent figure was

standing in front of the shack where the lad lived, glaring up the street

from beneath bushy eyebrows, noting Phil Forrest's leisurely gait

disapprovingly. Phil saw him a moment later. "I'm in for a scolding," he

muttered. "Wonder what it is all about this time. I don't seem able to

do a thing to please Uncle Abner."

The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings

CHAPTER II

PHIL HEARS HIS DISMISSAL

"Where you been, young man?" The question was a snarl rather than

a sentence. "To school, Uncle, of course." "School's been out more than an

hour. I say, where have you been?" "I stopped on the way for a few

minutes." "You did?" exploded Abner Adams. "Where?" "Teddy Tucker

and I stopped to read a circus bill over there on Clover Street. We did not

stop but a few minutes. Was there any harm in that?" "Harm? Circus

bill--" "And I want to go to the circus, too, Uncle, when it comes here. You

know? I have not been to anything of that sort since mother died--not

once. I'll work and earn the money. I can go in the evening after my

work is finished. Please let me go, Uncle." For a full minute Abner

Adams was too overcome with his emotions to speak. He hobbled about

in a circle, smiting the ground with his cane, alternately brandishing it

threateningly in the air over the head of the unflinching Phil. "Circus!" he

shouted. "I might have known it! I might have known it! You and

that Tucker boy are two of a kind. You'll both come to some bad ending.

Only fools and questionable characters go to such places--" "My mother

and father went, and they always took me," replied the boy, drawing

himself up with dignity. "You certainly do not include them in either of

the two classes you have named?" "So much the worse for them! So

much the worse for them. They were a pair of--" "Uncle, Uncle!" warned

Phil. "Please don't say anything against my parents. I won't stand it.

Don't forget that my mother was your own sister, too." "I'm not likely to

forget it, after she's bundled such a baggage as you into my care. You're

turning out a worthless, good-for- nothing loaf--" "You haven't said

whether or not I might go to the circus, Uncle," reminded Phil. "Circus?

No! I'll have none of my money spent on any such worthless--" "But I

didn't ask you to spend your money, even though you have plenty of it. I

said I would earn the money--" "You'll have a chance to earn it, and right

quick at that. No, you won't go to any circus so long as you're living under

my roof." "Very well, Uncle, I shall do as you wish, of course," answered

The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings

Phil, hiding his disappointment as well as he could. The lad shifted his

bundle of books to the other hand and started slowly for the house. Abner

Adams hobbled about until he faced the lad again, an angry gleam lighting

up his squinting eyes. "Come back here!" Phil halted, turning. "I said

come back here." The lad did so, his self-possession and quiet dignity

never deserting him for an instant. This angered the crabbed old uncle

more than ever. "When will you get through school?" "Tomorrow, I

believe." "Huh! Then, I suppose you intend to loaf for the rest of the

summer and live on my hard earned savings. Is that it?" "No, sir; I hadn't

thought of doing anything of the sort. I thought--" "What did you think?"

"I thought I would find something to do. Of course, I do not expect to be

idle. I shall work at something until school begins again next fall, then,

of course, I shall not be able to do so much." "School! You've had

enough school! In my days boys didn't spend the best part of their lives

in going to school. They worked." "Yes, sir; I am willing to work, too.

But, Uncle, I must have an education. I shall be able to earn so much

more then, and, if necessary, I shall be able to pay you for all you have

spent on me, which isn't much, you know." "What, what? You dare to be

impudent to me? You--" "No, sir, I am not impudent. I have never been

that and I never shall be; but you are accusing me wrongfully." "Enough.

You have done with school--" "You--you mean that I am not to go to

school any more--that I have got to go through life with the little I have

learned? Is that what you mean, Uncle?" asked the boy, with a sinking

heart. "You heard me." "What do you want me to do?" "Work!" "I am

working and I shall be working," Phil replied. "You're right you will, or

you'll starve. I have been thinking this thing over a lot lately. A boy

never amounts to anything if he's mollycoddled and allowed to spend his

days depending on someone else. Throw him out and let him fight his

own way. That's what my father used to tell me, and that's what I'm going

to say to you." "What do you mean, Uncle?" "Mean? Can't you

understand the English language? Have I got to draw a picture to make

you understand? Get to work!" "I am going to as soon as school is out."

"You'll do it now. Get yourself out of my house, bag and baggage!"

"Uncle, Uncle!" protested the lad in amazement. "Would you turn me

The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings

out?" "Would I? I have, only you are too stupid to know it. You'll thank

me for it when you get old enough to have some sense." Phil's heart sank

within him, and it required all his self-control to keep the bitter tears from

his eyes. "When do you wish me to go?" he asked without a quaver in his

voice. "Now." "Very well, I'll go. But what do you think my mother

would say, could she know this?" "That will do, young man. Do your

chores, and then--" "I am not working for you now, Uncle, you know, so I

shall have to refuse to do the chores. There is fifty cents due me from Mr.

Churchill for fixing his chicken coop. You may get that, I don't want it."

Phil turned away once more, and with head erect entered the house, going

straight to his room, leaving Abner Adams fuming and stamping about in

the front yard. The old man's rage knew no bounds. He was so beside

himself with anger over the fancied impudence of his nephew that, had the

boy been present, he might have so far forgotten himself as to have used

his cane on Phil. But Phil by this time had entered his own room, locking

the door behind him. The lad threw his books down on the bed, dropped

into a chair and sat palefaced, tearless and silent. Slowly his eyes rose to

the old-fashioned bureau, where his comb and brush lay. The eyes halted

when at length they rested on the picture of his mother. The lad rose as if

drawn by invisible hands, reached out and clasped the photograph to him.

Then the pent-up tears welled up in a flood. With the picture pressed to

his burning cheek Phil Forrest threw himself on his bed and sobbed out his

bitter grief. He did not hear the thump of Abner Adams' cane on the

bedroom door, nor the angry demands that he open it. "Mother, Mother!"

breathed the unhappy boy, as his sobs gradually merged into long-drawn,

trembling sighs. Perhaps his appeal was not unheard. At least Phil

Forrest sprang from his bed, holding the picture away from him with both

hands and gazing into the eyes of his mother. Slowly his shoulders drew

back and his head came up, while an expression of strong determination

flashed into his own eyes. "I'll do it--I'll be a man, Mother!" he exclaimed

in a voice in which there was not the slightest tremor now. "I'll fight the

battle and I'll win." Phil Forest had come to the parting of the ways, which

he faced with a courage unusual in one of his years. There was little to

be done. He packed his few belongings in a bag that had been his

The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings

mother's. The lad possessed one suit besides the one he wore, and this he

stowed away as best he could, determining to press it out when he had

located himself. Finally his task was finished. He stood in the middle of

the floor glancing around the little room that had been his home for so

long. But he felt no regrets. He was only making sure that he had not

left anything behind. Having satisfied himself on this point, Phil

gathered up his bundle of books, placed the picture of his mother in his

inside coat pocket, then threw open the door. The lad's uncle had stamped

to the floor below, where he was awaiting Phil's coming. "Good-bye,

Uncle," he said quietly, extending a hand. "Let me see that bag," snapped

the old man. "The bag is mine--it belonged to my mother," explained the

boy. "Surely you don't object to my taking it with me?" "You're welcome

to it, and good riddance; but I'm going to find out what's inside of it." "You

surely don't think I would take anything that doesn't belong to me--you

can't mean that?" "Ain't saying what I mean. Hand over that bag." With

burning cheeks, Phil did as he was bid, his unwavering eyes fixed almost

sternly on the wrathful face of Abner Adams. "Huh!" growled the old man,

tumbling the contents out on the floor, shaking Phil's clothes to make sure

that nothing was concealed in them. Apparently satisfied, the old man

threw the bag on the floor with an exclamation of disgust. Phil once

more gathered up his belongings and stowed them away in the satchel.

"Turn out your pockets!" "There is nothing in them, Uncle, save some

trinkets of my own and my mother's picture." "Turn them out!" thundered

the old man. "Uncle, I have always obeyed you. Obedience was one of

the things that my mother taught me, but I'm sure that were she here she

would tell me I was right in refusing to humiliate myself as you would

have me do. There is nothing in my pockets that does not belong to me.

I am not a thief." "Then I'll turn them out myself!" snarled Abner Adams,

starting forward. Phil stepped back a pace, satchel in hand. "Uncle, I am a

man now," said the boy, straightening to his full height. "Please don't

force me to do something that I should be sorry for all the rest of my life.

Will you shake hands with me?" "No!" thundered Abner Adams. "Get

out of my sight before I lay the stick over your head!" Phil stretched out an

appealing hand, then hastily withdrew it. "Good-bye, Uncle Abner," he

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TheCircusBoysontheFlyingRings1TheCircusBoysontheFlyingRingsEdgarB.P.DarlingtonTheCircusBoysontheFlyingRings2CHAPTERITHELUREOFTHECIRCUS"Isay,Phil,Icandothat.""Dowhat,Teddy?""Acartwheelintheairlikethatfellowisdoinginthepictureonthebillboardthere.""Oh,pshaw!Youonlythinkyoucan.Besides,that'snotacartwhee...

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