Andy the Acrobat Page 16

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE REGISTERED MAIL

  Andy hurried back to the circus grounds the happiest boy on earth. Hewent straight to the clown's tent.

  Billy Blow was making up for the morning parade. Dressed up as away-back farmer, he was to drive a hay wagon, breaking into theprocession here and there along the line of march. Finally, when he hadcreated a sensation, he was to drop his disguise and emerge in his usualpopular ring character.

  While Billy was putting the finishing touches to his toilet he conversedwith Andy, congratulating him on his success in getting a job withthe show.

  "Wait about half-an-hour till the parade gets off the grounds," headvised Andy. "Scripps, the manager, will be busy till then. You'll findhim in the paper tent."

  Andy knew what that was--the structure containing the programmes andgeneral advertising and posting outfits of the show. He had noticed itearlier in the day. A wagon inside the tent, with steps and windows,comprised the manager's private office.

  Little Midge was sitting up playing with some show children who hadbrought in a lot of toys. Andy went outside with Billy.

  "See here," said the clown, as he hurried off to join the parade. "TellScripps that you bunk with me. Any objection?"

  "I should say not."

  "You're welcome. The general crowd they'd put you with is a bit toorough for a raw recruit. Just stand what they give you till we reachTipton. You've got friends enough to pull you up into the performers'rank. We'll fix you out there."

  "Thank you," said Andy.

  He strolled about with a happy smile on his face. Prospects looked fine,and Andy's heart warmed as he thought of all the good friends hehad made.

  "They're a nice crowd," he thought--"Miss Starr, Marco, the BenaresBrothers, the clown. How different, though, to what I used to think!It's business with them, real work, for all the tinsel and glare. It's apleasant business, though, and they must make a lot of money."

  There was a shrill, whistling shriek from the calliope wagon. Thevarious performers scampered from their dressing rooms at the signal.

  Each person, vehicle and animal fell into line in the morning caravanwith a promptness and ease born of long practice.

  Soon there was a fluttering line of gay color, rich plush hangings,bullion-trimmed uniforms, silken flags and streamers.

  Zeno, the balloon clown, eating "redhots," i.e. peanuts, led theprocession, bouncing up and down on a rubber globe in the advancechariot. The bands began to play. The prancing horses, rumbling wagons,screaming calliope, frolicking tumblers, tramp bicyclists weaving in andout in grotesque costumes, often on one wheel, the Tallyho stage filledwith smiling ladies, old Sultan, the majestic lion, gazing in calmdignity down from his high extension cage--all this passed, a fantasticpanorama, before Andy's engrossed gaze.

  "It's grand!" decided Andy--"just grand! A fellow can never get lonesomehere, night or day. I'm going to like it. Now for the manager. Hope Idon't have any trouble."

  When Andy came to the paper tent he found a good many people inside.There were several performers and canvas men on crutches or bandaged up.There were village merchants with bills, newspaper men after free passesand persons seeking employment.

  They were called in turn up the steps of the wagon that constituted themanager's office.

  Mr. Scripps was a rapid talker, a brisk man of business, and he disposedof the cases presented in quick order.

  Andy saw four or five dissipated looking men discharged at a word. Theapplicants for work were ordered to appear at Tipton, two days later.

  Several were after an advance on their salary. Some farmers appearedwith claims for foraging done by circus hands. Finally Andy got to thefront and tendered the card Mr. Harding had given him.

  "All right," shot out Scripps sharply, giving the lad a keen look."You're the one who blocked the game on Benares? Good for you! We'llremember that, later."

  Scripps glanced over a pasteboard sheet on his desk, first asking Andyhis name and age, and writing his answers down in a big-paged book.

  "Half-a-dollar a day and keep, for the present," he said.

  "All right," nodded Andy--"it's a start."

  "Just so. Let me see. Ah, here we are. Report to the Wild Man of Borneoside top at twelve."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Hammer the big triangle there till two. Then--let me see again. Knowhow to ride a horse?"

  "Oh, yes," replied Andy eagerly.

  "All right, at two o'clock report for the jockey ring section at thehorse tent. They'll hand you a costume."

  Scripps wrote a number on a red ticket and handed this to Andy--his passas an employee. Just then a newcomer bundled up the stepsunceremoniously, a red-faced, fussy old fellow.

  "Mail's in," he announced. "Give me the O.K."

  Scripps fumbled in a drawer of his desk and brought out a rubber stampand pad.

  "Mind your eye, Rip," he observed, casting a scrutinizing look over theintruder.

  "Which eye?" demanded the old fellow.

  "The one that sees a bottle and glass the quickest."

  "H'm!" grumbled Ripley, or "Rip Van Winkle," as he was familiarly knownby the show people. "My eyes are all right. Don't fret. I've been twentyyears with this here show, man and boy--"

  "Yes, yes, we know all about that," interrupted Scripps. "You'reseasoned, right enough. Don't leave the rig to come home without adriver, though, and money letters aboard, as you did last week. Here isa new hand. Break him in to keep his time employed."

  Ripley viewed Andy with some disfavor. Evidently he regarded him as asort of guardian.

  Andy, however, silently followed him outside. Ripley soon reached aclose vehicle, boarded up back of the seat and with two doors atthe rear.

  A big-boned mottled horse, once evidently a beauty, was between theshafts. As Andy lifted himself to the seat beside Ripley, the lattermade a peculiar, purring: "Z-rr-rp, Lute!"

  He did not even take up the reins. The horse, with a neigh and a friskydance movement of the forefeet, started up.

  "Right, left, slow, Lute. Turn--now go"--Ripley gave a dozen directionswithin the next five minutes. He was showing off for Andy's benefit. Thelatter was, in fact, pleased. The animal obeyed every direction with aprecision and intelligence that fairly amazed the boy.

  Finally getting to a clear course outside the circus tangle, Ripley tookup the reins.

  He set his lips and uttered two sharp whistles, ending in a kind ofhiss.

  Andy was very nearly jerked out of his seat He had to hold on to itsside bar. For about five hundred yards the horse took a sprint thatknocked off his cap and fairly took his breath away.

  "Say, he's great!" Andy exclaimed irrepressibly, as Ripley slowed downagain.

  "I guess so," nodded the latter, aroused out of his crustiness by Andy'senthusiasm. "That Lucille was famous, once. Past her prime a little now,but when her old driver has the reins, she don't forget, does she?"

  Ripley took a turn into a side street and finally halted, giving Andythe reins.

  "Got to order something," he said.

  Andy saw him enter a store, but only to leave it by a side door andcross an alley into a saloon.

  Ripley tried to appear very business-like when he came back to thewagon, but Andy caught the taint of liquor in his breath.

  Twice again the circus veteran made stops in the same manner. He becamequite chatty and confidential.

  Ripley explained to Andy that he went regularly for the circus mail ateach town where the show stopped.

  "Postmasters kick, with five hundred strangers calling for their mail,"he explained, "so we always forward a list of the employees. This mail,just before pay day, when the crowd is usually hard up, brings a goodmany money letters from friends. That rubber stamp you saw the managergive me O.K.'s all the registered cards at the post office. Once thewagon was robbed. The looters made quite a haul. Not when I was onduty, though."

  At a drug store Ripley got several packages and some more at a generalmerch
andise store. Finally they reached the post office, and Ripleydrove around to a sort of hitching alley at its side.

  "Come with me to see how we do things," he invited Andy. "Bring alongthose two mail bags."

  Andy had already noticed the bags. One was quite large. It was made ofcanvas, with a snap lock. The other was of leather, and smaller in size.

  Swinging these over his shoulder, Ripley entered the post-office. Heshowed his credentials from the circus, and was admitted behind theletter cases of the places.

  Andy watched him receive over a hundred letters and packages, receiptingfor the same on registry delivery cards. This lot he placed in the smallleather bag.

  The ordinary mail lay sorted out for the circus on a stamping table.This went into the big canvas pouch.

  The circus newspaper mail was ready tagged in a hempen sack. Ripleycarried this out to Andy.

  "Toss it in the wagon," he ordered, following with the letter pouches.

  Andy opened the back doors of the wagon and tossed in the newspaper bag.

  "Say, back in a minute," observed Ripley, depositing his own burdens onthe front wagon seat.

  Andy stood watching him. Ripley rounded a corner in the alley where awooden finger indicated a side entrance to a hotel bar. Ripley's failingwas manifest, and Andy decided that he did, indeed, need a guardian.

  The wagon stood on a space quite secluded from the street. Near theentrance to the alley several men were lounging about.

  Andy carried the leather pouch with him as he went around to the opendoors at the rear of the wagon.

  He climbed in, and stowed the newspaper bag and what packages they hadalready collected in a tidy pile. Ripley had indicated that there wasquite a miscellaneous load to pick up about town before they returned tothe circus.

  Andy was thus employed when the rear doors came together with a sharpsnap.

  They shut him in a close prisoner, for they were self-locking, on theoutside only.

  Andy, in complete darkness, now groped back to the doors. He heardquick, suppressed tones outside.

  The vehicle jolted. Some one had jumped to the front seat. A whipsnapped. Old Lute started up with a bound, throwing Andy off hisfooting. "Send her spinning!" reached him in a muffled voice from thefront seat.

  "Jump with the bag when we turn that old shed," answered other tones."Why, say! There's only one mail bag."

  "I saw them bring out two. I am dead sure of it."

  "And this is only common letters."

  "How do you know?"

  "Jim Tapp described them--'get the leather one,' he says. 'It's got themoney mail in it.'"

  "Then where is it?"

  "The kid must have it."

  "Inside the wagon?"

  "Yes."

  "Whoa."

  With a sharp jerk the horse was pulled to a halt.

  Andy heard the two men on the seat jump to the ground. He knew thattheir motive was robbery. He knew further that this was another plot ofbad Jim Tapp, the friend and associate of criminals.

  In another minute the men would open the wagon doors, pull him out,perhaps assault him, take the registered mail and fly.

  Andy had only a second to act in. He theorized that the wagon, followingthe alley, was now probably halted in some secluded side lane.

  To escape the clutches of the would-be robbers was everything. Andy,having no weapon of defence, was no match for them.

  "If the rig once reaches the crowded streets, I'm safe," thought Andy.

  Then he carried out a speedy programme. Forming his lips in a pucker, ashe had seen Ripley do, Andy uttered two sharp whistles, then a clear,resounding hiss.

  "Thunder!" yelled a voice outside.

  "Ouch!" echoed a second.

  The horse had given one wild, prodigious bound at hearing the familiarsignal.

  The vehicle must have grazed one of the thieves. Its front wheelsknocked the other down.

  "My! I'm in for it," instantly decided Andy.

  For, swayed from side to side, he realized that the circus wagon wasdashing forward at runaway speed.