CHAPTER X
HIS FIRST BAREBACK LESSON
"Where's that boy?"
"He'll catch it if he ever dares show his face in this dressingtent again."
This and other expressions marked the disapproval of theperformers of the manner in which their enclosure had beenentered and disrupted.
"Don't blame him; blame the mule," advised Mr. Miaco, thehead clown.
"Yes; Teddy wasn't to blame," declared Phil, who had entered atthat moment. "Did he do all this?" he asked, looking about atthe scene of disorder.
"He did. Lucky some of us weren't killed," declared one."If that mule isn't cut out of the programme I'll quitthis outfit. Never safe a minute while he and the kidare around. First, the kid gets us into a scrimmage with theroustabouts, then he slam bangs into the dressing tent with afool mule and puts the whole business out of the running."
"Was Mr. Sparling--was he mad?" asked Phil, laughing until thetears started.
"Mad? He was red headed," replied Miaco.
"Where's Teddy?"
"He got stuck in the strong man's trunk there. The boss had topull him out, for he was wedged fast. Then the young manprudently made his escape. If the boss hadn't skinned him wewould have done so. He got out just in time."
"Are you Phil Forrest?" asked a uniformed attendant entering thedressing tent.
"Yes; what is it?"
"Lady wants to see you out in the paddock."
"Who is it?"
"Mrs. Robinson."
"I don't know any Mrs. Robinson."
"He means Little Dimples," Mr. Miaco informed him.
"Oh."
Phil hurried from the tent. Dimples was sitting on a propertybox,industriously engaged on a piece of embroidery work. She made apretty picture perched up on the box engaged in her peacefuloccupation with the needle, and the lad stopped to gaze ather admiringly.
Dimples glanced down with a smile.
"Does it surprise you to see me at my fancy work? That's whatI love. Why, last season, I embroidered a new shirt waist everyweek during the show season. I don't know what I'll do withthem all. But come over here and sit down by me. I ought tothank you for saving my life this afternoon, but I know you wouldrather I did not."
Phil nodded.
"I don't like to be thanked. It makes me feel--well, awkward,I guess. You froze, didn't you?"
"I did," and Dimples laughed merrily.
"What made you do so--the horse?"
"Yes. I thought he was going to fall all the way down,then by the time I remembered where I was I couldn't turn to savemy life. I heard you call to me to do so, but I couldn't.But let's talk about you. You hurt your back, didn't you?"
"Nothing to speak of. It will be all right by morning. I'm justa little lame now. Where were you--what show were you withlast year?"
"The Ringlings."
"The Ringlings?" marveled Phil. "Why, I shouldn't think youwould want to leave a big show like that for a little one suchas this?"
"It's the price, my dear boy. I get more money here, and I'ma star here. In the big shows one is just a little part of abig organization. There's nothing like the small shows forcomfort and good fellowship. Don't you think so?"
"I don't know," admitted Phil. "This is the only show I haveever been with. I 'joined out' last season--"
"Only last season? Well, well! I must say you have made prettyrapid progress for one who has been out less than a year."
"I have made a lot of blunders," laughed Phil. "But I'mlearning.I wish, though, that I could do a bareback act one quarter aswellas you do. I should be very proud if I could."
"Have you ever tried it?"
"No."
"Why don't you learn, then? You'd pick it up quickly."
"For the reason that I have never had an opportunity--I've had noone to teach me."
"Then you shall do so now. Your teacher is before you."
"You--you mean that you will teach me?"
"Of course. What did you think I meant?"
"I--I wasn't sure. That will be splendid."
"I saw your elephant act. You are a very finished performer--a natural born showman. If you stay in the business long enoughyou will make a great reputation for yourself."
"I don't want to be a performer all my life. I am going to owna show some of these days," announced the boy confidently.
"Oh, you are, are you?" laughed Dimples. "Well, if you say so,I most surely believe you. You have the right sort of pluckto get anything you set your heart on. Now if my boy only--"
"Your boy?"
"Yes. Didn't you know that I am a married woman?"
"Oh my, I thought you were a young girl," exclaimed Phil.
"Thank you; that was a very pretty compliment. But, alas, I amno longer young. I have a son almost as old as you are. He iswith his father, performing at the Crystal Palace in London.I expect to join them over there after my season closes here."
"Is it possible?"
"Yes, and as my own boy is so far away I shall have to be a sortof mother to you this season. You have no mother, have you?"
"No. My mother is dead," answered the lad in a low voice,lowering his eyes.
"I thought as much. Mothers don't like to have their boys joina circus; but, if they knew what a strict, wholesome life acircus performer has to lead, they would not be so set againstthe circus. Don't you think, taking it all in all, that we area pretty good sort?" smiled Dimples.
"I wish everyone were as good as circus folks," the boy madeanswer so earnestly as to bring a pleased smile to the face ofhis companion.
"You shall have a lesson today for that, if you wish."
"Do I?"
"Then run along and get on your togs. As soon as the performanceis over we will get out my ring horse and put in an hour's work."
"Thank you, thank you!" glowed Phil as Mrs. Robinson rolled upher work. "I'll be out in a few moments."
Full of pleasurable anticipation, Phil ran to the dressingtent and began rummaging in his trunk for his working tights.These he quickly donned and hurried back to the paddock.There he found Dimples with her ring horse, petting thebroad-backed beast while he nibbled at the grass.
"Waiting, you see?" she smiled up at Forrest.
"Yes. But the performance isn't finished yet, is it?"
"No. The hippodrome races are just going on. Come over to thisside of the paddock, where we shall be out of the way, and I'llteach you a few first principles."
"What do you want me to do first?"
"Put your foot in my hand and I will give you a lift."
The lad did as directed and sprang lightly to the back ofthe gray.
"Move over on the horse's hip. There. Sit over just asfar as you can without slipping off. You saw how I did itthis afternoon?"
"Yes--oh, here I go!"
Phil slid from the sloping side of the ring horse, landing in aheap, to the accompaniment of a rippling laugh from Dimples.
"I guess I'm not much of a bareback rider," grinned the lad,picking himself up. "How do you manage to stay on it inthat position?"
"I don't know. It is just practice. You will catch the trick ofit very soon."
"I'm not so sure of that."
"There! Now, take hold of the rein and stand up.Don't be afraid--"
"I'm not. Don't worry about my being afraid."
"I didn't mean it that way. Move back further. It is not goodto stand in the middle of your horse's back all the time.Besides throwing too much weight on the back, you are liable totickle the animal there and make him nervous. The best work isdone by standing over the horse's hip. That's it. Tread on theballs of your feet."
But Phil suddenly went sprawling, landing on the ground again,at which both laughed merrily.
Very shortly after that the show in the big top came to a close.The concert was now going on, at the end nearest the menagerietent,so Phil and Dimples took the ring at the other end of the tent,where t
hey resumed their practice.
After a short time Phil found himself able to stand erect withmore confidence. Now, his instructor, with a snap of her littlewhip, started the gray to walking slowly about the ring, Philholding tightly to the bridle rein to steady himself.
"Begin moving about now. Tread softly and lightly. That's it.You've caught it already."
"Why not put a pad on the horse's back, as I've seen someperformers do?" he questioned.
"No. I don't want you to begin that way. Start without a pad,and you never will have to unlearn what you get. That's myadvice.I'm going to set him at a gallop now. Stand straight and leanbacka little."
The ring horse moved off at a slow, methodical gallop.
Phil promptly fell off, landing outside the ring, from where hepicked himself up rather crestfallen.
"Never mind. You'll learn. You are doing splendidly,"encouraged Dimples, assisting him to mount again. "There's thepress agent, Mr. Dexter, watching you. Now do your prettiest.Do you know him?"
"No; I have not met him. He's the fellow that Teddy says blowsup his words with a bicycle pump."
"That's fine. I shall have to tell him that. Remember, youalways want to keep good friends with the press agent. He's theman who makes or unmakes you after you have passed the eagle eyesof the proprietor," Dimples laughed. "From what I hear I guessyou stand pretty high with Mr. Sparling."
"I try to do what is right--do the best I know how."
She nodded, clucking to the gray and Phil stopped talking atonce, for he was fully occupied in sticking to the horse,over whose back he sprawled every now and then in the mostridiculous of positions. But, before the afternoon's practicehad ended, the lad had made distinct progress. He found himselfable to stand erect, by the aid of the bridle rein, and to keephis position fairly well while the animal took a slow gallop.He had not yet quite gotten over the dizziness caused by theconstant traveling about in a circle in the narrow ring,but Dimples assured him that, after a few more turns, this wouldwear off entirely.
After finishing the practice, Dimples led her horse backto the horse tent, promising Phil that they should meet thenext afternoon.
Phil had no more than changed to his street clothes before hereceived a summons to go to Mr. Sparling in his private tent.
"I wonder what's wrong now?" muttered the lad. "But, I thinkI know. It's about that row we had this morning out on the lot.I shouldn't be surprised if I got fined for that."
With a certain nervousness, Phil hurried out around thedressing tent, and skirting the two big tents, sought outMr. Sparling in his office.