Polly of the Circus | Page 5

but a sense of loss was upon them.
"I always said she'd do it," cried Barker, who now took upon himself
the credit of Polly's triumph.
And what a triumph it was!
Polly danced as serenely on Bingo's back as she might have done on

the "concert boards." She swayed gracefully with the music. Her tiny
sandals twinkled as she stood first upon one foot and then upon the
other.
Uncle Toby forgot to use many of his tricks that night; and Jim left the
loading of the wagons to take care of itself, while he hovered near the
entrance, anxious and breathless. The performers crowded around the
girl with outstretched hands and congratulations, as she came out of the
ring to cheers and applause.
But Big Jim stood apart. He was thinking of the buttons that his clumsy
fingers used to force into the stiff, starchy holes too small for them and
of the pigtails so stubborn at the ends; and Toby was remembering the
little shoes that had once needed to be laced in the cold, dark mornings,
and the strings that were always snapping.
Something had gone.
They were not philosophers to reason like Emerson, that for everything
we lose we gain something; they were simple souls, these two, they
could only feel.
Chapter II
WHILE Polly sat in the dressing tent, listening indifferently to the
chatter about the "Leap of Death" girl, Jim waited in the lot outside,
opening and shutting a small, leather bag which he had bought for her
that day. He was as blind to the picturesque outdoor life as she to her
indoor surroundings, for he, too, had been with the circus since his
earliest recollection.
The grass enclosure, where he waited, was shut in by a circle of tents
and wagons. The great, red property vans were waiting to be loaded
with the costumes and tackle which were constantly being brought
from the "big top," where the evening performance was now going on.
The gay striped curtains at the rear of the tent were looped back to give
air to the panting musicians, who sat just inside. Through the opening,
a glimpse of the audience might be had, tier upon tier, fanning and

shifting uneasily. Near the main tent stood the long, low dressing "top,"
with the women performers stowed away in one end, the "ring horses"
in the centre, and the men performers in the other end.
A temporary curtain was hung between the main and the dressing tent,
to shut out the curious mob that tried to peep in at the back lot for a
glimpse of things not to be seen in the ring.
Coloured streamers, fastened to the roofs of the tents, waved and
floated in the night air and beckoned to the towns-people on the other
side to make haste to get their places, forget their cares, and be children
again.
Over the tops of the tents, the lurid light of the distant red fire shot into
the sky, accompanied by the cries of the peanut "butchers," the popcorn
boys, the lemonade venders,{sic} and the exhortations of the side-show
"spieler," whose flying banners bore the painted reproductions of his
"freaks." Here and there stood unhitched chariots, half filled trunks,
trapeze tackle, paper hoops, stake pullers or other "properties"
necessary to the show.
Torches flamed at the tent entrances, while oil lamps and lanterns gave
light for the loading of the wagons.
There was a constant stream of life shooting in and out from the
dressing tent to the "big top," as gaily decked men, women and animals
came or went.
Drowsy dogs were stretched under the wagons, waiting their turn to be
dressed as lions or bears. The wise old goose, with his modest grey
mate, pecked at the green grass or turned his head from side to side,
watching the singing clown, who rolled up the painted carcass and long
neck of the imitation giraffe from which two property men had just
slipped, their legs still encased in stripes.
Ambitious canvas-men and grooms were exercising, feet in air, in the
hope of some day getting into the performers' ring. Property men stole
a minute's sleep in the soft warm grass while they waited for more

tackle to load in the wagons. Children of the performers were swinging
on the tent ropes, chattering monkeys sat astride the Shetland ponies,
awaiting their entrance to the ring. The shrieks of the hyenas in the
distant animal tent, the roaring of the lions and the trumpeting of the
elephants mingled with the incessant clamour of the band. And back of
all this, pointing upward in mute protest, rose a solemn church spire,
white and majestic against a vast panorama of blue, moonlit hills, that
encircled the whole lurid picture. Jim's eyes turned