Work and Win Part 9

THE RING-MASTER.

When the performance was over, Noddy, with the a.s.sistance of one of his companions, dressed himself in "trunk and tights," and appeared in the ring to take his first lesson in graceful movements. He could turn the somersets, and go through with the other evolutions; but there was a certain polish needed--so the ring-master said--to make them pa.s.s off well. He was to a.s.sume a graceful position at the beginning and end of each act; he must recover himself without clumsiness; he must bow, and make a flourish with his hands, when he had done a brilliant thing.

Noddy had not much taste for this branch of the profession. He did not like the bowing and the flourishing. If the feat itself did not please the people, he could not win them by smirking. He was much pleased with his costume, and this kept him good-natured, under the severe training of the ring-master, for a time. Mr. Whippleby was coa.r.s.e and rough in his manners. During the show he had been all grace and elegance, and did not use any big words, but now he was as rough as a bear, and swore like a pirate. He was just like a cat's paw,--he kept the sharp claws down while the dear people were present; but now he thrust them out.

Noddy found the "business" was no joke. Mr. Whippleby did not so regard it, now that the training had commenced; and the novice found that he had placed himself under a very tyrannical master. He made his bows and flourished his arms, with all the grace he could command for a time; but he did not come up to his severe teacher's standard.

"Do that again," said Mr. Whippleby, with savage emphasis. "Don't hurry it."

Noddy did it again, as slowly as he could; but he was apparently just as far from perfection as before.

"If you don't do better than that, I'll put the whip around your legs!"

shouted the impatient ring-master. "One of the mules could do it better."

"I did it as well as I could," replied Noddy, rather tartly.

"You will do it better than that, or your legs will smart. Now do it again."

Noddy obeyed. He did not think the ring-master really intended to strike him with the long whip he held in his hand, but supposed he was so much in the habit of threatening the clown with the lash, that he did it now from the force of habit. His last attempt did not satisfy Mr. Whippleby, who stormed at him more furiously than before.

"Do you think I have nothing better to do than waste my time over a blockhead like you? I haven't had my bitters yet. Now do it again; and if you fail this time you will catch it."

Noddy turned his somerset; but he had hardly recovered himself before he received a smart cut from the whip in the tenderest part of his leg.

There was a young lion in the novice, and a blow from any man was more than he could endure. He expressed his mind in regard to the outrage with such freedom, that Mr. Whippleby lost his temper, if he ever had any to lose, and he began to lash the unfortunate youth in the most brutal manner.

Noddy, finding there was no satisfaction to be obtained by facing the ring-master, fled from the spot, leaping up on the seats where the spectators sat. He was maddened to fury by the harsh treatment he had received; and thirsting for vengeance, he seized whatever missiles he could find, and hurled them at his persecutor. His legs seemed to be on fire from the effects of the blows he had received. He rubbed them for a moment, while he hurled the most bitter denunciations at the ring-master.

"Now, come down, and try again," called Mr. Whippleby, who did not seem to be much disconcerted by what had taken place, when he had in some measure recovered his equanimity.

"No, I won't!" replied Noddy.

"Have you got enough, Mr. Arthur De Forrest?"

"I will give _you_ enough before you get through."

While this colloquy was going on, the manager appeared in the ring.

Whippleby laughingly told him what had happened, and he seemed to be much amused by it; but the ring-master had certainly changed his tone at the appearance of the "head man."

"Come, my boy, come down, and let me see how well you do your business,"

said the manager.

"I've had enough of it," replied Noddy, as he returned to the ring.

"I'm not a horse, and I'm not going to be treated like one."

"That's your initiation, my boy," said Whippleby. "We always try new beginners in that way, to find out what they are made of."

"You will find out what I'm made of, if you hit me again with that whip."

"I know now. You won't need any more, if you try to do what you are told."

"I'm not going to be whipped, whether I try or not," added Noddy, doggedly.

"You shall not be whipped, my boy," said the manager. "Now show me your ground act."

The novice was about to comply,--for he had already come to the conclusion that the "head man" would protect him,--when he saw two men enter the tent. They did not belong to the company, and Noddy was quite sure he had often seen them in Whitestone.

"We don't allow visitors in here now," said the manager.

"We come on business. There is a boy here that we want to find," replied one of the men.

"You must leave the tent," said the manager, rather sharply.

"I am a constable, and there is a boy about here that I want."

"What's his name?"

"They call him Noddy Newman."

"What do you want of him?"

"That's my business," answered the constable, rudely. "The boy came into the ring this afternoon during the show, and I suppose he belongs to the company."

"That's the fellow!" exclaimed the other constable, pointing to Noddy, who was trying to take himself off without being noticed.

"That's Arthur De Forrest," interposed the manager.

"No, it isn't; I've known him this five years," said the man who had recognized the culprit.

Both of them walked towards Noddy, with the intention, apparently, of laying violent hands on him; but the young gentleman in "trunk and tights" was not prepared to yield up his personal liberty, and he retreated.

The officers were in a position where they could stop him from leaving the tent by either of the two entrances; and Noddy, finding his exit prevented, seized a rope which was hanging down by the centre-pole, and climbed up out of the reach of his pursuers.

"What do you want of me?" demanded the young athlete, as he perched himself in a comfortable position on the "slack-rope," which was suspended to the pole.

"We shall not do you any harm, my boy," said one of the officers.

"What do you want of me?"

"There is good news for you; and you are wanted over at Squire Wriggs's office."

"I know ye! You want to take me to the court-house. You can't humbug me," said Noddy, fully confirmed in his suspicions by the conduct of the men.

"We won't hurt you."

"You want to take me up."

"No, we don't; we only want to take you up to Squire Wriggs's office.