The Golden Argosy: Tom Gale's Ride — page 3: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

? JULY 23, 1887. terfero with you. He spoke to me about next season, or rather about a fall engage- ment,” ‘‘ Did you accept his offer?” ‘No, sir. I told him I would take it into consideration.” s¢ That is fair enough. I should be sorry to have you leave me in the middle of the season.” «Thank you, sir; I have no wish to do so.” CHAPTER XXXIX. HUMORS OF THE CIRCUS. HE next day Mile. Lefroy resumed rh her work, the danger of meeting her husband having passed. She ex- pressed her gratitude to Kit for serving as her substitute, and wished to make him a present of ten dollars, but he refused to accept it. ‘<T was glad of the chance to see what I could do on the trapeze,” he said. ‘I never expect to follow it up, but I have already received an offer of an engagement in that line.” ‘‘So IT heard. And you don’t care to ac- cept it.” 6 No; former permanently ‘‘You are right. {hea to nothing, and before middle life you are liable to find yourself untitted for it.” Upon the whole, Kit enjoyed the circus life. He formed an intimacy with Charlie Davis, who was only a little older than himself, and the two spent much of their time together. s 4 Then too, circus life i ot ithout its humorous side. It has an irresistible at- traction for many young people, who are dazzled by the pomp \d- glitter of the cir- ~ cus processions, and think it must be one long holiday to travel with ashow.. Almost every day applications were received from outsiders for employment of some kind— anything for a chance to travel with the troupe. | Charlie Davis and Kit were standing near the entrance of the lot one day when a tall, _raw-boned young man, evidently fresh from | mma MpiKs Rs 2 pee aye? ’? b I do not mean to be a circus per- © Sen a A —_ ~ ~ . J evhe F a~ e ha A - 4 “If you doubt my word, bring on your lion !” said Charlie. ‘‘T say, how do you countryman with curiosity. «That is my secret. I can't afford to giveit away. I will teach you for five hun-' dred dollars.” ‘‘(Ggosh! you money. Why, rs in the ee “4 f rs to save that. What are you—a lawyer?” asked Kit. ‘You don’t think I look like alawyer, * ? i ” Aattered. ‘No, I work on dad’s farm. ‘¢ Do you find it profitable?” ‘No; dad only pays me eight dollars a| J and my clothes cost month and my board, me half that.” ‘‘T am afraid you are clothes,” said Charlie, qnrey ‘¢Well, maybe I am,” sai man, who was attired brass buttons, a yellow vest, and a and salt breeches. ‘‘ButI’m bound The result was that Jonathan was en- mp = like a gentleman, no matter what| gaged at the salary of twenty-five dollars a it costs. Do you know how much I paid month, which, though small, was consider- for clothes last year?” ably more than he was paid on his father’s ‘No, but I should like to know.” farm. “Fifty-two dollars and seventy-five} The next applicant for employment was cents! ” a boy about as old as Kit. ‘é That's a good deal of money.” f ‘* What can you do? asked Kit. ‘So dad says; dollars a year for clothes.” ‘“Tv2 and extravagant. ” ‘‘T say, you dress pretty well,” said Jon- athan. ‘¢ We have to, or us.” oe ny, do you think I could a chance to travel with the show? ‘That depends on what you can do. Can ge jump over elephants, like my friend t here?” ' Jonathan shook his head. ‘<[ couldn’t even jump over a cow,” he d. marr Could you ride a horse bareback ad ‘Ride him without a saddle? ‘Sho! you don’t say! A boy like you tame lions ?” e must think I am made of I naven’t got but sixty dol- and it’s taken me a couple do chuckled the rustic, immensely extravagant in ‘the conntry- in a blue coat with air of but I hear that there are folks in the city that pay more’n a hundred eard so, too, but they are foolish the manager would dis-| 4 THE —— 7 ‘<I never tried it. Maybe I conld learn.” “But we must have one already trained. You might practice at home and by next season get an engagement.” ‘¢T don’t believe I could do it.” ‘‘You can’t tell without trying.” ‘¢T have tried,” answered Jonathan con- fidentially. ‘‘ Last summer there was a circus round to our place, and I see a woman do it. So I said to myself, if a woman can do it, ’d ought to. So one morning I got up early, and took the horse out of the stable, and led him up alongside a bench. I stepped on his back standin’ up, and took the reins. Then I started him off.” ‘‘ How did you succeed?” asked Kit, try- ing not to laugh. ‘‘T never seed a horse with such a slip- pery back. I jest slipped down on one side. Well, I wouldn’t give it up so, but got on his back again. The blamed critter set off at a gallop, and pitched me over his head. "I didn’t try again.” ‘‘The horse has to be trained as well as the rider,” said Charlie. ‘‘ It was the horse’s fault as much as yours.” ‘¢ Any way I don’t want to try it again, But ain’t there anything I can do? Ill work cheap.” ‘‘ Well, there’s one thing. but you might not want to do it.” ‘‘ What’s that?” asked Jonathan, eagerly. ‘*T’m willin’ to do anything.” ‘¢ Would you be willing to wash the lion’s face every morning?” ‘‘Does he need to have it washed?” asked the countryman in amazement. ‘*Well, he can’t do it himself, you know.” * But isn’t it dangerous? Would I have to go into the cage?” ‘‘Yes, but he’d get used to you.” ‘¢ But before he got used to me, he might tear me to pieces.” ‘‘Such things happen now and then. Kit, can’t you remember poor Mortimer, who got some soap into the lion’s eyes one morning, and made him angry?” ‘¢ What did the lion do?” asked Jonathan excited. ‘¢ Pulled his arm out of the socket. He didn’t mean any harm, bu only wanted to | “It w ye oe + —_ > ge te oe ee ‘a aa ae AM ae aa a ee eS a7 ‘That wouldn't do me n you what I'd like to do. take natured and peaceful.” , , i ; 3 ae a Fue Wy reas Gna ‘‘There’s no vacancy in that depart- I’ like to travel round the country. I’m powerful fond of I never was more’n twenty miles ment.” ‘‘T wish there was. travelin’. from home in my life.” | ‘here may be a chance for him, said Kit to Charlie. erty men is sick, and obliged to go home. He. might do for that.” Jonathan listened eagerly. ‘‘Tcan take care of property as well as the next man,” he said. ‘‘Do you think ou could get me the place?” Kit explained the duties of a property man. He inust carry in and ont of tle ring whatever is needed by the performers, help lay carpets, and make himself generally useful. ‘‘That’ll suit me tip top,” said Jonathan. ‘‘Then I'll see what I can do for you.” ‘‘T can climb a rope hand over hand.” “Can you make a handspring over an elephant?” ‘*No: would I have to do that?” ‘You might have to. Can you knock down a tiger with one blow of yoar fist?” ‘‘No,” answered the boy with his eyes istended. to work for us. t’ll be easier.” CHAPTER XL. THE HARSH LANDLORD, Stephen Watson sat at so ie flogg a att . - he ‘ Ta. hire out to| dience to his g care of the camels. They look good-| ‘Kit thinks a lot of himself. He’s an ‘“T hearone of the prop- “Then I’m afraid you can’t get a chance If you want to travel, ou’d better go out West and hunt Indians. break fast with his son Ralph. The latter was of the fashion, IP Stepen the close of September GOLDEN ARGOSY. —— It is not on the whole a high ambition, and I have noticed that those young people who are proud of their clothes usually have very little else to be proud of. Perhaps for this reason they ought not to be severely cen- sured, ‘‘T saw a copy of the Aew York Clipper at the hotel,” remarked Ralph, as he stirred his cup of coffee. ‘It says that Barlow's circus will go into winter quarters about the middle of October.” ‘That is only three weeks distant,” said Mr. Watson thoughtfully. ‘‘Yes, I suppose Kit will be sneaking home about that time.” “He will be a gentleman of leisure through the fali and winter.” “Are you going to lef him stay here in idleness, father?” ‘‘No; I have already told you that I will give him the choice of going back to Mr. Bickford and learning the blacksmith’s trade, or shifting for himself.” “That's right. I was afraid you had weakened, and would give him his own way.” ‘*You don’t know me, Ralph. Iam easy and indulgent with those who try to please me, but J insist on rigid obedience, or else I refuse to help.” ‘¢ All the same,” thought Ralph, ‘‘ I man- age to have my own way pretty well. How- ever, that’s all right; for I am a son. As for Kit, pa's iron rule applies to him rightly enough.’ ‘‘T suppose Kit will be looking very shabby,” he continued. ‘‘He may have earned enough to buy him a plain suit of clothes.” ‘‘ You won't buy him any clothes, pa?” ‘*No, that is unless he agrees to go to Mr. Bickford.” ‘“T shouldn’t think Bickford would be willing to take him back.” . ‘Between you and me, Ralph, Bickford is very anxious to get him back. He feels very sore over the way yOur cousin got the best of him, and he wants to give him a lesson. I shouldn’t be surprised if he hatidled Kit rather roughly.” Ralph laughed with evident enjoyment. **T should like to see him do ould be very mortifyir ian and employer.” awful conceited boy.” This was very far from being true, but describes Ralph himself, who was a young man of great importance in his own aptly opinion. They had hardly risen from the break- fast table, when the servant entered to say that Thomas Talcott wished to speak to Mr, Watson. Stephen Watson frowned. ‘‘T suppose he can't pay he to Ralph. ‘ He’s always the hard limes.” ‘ ‘¢ May I stay here while you speak to him, SS bee ‘¢ Yes, if you like.” Thomas Talcott entered the room. He was poorly dressed, and looked like a man who worked hard. ‘Sit down, Mr. Talcott,” said Stephen Watson curtly. ‘‘Isuppose you have come to pay your rent.” "i ‘«] know it is rent day, Mr. Watson, ' re- sponded the poor man soberly, ‘‘ but I am sorry to say 1 have o! dollars this morning. his rent,” said whining about «Two dollars!” repeated Stephen Wat- ‘¢ What does this mean, I son, frowning. h should like to know? “T would gladly pay you all to-day, but Ihave bad an attack of rheumatism, and out of work on ac- my boy Tom has been \ C count of the shoe factory shutting down. ‘What is all this to me?” demanded Stephen Watson impatiently. “You might have a fora poor man, like you!” ‘‘] shouldn't be rich long if I allowed you and all that I have dealings with to im- ose upon me.” . A How have imposed upon you? «You don’t pay me what you owe me. hes, Mr. Watson, Isn't that enough?” You shall have it in time, be assured of that.” ‘(Of course you say son. “I get accustomed is very small, You 0 t meet it without any trouble. to it. factor it,” he said. - to Kit to be | will >. eee i} n> Ww OF ish. ah\wel at ar £ have only brought you two little consideration Mr. Watson, a rich man this |” sneered Wat- Your rent ht to be able to d31 lars a month, and that, no doubt, seems small to you, but to me it is a great deal. Besides, you know that as long as your brother lived I was charged no rent at all.” ‘‘If my brother chose to make a fool of himself that is no reason why I should do 60. ‘*You know that there was a reason for it. He and I were in the war together, and I was lucky enough to save his life. He never forgot it.” ‘*You didn’t save my life.” ‘Very true; but is your brother's life nothing to you?” ‘As to that, it strikes me that you got pretty well paid for it. You occupied your house, rent free, for ten years.” ‘“T have no fault to find with your poor brother. He was a kind and graieful man. As long as he lived I was sure of e friend, to whom I did not need to apply in vain.” ‘TIT presume you applied very often,” sneered Stephen Watson. ‘‘That is where you are very much mis- taken,” answered Talcott, gravely. ‘I did on two occasions apply for a loan of twen- ty-five dollars, but in each case [ was ready to pay at the time agreed upon.” ‘‘That is.as it may be. Suppose we come back to business.” ‘*All right, sir. Will you take that two dollars, and give me time on the balance?” «That would be foolish on my part.” | a will pay you the balance with inter- ‘¢That sounds very well, but the chance is that when the rent comes due you won't be able to pay it, not,to speak of arrears.” ‘‘T may not be able to pay itall then, but I can pay a part. Tom expects to go to work again next week, as I understand the will open on Monday, “and then we will get along.” ‘‘That’s a very loose way of doing busi- ness, Mr. Talcott.” ‘¢ What, then, do you want ine to do?” ‘T'll tell you. I want security that the back rent shall be paid.” ‘ What kind of seeurity ?” ‘* You have a cow—Alderney, is it ‘* Yes.” ‘‘Let me have that cow.as secu have her driven over and p an ao ae et. ‘gin, a ae 4 pl ie 7 : i eS not?” en ‘ . e a oan bere her Gack,” 73/3. >. ‘* You are very hard upon me, Mr. Wat-— son.” 3 **You look u it from a wrong of view, Talcott. It is only business. ‘<All I can say, then, is that a great many cruel things are done in the name of bnsi- ness.” ‘*‘T won't discuss the matter,” said Ste- phen Watson, coldly. ‘* Do as I request, or leave the house.” | ‘I suppose I must do your will,” said Talcott, sighing heavily. ‘That is sensible. I will send my man over for the cow in the course of the fore- noon, and I will give you a paper agreeing to return her on payment of next month's rent and arrears.” «That's splendid!” said Ralph, as the tenant left the house. ‘‘ You know how to manage, pa.” ‘‘Yes; I don't often allow any one to . take advantage of me. The cow is a fine one, and I don't think he will be able to redeem it. I will offer a low price when the time comes, and perhaps secure it.” Thomas Talcott, as he stood in his yard, saw the cow driven off with a heavy heart. The animal was a great pet with the whole family. “JT know what I'll do, father,” said his son Tom, a boy of about Kit’s age. ‘Til write to Kit, and see if he can’t help us.”, «“ f am afraid the poor boy isnt very well off himself, Tom, but you can write! He'll help us if he can.” ( To be continued. ) —___—_—_+04——_——- HE OBJECTED TO THE Cow. THERE is an element of pathos about the following incident that is as apt to draw forth atearasasmile. It occurred after the return of a party of the poor children of London from a visit to the country under the auspices of an association that corresponds to our Fresh Air Society. One of the boys was asked by a minister how he enjoyed the change of air and scen- oT Plense. sir,” replied the urebin, ‘I don’t ike it o all Whe 2) of vine ms ex eyed of a nice clean tin they squee utofan cow—I seed em doing it! * point ‘ “No; could you stand up on his back| dressed in the extremity and ride round a ring?” : having conceived an ambition to beadude,| ‘I know that the rent is but seven dol- F boo Cc nN (eke) ‘ - % » , od “= ay ao . ‘ p * ry " + | re Ade ae “he Vay 7 7< a a 2 c ie Pi