Chapter Nine

A WONDERFUL EVENING

As soon as Jeremy saw the visitors climbing over the fence, he ran to help them. He was very excited at the thought of having guests. He took them over to old Grandad first, to be welcomed.

‘Now I expect your friends will like to see round a bit,’ said Grandad. ‘Charlie the Chimp can go with you. We’ve a rehearsal on tonight, so the ring has been set up. You can watch some of the show.’

This was grand news. The children saw that curved pieces of painted wood had been set together to make a great ring in the field, and as they went across the grass, the Musical Horses began to troop into the ring, the leading one ridden by Madelon, a lovely girl, dressed in shimmering gold.

‘How beautiful they are!’ thought Anne, as she watched. ‘Look at their great feathery plumes, nodding on their magnificent heads.’

The Bonzo Band struck up just then, and the horses at once trotted in perfect time to the music. The band looked a little peculiar as the bandsmen had not put on their smart uniforms. They were saving those for the opening night!

The horses trotted prettily out of the ring after two or three rounds, the beautiful Madelon on the leading horse. Then in came Fred the Fiddler and played his violin for a few minutes. First the music was slow and solemn, then Fred began to play quickly, and the children found themselves jiggling about, up and down and round about. ‘I can’t keep still!’ panted Anne. ‘The tune’s got into my feet.’

Charlie the Chimp came up just then, walking on hind legs, and looking unexpectedly tall. He usually walked on all fours. He began to jig about too, looking very funny. He ran right into the ring and put his arms round Fred the Fiddler’s legs. ‘He loves Fred,’ said Jeremy. ‘Now he’s going to rehearse his cricket act. I must go and bowl to him.’

And off went Jeremy into the ring. The chimpanzee rushed over to him and hugged him. A bat was thrown into the ring, and Charlie picked it up, and made a few swipes into the air with it, making delighted noises all the time.

Then a cricket ball was thrown to Jeremy, who caught it deftly. A small girl appeared from somewhere and set up three stumps for a wicket. ‘Can’t find the bails, jeremy!’ she called. ‘Have you got them in your pocket?’

‘No,’ said Jeremy. ‘Never mind, I’ll knock the stumps right over!’

But that wasn’t so easy with Charlie the Chimp at the wicket! He took a terrific swipe at the ball, and it went right over Jeremy’s head, too high to catch.

The chimp lost his balance and sat down on the wicket, knocking the stumps out of the ground.

‘OUT!’ yelled Jeremy, but the chimp wasn’t having that. He carefully put up the stumps again, and then set himself in front once more, waggling the bat.

It was the funniest cricket that the children had ever seen! The chimpanzee was very, very clever with the bat, and sent poor Jeremy running all over the place. Then finally he chased the boy all round the ring with the bat making curious chortling noises. The children didn’t know if he was amused or angry! Finally he threw the bat at Jeremy and walked off, scratching himself under one arm.

The children roared with laughter at him. ‘He’s as good as any clown!’ said Dick. ‘Jeremy, does he do this cricket act every night when the circus is open?’

‘Oh yes - and sometimes he hits the ball into the audience,’ said Jeremy. ‘There’s great excitement then. Sometimes, for a treat, we let one of the boys in the audience come down and bowl to Charlie. One bowled him right out once, and Charlie was so cross that he chased him all round the ring three times - just as he chased me just now. The boy didn’t like it much!’

Charlie came up to Jeremy, and put his great arms round him, trying to swing him off the ground.

‘Stop that, Charlie,’ said Jeremy, wriggling free. ‘Look out - here comes the Dancing Donkey! Better get out of the ring - goodness knows what antics he’ll be up to!’

In came the Dancing Donkey. He was dark grey, and tossed his head as he came galloping in. He stood and looked round at everyone. Then he sat down, lifted up a leg and scratched his nose. The children stared in astonishment. They had never in their lives seen a donkey do that before! Then, when the band suddenly began to play, the donkey stood up and listened, flapping his ears first one way and then another, and nodding his head in time to the music.

The band changed its tune to a march. The donkey listened again, and then began to march round the ring in perfect time - clip-clop-clip-clop-clip-clop. Then it apparently felt tired, and sat down heavily on its back legs. The children couldn’t help laughing. The donkey got up, and somehow its back legs became entangled with its front ones, and it fell down, looking most ridiculous.

‘Has it hurt itself?’ asked Anne, anxiously. ‘Oh dear - it will break one of its legs if it goes on like this. Look, it can’t untangle them, Jeremy.’

The donkey gave a mournful bray, tried to get up, and flopped down again. The band changed its tune, and the donkey leapt up at once, and began to do a kind of tap-dance - clickety-click, clickety-click, clickety-click - it was marvellous!

‘I shouldn’t have thought that a donkey could possibly have been taught to tap-dance,’ said George.

Soon the donkey seemed to feel tired again. It stopped dancing, but the band still went on playing. The donkey ran towards it and stamped its foot.

A weird voice suddenly came from it. ‘Too fast! TOO FAST!’ But the band took no notice and went on playing. The donkey bent down, wriggled hard - and its head fell off on to the grass in the ring! Anne gave a shriek of fright.

‘Don’t be an ass, Anne,’ said Dick. ‘You didn’t think the donkey was a real one, did you?’

‘Isn’t it?’ said Anne, relieved. ‘It looks just like that donkey that used to give rides to children on Kirrin beach.’

The donkey now split in half, and a small man climbed out of each half, taking their legs carefully out of the donkey’s legs. The donkey-skin fell to the ground, and lay there, flat and collapsed.

‘Wish I had a donkey-skin like that,’ said Tinker. ‘I’ve got a friend at school who could be the back legs and I’d be the front legs. The things we’d do!’

‘Well, I must say you’d make a first-class donkey, the way you behave sometimes,’ said George. ‘Look, this must be Dead-Shot Dick coming on.’

But before Dead-Shot Dick could do any of his shooting tricks, the two donkey-men had run to the band and begun a loud argument with them.

‘Why play so fast? You know we can’t do our tricks at top speed. Are you trying to mess up our turn?’

The band leader shouted something back. It must have been rude, because one of the donkey-men shook his fist and began to run towards the band.

A loud voice crashed in on the argument, and made everyone jump. It was Mr Tapper, old Grandad, giving his orders in an enormous voice.

‘ENOUGH! You, Pat, and you, Jim, get out of the ring. I give the orders, not you. ENOUGH, I SAY!’

The two donkey-men glared at him, but did not dare to say a word more. They stalked out of the ring, taking the donkey-skin with them.

Dead-Shot Dick looked very ordinary, dressed in a rather untidy flannel suit. ‘He’s not going to go all through his act,’ said Jeremy. ‘You’ll see him another night, when the show’s on for the public - he shoots at all kinds of things - even a sixpenny bit dangling on a long string from the roof - and never misses! He’s got a smashing rig-out too - sequins sewn all over his trousers and jersey - and his little horse is a wonder - goes round and round the ring and never turns a hair when Dead-Shot Dick fires his gun! Look - there he is, peeping in to see if Dick’s coming back to him.’

A small white horse was looking anxiously at the ring, its eyes fixed on Dead-Shot Dick. It pawed the ground as if to say, ‘Buck up! I’m waiting for you! Am I to come on or not?’

‘All right, Dick - you can go off now,’ shouted Grandad. ‘I hear your horse has hurt a foot - give him a good rest tonight. We’ll want him on tomorrow.’

‘Right, sir!’ said Dead-Shot Dick. He saluted smartly, and ran off to his little horse.

‘What’s next, Jeremy?’ asked George, who was enjoying everything very much.

‘Don’t know. Let’s see - there’s the acrobats - but the trapeze-swings aren’t put up yet, so they won’t come on tonight. And there’s the Boneless Man - look, there he is. Good old Boney! I like him. He’s free with his money, he is, not like some of the other folk!’

The Boneless Man looked very peculiar. He was remarkably thin, and remarkably tall. He walked in, looking quite extraordinary. ‘He can’t be boneless!’ said Dick. ‘He couldn’t walk if he was!’

But the Boneless Man soon began to seem absolutely boneless. His legs gave way at the knees, and his ankles turned over so that he sank down to the ground, unable to walk. He could bend his arms all kinds of different ways, and turned his head almost completely round on his neck. He did a few peculiar things with his apparently boneless body, and finally wriggled along the ground exactly like a snake!

‘He’ll be dressed in a sort of snake-skin when he does his act properly,’ said Jeremy. ‘Queer, isn’t he?’

‘How on earth does he do it?’ wondered Julian, amazed. ‘He bends his arms and legs all the wrong ways! Mine would break if I did that!’

‘Oh, it’s easy for him!’ said Jeremy. ‘It’s just that he’s completely double-jointed - he can bend his arms both ways, and his legs both ways, and make them seem so loose that it looks as if he really is boneless. He’s a nice chap. You’d like him.’

Anne felt a bit doubtful. What queer people made up a circus! It was a world of its own. She jumped suddenly as there came the sound of a trumpet blowing loudly.

‘That’s for supper,’ said Jeremy gleefully. ‘Come on - let’s go to old Grandma and her pot! Buck up, all of you!’