# Dapples of the Circus/Chapter 9

IN the very early spring the circus people were astir. They had been idle too long. The expenses for the winter months were enormous, so the great machine must be set to work repairing the losses. Once again the three gaudy, gilded sections were loaded. The cars and the wagons had all been freshly painted, and much of the canvas had been renewed, so it was more of a gilded wonderland than ever. The circus first made glad the hearts of all the children, as well as of their elders, in southern California, by showing in all the large cities in that section. Then they came through Texas to Louisiana.
​Frequently in these States the large cities were a long distance apart, so sometimes the circus people only showed every other day. They found the people of the South, both white and black, a pleasureloving folk, and easy to please. It was quite different from what it had been years before in the South, when the rowdyish element of the city would band together to break up the show. Freckles never tired of listening to Big Bill's tales of wild fights with southern gun-men. When the rowdies had fairly started a fight, the brawny canvas-men would pull up the stakes with iron rings in the end and charge them, striking to kill. Many a man was buried in the place where the three great rings had been, and the circus went on its way, telling no tales and asking no questions. If their own men were killed, they said nothing. If they had to kill their assailants, they were equally reticent.
So, by slow degrees, they worked their way up to the north. At New York they ​stopped for three weeks, and Freckles and Dapples had the supreme test of playing before a Madison Square audience, just as Pickles had said they would. So when June came round they were once more showing in New England, and rapidly approaching Freckles's own home town, where they were billed to show just as they had the year before.
When they at last drew up on the siding in the very freight yard where Freckles, Pickles, and Beany had first seen the long trains enter, Freckles's heart was pounding so he could scarcely breathe.
Eagerly he peeped out of the window, and could hardly believe his eyes when he saw Pickles and Beany astride the top board of that famous fence, and half a dozen other boys with them. He hurried into his clothes, and, without waiting to wash his face, ran forth to greet his friends.
"Hello, Pickles; hello, Beany; hello, fellers. Don't you all know me?"
​Pickles and Beany rubbed their eyes and looked at him wonderingly. Then both came down from the fence with a spring, as did the other boys.
"Hello, Freckles, old top; put it there," cried Pickles.
"Me too," said Beany. "We are mighty glad to see you. We have been here since three o'clock, but we didn't think you were with the show. We didn't know what had become of you when we saw that Leslie Atherton chap was a-driving Sir Wilton.
"We was afraid you was dead. We read about the wreck."
"No," said Freckles gleefully. "I ain't dead. I thought I had told you fellers that I had a circus name. They all does. I guess I forgot to write you that. But I am mighty glad to see you fellers. I tell you, boys, the old town does look good. It has made me feel mighty queer coming back here again. Me and Sir Wilton thinks the world of each other, and I ​like the circus, but it ain't just the sort of life for a boy, neither.
"You don't stay still in one place long enough to like anything. You can't get any sort of roots. You—you——"
Seeing that Pickles and Beany were looking very much dismayed, Freckles changed the subject. "Oh, the circus people are bully," he said. "They are the best folks in the whole world, only a feller like me ought to be going to school and making friends. But I am going to ask Mr. Williams for some tickets for you, Beany and Pickles, and after the show we will go out to the old pile of lumber where we sat a year ago, and I will tell you all about it. I have got to get Sir Wilton and go to the lot now. Guess I won't have any trouble in finding this lot. So long, fellers."
Freckles had tipped his chums off not to say anything about his being with the circus, so that not half a dozen people in the great audience recognized him as the freckle-faced waif from the poor-farm ​To Freckles's great relief, Mr. Perkins did not appear, so he was spared that ordeal.
Probably Freckles had never performed before two such ardent admirers as Pickles and Beany, sitting on the top seat in the big top, munching peanuts.
By half-past four the three chums had rendezvoused at the lumber pile, and were ready for the conclave.
"Freckles," said Pickles solemnly, when they had listened breathlessly to Freckles's glowing accounts of circus life, and especially of the wreck and the fire, "me and Beany has determined that the circus is the only life for us. We are planning to run away and follow your show. We packed our things this forenoon, and we want you to speak to the manager for us this afternoon."
Freckles gazed at his two chums in astonishment. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "I thought you fellers were in earnest at first," he said, "but I see now you was just joking."
​"Joking!" chorused the two. "We ain't joking. We want to go with the circus. Honest Injun, we do!"
Freckles looked at his chums for several seconds before he could find his voice. Then he spoke very solemnly and with great emphasis.
"Boys," he said, "the circus is all right for them that has to follow it. I ain't saying a word against it. They are awful good to me. They are the best friends I ever had, 'cepting you fellers. But here's the point. You have both got something that I ain't. You have got homes and friends that will stay in one place long enough for you to know how they look. The circus people have only themselves. They haven't any home. Of course, some of them who are lucky have homes they go to in the winter, and mighty glad they are to see them. But you fellers have homes and friends and school, and a chance to make something of yourselves. But I have only the circus. The circus is all ​right, but me and Dapples is goin' to quit it as soon as I can get money enough to buy him."
Then Freckles told his two friends of his secret plans to save his money and purchase Sir Wilton. "You see, I can't ever leave the circus without him. It would break my heart. He wouldn't be happy unless he had me, so we have got to stick together."
For half an hour Freckles argued and expostulated, until at last his friends saw their mistake and promised to stay at home. But Freckles did finally agree that they might put their savings into the fund to purchase Sir Wilton, if he was unable to save enough himself.
Even while the boys were talking, the sun touched the western hilltops, and Freckles hurried away to the dining top for his supper. The circus never stops for friendships, nor for any other minor consideration. So after the night performance, and after the sections had been ​loaded, the three chums again said good-bye, just as they had a year before, and the trains rolled away into the darkness.
The summer was a very pleasant one, with not too much rainy weather and yet with just enough to lay the dust. Freckles and Dapples grew steadily in popularity with the crowds, and that was very gratifying both to Freckles and to the management. If Dapples was proud of his share in the performances, he said nothing, but he really carried himself as though he was.
In the autumn Mr. Bingham sprung a surprise upon his great family. It was about the time that they usually headed for the Pacific coast and their winter quarters.
It seemed that one of the strong South American governments had given them a good guarantee to bring the Great American Show to that country. It was also suggested that they might like to show in the rest of South America. The people ​there had never seen a full-fledged American show, and they were all eagerness for its coming.
Mr. Bingham asked for a rising vote as to whether his great family would like to take the trip, and nearly every one arose.
"Good," he said. "I will close the contract at once. It will be a great experience for us all."
So in November, Freckles found himself one day watching the loading of the elephants onto a great ship. Most of the animals had been taken aboard on the gangplanks, but the elephants balked at this method of embarking. So strong harnesses had been made for the pachyderms, and, when everything was in readiness, a mighty crane reached down and lifted them bodily on board. It did not matter that they roared, trumpeted, shrieked, and lashed out with their trunks. For once they had met a power that was stronger than they.
Finally every last article belonging to ​the circus had been loaded. The ninety-odd gilded and gaudy cars were all there, as were all the wagons and cages.
For a week everything went well. It was a wonderful experience for Freckles. He kept his eyes wide open and saw how everything was done. He went to every corner of the great ship, even down into its very depths and saw the stokers at work.
During this trip he also made several new friends among the circus people. Each day he was allowed to parade Dapples up and down the deck to give him exercise, although this privilege was denied the rest of the horses.
But one night, when they had been out about two weeks, the winds began to kick up quite a sea and the captain said they were in for a storm. To make the night even more eventful, Tom Kennedy, the oldest and most famous bareback horse in the world, died. He had not been well since they left New York. This was not ​surprising, as he was thirty-six years old, Mr. Bingham's only idea in taking him to South America had been to allow the people there to see the most famous circus horse in the world.
Two of the riders who had grown up with old Tom stood by the rail and wept when the veterinary told them that Tom was dead. They were not ashamed of their tears. Nor did the circus people think it strange that they wept. Tom was greatly loved by all the riders, as well as by many of the drivers, who knew a fine horse when they saw it.
The following morning the storm had abated, and all was made ready for Tom's funeral. His body was first carefully brushed and his long mane combed and straightened. Then he was wrapped in a canvas winding-sheet.
A double row of the circus people lined up by the rail, while one of their number read the chapter from the book of Job about the horse, a portion of Holy Writ ​which is little known, yet it is the most beautiful tribute to the horse ever phrased.
Tom's oldest rider gave a graphic history of the noble horse. Then, amid a hush that was broken only by the sobs of Tom's two drivers, the faithful steed was lowered into the Caribbean, where he sank to his long sleep.
But he was not the only animal to find a watery grave on that memorable trip, for the monkeys began having pneumonia shortly after they left New York, and it was a quiet day when they did not fling one or more of them into the Atlantic.
This opening storm on the night that old Tom died seemed to be a precursor of many stormy, nasty days. Each day they thought the weather would clear, but there finally developed a series of November gales so much feared by seamen. These were occasionally interspersed with Central American hurricanes, which, in spite of all the sailors could do, blew the ships far out of their course.
​These hurricanes would lash up the water until it filled the air with flying spume, like yeast. It would be so thick that one could catch handfuls of it. Under such conditions the captain could only depend on his compass and allow the best he could for the wind and the strong undercurrents.
It was just the sort of weather to invite disaster, so it was no wonder that, one evening, when the captain had estimated that they were not far off the Colombian coast, that the ship on which Freckles and Dapples sailed, struck a reef and stuck fast. Then, as though in utter disdain of the powers of man, the clouds rolled away and the setting sun appeared, showing a low coast line about a mile away.
But if the clouds disappeared and the sun appeared, the winds did not abate. Instead, they piled up great billows that rolled constantly against the helpless ship, and ground the sharp-toothed reef deeper and deeper into her side.
​Three of the four life-boats had been carried away the night before by a comber that they had experienced, when they could not guard against it. So the ship was left with but one boat, to add to its other misfortunes.
The captain soon decided that the vessel could not live until morning with the continual grinding on the reef, so the boat was lowered and the women and children were placed in it. It was not at all certain that it would ever reach the shore, but the attempt had to be made. At the suggestion of Mr. Williams, the circus riders led their mounts on to the lower deck, which was partly submerged with water, and jumped them over the rail in a brave attempt to swim with them to the shore. The shore was about a mile away, and almost any good horse will swim that distance.
Freckles and Dapples were among the last of the riders to take to the sea. Mr. Williams hated to see the boy and the ​small horse fighting for their lives, but he finally saw that it was inevitable.
So he went with them to the lower deck and gave them his blessing.
"Don't try to ride him," said Mr. Williams. "It will make him too low in the water. Just lie in the water by his side, with your arm over his neck. You had better cling to his mane, so that you will not get separated from him.
"He is a brave little horse. He will give his last ounce of strength for you. I am sure you will reach the shore all right. When you get there, look for the others and all keep together. God only knows what sort of country it is yonder."
Mr. Williams stooped down and kissed the boy and gave him a big hug.
Then Freckles led Sir Wilton close to the rail, and, with a slap on his side, jumped him over. The little horse had barely struck the water when his young rider caught hold of his mane with a grip that nothing but death could break.
​Dapples was bridled, and Freckles had noted carefully the direction of the shore, so he headed Dapples for it.
"Keep the ship at your back all the way, and you cannot go wrong," Mr. Williams had said. So Freckles occasionally looked back to see that the ship was behind them.
Until they got used to the surf and could rise and fall with it a bit, it nearly covered them. But presently Dapples struck his swimming stride. It seemed to Freckles that he merely walked through the water.
He did not pant as Freckles did, and he was not frightened.
So it is that a dog or a horse, when it finds itself in deep water, just walks naturally in it, and this makes them the best of swimmers.
For half an hour, and it seemed like a week to Freckles, Sir Wilton swam steadily. It was a terrible sensation for the boy, knowing that the sea beneath him was bottomless as far as he was concerned.
​He was not at all sure that they would ever reach the shore, although Mr. Williams had said they would. Freckles wondered what it would feel like to drown. Would his chums at home know what had become of him?
Would he ever see Mr. Williams again? Many of the animals he knew were doomed.
As the minutes went by, Freckles saw to his great alarm that Dapples was swimming slower and slower. He was gettin tired. Would he hold out?
Freckles himself paddled away for dear life with his free arm, and also did some frantic kicking, but it did not seem to help very much.
At last it seemed to him that they were not moving at all. Then he discovered that Dapples was resting and merely keeping afloat. But finally he got his wind again, and they started slowly forward.
But the ship was getting smaller and ​smaller, so surely they were making headway.
One minute Freckles was buoyant with hope, and then the next he was sure they would both sleep in the Caribbean sea with poor Tom Kennedy.
Finally, when despair of ever reaching the coast had clutched Freckles, although he knew it was not far distant, his foot touched something hard. He reached about frantically with it and discovered that he was standing on solid beach. Almost at the same instant Sir Wilton stood up on solid sand and began walking ashore.
They had reached the shore at a spot where the beach was very sloping, and this had saved them two hundred feet of swimming and perhaps their lives.
Eagerly and gratefully they waded ashore, and when they were once up on firm land, Sir Wilton shook himself, and then with a deep sigh lay down to rest.
Freckles knew by this that he was all in. ​He had never seen him lie down to rest before. So he sat on the sand with the little horse's head in his lap, talking to him while he dozed and rested.
It was a strange and terrible night. The sea thundered at their backs, and the great forest before them was full of strange sounds.
Freckles knew not what the night would bring forth, yet he felt sure that since God had protected them from the sea He would keep them from this new danger, so he watched with Sir Wilton and was glad they were alive.