# Dapples of the Circus/Chapter 5

AFTER the ringmaster's statement that Freckles "was on" had been fully comprehended, the three chums went to a lumber pile at the edge of the circus lot to talk it over. Freckles himself was the most dazed and thunderstruck of the three. To his friends he had suddenly become a mighty hero. If he had been elevated to the Presidency of the United States, they would not have viewed him with more respect. They spoke to him in a new, awe-struck tone, and kept looking at him askance, to discover, if possible, if he were really the same old Freckles.
"Gee, fellers," said Freckles after a short pause, which was more eloquent than ​words, "I can't believe it. I guess I must be dreaming."
"No, you ain't," cried Beany. "We both heard him say it. He said you was on, and that you was to drive Sir Wilton as soon as you could learn his tricks."
"That's so," affirmed Pickles. "My uncle says that lots of strange things happen in the circus. Why, there was once a girl who wanted to belong to the circus. Her folks were rich and they didn't want her to, so they sent her to Europe. But even there she ran away and fell in love with a bareback rider, and became the most wonderful rider in the world. He told me lots of other strange things. He says that lots of Presidents of the United States would have made good bareback riders, because they can flop over so easy."
"Gee, I wonder what they will say at the poor-farm?" inquired Beany.
"Oh, they will be glad enough to get rid of me," returned Freckles. "I sha'n't say any farewells. The ringmaster said not ​to. I'm not even going home. There isn't anything there I care about except Shep, and he don't belong to me, but he loves me better than he does Mr. Brown. Don't you fellers let on that you know where I have gone, not for a week anyway. Of course they might send for me, but I guess they'll be glad enough to git rid of me."
"Gee, but I wish I was you," put in Beany.
"Me, too," said Pickles.
"No, fellers," said Freckles. "You are both wrong. You are much better off than I am, even if I am going to join the circus, because you have got your homes and folks. Fellers, you can't imagine how much I want a home and some one to love. I miss it every day of my life. Fellers, I haven't ever had a mother to say good-night to." Freckles turned his head and wiped his cheek with his sleeve. His chums thought they knew how he felt, but they didn't.
​"I guess you are right," said Pickles; "but if you ain't got a mother, you have got me and Beany to love you. We like you just as though you was our brother, don't we, Beany?"
"You bet," cried Beany. "Put it there, Freckles, old pal."
Very solemnly the three shook hands and vowed eternal friendship. Few people realize how deep and sincere these boy friendships are, but the three could have enlightened them.
Finally, when Freckles's future had been discussed from all its angles, Pickles and Beany went home to supper, while Freckles stayed, at the invitation of the ringmaster, to eat in the large dining-tent with the circus people. The three boys planned to meet again at the evening show, and were to say good-bye at Freckles's car in the second section after the performance was over.
Freckles was all excitement when he followed the ringmaster into the dining-​tent that evening. About five hundred people were already seated, and laughter and jollity prevailed, although some of them looked tired, as they had a right to.
Freckles thought that pork and beans and brown bread had never tasted so good to him before in his life as they did this evening. The squash pie and doughnuts also seemed to have a flavor all their own, but the ice-cream and coffee, with which they ended the simple supper, made a perfect meal for the hungry boy. He talked very little, just answering the ringmaster's questions as briefly as possible.
While the ice-cream and coffee were being dispatched Mr. Bingham rapped on his table and made a few remarks. He complimented several of the performers on the day's work, and spoke of some things that he thought could be improved. When he had finished, Mr. Daily, the other partner in the show, arose and spoke of several infringements of the rules of the circus which he had noted of late. "You ​know, the circus is a sort of army," he concluded. "We must have obedience and absolute working of all the parts. I trust I shall not have to speak of these things again."
After supper the ringmaster told Freckles that he might go where he wished until the evening show, so he went down to the horse tent to see Dapples. He found the little horse munching oats, but he looked up inquiringly when the boy approached him. At first he drew back and acted afraid when Freckles attempted to stroke his face, but he finally consented to be petted. When Freckles had petted and talked to him for perhaps fifteen minutes, he stepped behind the pony next to Dapples, that he might examine him. He was a beautiful black, but not so handsome as Sir Wilton. As Freckles stood there, smoothing out the pony's mane and wondering how much a horse like Dapples would cost, he saw a boy of about his own age enter the tent from the other end. It ​was not until he had advanced within three or four yards of where Dapples was munching his oats that Freckles recognized Tony Riata, the discharged boyrider whose place he was to take. Instinctively Freckles stooped behind the black pony and watched Tony from his place of concealment. The boy looked carefully about to see that none of the grooms were in the tent, then he quickly slipped in beside Dapples.
"Eating your supper, are you, you stubborn little fool? Well, I will teach them to shake me and then fire me. I will show them. I'm a bad boy, and I guess they will find it out, too."
With these words he took a small package from his pocket, and, again looking about to see that he was alone, he scattered its contents over Dapples's oats.
Dapples crowded over against the black pony, to get as far as possible from his late cruel driver. Freckles stood on his tiptoes to see what it was that Tony had done ​to Dapples's oats, for he remembered with a mighty rage and fear the boy's threat to poison Sir Wilton. As he peered over the neck of the black horse, his eyes and those of Tony met.
"Hello, you monkey-faced sneak," cried Tony. "Spying on me, are you? Well, if I could get a crack at that speckled phiz of yours, I would make it more ugly than it is now."
"What was you doing to the little horse's oats?" asked Freckles, for the moment ignoring the insult. Then Tony remembered, and he was both afraid and terribly angry that he had been discovered.
"I wasn't doing nuthin'. I just came to see that he was fed."
"You put something on his oats. I know you did. I saw you." With these words Freckles slipped under the necks of the two ponies and peered into Dapples's temporary manger. The oats were covered with a green powder. He quickly ​dropped his cap over the oats and turned upon the defiant Tony.
"You have tried to poison him, you sneak. A boy that would poison a little horse like him ought to be thrashed. He ought ter be killed."
"You ain't the one to do it, anyhow. You are just a cheap sneak. You couldn't ride a pig. I peeped through the tent and saw you try to ride Sir Wilton. You ought to have a pig to ride, monkey-face." With the last words Tony reached up and slapped Freckles on the cheek soundly.
Quick as a flash Freckles returned a stinging blow on the dandy's face.
This astonished Tony greatly, for he was something of a bully, and had not thought this green-looking country boy would fight.
A moment he hesitated. His better course was to flee, but he was boiling with anger because of his day's bad fortune, and he wanted to vent it on some one. ​This boy who had dispossessed him was the natural vent for his rage. So he came back with a blow on Freckles's chin that made him stagger. This was enough for Freckles. He had been boiling with rage over the three cruel whip marks on Dapples's side. In addition to that, he knew that the oats in the manger were poisoned. He glanced about to see that Dapples was not eating them, and his adversary landed one on his ear. Like a little fury he whirled and flew at the dark-faced boy, and the battle was on.
Freckles did not know that fighting was second nature to Tony, and that he had been in many battles and understood boxing, but, even if he had, it would have made no difference. Some one had got to be thrashed. He would at least punish the sneering Tony, even if he did get a good mauling himself.
Two of the ponies that had stood next to Dapples on the side opposite the black Shetland had been removed, and were now ​about to perform in the big tent. That left just enough room for the fight that was raging in desperate earnest.
Freckles set his teeth and fought as he had never fought before, but the stranger punished him badly from the start. He soon found that Tony was as light on his feet as a rabbit, and that he could dodge like a flash and give two blows for one. He landed three blows on Freckles's face and one in his stomach, which nearly doubled him up, before the boy had even scored a hit. Then Freckles luckily landed one on the end of his adversary's nose. This started the blood freely, but did little damage, yet it was encouraging. But the advantage was of short duration, for Tony soon closed one of Freckles's eyes with a stinging smash that made the poor boy see stars. Tony followed up this with another blow on the cheek while Freckles was still dazed. Then Freckles's mighty rage came to his assistance, giving him twice his ordinary strength and skill, ​and he punched in two of his adversary's teeth.
"There, you black sneak. You will have that to remember me by for a spell, I guess."
The idea that his beautiful face had been disfigured so enraged Tony that he clinched with Freckles, and the two went rolling about on the grass, almost under the heels of the horses. Finally they stopped rolling in a slight depression, and Tony was on top. "There, now I will teach you to spy on me and to take away my job, monkey-face." He planted his knees upon poor Freckles's chest and began raining blow after blow on his face. The plight of Freckles would have soon been serious, but just then a strong hand seized the coat collar of Tony and lifted him bodily from his victim. Tony looked up, and the angry face of the ringmaster was glowering down upon him.
"I thought I told you to clear out, or I would have you arrested," he thundered. ​"Well, it is not too late now. I will see that you don't get away this time. I presume you were up to some deviltry again."
"He came here to poison the little horse, and I caught him," panted Freckles.
"He's a liar," cried the somewhat subdued Tony, who now saw that his plight was desperate. While he had been speaking he had been slyly unbuttoning his coat, the collar of which the ringmaster held firmly.
"Poisoning Sir Wilton? If that is so, he'll sweat for it. I——"
"Look out, mister. He is getting away from you," shouted Freckles, but he spoke too late.
The crafty Tony, who was as slippery as an eel, slipped from his coat, leaving the empty garment in the hands of the astonished ringmaster, while he glided beneath the man's arm and fled down the aisle between the horses.
​"Stop him, catch him," cried the ringmaster; but there was no one present to do his bidding.
"Well, if he isn't a slippery little devil! But I guess we have seen the last of him. He will get out of here lively, or I miss my guess.
"He has no mind to sleep in the calaboose. He was poisoning Sir Wilton, did you say?"
"Yes," replied Freckles. "Look here in the manger."
They stepped to the box wherein Dapples's oats had been placed, and Freckles removed his cap from over the pony's supper.
The ringmaster stooped and looked critically for a few seconds.
"I guess you were just in time, boy," he said at last. "It is Paris green, and no mistake. You have saved Sir Wilton this time. Come out to the light and let me see if he hurt you much."
"Oh, I am all right," said Freckles. ​"If the little horse is all right, I don't mind about myself."
The ringmaster clapped Freckles on the back in a friendly way. "Oh, he's all right, and you are all right, too. You will make a good pair. I am glad I have found you, boy. Come, the evening performance is on."
In the big top that evening, perched upon the highest seat, the three chums again saw the stupendous show. It now had a new meaning for them.
Pickles and Beany were interested because their chum, Freckles, was soon to join his fortunes with the circus, and Freckles himself looked at the spectacle almost with fear. Pickles and Beany were very much excited and talked like magpies, but Freckles was rather quiet.
"What makes you so glum, old chum?" asked Pickles. "I should think you would be so excited you could not stay in your seat. I would, if I was going with the show."
​"Perhaps you would and perhaps you wouldn't," returned Freckles thoughtfully. He was apparently looking at the amazing stunts of the trapeze performers, but he was not seeing them. Instead, he was seeing the little bedroom at the poor-farm where he had always slept, as far back as he could remember.
"If there is anything troubling you, Freckles, you had better tell Pickles and me," said Beany at length. "We are your friends, and we will do what we can."
"No, it ain't anything special," replied Freckles, "but it is this way. I don't suppose I can make you fellers understand anyhow. You see, you have got homes and I haven't. So when you haven't got any home, almost any place where you stay for a spell gets to be home. It don't matter if people are mean to you, and you say you would like to run away and never see them again. You see, fellers, I haven't ever had a mother. But I can't help thinking how, when I was a little chap, ​Mrs. Perkins used to brush my hair and dress me up to go to church. She was always scolding and nagging me, but she was a sorter mother. She'd fly around and act real scart if I had the croup."
"Oh, any one would do that," put in Pickles. "I guess they didn't waste no love on you at the poor-farm."
"No," returned Freckles sorrowfully. "They didn't waste none, but I guess they gave me a litile. I guess they will miss me when I am gone. A poor-farm ain't much of a home, but if it is all you have got, then it is your home."
"If it was me, I would be glad enough to clear out," said Beany emphatically.
Poor Freckles looked at him in a helpless way and sighed. "Well," he said, "I suppose it sounds queer to you fellers, but the poor-farm is my only home, so it is a sort of home, and I shall miss it. It makes you feel queer to be pulled up by the roots. I know my roots ain't so long as you fellers that has homes and mothers ​and brothers and sisters, but they are all the roots've got and I—I——". Here poor Freckles became incoherent, and his chums respected his feelings and looked hard at the show. When the last astounding feat had been performed and the band had sounded its last ear-splitting blare, the great crowd poured out of the big tent.
"Look, fellers," cried Beany, all excitement. "See what they have done while we were in the big tent. Why, the tents are all gone."
Freckles and Pickles looked, and saw that it was as Beany said. The great menagerie tent, through which they had entered, had disappeared, together with the animals. All the smaller tents had been taken down, too, so the circus lot now looked almost deserted.
The three chums made all haste to the freight yard, where the ringmaster had told Freckles to report to section two and the second sleeper from the engine.
​"You must write us every day," said Beany as the three trotted along.
"Oh, yes, I will write often, but I guess I can't every day. The ringmaster says that I will have to work hard for a spell. He wants me to be able to go into the show and drive Sir Wilton in a week, just as Tony did. Gee, it scares me when I think of it, but he says I will get used to the crowd."
"Aw, yes, of course you will," said Pickles contemptuously. "Such crowds as this one to-day won't be anything to you in a few weeks. Just wait until you get to playing in Madison Square. That is where my uncle says you see the crowd."
"Freckles," cried Beany, "if there is ever any opening for a feller in the Wild West shooting department, you write me quick. Tell them I will accept at once."
"Aw, no, you wouldn't," said Pickles scornfully. "His folks wouldn't let him. But if they should ever want a manager's helper, perhaps I might get off."
​"You fellers are all right just as you are," returned Freckles. "You don't want to join any circus. I wouldn't go if I had a home, not on your life. Well, fellers, I guess it is good-bye. Here is the ringmaster."
Very solemnly the three shook hands, vowing eternal and everlasting friendship.
"I just know you will own the whole show some day, Freckles," said Beany in a whisper. He didn't want the ringmaster to hear such a prophecy. Freckles smiled feebly.
"Good-bye, fellers," he choked. "I—I—we—— Don't tell any one where I have gone for a week. Then perhaps I will write Mr. Perkins. I won't ever forget you fellers. You have always been good tome. I—I—— So long, fellers. The ringmaster says I must come now."
Pickles and Beany turned reluctantly while Freckles climbed aboard the sleeper.
"All right, boy," said the circus man ​cheerily. "I am glad you are here. I know you will like the circus, and you will have great times driving Sir Wilton."
"I am sure I will, sir," returned Freckles simply.
At one end of the sleeper there was a small restaurant. Here ice-cream and coffee were served to the weary circus people, ice-cream being their favorite dish before retiring. The ringmaster secured dishes for himself and Freckles, and they sat down and ate with the jolly crowd. All were joking and laughing and telling amusing stories of the day's doings.
"Boys," said the ringmaster in a lull in the conversation, "I have got a pretty good story to tell you to-night. This boy is the new driver for Sir Wilton. His name is Harry Wilson, but I know you will all call him Freckles. Isn't that what the boys call you?"
"Yes," said Freckles blushing.
"Tony had another fit of temper to-day and whipped Sir Wilton unreasonably. ​When I spoke to him about it, he defied me, and I fired him. He came back at me by trying to poison the little horse, but this boy prevented it. They were having the liveliest fight I ever saw when I arrived on the scene." Then the ringmaster told of the fight in detail.
"Good for you, boy," cried an old bareback rider when the story was finished. He leaned over and slapped Freckles on the back.
"That is the sort of stuff," said another. "You can't ride a horse unless you love him, and Tony never loved anything but himself."
Several of the performers shook Freckles's hand and said a cheery word to him before retiring, and he was quite overcome by their kindness.
Probably each was thinking of the day when he too had slipped away to join the circus. They did not know just what he had left behind, but anyhow he must be lonesome.
​When they had finished the ice-cream, the ringmaster led the way to the berth recently used by Tony. In a very few minutes Freckles was undressed and ready for what the night might bring.
The engineer leaned out of the cab and watched until he saw a brakeman's lantern wave three times, then the train began slowly backing onto the main track.
Freckles counted the cars as they bumped over the switch. There were thirty-two in all. The long train stood for a few minutes on the main track, then the locomotive began the long pull to the next town where the Great American Circus was to show. Freckles's car was so close to the engine that he could hear it plainly as he lay in his berth. First it began slowly, and it seemed to his excited imagination to be saying, "Now we are off, now we are off, now we are off." Then it resolved itself into, "See us go, see us go, see us go," over and over, faster and faster. Finally the sounds merged in one ​long continuous roar and the trip had actually begun.
The next thing Freckles remembered they were bumping slowly over another switch. He looked out of the window in surprise. It was daylight and they were gliding slowly upon the switch in the new town where they were to show that day. Close to the switch-yard there was another high board fence, and on the top board was a row of boys, watching, for all the world, just as the three chums had watched the day before in Freckles's home town. So it would be wherever they went. Dull and unenterprising the town where a few wide-awake boys did not get up in the early hours to greet the circus trains as they pulled into town.
Freckles dressed with alacrity, for his first day of circus work had really begun. He had been detailed to take Sir Wilton down to the grounds, and he was the proudest boy in America. From this time on, he was to see that the small horse ​reached the grounds each day and was put back in his car each night after his part in the evening's performance.
For a few days while Freckles was learning to drive and ride him, Sir Wilton's part in the performance was to be dispensed with. This day Freckles did not have the leisure to watch the tented town go up, as he had the morning before, for the ringmaster, whose name was Mr. Williams, found plenty for him to do. He was kept very busy until after the parade, and then they went to dinner in the great dining top.
The ringmaster gave Freckles a ticket to the afternoon performance, and told him to watch everything carefully and learn as much as he could.
Freckles was very much astonished, early in the show, to have one of the managers announce that, due to the illness of his recent driver, Sir Wilton's part in the performance would be dropped for that day. But he added, "I am glad to an​nounce that we have secured the services of a celebrated Kentucky boy driver, Leslie Atherton, who will appear with Sir Wilton as soon as they get acquainted."
Poor Freckles heard this announcement with a sinking heart. He could hardly keep back the tears. They had not even given him a chance to show what he could do. Probably the ringmaster would tell him after the performance that he might go back to the poor-farm. So he would not drive the dappled Shetland after all. How disappointed Pickles and Beany would be, and Mr. Perkins would give him a sound thrashing. It had been a great mistake after all, his running away with the circus. After the performance he sought the ringmaster with tears in his eyes.
"Mr. Williams," he said, "I don't think it is right for you to give my job to that Leslie Atherton until I had shown what I could do. I was going to work so hard, I know I could have made good."
​The ringmaster looked at him in astonishment for a second, then burst into a peal of hearty laughter and slapped Freckles soundly on the back.
"It's all right, son," he said; "don't worry. I guess you and that Atherton boy will get along all right. You didn't expect we was going to say Master Harry Wilson from Pumpkin Holler, did you? Why, that Atherton chap from Kentucky is yourself. Didn't know yourself, did you? Well, you won't know yourself in the glass, either, when you take a look at your driving togs. You are green about the circus. You have a lot to learn. We have to be all glitter and glisten here. It's what takes with the crowd. But come on. Get out Sir Wilton, and I will give you some pointers about how to drive him. Perhaps you can go in the parade to-morrow."
For an hour the boy and small horse worked patiently under Mr. Williams's instruction. This was the first of many ​hours each day that the man spent with the boy, perfecting him in the handling of the Shetland. But he made remarkable progress from the first. This was because he was a natural horseman, and also because he loved Dapples and the little horse knew it at once. So they worked together like two pals, as indeed they were. But Freckles's best fun was taking care of Dapples and combing and brushing him. He talked to him just as he would have to another boy. He told Dapples all his troubles when he had any, and they were wonderful chums.
Finally the day of Sir Wilton's first performance under his new driver arrived. Freckles was so nervous that he could not eat his dinner. When he finally drove into the ring and saw the mighty sea of faces all staring down at him, his arms went limp and he wondered if he could give the pony the signals for his stunts. But the small horse was the better performer of the two, for he began without ​the signals, and that gave the frightened boy time to draw himself together and get back his nerve. So they worked together nicely. The performance was not quite so elaborate as that of Tony, but Freckles would do all of his tricks in time. Mr. Williams was much pleased with this first performance and complimented Freckles freely.
"Yes, you are all right, boy. I knew you would be. The secret of it is,—love your work."
One evening when Freckles had been with the circus about two weeks, he was treated to a scene that disclosed to his boyish mind most graphically the fact that the life to which he had linked himself was no child's play.
It was a scene that made his hair stand up with fright and his blood run cold in his veins while it lasted,—just another of those strange tragedies which always follow in the wake of the circus. This is inevitable, since the show deals with the ​transportation and control of savage and mighty wild animals, which have been taken from their native jungles and made to play a strange part in civilized life.
One of the marvels of this show which had most thrilled the three chums the first day that Freckles saw it, was the performance of El Capitan, a huge elephant, and his trainer, Señorita Angela Rincon, a dark, beautiful girl.
She seemed to have the huge beast under perfect control, and some of his stunts fairly took one's breath away. She would lie upon the ground, and he would slowly pass his great feet over her body, and, as a last feat of carefulness, he would lie down in such a position that the girl was completely under his body, which was partly supported by his legs.
"Gee," said Pickles to Freckles on that never-to-be-forgotten day, "if he should forget and lie clear down, I guess there wouldn't be much girl left."
On the particular night in question they ​were taking the elephants and all the other animals back to the freight yard to load them on the cars. These animals always go into the ring first, so that they may be loaded while the rest of the show is in progress. Freckles was trudging along with Dapples, and two of the largest of the elephant herd were directly in front of him. El Capitan had been rather cross for several days. Some of the circus people were afraid of him, but not so the fearless Spanish girl, who had gone through the usual tricks with him that evening.
Immediately in front of El Capitan in the little cavalcade which was wending its way back to the freight yards, was another huge elephant called the Emperor. The Emperor was older than Ell Capitan and better-natured. But there had always been strife between the two huge beasts. The manager had noticed it, and was planning to sell one of them. He did not want to part with El Capitan because of his ​wonderful tricks, and the Emperor was a great favorite with the children. For the past week El Capitan had been constantly picking on the Emperor, and that huge beast's patience had been sorely tried. So it happened as they plodded along that evening that some of the camels in the procession ahead had paused to let several teams from an intersecting street pass. This slowed up the elephants, and El Capitan trod upon the Emperor's heels, and then prodded him savagely with his tusks because he did not move on. This was the last straw that broke, not the camel's, but the elephant's back. The Emperor wheeled with a movement surprisingly quick for so large an animal, and brought down his mighty trunk square upon the top of El Capitan's head. It was a blow that would have crushed the skull of almost any other animal. It would have broken the back of a horse and stretched him dead on the ground, but it only stunned El Capitan for a second. ​When he fully realized who his assailant was, and what had happened to him, he went fairly insane with rage.
With a shriek of fury that fairly made Freckles's hair stand up, and a bellow of rage that stampeded the camels, El Capitan charged his rival, sinking his mighty tusks deep into the Emperor's shoulder and causing him to give ground.
Sir Wilton wheeled with a frightened snort and broke away from Freckles, galloping madly back to the circus lot. The attendants upon the two elephants darted at them with their iron-pointed prods, but the animals paid no more attention than they would to flies.
For a few seconds Freckles stood rooted to the ground. He was so astonished and paralyzed with fear that he could not move. Then, as one of the fighting monsters gave ground, and the struggle moved a few feet nearer to him, Freckles, with the agility of a monkey, shinned up a small tree that stood conveniently near the road. ​Here he was just out of the reach of the elephants and in full view of the fight,—a sort of reserved seat, as he afterwards told Mr. Williams.
As they fought, dealing blows with their great trunks that would have broken any but the thickest skulls, and thrusting with their mighty tusks with the force of battering-rams, they shrieked with pain and rage and roared with anger. Such blood-curdling sounds poor Freckles had never heard. Presently the Emperor gave ground and they crashed into a high board fence at the side of the road. It was leveled to the ground as though it had been made of straw. Round and round they went in the open lot, thrusting, striking, and bellowing with rage and pain. Then the fight swayed back into the road and another section of the fence went down. At this point one of the manager's helpers galloped up on a panting horse. Seeing the desperate character of the fight, he galloped away to the freight yards for the ​elephant rifle which the management always carried. The poor Emperor, who was really not to blame for the fight, seemed to be getting the worst of it. He was not so strong nor so young as his assailant. His shoulders fairly ran blood from several gaping wounds inflicted by the sharp tusks of El Capitan.
Back and forth the fight swayed, but the Emperor was always the one to give ground. Finally, in an unlucky moment, El Capitan pinned him fairly against a tree by the roadside and then drove his tusks deep in his side, just back of the heart. With a mighty sigh of pain the great beast sank to his knees, just as the man with the elephant rifle galloped up.
One shot from the heavy gun, aimed at the heart, also brought Ell Capitan to his knees beside his vanquished foe, while another in the head laid him upon his side, within twenty feet of the tree where Freckles was still clinging.
It took only a few moments' scrutiny of ​the Emperor to discover that he also was done for. So the third shot rang out, and the two huge beasts lay dead by the roadside, both having paid the price of their lives for the bad temper of El Capitan.
Freckles climbed down from his tree and went back to the circus grounds to look for Sir Wilton. To his surprise, when he appeared at the freight yards he found the sections were being loaded just as though nothing had happened.
The trains all pulled out on time, but there was one box car that was partly empty. The circus people were a little quieter than usual after the tragedy had been fully discussed, but the Great American Show went on.
Freckles learned the following day that the manager had telegraphed for two more elephants that very night, even before they left the freight yards. But the fight cost the company fifteen thousand dollars and one of the best trick elephants ever seen in the ring.