Circus Shoes (9 page)

“I’ve got it. The sea-lions belonged to your mother.”

Fritzi and Hans looked pleased.

“That is so,” Hans agreed gravely.

Santa rested on her elbows.

“But how did your father know how to train sea- lions? They are quite different from bears.”

“No.” Hans’s face was very serious. Obviously, both to him and to Fritzi, training animals was not a subject you spoke of casually. You discussed it properly or not at all. “All animals are as little children. First they must to speak learn.

Santa sat up.

“What language does a sea-lion speak?”

“With us,” Hans explained, “it is German. With you it would English be.”

“But they don’t speak any language,” Peter argued. “I mean no animals do.”

Fritzi’s voice showed that she was amazed at his ignorance.

“All animals to speak learn. How else do they obey? First each a name must have. Each day he will the more easily when he is called come.”

“So,” Hans agreed. “Then he must his trick learn. You speak German?” Santa and Peter shook their heads. “Well, one sea-lion, the best, his Hitler called. Mine father he say in German ‘Hitler, come.’ One day, two day, two days, three days he does not come. Then one day he come.”

Fritzi broke in.

“Then he have a fish.” Hans went on.

“Hitler he go back in the tank. He thinks, ‘Why did I that fish have? The next day my father say to him, ‘Come,’ and Hitler he remember. He come. He have his fish. He has his first lesson learned.”

Peter and Santa had been so interested in hearing about the sea-lions that they had not been noticing what was going on outside. Now they were startled to hear a band. They looked up. A band was playing in front of the big top. All the bandsmen wore green with a white star on their coats and a white band on their caps. The conductor wore a green coat and white trousers with a green stripe down them.

“What’s that band doing?” Santa asked.

Hans and Fritzi did not know what she meant.

They were incapable of grasping that there were children in the world who did not know that all circuses have bands.

“They ‘pull them in,’” Fritzi said at last.

It was Peter and Santa’s turn to look at each other. Ben had said, “That’s the way we speak when we mean getting an audience.” Was the band Mr. Cob’s? Was it playing to get an audience?

“Is it Mr. Cob’s band?” Santa asked Fritzi cautiously. Fritzi nodded. “Do they play like that to let people know there’s going to be a circus,” Santa went on, “and to make them buy tickets?”

“So,” Hans agreed.

Santa gave a pleased look at Peter. Evidently they had got that right. One more expression they understood.

Alexsis came out of the Petoff caravan. He beckoned to Peter and Santa. They got up.

“Tomorrow,” said Fritzi, “we for you will come. We take you to the school.”

The first time you go to a circus must be exciting to anybody. To Peter and Santa, who had reached eleven and twelve and a half without even seeing a movie, it seemed as if for over two hours they had stepped out of the world they knew and into a fairy story. Somehow, in spite of what Ben and Hans and Fritzi had told them, they had not expected the animals to be so clever. They had known people would ride on the horses. They had thought the dogs would beg. They did not know what they thought the elephants would do. And they had no idea what sea-lions looked like, and even in a dream could not have imagined them so clever.

Mr. Cob was standing in the entrance to the big top. He wore a red coat and a top hat. He carried a long whip.

“Mr. Cob,” said Alexsis, “this is the nephew and niece of Gus.”

Mr. Cob shook hands with both of them. He was a tall man with graying hair, a mouth that looked as if it had given a lot of orders in its time, and eyes that seemed to take in the whole of you in one quick flashing look. “Never seen a circus before, I hear.”

“No, sir,” said Peter.

“Well”-Mr. Cob looked round-“there’s a box empty round the other side.” He turned to Alexsis. “Tell the girl to put you in there.” He nodded to the children. “That’s because it’s your first visit. Next time you want to see the show you ask me and I’ll put you in at the back somewhere.”

Peter still had their money so he bought a program.

The girl who put them in the box seemed very unwilling to sell it to them.

“Alexsis can tell you what’s on,” she objected. “Don’t go wasting your money.”

Alexsis too disapproved.

“There is no need. I tell you all the acts.”

But Peter and Santa were firm. This was their first circus and they intended to know exactly what was circus happening. They paid their threepence and pored over the program together. There were eighteen acts.

By the time they had finished reading the program the band had come in from outside and were sitting in a balcony over the artistes entrance. Alexsis pointed to them.

“Watch the leader of the band. When he raised his baton then the circus it will begin.”

Peter looked back at the program.

Alexsis made a gesture with his hand as if he were wiping all the words off the program.

“That will be Paula, my sister. But she may not be first.”

Peter hated to think his program was wrong. He spoke quickly and angrily.

“Well, it says so. I suppose they wouldn’t print the program wrong.”

Alexsis looked hurt.

“You must not be angry. All program for a circus says what you will see, but it cannot say how you will see it.”

Peter was still annoyed.

“Then they shouldn’t charge threepence.”

Alexsis spoke to Santa.

“A circus it shows two times on each day. The acts they change, so the most difficult to set up is put at the end of one show and he is ready for another.” Santa poked Peter in the side.

“Don’t you see? It’s all there. But they won’t be in at order.”

Alexsis showed her an indicator over the orchestra and another over the entrance.

“The number he will come there.”

“It’s a very silly system,” said Peter.

Santa gave him a kick.

“Shut up. What’s the matter with you?”

Peter kicked back.

“Who howled in the road yesterday?”

Having started to argue they would have gone on for ages, but at that moment the conductor raised his baton. Alexsis leaned back in his seat.

“Now we begin.”

In one moment Peter and Santa had forgotten there was such a thing as an argument in the world. The band played. A blaze of light shone down on the saw dust of the ring fence. An enthralling smell of animals and earth and sawdust swept over the big top. Mr. Cob took up his place on one side of the artistes’ entrance. Two ring-men held back the tent Raps. A mass of color was grouped against the canvas. The circus had begun.

The parade went by. Neither Peter nor Santa could take in much of it. There was so much to see and it was so new. There were clowns in all imaginable garments. Gus was dressed as a sailor and was striding along on immense stilts. There were the horses. They wore the gayest harness. The ponies pulled a little coach with a girl standing up in it dressed as a butterfly. Then came the four French poodles. They were dragging a tiny brightly painted wagon. The six elephants were magnificent with golden cloths on their backs. They held each other by the tail. On the front one, dressed all in gold, with a golden turban, sat a man whom the children guessed must be Kundra. There were groups of people walking in fantastic clothes. Velvets, tinsels, and tarlatan. All chosen with an eye to gaiety. A lovely procession of motley. While it passed it was like living in a dream. When it was strange to see that the ring was still sprinkled with sawdust. It would not have been surprising to see it had turned to gold.

There was not much time to think of miracles, for in a second “One” flashed up on the indicator.

“This is Paula,” Alexsis whispered.

Paula had the same red hair as Alexsis. She was wearing a jade-green velvet tunic and cap. From her cap blew an ostrich feather. She was standing on the backs of two grays. One foot on each. She rode round the ring. Then, just as she passed the entrance, in bounded a third gray. He passed under her legs and as he went she caught a silk rein looped on his back, and drove him before her. Round the three horses went until they were again past the entrance; then a four gray cantered in, passed under her legs and was gain caught and driven in front of her. Santa was terrified.

“Oh, goodness, won’t she fall off?”

Alexsis laughed.

 
“No. She have rode this since she is little.”

 
“How many horses is she going to drive in the end?” asked Peter.

“Seven,” Alexsis explained. “Then there are the two she stand on. That makes nine.”

The children began to count. Five. Six. They were very much afraid she would miss the ribbon on the seventh. But no, she caught it, and drove her team out amidst roars of applause. In a minute she was back standing in the ring bowing and smiling.

There was a shout of laughter and suddenly the place was full of clowns. Peter grabbed the program.

What’s this? No number’s up.”

“No. It is the clowns and augustes. A reprisal.”

“A what?” said Santa.

Alexsis screwed up his face to try and explain.

“Always when the clowns and augustes come on that is not an act, that is a reprisal.”

“That can’t be right,” Peter argued. “Numbers eleven and fifteen are clowns and augustes. They’re on the program.”

“Them that’s not a reprisal,” Alexis explained patiently. “That is a specialty. It is different. Look the Frasconis.”

They looked. While the clowns had been playing about in the ring and on the ring fence, the ring-hands had fixed up a trampoline. An old man dressed like a ring-hand had stood by and supervised. Now he moved to the entrance and stood by Mr. Cob.

“Who’s that?” Santa whispered to Alexsis.

“That is Mr. Frasconi. He is a very great artiste of the trampoline. These are his two sons. He teach them and build the act.”

The two Frasconi sons were dressed in pink tights and a piece of velvet made like leopard skin. The things they did when on the trampoline were breath-taking. The trampoline might only look like a mattress raised off the ground, but it was anything but a mattress to the two brothers. The smaller of the two bounded up and down on it, shooting up as if he would hit the roof, then corning down in amazing twists and somersaults. No matter how he carne down the bigger brother, who was the bearer, never missed catching him.

“I can’t believe they’re real,” Santa sighed, when at last they finished leaping about and stood bowing n the ground.

After another reprisal from the clowns and augustes, the ponies trotted in. Alexsis leaned forward and watched intently.

“I think,” he said in a worried voice, “Prissy is not quite well.”

Peter and Santa gave each other a look. To them ponies looked exactly alike. They suspected Alexsis of showing off.

Maxim Petoff looked impressive in the ring. He wore riding clothes and carried a whip He never used the whip. He merely murmured orders to his ponies and they all to do. They had to divide into sixes and trot round in opposite directions. They had to walk round with their forelegs on the ring fence and their hind ones in the ring. They had to stand for a moment on their hind-legs begging like dogs. When they had finished Maxim stood by the exit and gave each of them something from his pocket as a reward.

Lucille’s French poodles were so clever it was almost ridiculous.
 
Three of them did really difficult aerobatic feats. The fourth, with an enormous sense of humor was the clown and just missed getting it right. She made the audience rock with laughter. Peter nudged Santa.

“Do you remember Ben said they were almost indecently clever? I think they are too.
 
That one that always does everything wrong. She knows she’s making us laugh.”

Santa nodded, then gripped his arm.

“Look. That’s the little ring of roses we saw being made this afternoon. I believe that must have been

Lucille we saw making it. She was speaking French.” Peter looked at Lucille with his head on one side. “But this lady has yellow hair.”

Santa said nothing. She wished she was as observant as Peter. She had quite forgotten the hair. But of course, now that she thought of it, it had been black, with a fringe.

The rose ring was for the clown dog. She stood at a little distance from Lucille, looking at her over het boulder with her tongue hanging out and the sauciest expression on her face. The band, which had been playing a march, suddenly broke into a waltz. The dog tuck out her tail. Lucille threw her rose ring. It was caught on the tail. There was a pause, then the ring began to swing. In perfect rhythm the dog spun it.

If ever a dog knew she was clever that one did. She had no sooner finished her act than she began to show off. She was just like a small child who gets above herself at too much praise. She raced round the ring fence while Lucille tried to catch her. She chewed up a ball. She walked on her hind-legs without being asked to. And finally, when Lucille had sent all the dogs away and was bowing in the ring, she came shooting back and bowed too. Lucille was rather fat, with a good deal of her both behind and in front. The dog had evidently noticed this, and how it made her give rather clumsy bows. You would not think a dog could imitate a fat woman bowing, but that one did. How everyone laughed!

During the reprisal, number eight was shown on the indicator. Alexsis smiled.

”This will be the Elgins. It is very, very beautiful. It is a floor act.” He saw they looked puzzled so he added, “Their foots are on the floor.”

Santa was watching the artistes’ entrance with one eye, and a clown who had water coming out of his hat with the other, but she really could not let Alexsis go on making the same mistakes over and over again. “Feet, “ she said. “You know I told you that before.”

“So,” Alexsis agreed. But he was not really attending. H s eyes were glued to the entrance.

The Elgins were a beautiful act. There were three men and two girls. They wore very little, but what they did wear was made of red velvet. The idea back of the act was that they should keep on forming pictures grouped perfectly. To get into these groups the three men hurled the girls at each other. They might have been pieces of wood they were throwing about, hey did it so casually. And the two girls might have had no bones to break, from the nonchalant way they hot through the air. Peter and Santa thought it very pretty, but they did not like it as much as the other acts. But Alexsis. He was pale with pleasure when they had finished.

“They are grand artistes,” he said.

Peter was watching a clown and an auguste throwing balls to the audience. He was hoping it would not fall on them. It would be awful if everybody stared, but it was quite likely it would be thrown at them, with Alexsis sitting with them. All the circus people must know him.

“I don’t think,” he argued, “they are half as great artistes as Paula. I bet none of them could ride nine horses at once.”

Alexsis looked at him pityingly.

“You do not understand what you say.”

Santa sighed. Peter was being tiresomely argumentative, but Alexsis’s last answer would have annoyed anyone. She expected Peter would answer back, and so he would have, but at that moment the clowns’ ball hit him on the head. Peter had forgotten the ball. His mind was racing round with retorts for Alexsis. Instead of using giving the ball a great thump. It was a fine punch. The ball missed the clown and bounded away into the middle of the ring. At that moment “Five” came up on the indicator.

“That was a good smack,” Alexsis said carefully, fumbling for the words.

Peter pulled Santa’s sleeve. “It’s the Arizonas.”

Somehow, having fed the rosin-backs that after noon, both Peter and Santa felt possessive about the Arizonas, perhaps because this was the first moment that they did know a little in a world where everybody else was well informed. If anybody sitting near them had criticized the act they would have been furious. But nobody dreamed of it. The Kenets were all beautiful riders. They and Paula were dressed in cow punching outfits. One Kenet had a lasso with which he caught not only the horses but also his brothers. The act went at a terrific speed, accompanied by shouts from everybody in the ring. They all leaped from the ground onto the horses and onto each other’s shoulders. They turned somersaults and arrived right way up on the horses’ backs. They formed pyramids. They jumped from one horse to another. They all rode one horse at the same time. It was very exciting to watch. Peter and Santa were quite exhausted by the time the horses had cantered out and Paula and the Kenets were bowing in the ring.

They had no time to be exhausted, for into the ring tumbled the clowns. They had seen Gus in several different sets of clothes playing various jokes, but this time he came on with a lasso just like the one the Kenet brother had used. He seemed just as clever with it as the Kenet brother had been, only he used it in an amusing way. He caught the other clowns and augustes round the neck, and then caught himself in the lasso. He skipped with it. He did it beautifully, but he looked so pleased each time he got through the routine safely that you felt it was only by luck he had done it, and you could not help laughing. Finally he lassoed three clowns at once, caught them all, then got his own foot tangled in the end of the rope, and was dragged out of the ring on his back.

Alexsis was delighted that they found their uncle so funny.

“He is very good artiste,” he said admiringly.

Number seventeen came next. It was a pretty dancing act. The girls wore blue dresses and blue wings. They waltzed to the music of
The Blue Danube.
Then suddenly they pulled off their dresses and wings, and with nothing on but some trunks and a little bit of blue stuff round their chests, threw each other round as the Elgins had done.

After this came number six. Most people have seen a comedy horse. They know just how silly it can be. Peter and Santa had of course never seen one before. They laughed so much they hurt inside.