I said, “I don’t believe I can look fierce enough, honest I don’t.”
Harry Donnelle was just sitting there on the fence laughing so hard I thought he’d fall off. All of the fellows began guying me and saying I was a fool to be scared and that they wished they had the chance. But gee whiz, I was never part of a circus before, and I didn’t want to sit ’way up on the top of that fancy wagon and just look fierce. I bet you wouldn’t, either.
Pretty soon we were driving away and Mr. Costello looked awful big sitting there beside me. He kept cracking his whip all the time.
“So long, see you at the parade!” the fellows shouted.
“I should worry,” I called back; “I don’t care what becomes of me now.”
They had big red shutters with gold designs to cover up the cage so no one could see Marshal Foch, and the keeper sat on the step in back. Oh boy, how that Mr. Costello did drive; and he could crack the whip so it sounded like a rifle going off.
Pretty soon we came pell-mell into Kingston and I could see the circus posters in all the store windows and on the fences. The pictures of Mr. Costello looked just like him, kind of brave and bold like, and he always had a whip in his hand. I guess he slept with that whip under his pillow, hey?
While we were passing along one of the streets, a half a dozen scouts shouted to me and I gave them the scout salute.
Mr. Costello said, “Those intrepid young gentlemen will be proud of their young comrade; the whole city will do you honor for your daring and dauntless deed.” I noticed that whenever he strung together a lot of words they all began with the same letter. It sounded fine, too.
I said, “I know one thing, and that is I’d like to have a rich, red, rare, racy, raspberry soda, just now.”
“You will soon be able to regale your ravenous and rapacious capacity among the freaks of two continents who will accord you a warm and wonderful welcome,” he said.
Gee, you couldn’t beat him at it, that was one sure thing.
Jiminy crinkums, I may be a nut (that’s what the troop calls me anyway), but I’m not a freak and, believe me, when I saw who I was going to have dinner with that day—_good night!_
They all sat around a big mess board that stood on horses just like at Temple Camp. It was in a side tent. Judge Dot sat right next to me; he was a midget. I guess he was only about three feet high, and he had a special chair. On the other side of me was Lieutenant Lemuel Long; he was the thin man. He was about as fat as a clothes pole. He didn’t eat much, but it wasn’t because he didn’t have any appetite. He said he had a contract with Mr. Costello not to eat much, because that would make him fat. He said he had a contract not to weigh more than eighty pounds. Gee, you’ve got to keep a contract if you make one, that’s one thing.