A PROFITABLE BACK YARD
"Oh, my s-s-stars!"
That was the extent of Toby's utterance for the moment, as he remained crouched under the window, and watched that wonderful thing that had come to pass in a single night, just as though he might be living in the times of the "Arabian Nights," when magic was in vogue.
"W-w-where am I at?" he presently breathed. "W-w-what does it all m-m-mean? Has the w-w-world really turned upside d-d-down? Am I in Africa, or is this s-s-still p-p-plain old Carson, and I'm j-j-just seein' things?"
Just then the swinging trunk of the largest elephant was curled over the rim of the trough where running water passed day and night, coming through a long pipe from a distant spring; there was a strange sucking sound, then the trunk was turned upward, and a spray of water went sizzling over the great broad back of the animal.
Toby stirred himself. He could see that the camels were chewing their cud, and the ostrich pluming its ruffled feathers, while the baby elephant nosed around as though in search of breakfast. Then even the skulking tawny figure that was partly hidden under the cage containing his wildcat moved; and he could make out the hitherto defiant inmate trying to cower against the back of the refuge as though frightened by the nearness of the king of the African jungle, the lion.
"By jinks! mebbe the circus was busted in the storm, and all the wild animals got loose!"
Why, Toby was so startled by this sudden thought, that he even neglected his customary stutter. Bandy-legs would have been quick to draw attention to this remarkable fact, had he been present to notice it, as he invariably did.
The more Toby allowed this idea to sink into his brain the stronger grew his conviction that he had really hit upon the truth. What tickled Toby most of all was the fact that the escaped animals should select his back yard above all other places of refuge in the good old town of Carson.
Perhaps it had happened that the gate blew open in the storm, having been insecurely fastened; and that somehow the first animal may have been attracted by the very odor of which his mother was beginning to complain, and which is always present where wild animals are kept, such as his wildcat, 'coon and fox.
Toby, however, always insisted that it must have been some instinct that caused elephants, dromedaries, ostrich, zebra and even the toothless old performing lion, Nero, to camp in his back yard in preference to any other harbor of refuge.
"Sure they knew a friend when they wanted to get in out of the wet, didn't they?" he would argue, with many a twist and turn to his speech; "animals are wise to the fact that a few people care for them, and I'm one of that select bunch. And you can believe that I'll always take it as one of the greatest compliments ever paid to me that they picked out the Jucklin yard to camp in!"
But Toby was not saying anything like this just at present. He knew that some energetic action must be taken in order to notify the owners of the wrecked circus where they could find a big part of their stray stock.
He tore downstairs in a great hurry, though very careful at the same time to close the shutters of his window again; for it gave him a cold chill to imagine that great yellow-maned lion scrambling up the grape-arbor near by, and finding entrance to his sleeping apartment. Toby liked wild animals all right, but he was not hankering after having them quite as close as that.
It was a quiet Sunday morning. Later on the church bells would begin to jangle and ring, but at that early hour not a sound seemed to make itself heard.
Straight to the telephone rushed Toby, and as soon as he could get Central he begged to be connected with the office of the Chief of Police.
Now Toby hardly expected that the brave defenders of Carson would march up to the Jucklin domicile, and arrest those elephants, dromedaries, zebra, ostrich and last but not least the terrible king of the dark African jungle, as Nero was described on the posters that decorated all the bill boards in town. But when citizens were in any sort of trouble it was only right they should put it up to the police. What were those men paid for, but to shoulder all the burdens that might arise, and find a solution to mysteries? Why, they would not earn their salt unless people found something for them to do once in a while; because Carson most of the time was as sleepy and peaceable as any town could be.
"Hello! hello!" said a voice over the wire.
"That you, C-c-chief?"
"It certainly is; what can I do for you this morning?" came the voice.
"This is T-t-toby J-j-jucklin s-s-speaking to you!"
"I see it is," replied the official, who knew Toby very well, and doubtless his stuttering also. "Well, what's happened this Sunday, Toby? Storm knock a chimney down at your place? It would only make six I've heard from, not to speak of the church spire being out of plumb again."
"D-d-did the circus g-g-get to town last night, C-c-chief!"
"Did it? Well, I should say yes. There's the dickens to pay, and I guess most of the churches'll have thin audiences this morning, when the news leaks out, Toby."
"Y-y-you mean the animals escaped, d-d-don't you, Chief?"
"They surely did," came the reply over the wire. "Wind blew the round-top down, upset some of the cages, and made such a big panic that all the live stock that could get a move on took French leave. Right now the whole outfit is scouring the roads for ten miles around, but I haven't heard that they've run across anything yet. The whole country will be just plumb crazy when it gets known."
"W-w-what was it g-g-got away, Chief; w-w-would you mind tellin' me?"
"Certainly not, Toby; you know I'd do a heap to oblige you," the head of Carson's police force went on to say, for Mr. Jucklin had considerable influence in politics, and the Chief knew which side of his bread was buttered, as well as any one could. "Let's see, I heard it over the wire, and Mr. Jenks was all broke up over the catastrophe, so he mixed things up some; but I remember he said all the camels and the elephants had lit out, ditto their trained ostrich that draws a cart around the ring like a hoss; and there was some monkeys that broke loose too, yes, and now I think of it he did mention a striped animal which he called the zebra; and I think he said a lot of lions and tigers, and also a few others I can't recall for the moment!"
"Well, part of the lot are camped right now in our back yard!" said Toby, filled with such a sense of importance that he neglected to stumble over a single word of this sentence.
Evidently the man in blue uniform at the other end of the wire was staggered by this unexpected communication.
"What's that, Toby?" he exclaimed; "you wouldn't try to deceive me, I hope? Sure you haven't been dreaming, and seeing things? I know you're fond of wild animals, and have got a little collection yourself; but explain some more. I wouldn't want to get hold of Mr. Jenks, the circus man, and then have him disappointed."
"Oh! no danger of that," sang out Toby, jubilantly; "let's s-s-see, there's one l-lion, three elephants, three double-humped c-c-camels, an ostrich, and the zebra there right now, 'cause I s-s-saw the whole lot. D-d-don't know how m-m-many more might be around on the other s-s-side of the house. Seems like they j-j-just took to the Jucklin ranch. K-k-knew a good thing when they saw it. Will you notify this M-m-mister Jenks, or shall I?"
"Why, he's right across the square now, getting some breakfast, and I can run over to tell him, Toby, thank you."
"H-h-hold on, Chief!"
"What else is there, Toby?"
"D-d-do you know if he's been offerin' any s-s-sort of reward for the recovery of his l-l-lost animals?" asked the boy, eagerly.
"Why, I did hear him say he'd be only too glad to make it worth anybody's time who brought him information that would lead to the recovery of his property. And I'll see what I can do for you, Toby. It ought to be worth fifty dollars to you, that's right. But don't detain me any longer, because he might get away. He's got a car at the door of the hotel waiting for him. See you later, Toby, and thank you for calling me up."
Toby puzzled a little over this last remark. He finally grinned, and concluded that possibly there might be something in it for the genial Chief also, which was why he declared himself as indebted to the boy who brought the information.
Toby's next move was to hurry down to the kitchen to warn the cook not to poke her head out of doors on penalty of receiving a shock. He was just a few seconds too late to prevent this, however, for just as he reached the kitchen, and discovered the back door open, a figure came tearing through like mad. It was the black cook, Sallie Marie, and the whites of her eyes were showing as she slammed that door shut and then fell back in a big chair, almost fainting.
"Don't yuh go out dar, chile!" she whimpered, as she thought she saw Toby making for the door; and so he was, but only to turn the key in the lock, as though fearful that some cunning and aggressive animal might manage to open it; "de Noah's ark am drapped down on top of dis wicked town durin' de night, an' der's de animiles awalkin' 'round our garden two by two, de elephants an' de camels an' de lions. Oh! what-ebber am we agwine to do, chile? Does yuh think I's on'y makin' b'lieve, or dat I done got de fever? Jest look fo' yo'self out o' de window, an' see all dem awful t'ings out dere. I done spect yuh got all de menagerie yuh wants dis time, an' dat's a fack!"
Toby hastened to explain what had happened, and that the animals she saw belonged to the menagerie connected with the circus that was passing Sunday in Carson, meaning to give a parade Monday morning, to be followed by two performances later in the day and evening.
Then he hastened upstairs again to tell the rest of the folks; and for some time every one in the Jucklin house had his or her face glued to a window pane, watching the remarkable sight to be seen in their plain back yard, which for the time being seemed to have been transported to the heart of Africa.
Then the first detachment of the circus people hove in sight, and there were witnessed some of the strangest things that ever came to pass on the quiet of a Sunday morning in old Carson, since the days of the war, half a century before.
Men led elephants away; others came with the two-humped dromedaries, and after them the striped zebra trotted, showing something like temper because his spell of liberty had been so short.
Then came the ostrich, with its master leading it by a rope, and warning the curious spectators to keep away from its feet because it could kick forward like a football punter, and with disastrous results.
Last of all a cage was brought to hold the lion that was at large; and while the men, armed with sticks and pistols, the latter being discharged frequently so as to inspire old Nero with alarm, drove the beast toward the open door of the wagon, the spectators peeped from behind corners and other places of refuge, ready to run madly if there seemed any chance of his turning toward them.
In the end all the animals that had gathered so strangely in the Jucklin yard were taken away. Toby had thought to call up his chums on the 'phone early in the affair, so that not only Max, but Steve and Bandy-legs were on the spot, to gape, and see all that went on, enjoying it immensely too.
That was a Sunday never to be forgotten in the annals of Carson. The news went around, and many timid people remained shut up in their houses the livelong day, not daring to venture out for fear lest they be pounced upon by a striped tiger, a yellow-maned lion, a man-eating panther, or some inferior beast like a common wolf, hyena or jackal.
The boys of the town were wild with excitement, and all day long a crowd gathered about the round-top, which had been repaired and hoisted. These circus men are able to meet sudden emergencies. They know what it is to grapple with difficulties that come unannounced; and it is all in a day's work with them.
Some mended torn canvas; others looked after the animals, while fresh lots continued to scour the adjacent country, searching for such animals as had not been accounted for in the collection found in the Jucklin back yard.
It was the biggest advertisement the show could possibly have had, and the enterprising owner saw his opportunity to get out fresh bills, telling about the havoc of the storm, and announcing that these beasts of prey that had been at liberty were now all safely secured again—which Toby and his chums knew was a barefaced lie, for the men were still hunting along all the roads and the woods within ten miles of town—and "could be seen in the wonderful menagerie that formed a part of the grand aggregation," and so the announcement ran on, after the customary flamboyant manner of circus posters in general.
Toby had a little streak of business about him, and some time during the day he managed to interview Mr. Jenks, informing him that he was the boy who had been the means of sending information in first about the missing animals, and that it was his amateur menagerie in the back yard that had baited them.
So what did Mr. Jenks do but place fifty dollars in his hand, and thank him in the bargain. Toby was quite satisfied, but he could not help wondering what the Chief got out of it; though he never knew.
Of course he was also told that he could attend both performances, and fetch a dozen friends along with him in the bargain, a privilege Toby was pretty certain he would avail himself of, for he was a real boy, and as we know, loved animals far beyond the average of his class.
There was a tremendous outpouring of people on the following day and evening; for never had a show been better advertised than that of Mr. Jenks. Some people even hinted that the escape of the wild beasts had really been a shrewd dodge whereby a novel feature could be introduced into advertising practices; but others scoffed the idea, and pointed to the fact that even through Monday squads of the trainers and canvasmen continued to patrol the highways and byways around Carson as though all of the wild beasts could not have been recovered in that raid on the Jucklins' back yard.