Jack the runaway; or, On the road with a circus

by Frank V. Webster

“That was a close call,” whispered Sam to Jack.

The boy clown nodded. He had had a glimpse of the dangers that beset a circus, and he had no liking for them. Only by a narrow margin had a terrible tragedy been averted.

But now the band was playing. The crowd, that had seen the masterful manner in which Ike saved the pole from falling, was becoming quieter. The panic was dying away, though the storm was now fiercer than ever. The big tent withstood the blast, however, and the maddened throng, being turned back from rushing at the steep bank, swerved around and poured out of the main entrance and into the driving rain.

“Those who wish to remain until after the shower is over may do so!” shouted Mr. Paine, when the band had done playing. “We will not take the tent down for some time yet.”

There were cries of thanks from many who had no liking for going out and getting drenched. Many did go, however, for they lived at a distance and wanted to get home. Others, more nervous, still had some fear that the tent would fall.

“We can’t do much in this storm, anyhow,” said the manager to some of his men, who had gathered near him. “Get the seats out of the way, and we’ll take the tent down as soon as it stops blowing. The other stuff can go, and we’ll hold a few cars for the canvas and rush it through on an extra.”

Half an hour later the storm had practically ceased, and then came the hard work of taking down a wet tent. You boys who have gone camping, and been obliged to handle your small tent when it was soaking wet, have some idea what it means to handle tons of damp canvas. Yet the circus men went at it as if it was the easiest thing in the world, and to such a system had they reduced the work that the tent was down in a short time, and packed in wagons, ready to run on the flat cars.

Jack and Sam, when they saw that the danger was over, had gone to the train, and, with the other performers, were soon being whirled to the next town where the show was to give an exhibition.

“Well, this is something like weather,” remarked Sam the next morning, as he peered out of the sleeping-car window. The sun was shining brightly and the air was soft and warm. There was scarcely a trace of yesterday’s storm, though this town was but thirty miles from the one where the tent had so nearly fallen.

“I dreamed I was being smothered under a lot of canvas coverings,” said Jack.