Even Broadwood thought that rather funny and laughed. But they tried for revenge later by dubbing the trick elephant “Yardley.” And when he finally managed to get all four feet onto a big red and yellow ball of wood they demanded; “Touchdown, Yardley, touchdown!”
And so the performance drew triumphantly to its close while attendants passed around selling tickets for the “Grand Concert and Minstrel Entertainment to begin immediately after the show.”
Gerald, who had had a wonderful time all afternoon, leaned forward and begged Dan to remain and see the minstrel show. But Alf, who overheard, said;
“It isn’t worth the price, Gerald. You stay with the crowd and you’ll have lots more fun.”
“Why?” Gerald asked curiously. But Alf only shook his head and looked mysterious. Then the performance came to an end and the audience surged toward the single exit. This was not the way they had entered; instead of leading back to the smaller tent it deposited the throng out in the open air in front of the side-shows. This exit was a good twelve feet wide and was formed by an opening in the big tent and a canvas passageway some fifteen feet in length. The passageway was a smaller tent open at each end and supported by half a dozen light poles and as many guy-ropes. The inner walls were covered with cordial and gaudy invitations to the side-shows, and a “barker,” armed with a small cane and a resonant voice, stood under the alluring placards and recited the attractions of “Fatima, the Turkish Fortune Teller” and “Mademoiselle Marcelle, the Most Marvelous Snake Charmer of the Century.”
“Hurry up,” whispered Alf as he seized Gerald’s arm and dragged him through the throng. The exit was close to the seats occupied by the Yardley contingent and so they were soon outside. There the Yardley fellows lined up about the entrance and began cheering. Gerald, craning his head over Alf’s shoulder, watched the exit in excited expectation. He didn’t know what was going to happen but he was certain something would. Broadwood, hearing the Yardley cheers, came to a similar conclusion and kept her forces well together as she made for the exit. For a minute or two the emerging stream was composed of townsfolk, and the Yardley cheers continued. Gerald looked about for Dan, but couldn’t see him. Alf, when questioned, replied enigmatically that Dan had been assigned to duty. Gerald’s further inquiries were interrupted.
“Here they come!” someone announced in a stage-whisper, and Gerald saw the fore-rank of Broadwood emerging from the big tent into the passageway. Instantly Alf was leading a mighty cheer for “Broadwood! Broadwood! Broadwood!” Some of the oncoming army grinned approval at the compliment, but there were more who scowled suspiciously, pulled their caps firmer on their heads, and buttoned their jackets.
“Oh, oh!” murmured Alf delightedly. “Like sheep to the slaughter! Good old Broadwood! A-ay, Broadwood! Broadwood!”
And then, just as the first of the Broadwood fellows had reached the outer end of the passageway, a voice shouted “Let her go!” Gerald found himself being pressed back. There were cries of delight all about him. The canvas passageway swayed, the roof and walls settled inward and the tent descended calmly, inexorably upon the struggling crowd beneath. There was a wild and prolonged howl of joy from Yardley, a smothered babel of alarm and consternation from under the heaving canvas, and then Gerald, with Alf dragging him along, found himself flying wildly from the scene, tripping over ropes, colliding with persons, and shouting triumphantly as he went.
A quarter of a mile away the flying hordes of Yardley drew pace and breath, cheered approvingly for themselves and tauntingly for Broadwood, and then, forming into lines eight abreast, marched in triumph back to school singing their songs. When, breathless and exultant, Tom, Alf, Dan, and Gerald found themselves in Number 7 Dudley, Gerald alone expressed a regret.