Do you wonder at the phrase “curious-looking couples” used above?
It had been agreed that they would excite less suspicion two by two. All in a crowd they might be mistaken for the rear guard of the circus procession, which they could tell from the sound of the band had proceeded them down the main street of Highland Falls. The six set out swiftly in pursuit.
Texas was fairly boiling over with anxiety to catch a glimpse of Smasher. Texas had done nothing but talk about Smasher since he started.
If there had chanced to be any officers from the post down there they would probably have recognized their cadets, in spite of false mustaches and hair. For the plebes were so used to going behind a band by this time that the tune—“The Girl I Left Behind Me”—set them all to marching with West Point precision—“left, left! Eyes to the front—heads up—chest out, little fingers on the seams of the trousers—left, left!”
Fortunately, however, nobody noticed their rather unusual style, and down at the far end of the long and narrow town they came upon the circus grounds. No small boy enjoying his holiday from school was gazing upon the scene with more interest than our plebes.
There were three big tents in a vacant lot. The band had gone inside by that time, and a string of people were following, buying their tickets of a black and long-haired “genuine Australian bushman” who stood as a walking live hint to the wonders that were inside, and incidentally made change wrong and talked in Irish brogue to an invisible some one.
Also worthy of mention was “Tent No. 2.” We shall see a good deal of the contents of Tent No. 2. Tent No. 2 was the dime museum tent, and varied and startling were its decorations. A two-headed boy grinned merrily at a painted hyena on one side. It was a laughing hyena, but the boy got the best of him because he had two heads to laugh with. A Norwegian giantess (colored) had the next side to herself, and so tall was she that a sort of continued-in-our-next arrangement was made with the roof, where a careful artist had painted half her head. There was a seal playing a banjo on the next panel, while a charmed boa constrictor listened. The boa constrictor’s tail was traced to the other side of the tent, his body having extended all that way. So he was a pretty big snake. Texas vowed he’d never seen a bigger one. And after that the six made a stampede for the main tent.
They stopped just long enough for Chauncey, “the gent with the white clothes and black whiskers,” to invest in peanuts. He told the man to keep the change with a haughty air, and then bid his friends help themselves. They took so many there wasn’t any change, at which the man growled.
In spite of jokes and peanuts they finally got into the tent. They bought their tickets separately so that their seats might be separate, and they found to their horror that the Australian bushman had sold them six in a row, and that every one in the place was staring at their extraordinary costumes. This rather pleased them, but they tried to look as if they didn’t care and stared around the tent.
After some munching of peanuts and stamping of feet (this latter chiefly by Texas, he of the carmine sweater and no coat, who was anxious to smash Smasher) a bell rang and the show had begun. A curtain opened at one side and in galloped a white horse and rider. Texas sprang up and started for the ring. Texas thought it was Smasher, and he grumbled some when he found it was only “Madam Nicolini, the daring equestrienne!” Texas admitted that her riding wasn’t bad, but he vowed he’d make her turn pale with envy when he once set out on Smasher. Seeing that Madam Nicolini had a perpetual blush of red paint that beat her rival’s sweater, Texas finally took back his rash threat and settled down to growl once more.