The circus paraded through the town on the appointed morning, with its wagon-load of noisy horn-blowers and drum-beaters, and its procession of fancy carriages and fine horses. The great tent was pitched, in the presence of all the idlers of the village, and in due time the door was opened to the public, and the performance commenced.
Oscar finished his work and lessons as early as possible, in the afternoon, and then quietly slipped away from home, without the knowledge of any one. He turned his steps towards the village, where the circus was encamped. He wished merely to see what was going on, and did not intend to venture within the tent, since his aunt was so strongly opposed to such places of amusement. On reaching the circus grounds, he found a motley crowd assembled, composed chiefly of young men and half-grown boys, with a sprinkling of women and young children. There were few representatives of the better class of the population to be seen; but that marvel of laziness, old ’Siah Stebbins, was there, leaning against a fence, with his hands in his pockets; and so was Gavett, the man who once served three months in the county jail for stealing wood; and so were poor Silly John, the pauper, and Tim Hallard, the drunkard, and Dick Adams, the loafer par excellence, and little Bob Gooden, swaggering about with a cigar in his mouth, and Sam Hapley, swearing faster than ever, and his brother Henry, eagerly taking lessons in vice. All these were on the field, and others of like character. Some of the boys were mimicking performances they had witnessed inside the tent—turning somersets, standing on their hands, leaping, twisting their bodies into unaccountable shapes, etc.
Two donkeys belonging to the circus, mounted by boys, were driven around the field at a furious pace. A donkey being a novel sight to most of the people, the race attracted much attention from the outsiders, and served admirably to tole them into the enclosure—the object intended.
As Oscar was sauntering about, he came unexpectedly upon Otis, who, with several others of the academy boys, hastened over to the circus, as soon as dismissed, “to see what was going on.”
“What, are you here? I thought aunt told you to go right home when school was dismissed,” said Oscar.
“I’m going right home,” replied Otis, adding, to himself, “I rather think I’ve just as good a right here as you have.”
A moment after, as Otis was still standing by the side of Oscar, there came along a boy about the age of the latter, foppishly dressed, and with a bold face and a careless, swaggering air. His eyes met Oscar’s, and there was an instant recognition.
“What, is that you, Alf!” exclaimed Oscar.
“Halloo, Oscar, is that you!” cried the other.