On the Road With a Circus

by William Carter Thompson

Dallie’s interest was centred on the ring where her aunt, who is also her foster mother, was breaking in a new horse.

“Many of the people use the company’s horses, but my aunt has her own and so have I,” she explained. “She always breaks them herself and this one is new to the business; that is why there is a rope on him and the ringmaster hangs to it. You see the horse might get frightened and bolt over the side or try to go through the doorway,” pointing to a niche that served as an entrance; “there is a man standing at the door to prevent the horse from going out.”

The horse was perfectly well aware of the fact and not altogether reconciled, although he was fast approaching that state. Ropes swinging from all sorts of corners where trapezes and “looping-the-loop” contrivances were being put up disconcerted him, but the rope and whip were arguments that appealed in inducing him to stay.

“He will be all right before the performance,” Dallie went on with the air of a connoisseur. “There will be two more rehearsals to-day and some chance to practise to-morrow. I am riding the same horse I ride always,” she went on, tucking her small feet out of the way of dirt and draught, “and it is lucky for me because I have only been practising two weeks this season. You see I was in the hospital last winter, and all I got of the circus was hearing the band play as I lay in bed while all the others were getting ready for this season. But I practised a lot this year and now I do better than I did last year.”

In the upper ring the Rough Riders were putting their horses through their acts and the horses were not altogether pleased. The thing they hated most was being made to lie down when they did not feel the least bit tired, and many of them were inclined to argue the matter until the whip convinced them that really they preferred to do what was wanted. The whip as a convincer in a circus is a great ethical force. At one end of the course were the acrobats doing a complete double shoulder twist. They were swinging by ropes attached to their belts when they missed a leap.

“You see,” said Dallie, shedding the great white light of information, “they have never done their turn here before and they are used to a smaller place, so they are practising to get distances. If one of them should miss and fall it would hurt, for they haven’t any net under, but the ‘mecanique’ will keep them swinging clear from the ground. You ought to see the ‘mecanique’ in the rings of the winter quarters. They are put on people just learning to go bareback. Sometimes they miss a horse and the persons go swinging round and round the ring until they land on their horses again. It is awfully funny. Some of the people are scared this season because they are new and there are a lot of new horses and so they are nervous. My aunt told me the other day she could not sleep nights for worrying about me and how I would get through, but I told her she was silly. I will get through all right and there is no use any way in worrying, even if anything does happen.”

“And isn’t it remarkable that some persons do not get hurt?” she went on. “Now, here are all of us and there hasn’t a thing gone wrong to hurt any one. Why, yesterday one of the walking tight wires broke when there were five people on it. There was not one of them hurt; but a little boy that was on the end had every one fall on him and it scared him pretty bad and bruised him a little, but he is practising to-day as usual.”

Her aunt’s horse by dint of much persuasion was taking some baby hurdles while the aunt hung on behind clinging to a strap, for the horse did not seem to care about having a person perched on his haunches, but he accepted it for the same reason that he had all the rest. But at last he was led from the ring and some one called “Dallie!” She jumped down from her tub, dropped off her long skirt, danced into the ring and up to a big white horse. She wore a short skirt over her dark bloomers and in her hand was a very weather-beaten little whip.

“I have tried a lot of others,” she said, as she bent it, “but I cannot turn somersaults with any other. I am so used to this and the way it feels in my hand that I cannot get along with any other. I have lost this several times but some of the men always find it and bring it back to me.”

Her horse, with its tightly checked head, waited for her and she felt the head strap with the air of an old professional.