Chapter 19

CALLED TO ACCOUNT

Andy burst out laughing,--he could not help it.

"That's strange," he said. "A chicken that walks backward?"

"Yes," answered Luke Belding, soberly.

"Really does it?"

"Oh, sure. All the time. I've got it here. I'll show you."

Luke made a move as if to remove the cloth cover from the box under his arm, but Andy stopped him.

"Hold on," he said. "Come with me till I get rid of this cake, and then you shall show me."

"H'm!" observed Luke, smacking his lips with a longing look at the cake, "it wouldn't take me long to get rid of it!"

"Hungry?" insinuated Andy.

"Desperately. I'd be almost tempted to sell a half-interest in the chicken for a good square meal."

"You shall have one without any such sacrifice," declared Andy. "Come along."

They found the clown's tent empty.

"Billy Blow is probably giving Midget an airing," said Andy, half to himself.

"Who's Billy Blow?" inquired Luke.

"The clown."

"Do you know a real live clown? Say, that's great!" said Luke. "Must keep a fellow laughing all the time."

"I thought so until yesterday," answered Andy. "But no--they have their troubles, like other people. This poor, sorrowful fellow has his fill of it. He don't do much laughing outside of the ring, I can tell you. There, we'll enjoy the cook's gift together."

Andy drew up the bench and handed Luke fully three-quarters of the toothsome dainty. It pleased him to see the half-famished boy enjoy the feast. Luke poked a good-sized piece of the sake under the cage cover. There was a gladsome cluck.

"Two of us happy," announced Luke, with a smile that won Andy's heart.

Andy decided that his new acquaintance was the right sort. Luke had a clear, honest face, and there was something in his eye that inspired confidence.

"Now, then," said Andy, as his companion munched the last crumb of the cake, "let's see your wonderful curiosity."

"I'll do it," replied Luke with alacrity. "Find me a little stick or switch, will you?"

Andy went outside to hunt for the required article. As he returned with a stake splinter he observed that Luke had uncovered and set down the cage, which was a rude wooden affair.

Near it, with a pertly cocked head and magnificently red feathers, stood a small rooster. Luke took the stick from Andy's hand.

"Walk, Bolivar!" he ordered.

Andy began to laugh. It was a comical sight. The rooster went strutting around the tent backwards as rapidly and steadily as a normal chicken. It was ludicrous to watch it proceed, pecking at the ground and turning corners.

"Now, then, Bolivar!" said Luke.

He used the stick to direct the rooster, which kept time first with one foot and then the other to a tune whistled by its owner, ending with a triple pirouette that was superb.

"Well, that's fine!" commented Andy with enthusiasm. "How did you ever train it?"

"Didn't," responded Luke frankly--"except for the dancing. I've done that with crows and goats, many a time. See here," and he picked up the chicken and extended its feet.

"Why," cried Andy, "it was born with its claws turned backwards!"

"That's it," nodded Luke. "See? A regular freak of nature. Odd enough to put among the curiosities?"

"It certainly is," voted Andy. "The circus wouldn't use it, though--just a side show."

"I don't care," said Luke, "as long as I get started in with the show. Can you help me?"

"I'll try to," declared Andy. "Wait here. I want to find Billy Blow and tell him about this."

Andy went about the circus grounds until he discovered the clown. Billy was quite taken with the chicken, and finally decided to try and place the boy with his freak.

He and Luke went away together. When he came back the clown was alone. He told Andy that one of the side shows had agreed to try Luke and his wonderful chicken for at least a week for the food and keep of both.

Andy went on with the jockey riders in the evening performance. The last performance at Clifton was the next forenoon. He had only a glimpse of Marco and others of his acquaintance meantime, with everything on a rush.

"You see, Tipton is a regular vacation for us folks," Billy Blow explained to him. "Country around isn't populous enough for more than one day's performances, and then only when the county fair is on. We rest two days, and play Saturday. Then is your chance. There's a good deal of shifting and taking on new hands. We'll watch out for you. You'll see some fun, too. All the new aspirants have been told to show up at Tipton."

"Are there many?"

"About five to every town we've played in," declared Billy. "They all want to break in, and it's policy to give them a show."

Andy was sent off by the manager to the superintendent of the moving crew about noon. There was considerable lifting to do. Andy was tired when, about six o'clock in the evening, he climbed up on a loaded wagon for the well-earned ride to Tipton.

He had met one of the circus detectives that morning, who told him they had so far discovered no trace of Jim Tapp, or his colleagues, or the stolen mail bag.

They got to Tipton about eight o'clock in the evening. Andy was "told off" to help in the construction work the next morning, and had now twelve hours of his own time.

He was hungry, and knowing that it would be difficult to get much to eat until late, when the cook's quarters had been re-established, he left the wagon as it reached the principal street in Tipton.

Andy went to a restaurant and got a good meal. He decided to stroll about a bit, and then join the clown in his new quarters.

Andy had been to Tipton before. His aunt had some acquaintances there. He walked up and down the principal street, looking in the store windows, and studying the country people who had come to visit the county fair.

Suddenly Andy drew back into the shadow of a doorway. Leaning against a curb hitching post was a person who enchained his attention.

"It's Tapp--Jim Tapp," said Andy. "I'd know that slouch of his shoulders anywhere."

The person under his inspection was swinging a light bamboo cane and smoking a cigarette. He wore a jet black moustache and a jet black speck of a goatee. Moustache and goatee were unmistakably of the variety Andy had seen a circus fakir selling for twenty-five cents, back at Clifton.

Their wearer kept his back to the lighted windows, so that his face was in partial shadow. He also kept taking sidelong glances up and down the curb, as if expecting some one.

Andy watched him for fully five minutes, made up his mind, and at last stealthily glided up behind him.

Seizing both the fellow's arms, he whirled him around face to face, let go of him, and with two quick movements of one hand tore the false moustache and the false goatee from his face. His surmises were correct. It was Jim Tapp.

The latter gave Andy a quick, startled glance.

"Wildwood!" he said, and switched his cane towards Andy's face.

"No, you don't!" cried Andy, grasping his arms again. "Jim Tapp, the circus people want you."

"Let go. Nobody wants me. I've done nothing."

"Call Benares Brothers, the stake your partner hit me with, the stolen mail bag, nothing?" demanded Andy. "You'll come along with me or I'll call the police."

Tapp glanced sharply about. So far nobody seemed to particularly notice them. He threw out his own arms and grasped Andy in turn. Thus interlocked, he threw out a foot. Andy was taken off his guard. He went toppling, but he never let go of his antagonist. Both landed with a crash on the board sidewalk.

There was a vacant lot just next to a brilliantly lighted store. As they took a roll, they landed nearly at the inner edge of the walk.

"There!" panted Andy, "you won't trip me again."

He was the stronger of the two, and got Tapp on his back. Sitting astride of him, Andy caught both hands at the wrists.

"Let go!" panted Tapp. "Say, don't draw a crowd. I'll go with you."

"You'll go with a policeman," declared Andy, glancing along the walk. "There'll be one here soon, for the crowd's coming."

"Fight! fight!" yelled three or four urchins, dashing up to the spot.

Others came hurrying along from inspecting the store windows.

"What's the row?" demanded a man.

"Fair fight. Let him up. Give him a chance," growled a low-browed fellow, also approaching.

"What is it? what is it?" inquired a fussy old lady, craning her neck towards the combatants.

"Say," ground out Tapp, vainly endeavoring to free himself, "let me up. It will pay you. Say, I can tell you something great."

"Can you?" smiled Andy calmly. "Tell it to the police."

"Hold on," proceeded Tapp. "I'm not fooling. I know something. I can put you on to something big."

"How big?" insinuated Andy, disbelievingly.

"I can, I vow I can! I'm in dead earnest. Say, Wildwood, nobody knows it but me--you're an heir--"

"Eh? Bosh! I guess your heir is all hot air. Ah, here comes the policeman--oh, gracious! My aunt!"

Andy Wildwood let go his hold of Jim Tapp. With startled eyes, in sheer dismay he stared at a woman approaching them, her curiosity aroused by the crowd.

It was his aunt, Miss Lavinia Talcott.