Читать книгу The Adventures of Diggeldy Dan - Edwin P. Norwood - Страница 3

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Had you tiptoed to the very edge of a certain town, on a certain day not so very long ago, you would have come upon a great sprawling cluster of big and little tents. And had you held your breath and walked ever so quietly, you would finally have reached an open space in the very center of the bigger tents, where stood a small white tent that seemed far more interesting than all the rest. Just why it seemed so would have been hard to tell, unless it was because—though there was not so much as a thimbleful of wind astir—a certain spot in its canvas wall kept bulging in and out, after the fashion of a curtain in the breeze. At times, this spot would settle back into place, only to start jiggling a moment later, just as though there were some one inside the tent, clutching at its wall and shaking it, much as a monkey rattles the bars to its cage.

As for the open space between the little white tent and all the bigger circus tents—for the tents were all a part of Spangleland—there was no sign of life. True, there were gayly dressed men scattered about here and there—and women, too. But all were fast asleep. Some lay back in low, canvas chairs strung in a row in the shadow of the tents. Some, with their chins propped in their hands, were perched like pigeons on the tongues of wonderful red and golden wagons; while still others lay at full length on the cool, green grass. The lap of one was covered by a newspaper and that of another held an open book, just as if their owners had grown weary of reading and dozed off to sleep, square in the middle of a sentence.

So there was no sign of life, except the jiggling of the wall of the round, white tent that stood in the center of all the bigger tents.

Meantime the day was fast making ready for bed. Indeed, the sun was just on the point of slipping out of sight behind the very largest of all the bigger tents when, far off in the sky to the west, there appeared—a tiny black speck. And at this the wall of the round white tent began to jiggle more violently than before, while a wee little eye appeared, peeking through a wee little hole in its wall. And, as the wee eye watched, the speck grew in size and then began to describe little curves, as if it were bounding up and down as it came. And, for that matter, so it was. For the speck was a bird on the wing, and it was headed straight for the tents of Spangleland. On it came, until it had reached the very edge of the circus town. And then it began to bound up and down even more than before, and to circle this way and that, as if to make sure of some certain thing of which it alone knew the secret. But it flew more slowly now, so that one might have seen—had any been there to see—that its color was a wondrous blue and of so gorgeous a hue that the red and golden wagons—which were just at that moment struck by the sun’s parting rays—must have felt very much ashamed of themselves.

Finally, as if no longer in doubt, the bird fixed its eyes on the little white tent, and flew straight to the wee hole in its wall. And, as it reached the tent, it began to call, in the softest voice imaginable:

“O, Dan, Dan, Diggeldy Dan!

O, Dan, Dan, Diggeldy Dan!”

While from behind the wall of the round white tent came the merriest of voices in reply, singing, almost as softly:

“Here’s Dan, Dan, Diggeldy Dan;

Here’s Dan, Dan, Diggeldy Dan!”

“Then,” said the bird, who had by this time perched itself on the nose of one of the little round poles that stuck out near the caves of the round white tent, “come forth at once, sir.”

And at this command the canvas wall of the round white tent was parted by the very hands of the one who had been jiggling it in his impatience to put it aside; and, little by little, as if he feared that those who slept might waken, there appeared the funniest little old man in all the world.

First came his head, all white and smooth and crowned by a queer round hat that came to a point at the top. And his ears were white, too, and so was his face, except for his red, red lips and five curious spots of red—one on his chin, one on his brow, one on each cheek, and one on the tip of his long, funny nose. He wore a collar that was all ruffled and round and a baggy white suit, trimmed with great polka-dot patches, that might have been likened to very red apples, except for the fact that half of them were blue.

“Come, come! Make haste there, Dan—if, indeed, you are Diggeldy Dan,” cried the bird from its perch on the little round pole.

“Quite so, quite so,” chuckled the funny old man. And, suiting himself to his words, he made a quick skip into the open, danced three steps to the left and three to the right, and then, doffing his queer, sugar-loaf hat, made a very grand courtesy in the direction of the bird, saying as he did so:

“At your service, little messenger.”

“Ah, then you know who I am!” exclaimed the one who had come out of the west. “But I must be very sure. So tell me, if you can, what rhymes with this:

“O, Dan, Dan, Diggeldy Dan.”

“Why,” answered the clown—for you must have guessed that he was a clown—“Why,” he repeated,

“You are the courier from Too-Bo-Tan.”

But though the bird nodded in approval, as if to say, “Yes, yes, that is correct,” it still seemed reluctant to admit that the man was really Diggeldy Dan. So it put its head first to one side and then to the other, and puckered its very blue brows, as if thinking up some further test. And then it spoke again.

“Diggeldy Dan—if, indeed, you are Diggeldy Dan—who was it told you the last line of the rhyme?”

“Why,” answered the clown with great readiness, “it was the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes. She came to me in a dream last night—riding her White-White Horse through the skies. She wakened me, or at least I thought she did, by tickling my nose with her slim little whip. She said: ‘To-morrow, after the circus is over and the great crowd has gone home to its supper, and after the people of the circus have had their suppers and are come back to the shady places in and about the big and little tents, to read and to tell their tales and take their ease, they will all fall into a very deep sleep—that is, all but Diggeldy Dan.’”

And, at this, the clown paused to take a much-needed breath; for he had become somewhat excited in telling his story and, to speak the truth, had quite forgotten to breathe between sentences.

But at a sign from the bird, he went on:

“‘As for you, Dan, Dan, Diggeldy Dan,’ continued the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes, ‘you will not go to sleep. Instead, you are to hide in the round white tent that stands in the center of all the bigger tents, and wait for the messenger who will come out of the west.’ And then she told me the rhyme. ‘For to-morrow,’ she said, ‘you’ll have been a clown for a hundred years and a day.’ Yes, that was just what she said: ‘A hundred years and a day.’ And so I have been. But, what of that, my pretty bird? For see! I still can dance as merrily and as lightly as any butterfly that flits o’er the fields in the May!”

As if to prove what he had said, the funny old clown tripped off so very blithely and so very fast that he bumped smack into one of the red and golden wagons that stood in the lee of the round white tent.

“Ah, ha!” said the bird, half to itself, and hardly seeming to notice that the bump into the wagon had sent the clown to the grass on his back, “you will do, Diggeldy Dan; you will do.”

In a very twinkling there appeared the most beautiful circus lady one ever laid eyes upon. Page 10.

And, with that, it flew from its perch at the top of the little round pole, while in a very twinkling, there appeared the most beautiful circus lady one ever laid eyes upon—and with her a White-White Horse right out of the sky. So that, when Dan picked himself up, and, lifting one foot, was just about to finish his dance, his red-red lips fell very far apart and his eyes became almost as large as the polka-dot patches that covered his white, baggy suit. Indeed, he presented so comical an appearance—standing there with one foot in the air, and I staring his visitor most out of countenance—that the Lady leaned forward on her White-White Horse and burst into so merry a laugh that it sounded like all the silver tinkle bells in the world.

“Why,” exclaimed Dan, when he had finally found his voice and put down his foot, “you are the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes!”

“Yes, and the blue bird, too; for it was I, all the while. And now, Diggeldy Dan, if you will be so good as to come with me to the very edge of Spangleland, I will tell you the message from Too-Bo-Tan.”

And so the Pretty Lady and the White-White Horse, with Dan walking by their side, passed slowly along between the big and little tents, speaking not at all, while the clown kept wondering what it was he was so soon to hear.