Читать книгу Leo the Circus Boy: or, Life under the great white canvas - Stratemeyer Edward - Страница 5

Leo fully understood his great peril.

The entire canvas above him was in flames, and in a very short while the ropes which supported the bar upon which he had been performing would be burned through.

And then? Leo hardly dared to think of the consequences. The sawdust ring below seemed a terrible distance away.

A leap to it would mean broken limbs, perhaps death.

A panic arose among the audience.

“He can’t escape!”

“He must fall or jump!”

A rope and a net were sent for, but long before they arrived Leo had made a move to save himself.

The smoke rolled around him a second time.

It was fearfully thick, and made him close his mouth and eyes for fear of being either blinded or suffocated.

As the smoke swept back in another direction there was a snap above.

One of the ropes which held the bar had parted!

The end of the bar hung down, and below it the end of the burned rope.

As quick as a flash Leo slid down to the very end of the rope.

Thus suspended he began to swing himself back and forth.

Soon he gave an extra swing, just as the smoke again came down.

Like a curving ball he passed through the cloud, past the centerpole, and on to the rings, on the other side of the tent.

He caught hold of one of the rings and hung fast.

Then after a pause in which to catch his breath he let himself down to the ground.

A deafening cheer arose.

Leo had actually saved himself from death, for as he touched the sawdust the heavy ash bar high above fell with a crash, just missing those who came on with the net.

“He’s safe!”

The ushers and others now ran around asking the vast audience to leave the tent as quietly as possible.

But every one was afraid of the falling of the huge centerpole, and all made a great rush for the openings.

In this stampede many women and children were knocked down, and it was a wonder that some of them were not killed.

The fire brigade of the circus went to work as speedily as possible. The nearest hydrant of water was some distance away, but soon a hose was attached and a stream poured on the burning canvas.

In less than half an hour the excitement was over. Without delay the canvasmen went to work to repair the damage done.

A good many people grumbled at not having seen a full performance. To these were given tickets of admission to the evening performance.

With the others from the ring, Leo hurried to the dressing tent. It was not long before he was joined by Barton Reeve.

“A great leap, my boy,” said the manager of the menagerie. “I never saw anything so neat.”

“It was a big undertaking,” smiled Leo. “I don’t think I would care to try it at every performance – at least not yet.”

“It would be the hit of your life to have that on the bills,” put in Natalie Sparks.

“Oh, that wasn’t so very wonderful,” remarked Jack Snipper, the brother clown and gymnast.

“It wasn’t, eh?” cried Reeve. He could easily see how jealous Snipper was of the attention bestowed upon Leo. “I’ll wager you a round hundred dollars you can’t make the leap with the rings ten feet closer.”

“Stuff and nonsense!” cried Snipper; but all noticed that he did not take up the offer and moved away a second later.

“You want to keep one eye on Snipper,” was Natalie’s caution to Leo.

“Why?”

“Can’t you see he doesn’t fancy the attention you are getting?”

“Oh, I’m sure I don’t want to cut short his popularity,” exclaimed the boy gymnast quickly.

“Popularity!” The Fire Queen burst into a laugh. “You can’t, Leo.”

“Why?”

“Because he never was popular. Why, they used to call him Sour Snipper.”

It was now announced that the afternoon performance would not go on, and the different people separated to take off their ring dresses and put on their everyday clothes.

Leo was rather slow to make the change. He began to practice around the tent on several turns which as yet were difficult for him to do gracefully.

“You must love to work,” growled Snipper on seeing him.

“I love the exercise,” returned Leo shortly.

“You won’t catch me doing any more of that than I have to.”

“I want to become perfect.”

“Do you mean to say by that that I am not perfect?” growled Snipper.

“We never get really perfect, Snipper.”

“Oh, pshaw! Don’t preach to me. Do you know what I think you are?”

“I do not.”

“A country greeny with a swelled head.”

Leo’s face flushed at this. A laugh came from behind the canvas, where other performers were undressing.

“Thanks for the compliment, Snipper. I may be a little green, but at the same time I’ll tell you what you can’t do.”

“What?”

“You can’t stunt me. I’ll do everything you do, and go you one better.”

“Oh, you’re talking through your hat,” growled Snipper.

“Am I? Take me up and see.”

“I won’t bother with you, you greenhorn.”

“Because you are a braggart and nothing else,” retorted Leo, stung by the insolent acrobat’s manner.

With a cry of rage, Jack Snipper leaped toward the boy, picking up a heavy Indian club as he did so.