Part 5 (1/2)

”Why did you strike me?” cried David hoa.r.s.ely, his lips twitching, his eyes glowing like coals.

”Aw, none o' that, now, none o' that,” snarled Braddock, taking a step forward.

”Why did you strike me?” repeated the boy dully.

”Calm yourself, my boy,” Mrs. Braddock kept repeating insistently, without raising her voice, always low, tense, impelling.

The tears sprang to his eyes--tears of rage and helplessness. With a sob he turned away and leaned his head against the pole.

”Poor boy,” she whispered.

”Don't you call me a brute, Casey,” roared Braddock, turning upon the contortionist in a fury. Casey had not uttered a word, but Braddock instinctively antic.i.p.ated the charge. The contortionist was afraid of him. He drew back with a scared look in his eyes.

Mrs. Braddock was speaking quietly, compa.s.sionately to the suffering boy. ”We must be careful,” she said, ”not to oppose him too strongly.

Those men are out in front. He will turn you over to them if you resort to violence. Calm yourself, do. There is still the chance that he may change his mind. He is not really heartless. It is only his way.”

”Why did he strike me?” again fell from the lips of the fugitive.

At this moment Grinaldi came hurrying in from the ring. He took in the situation at a glance. Behind him, peering over his shoulder, was a black-haired young woman in pink tights and spangled trunks.

David was afterward to know this handsome, black-haired girl as Ruby Noakes, the daughter of Grinaldi, otherwise Joey Noakes, and known to the gaping world as Mademoiselle Roxane, the Flying Queen of the Air.

CHAPTER III

DAVID ENTERS THE SAWDUST RING

Braddock saw at once that the old clown was against him. With an ugly imprecation he directed one of the attendants to go to the main entrance with instructions to bring Mr. Blake and his friend back to the dressing-tent.

”We'll see who's running this show,” he declared, taking a fresh grip on the stake, and rolling the dangling cigar over and over between his teeth.

”Hold on, Camp,” said Grinaldi, checking the attendant with a gesture.

”See 'ere, Tom,” he went on earnestly, ”wot's the reason you won't give this one an even chance with the others?”

”Stand aside, Christie,” Braddock said to his trembling daughter. ”Don't get in the way. Oh, I'm not going to smash the cub, so don't worry.

Here! Come away from him, I say. Both of you. I won't stand for any petting of a rascal like him. Well, I'll tell you, Joey Noakes,” he went on, turning to the clown, ”I don't mind saying I need the money.

This kid's going to be caught by somebody before long, and the man that does it gets five hundred. It might as well be me. Business is business, and just now business is bad. You people all know what this infernal weather has done for us. We haven't had a paying day since we opened, and here it is the middle of May--nearly six weeks, that's what it is. There's a lousy three hundred dollars in the big top to-night and half as much this afternoon. I tell you if these rains keep up I'll have to close. It takes more than five hundred dollars a day to run this show. I owe back salaries--all of you have got something coming to you. Five hundred dollars velvet, that's what this boy means to me--not for myself, mind you, but for the treasury. That's why I'm going to turn him over, if you want to know.”

”But he ain't guilty,” said Grinaldi sharply.

”How do you know?” snarled Braddock. ”Go and do what I told you,” to the wavering attendant. Mrs. Braddock and Christine were standing beside the dejected boy, the former looking steadily at the face of her husband, whose bloodshot eyes would not meet her gaze. Christine's eyes were wide with the bewildered stare of an intelligence that has suddenly been aroused to new aspects: she was having a glimpse of a side to her father's character that had never been revealed to her before.

She put forth a hand and drew Ruby Noakes close beside her, pressing her hand tightly in actual alarm. The Noakes girl's arm went around the slender figure, but she continued to stare curiously at the face of the stranger in their midst. She was half a head taller than Christine, and at least three years her senior.

”We ought to have a new clown to help out dad, Mr. Braddock,” ventured Miss Noakes coolly.

Braddock stared at her. He was not in the habit of accepting feminine advice.

”What's that?” he barked.