Edward Stratemeyer - Leo the Circus Boy - or, Life under the great white canvas

“Land sakes alive, Daniel, look at that boy!”

“Where is he, Marthy?”

“Up there on the old apple tree a-hangin’ down by his toes! My gracious, does he wanter kill himself?”

“Thet’s wot he does, Marthy,” grumbled old Daniel Hawkins. “He’ll do it, jest so ez we kin pay his funeral expenses. Never seen sech a boy before in my born days!”

“Go after him with the horsewhip, Daniel. Oh! goodness gracious, look at thet now!”

And the woman, or, rather, Tartar, Mrs. Martha Hawkins, held up her hands in terror as the boy on the apple tree suddenly gave a swing, released his feet, and, with a graceful turn forward, landed on his feet on the ground.

“Wot do yer mean by sech actions, yer young good-fer-nothin’?” cried Daniel Hawkins, rushing forward, his face full of sudden rage. “Do yer want ter break yer wuthless neck?”

“Not much, I don’t,” replied the boy, with a little smile creeping over his sunburned, handsome face. “I’m afraid if I did that I would never get over it, Mr. Hawkins.”

“Don’t try ter joke me, Leo Dunbar, or I’ll break every bone in your worthless body!”

“I’m not joking; I mean what I say.”

“Did yer put the cattle out in the cherry pasture?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Feed the pigs?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mend thet barn door! as I told yer to yesterday?”

“Mended it last night.”

“Wot about fixin’ thet scythe yer broke tudder day?”

“I can’t fix that. I’ll have to take it down to Joe Marks’ blacksmith shop.”

“O’ course! An’ who’s goin’ ter pay fer it?” demanded Daniel Hawkins.

“You can take it out of my wages, Mr. Hawkins.”

“Out o’ yer wages?”

“That’s what I said, sir.”

The old farmer’s face grew darker than ever. “Ain’t no wages comin’ to yer! You spile more than yer earn.”

“According to my reckoning there are about twenty-eight dollars coming to me,” returned Leo Dunbar quickly. “I have kept the tally ever since I came to live with you.”

“Ain’t a cent, boy; not a penny.”

“I beg to differ with you. And now while we are at it, Mr. Hawkins, supposing we settle up?”

“Eh?”

“I say, supposing we settle up?”

“Settle up?” repeated the miserly farmer in amazement.

“Yes. You can pay me what you owe me. My month will be up to-morrow, and I don’t intend to stay here any longer.”

“But yer will stay, boy! I’ve got a right on yer. The poorhouse folks signed the papers.”

“Squire Dobb signed the papers, but to me that doesn’t count. He never had any claim on me.”

“He settled yer father’s estate.”

“I know it – and kept me out of my money, too.”

“You – you – ”

“No more compliments, Mr. Hawkins. I say he kept me out of my money, and I mean it. And now he and you are doing about all you can to make me commit suicide.” “Oh! jest to hear thet boy!” burst in Mrs. Hawkins, who had just come up. “Daniel, why don’t yeou birch him?”

“I will, ef he gives me any more sass,” replied her husband. “He shan’t talk about me an’ the squire.”

The old farmer was getting red in the face. He knew that Leo Dunbar was telling the truth.

A year before, Leo’s parents had died, leaving the boy alone in the world.

Mr. Dunbar’s property had been very much involved, and Squire Dobb, the most rascally lawyer in Hopsville, had taken the matter in charge.

At the end of six months he had announced to Leo that there was no money coming to him. Then, as manager of the poorhouse of the district, the lawyer had bound Leo over to Daniel Hawkins at four dollars a month and found.

“I will talk,” cried Leo spiritedly. “I think it about time that I received my rights.”

This remark made Daniel Hawkins’ wrath boil over. He ran toward the barn and presently returned, carrying a heavy hide-bound whip.

“You ain’t had a dressing down in a month, an’ now I’m a-goin’ ter give it to yer good!” he exclaimed, as he raised the whip and rushed at Leo.

Whiz! The heavy whip came down, the blow aimed for the boy’s shoulder.

But Leo was not hit. Like a flash he moved to one side at the last instant, and the whip only circled through the empty air.

More enraged than before Daniel Hawkins rushed forward again and caught the boy by the arm.

“You whelp! I’ll show you!” he snarled.

Again the whip was raised. But it never struck the blow intended, for an interruption came as terrorizing as it was unexpected.

There was a fearful roar out in the dusty road beyond the house, a roar that echoed and re-echoed among the hills around, and then a huge beast bounded over the stone fence, landing directly at Leo Dunbar’s feet.

It was a lion that had escaped from “The Greatest Show on Earth,” the circus that was to perform at Hopsville that afternoon and evening.

If Leo Dunbar was startled at the sudden appearance of this mighty monarch of the forest, what shall be said of Daniel Hawkins and his wife, Martha?

The farmer and his spouse gave one look and then stood, fairly paralyzed with fear.

They were unable to utter a word, and, to tell the truth, they both felt as if judgment was about to fall on them for ill-treating Leo, and that the ends of their miserable lives were at hand.

The lion crouched low, moving his heavy tail slowly from side to side.

He had escaped from his steel cage but an hour before, and as yet hardly knew what to do with his freedom.

From the road he had not been able to see the persons in the yard. But he had heard their voices, and his brute nature had caused him to leap the stone fence that he might rend some living creature limb from limb.

That the lion was in an ugly humor was easy to see. His mane was ruffled, his immense claws unsheathed, and his eyes were full of blood-curdling ferocity.

At first he gazed at Leo, but then swiftly turned toward Mrs. Hawkins, taking a single leap that brought him at the woman’s very feet.

“Oh! Daniel, save me!” she managed to gasp.

“Can’t nohow, Marthy!” spluttered the old farmer.

And then, recovering just sufficiently to move, he made a wild dash for the farmhouse, leaving his wife to her fate.

“You coward!” cried Leo, but Daniel Hawkins paid no heed to the remark. It is likely that in his terror he did not hear it.

“Save me, Leo!” went on the woman. “The beast is goin’ ter eat me up!”

The sound of her voice appeared to anger the lion still more.

His tail moved quicker, and Leo saw that he was on the point of leaping on the woman.

The leap once made it would be impossible to do anything for Mrs. Hawkins. The lion would simply rend and devour her.

Leo gazed about him for some weapon. He realized that if anything was to be done it must be done instantly.

His eyes fell on the whip the old farmer had dropped. With a rapid movement he picked up the article, and, whirling around, struck the lion fairly and squarely across the eyes.

It was a telling blow, and, smarting with pain, the brute let out a roar ten times louder than before.

Then he turned about and faced Leo.

“Run for your life!” sang out the youth to the woman. “Run, I tell you!”

She stared at him, but when he gave her a shove she realized what he was saying, and made such a spurt as had never before been seen in that dooryard.

The lion watched her go, but made no attempt to follow. His mind was on Leo and on the blow the boy had given him.