CHAPTER XVIII
WONDERS
Perhaps if you were born in, or have visited, a great Eastern city youhave sat in an enormous amphitheater, a fifth of a mile in length, withtiers and tiers of private boxes, and rows and rows of seats. In thesawdust arena you have seen three circus rings, a performance going onin each; acrobats, bare-back riders, trained animals, what not; andaround the edge of it all a procession of clowns, doing their merrystunts. And you have craned, strained, and twisted your neck, trying totake it all in. And that is your idea of a show.
In such a place sat Whitey, for that was what a show recalled to hismind, but when he opened his eyes, and came away from that mind circus,he was in a very different place.
Large it was and barren, with rough-boarded sides; with lofts, andstalls, and racks, and farming implements crowded into corners, and anearthen floor, and--well, perhaps you have seen a big Western barn,which answers the purpose of housing many things and animals. Such wasthe setting in which the Mildini Troupe performed; the Pride of theWest!
Each individual of the audience sat on whatever he, or she, could get tosit upon; a saddle, a blanket, a box, a rare chair or two. Perhaps thataudience would have proved to you almost as interesting as theperformance, for it was made up of many sorts of men that the threshinghad brought together--farm-hands, cowpunchers, store-keepers,blacksmiths, bartenders, hold-up men, but no sheepherders. Sheepherderswere not welcome among threshers, nor in any other Western community. Ofwomen there were two--the wife of the foreman of the ranch, and one whohelped her.
No person on the ranch was absent, for before the performance theMildinis had given a sort of sample of their talent; of what all were toexpect. A tight-rope had been stretched across the Yellowstone River,and on this, clad in pink tights, balance-pole in hand, Signor Antolinihad walked, high over the more or less raging flood.
Do you ever tire of shows? I hope you don't. I don't, and offhand Ican't think of many people who do. So I'll assume that, with Injun andWhitey, you'd like to see a bit of this poor little troupe's efforts,which were pathetic in a way, though no one thought of that.
Whitey had been wondering what particular talents Mr. Mildini was masterof, and he found that they were many. He could and did dance, sing, andtell comic stories in a number of dialects, all convulsing. But trickswere the crowning wonder of Mildini's performance, though he called them"feats of magic."
I'd hesitate to tell you the things he could take out of a silk hat;live rabbits, endless strips of colored paper, jars of imitationgoldfish, and many other useless articles. It is true that the silk hatwas his, no one in the audience having been able to produce one, whenrequested to do so but it was passed freely among the crowd to beexamined; to convince doubters that there was no "deception." Endlesseggs could Mildini take from his mouth, ears, hair, or from the mouth,ears, or hair of any "gent" in the audience.
And every one, from store-keeper to hold-up man, wondered and laughedand was pleasantly deceived. And after one of the most difficult tricks,when a puncher said, "I wonder what he's goin' t' do next?" the peoplenear Whitey were puzzled when he burst into laughter.
Then there was Mrs. Mildini, who, it seemed, was "Mademoiselle Therese,"who not only could draw enchanting melodies from a violin, but couldmake it speak in the language of various barnyard creatures, such asgeese, chickens, pigs--oh, almost anything. And the music she couldextract from one string--"one string, mind you, ladees and gentlemun!"It was marvelous.
It is true that she introduced an element of sadness in the evening whenshe played "Home, Sweet Home," and "Way Down upon the Swanee River,"reducing even the bartenders and hold-up men almost to tears. Butpossibly a touch of the serious lends a pleasant contrast to merriment.
There remained Signor Antolini, who was the "World's GreatestContortionist," and who certainly could contort in a manner to shame anangleworm: could twist his slim body into knots that it would seemalmost impossible to untie; and could pass it through a hoop throughwhich any sensible person would be willing to bet it couldn't go.
Whitey had cause to remember this talent of the Signor's, for in afterdays when Whitey tried to pass _his_ body through a small hoop, itdidn't pass. It held Whitey firmly, in a very painful position, alltwisted up like that. And as no one happened to be near, it was sometime before Whitey's yells brought Bill Jordan, who cut the hoop in two,and instead of applauding, laughed.
And last of all came a little play in which the "entire company" tookpart, a comic little play, in which Signor Antolini was a professor whowas going to teach Mrs. Mildini to be an actress. But they wereconstantly interrupted by Mr. Mildini, who was a funny darky, allblacked up. And then it appeared that Mr. Mildini could play on manyinstruments; one of them a long spoon, which he used as a flute. Therewas no end to that man's talents. And to think he had been so friendlyand chatty with Whitey on the plains!
Well, once in a while it's a good thing to forget that you ever were a"city fellow," and saw wonderful performances, and to be able to enjoy asimple show like this. And I suppose the world is a better place for theMildinis in it, who travel through rough countries, and for a littlewhile make people forget the hardships of their lives; lives sometimestouched by tragedy.
That's the way Whitey felt about it when, for the last time, the troupehad left the small raised platform that had been built at one end of thebarn to represent a stage, and had retired to the stalls, which servedas dressing-rooms.
The men of the audience were leaving, and most of their faces heldtraces of the pleasure the Mildinis' efforts had given them; others hadreturned to their usual hardness. Among the last was one the sight ofwhom caused Injun to grip Whitey's arm so forcibly that he almost criedout with pain as he was drawn back into the shadows and Injun pointedout Henry Dorgan.