Democratic Sentinel, Volume 15, Number 26, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 July 1891 — DOUBLE DICK AND JOE; OR The Poorhouse Waifs. [ARTICLE]

DOUBLE DICK AND JOE; OR The Poorhouse Waifs.

BY DAVID LOWRY.

CHAPTER VII. ON THE BOAMSLDE. “Bello! What are you doing here? Who are you?” Dick sprang to his feet in alarm. Ho stared curiously at the face peering down i at him. “Haven’t you a mouth? I see you have., j Can’t you speak? What are you doing | here?” “I’d rather not tell.” Dick looked as though he was on the ! point of running, but a heavy hand was j laid on his shoulder. “Lord, how he trembles! Don't be afraid of the dog. He wfluldn t hurt a mouse. Come here, Nep ” The dog approached Dick and thrust his cold nose against his hand. “See! He wants to make friends with you. ” Dick shyly stroked the dog. A magnificent aog he was. Dick never would have believed there was such a big dog in the world. He often recalled Neptune in after years, but he never beheld —probably never will behold —another dog as large as the noble animal that rubbed his shaggy hide against the boy j on that morning. “Well, can’t you tell me what you are ! doing here?” “You’ll tell on me.” “Me! Humph!” said the man. “That ain’t in my line.” The man turned and called to someone behind him. d": , “Come up. H’s ail- right, j’ Only a “Only a boy!” voice, as a womaji approached. -*Poor child! What in the world is he doing here?” ‘'Been sleeping out*” said the »man sententiously; ; “Poor boy. He must be almost frozen.” “Oh, I had plenty of )eaves„and straw over me and under mei” , ; said D.ck, meeting the woman’s eyes fearlessly. “What is it—runaway?” Dick nodded: “Where from?” “The poorhouse. It’s true—every word, sir. The man tried to kill me. He beat me so I could not stand it any longer. ” “Yes, - 1 believo it,” said the-man. “You cau.see it in the jipor boy’s face, ” said the woman. “How p'inched he Iooks!” “Lavish I was dead;” said Ditk, suddenly. “Don’t say that, poor boy!” said the woman. Then te her companion: “I say, Ben.” * They whispered apart. Ben shook his head, but the woman whispered again, and Ben turned back to. Dick, produced a flask from a breast ppcket, and held it to him. “Here, take a sw : ig of that, ’Twon’t hurt you.” Dick did as he was ordered' to do. The .fiery liquor a/lm&slt strangled him. The man laughed, then said, “Never mind. It w.H warm you)- do you good. Take the dew put of your mouth and—hair. Any friends near here?” Dick shook his head. “A good pieee off, eh? “1 haven’t any friends.” “I mean re atives. Brothers—uncles—aunts—cousins'” Dick shook his head again. “You don’t mean to say you have no relatives!” “Not one, that I know of.” “Poor boy!” said the woman. “I can’t understand that,” said Ben. “Didn't the poor lad just tell you he ran away from the poorhouse?” “Yes —I forgot that Still—a boy with not . a soul that belongs to him. It's rare.” Ben began to ponder, and as he pondered he tapped liis nose gently with the stick ha. held in his.hand and handled like a whip. “What are you going to do?” “I don’t know,” said Ben, disconsolately, looking down with a shamed face. “Where’s this poorhouse you speak of.” “Barnesville Poorhouse.” “Barnesville! When did you leave there?” , “Yesterday evening about—well. I guess it was after five when I ran away for good. ” “Live! How long have you been sleeping here?” “I don’t know. It was dark when I crawled Into this pen. ” “Why, Kate, that’s the poorhouse they were talking of the other day; it’s moro than twenty-five miles from here. And this boy he savs he walked ” “Iran a good deal,” interposed Dick. The woman smi ed kindly. “Well,” said Ben, “what do you intend to do now?” “I don't know —keep on just” “Well—don’t ta k about the infernal poorhouse any moro, and may be I can help you.” “Pd do any sort of work, sir,” said Dick./*""

“I believe you. I like your face. “Well help you a 1 we can,” added the woman, who had a bright, kindly face. The man turned to the. woman once more andanother whispered consultation was held. 1 Then lien said to Dick: “You come along with mo—follow close behind ns if anybody passes ” D.ck brushed the loose straw off his cap, and walked on behind them close on their heels. Ken maintained a conversation most of the time “Kate here aud jne wa3 just taking a little walk, and talking over things—holding a council of war, when I soen you lying under that old sheepshed, or pen. We’ve not had our breakfast yet, and when wc get back to the tent, may be a bite won't hurt you h'mite, my boy. All I’m particular about is, that I’m not be called a kidnaper because I give'you something tov keep you from starviug. ” “A kidnaper,” said Dick; “what’s that, sir?” “You haven’t the least idea, ch?” “No, sir.” “Weil, a kidnaper is a bad —bad man who steals innocent childheu and makes circus riders of them- My name’s Ben, Ben Brown. What* toots?” . “Dick—Dick Dick!” “What’h that?” “I mean Richard Dick.” Ben Brown turned around and halted. “Oh, I see. Funny ain’t it, Kate. See her 3. I’m not going to call you Richard, or Dick, qitber. I’ll call you Double Dick.”

“Don’t, Ben, it will stick to him if you da” “What’s wrong with Double Dick? It’s a distinguishing name. It may do him a world of good. If he’s a good man, he’ll be easily kn wn, and if he’s a bad un, they’ll find him all the easier and jug him. “ “Is Dick your real name—are you quite sure?” asked the woman. “I don't know —that’s what they told me at the poorhouse,” Dick replied. The three walked along the road a little distance until they came to a stream, near which D ck observed some tents, and a great lot of wagons. One of these was so gorgeous that its bright colors and gilding caught and h.*ld Dick's eyes. He could not look at anything else for a time “Here we are,” said Ben, gayly. Dick observed a number of roughly dressed men working with horses. Ho j had never seen so many horses in his | life. They were all colors and sizes, i The men were laughing and talking { loudly. One or two women were in the I stream, laughing merrily as .they threw j water on each other, j It was an animated picturo. The sun's rays glinted down through tho trees on the tents, on the gayly painted wagons and tents. “What is it?” Dick asked in wonder. “It ain’t possible you don’t know?” Ben stopped short and looked at Dick in a strange way that made him feel uncomfortable. “No, sir.” Ben turned to his companion. “You hear? He dou’t know, and this is the nineteenth century.” “No, sir,” Dick repeated. “He don't know. Think of a boy as old as that who never saw one till now—j think of it.” | Ben shook his head The lady also ! lookpd at Dick compassionately. “He ain’t lying—he’s telling the truth, Kate. Why, Double Dick, that’s the greatest—but stop. Lot me give it to you just as it is on the bills: ‘Buckett’s Mammoth Aggregation; a Menagerie, Museum of Wonders and Circus Combined, in which the most celebrated artists of Europe and Africa —’(here Bon made a frightful grimace)—‘and the New World are united.’ ” “Why can’t you tell the poor boy it's a circus?” said tho woman. “Ain't I, as fast a» I can? Yes, young man, it’s a circus. C-i-r-c-u-s, circus, and you may spelt it with a good many cusses if you like. ” “Now you are frightening him.” “He don’t look scared. ” Dick looked rather pleased. Here now was the thing he had heard of hundreds of times. These were the very people who could climb on top of each other’s heads and up to poles reaching heavenwards, and stand on their heads. These were the wonderful riders. Whore was the clown? O, he would have given a year of his i*fe just to look at the clown. At that instant Dick caught sight of | au elephant among tho trees, and a lion in one of the cages roared. Dick quaked with terror. Ben laughed loudly at the lad’s fear. “What was it made that noise, sir?” “That was our Nubian lion.” “But it’s loose—l can see it walking under the trees. ” Ben looked in the direction Dick indicated, and was seized with a fit of laughter that rendered him speechless for a ,timp. “That ain’t a lion—that’s an elephant ” And then Ben Brown cast a look of pity on poor Dick, akin to that expressed in tho woman’s eyes. “Kate. I guess it’s a good thing he fell into our hands. Such ignorance in a Christian land is inexcusable.” “Come,” said the woman. “Breakfast j is ready, I see ” ! Then they moved on.

CHAPTER VIII. DICK’S TRANSFORMATION—HE ENCOUNTERS ZEtCE CARER. “Follow me, ” said Ben as they turned off the road When the trio met a group outside of one of the immense tents, who were moving in a body to a long table on which Dick observed a great number of tin plates and tin cups, and great quantities of meat and bread and butter, Ben paused. “Ladies and gentlemen,” said Ben, verydetiberately, “this is Mr. Dick, a young gentlemau who will bo my guest for a little while. He was compelled by circumstances to sleep out last night, i which will accouut for h s apparent neglect of his toilet After breakfast ho will have more time and inclination to personal adornment ” They all looked at him, but nobody laughed. Bon seated himself on one side of Dick, and his wife on the other, for by this time Dick had discovered their relationship. A man served them with enormous tin cups full of of excellent coffee. The butter was excellent; thore was no stint ; of it, nor of the syrup. . There were more griddlo cakes than Dick could eat, and he had never ate such such cakes. The mea. was tender and ~uicy. Ben replenished his p.ate three times,and he and his wife ate heartily. They had enormous appetites. Dick thought there were nearly if not quite as many there as were in Barnesvil o Poorhtmse. but thore was enough spread before them to suffice for a who e day at the poorhouso. A who e day! Why, Mr. Caper did not give his people as much in two —to say nothing of the quality of the victuals. A gentleman with a heavy ring on ono hand and red face passed by them. Ho looked sharply at Dick. Ben Brown Immediately spoke up. “A guest o? mine, Mr. Buckett.” “Oh, that’s all right ” “No, it isn't. I want to talk to you about a business matterafter breakfast ” Mr. Buckett passed on, and Ben resumed his breakfast. By the time breakfast was ended Dick began to feei at home. The strange surroundings an i strange people occuplod his mind, bin lie iiad his wits about him, and he was not tongue tied now. “You’ll feci better when you wash yourself,” said Ben, the moment they left J the table. “I’ll give you soap and a towel, and you tan go down to the creek. ” Dick’s visit to the creek made a groat change in him “Why, I would not know he was the same boy, ” said Mrs. Brown. “And now, my dear, whatever rough words you hear, don’t you mind them —and don t imitate them.” - , “No!” said" Ben sto itiy. “Don’t you learn to swear. I never do, and I’m doing much hard work in Mr. Buck-ett'-s circus- AwA mkid—nobody will say a word, or look b ack at you if they know you're ray guest Double Dick. “Yes,” said Mrs. Brown. “All you’ve got to do is to say Ben Brown is your friend. ” “I’ll he sure to mind,” Dick replied. Then he vestured, as Ben had left them

alone, to ask, “What does Mr. Brown do?” “Why, he is one of the company and so am I. • “Ob!” exclaimed Dick, “And are these gentlemen and ladies members, too?” “No, Only some of them. I’ll poinl them out to you In a day or two, if you stay with us.” “Can I—may I stay?” “Well-*-that depends. Can you ride a horse?” “A little —I used to ride the colts when no one else could. ” “Then you are not afraid of horsey That’s good. ■ “Is—is this a circus—was that a circus beside the table?” “Bless you, no, child. That was the kitchen. This Is one of tho living tents, the big tent has gone ahead. All the things are on the road for the tent These are just for tho keepers, these tents and the riders. It will be moved just as soon as the order is given. You seo, we have had a hard time of it for a month, and as we haven’t far to go today, we are taking it easy this morning. Sometimes we are up at four in the morning." “That’s earlier than we get up at the poorhouseff’ “Is it? What a place to live. But if I were you, I’d never mention the'poorhouse again. Nobody need know about it."

“I’ll mind,” said Dick, who thought Mrs Brown very kind indeed. “How strange that you never saw a circus, child.” “I’ve heard of them. * “Well—you’ll seo one before two o'clock. ” There was a hurrying to and fro now; the orders had been given to strike the tents, and mount Dick was amazed to see how quickly tho tents toppled in, and were packed in the wagons. Then the riders were addressed by a man with a keen pair of black eyes, who shouted: “Now, ladies and gentlemen, look lively. Ten minutes to dress. ” “See here, what will we do with this kid?” said Ben suddenly, as ho came upon them. “I tell you what. Bon. Go to old Blind, and get a costume for him.” Dick was plunged into amazement too groat for words. Were they going to make a rider of him? Ben returnod imtnediatcly, spoke, to his wife aside, and she laughed. Ho could overhear them. “He looks as much like a girl as a boy. He’s too small for a man’s dress, anyhow. ” i “All right, Ben> Mrs. Brown scurried, away, and returning with a bundle, handed it to her husband. ••There. You dross him, and put something on his face, Bon.” Dick followed Ben to a tent where he found a dozen men, some half dressed, others just preparing to dress. Their citizens’ c othes were lying on the tops of trunks, boxes and trunk trays. There were some painting their faces, and these were bending over the open lids of trunks in which mirrors were arranged, or leaning and twisting to see themselves in small mirrors placed against camp-stools or boxos. “Hero, we’ve no time to lose,” «aid Ben, as he told Dick to disrobe. Then, to the boy’s amazement and tho great amusement of the other men, Ben proceeded to arrange a woman’s dress on the bov. The long riding habit was speedily adjusted—pinned in to suit him A neat jacket, with silver and gold stars intermingled and an abundance of lace, ana a jaunty sailor’s collar were next fitted on him. “Your hair’s just about right," said Ben, standing off and viewing Dick, who blushed at the strange metamorphosis. He clapped a jaunty Gainesborougb hat with two violet colored feathers on Dick's head, and then smiled. “You don t need to mind your feet. Nobody will see them. I’ll whisk you Into the dining-room just as soon as tho parade is over. ” ...... “Am I going to parade, Mr. Brown?” “To be sure—what do you suppose I'm doing this for?" When Mrs. Brown beheld Dick she laughed, but sho spoke cheerfully. “Why, what a pretty girl you make." Ben Brown had painted his cheeks, and Dick did look like a bt;ight-evoJ miss of fifteen. |TO BE CONTINUED.]