Part 12 (2/2)

Zoraya, for that was her name, smiled down, gracefully swung off into s.p.a.ce, soaring lightly into the strong, sure arms of her working mate.

Just the suspicion of an approving smile lighted up the face of the clown for the moment, for he dearly loved this little motherless daughter of his, who had been his care since she was a child.

s.h.i.+vers had taught her all she knew, and Zoraya was the acknowledged queen of the lofty tumblers.

But the clown half unconsciously caught his breath as the lithe form of Zoraya shot over the trapeze bar, described a graceful ”two-and-a-half” in the air, and, shooting downward, hit the net with a resounding smack that caused the spectators to catch their breath sharply.

The clown shook a warning head at her, and Teddy so far forgot himself as to stub his toe and measure his length upon the ground.

”Don't do it, Bright Eyes!” cautioned s.h.i.+vers, shaking his head warningly at the girl, as the child bounced up from the impact, kicking her little feet together and turning a somersault on the swaying net. ”It isn't in your contract. Folks sometimes break their necks trying kinkers that's not in the writings.”

Her answer was a merry, mocking laugh, and Zoraya ran lightly up a rope ladder to the platform where she balanced easily for another flight.

”My, I wish I could do stunts like that!” breathed Teddy.

”Just like a bird. La, la, la! La, la, la!” sang the painted clown, turning a handspring and pivoting on his head for a grand, spectacular finish.

His refined comedy, so pleasing to the occupants of the reserved seats, had now been changed to loud, uproarious buffoonery as he bowed before the blue, fifty cent seats where his auditors were ma.s.sed on boards reaching from the top of the side wall clear down to the edge of the arena.

He took liberties with their hats, pa.s.sed familiar criticisms on their families and told them all about the other performers in the ring, arousing the noisy appreciation of the spectators.

Teddy was put to his wits end to keep up with this rapid-fire clowning, and the perspiration was already streaking the powder on his face.

All at once, above the din and the applause, the ears of the clown caught a sound different from the others--a scream of alarm. s.h.i.+vers had heard such a cry many times before during his twenty years in the sawdust ring, and, as he expressed it, the sound always gave him ”crinkles up and down his spine.”

There was no need to start and look about for the cause.

He understood that there had been an accident. But the clown looked straight ahead and went on with his work. He knew, by the strains of the music, exactly what Zoraya should be doing at the moment when the cry came--that her supple body was flas.h.i.+ng through the air in a ”pa.s.sing leap,” one of the feats that always drew such great applause, even if it were more spectacular than dangerous.

”No, it can't be Zoraya!” he muttered. But the clown cast one nervous, hesitating glance up there where her troupe was working in the air. The cold sweat stood out upon him. Zoraya was not with them. His eyes sought the net. It was empty. He saw a figure clad in pink, white and gold shooting right through the net.

Then, too, he saw something else. A slender, pink-clad figure was darting under the net with outstretched arms.

”It's Phil. He's going to catch her,” shouted Teddy jubilantly.

But Phil went down under the impact of the heavy blow as Zoraya struck him. A throng of ring attendants gathered about them, and in a moment the two forms were picked up and borne quickly from the ring.

Once, years before, s.h.i.+vers had been through an earthquake in South America, when things about him were topsy-turvy, when the circus tent came tumbling down about him, and ring curbs went up into the air in most bewildering fas.h.i.+on.

Now, that same sensation was upon him again, and quarter poles seemed to dance before his eyes like giddy marionettes, while the long rows of blue seats appeared to be tilted up at a dangerous angle. Then slowly the clown's bewilderment merged into keen understanding, but his painted face reflected none of the anguish that was gripping at his heart strings.

Teddy brushed a hand across his own eyes.

”I--I guess they're both killed,” he said falteringly.

Just then the voice of the head clown broke out in the old Netherlands harvest song:

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