Part 3 (1/2)
Heartily tired of the fair, burning with rage, and jealousy, and despair, but still vaguely hoping against hope for some better luck from some visionary source, Jack strolled about, chewing the bitter cud of his feelings, his hands up to his elbows in his trowser pockets and his soul up to its ears in the flood of discontent. He puckered his mouth into whistling position, but it refused to whistle. He felt as if he had a corn cob crossways in his throat. The wind blew his new hat off and a mule kicked the top out of the crown.
”Only a half a dollah! Who's the next lucky man?” cried the prize package fellow. ”I'm now going to sell a new sort of packages, each of which, beside the usual amount of choice candy, contains a piece of jewelry of pure gold! Who takes the first chance for only a half a dollah?”
”'Ere's your mule!” answered Bill Powell, as with Minny still clinging to his arm, he pushed through the crowd and handed up the money.
”Bravely done!” shouted the crier; ”see what a beautiful locket and chain! Luck's a fortune! And who's the next to invest? Come right along and don't be afraid of a little risk! Only a half a dollah!”
Jack saw Bill put the glittering chain round Minny's neck and fasten the locket in her belt; saw the eyes of the sweet girl gleam proudly, gratefully; saw black spots dancing before his own eyes; saw Bill swagger and toss his head. He turned dizzily away, whispering savagely, ”Dern 'im!”
Just here let me say that such an expression is not a profane one. I once saw a preacher kick at a little dog that got in his way on the sidewalk. The minister's foot missed the little dog and hit an iron fence, and the little dog bit the minister's other leg and jumped through the fence. The minister performed a _pas de zephyr_ and very distinctly said ”Dern 'im!” Wherefore I don't think it can be anything more than a mere puff of fretfulness.
After this Jack was for some time standing near the entrance to the ”gla.s.s-works,” a place where transparent steam engines and wonderful fountains were on exhibition. He felt a grim delight in tantalizing himself with looking at the pictures of these things and wis.h.i.+ng he had money enough to pay the entrance fee. He saw persons pa.s.s in eagerly and come out calm and satisfied--men with their wives and children, young men with girls on their arms, prominent among whom were Bill and Minny, and one dapper sportsman even bought a ticket for his setter, and, patting the brute on the head, took him in.
”Onery nor a dog!” hissed Jack, shambling off, and once more taking a long deep dive under the surface of the crowd. A ground swell cast him again near the vender of prize packages.
”Only a half a dollah!” he yelled; ”come where fortune smiles, and cares and poverty take flight, for only a half a dollah!”
”Jist fifty cents more'n I've got about my clothes!” replied Jack, and the bystanders, taking this for great wit, joined in a roar of laughter, while with a grim smile the desperate youth pa.s.sed on till he found himself near the toe mark of a shooting gallery, where for five cents one might have two shots with an air gun. He stood there for a time watching a number of persons try their marksmans.h.i.+p. It was small joy to know that he was a fine off-hand shot, so long as he had not a nickel in his pocket, but still he stood there wis.h.i.+ng he might try his hand.
”Cl'ar the track here! Let this 'ere lady take a shoot!” cried a familiar voice; and a way was opened for Bill Powell and Minny Hart. The little maiden was placed at the toe mark and a gun given to her. She handled the weapon like one used to it. She raised it, shut one eye, took deliberate aim and fired.
”Centre!” roared the marker, as to the sound of a bell the funny little puppet leaped up and grinned above the target. Every body standing near laughed and some of the boys cheered vociferously. Minny looked sweeter than ever. Jack Trout felt famished. He begged a chew of tobacco of a stranger, and, grinding the weed furiously, walked off to where the yellow pavilion with its painted air-boats was whirling its cargoes of happy boys and girls round and round for the ”Small sum of ten cents.” A long, lean, red-headed fellow in one of the boats was paying for a ride of limitless length by sc.r.a.ping on a miserable fiddle. To Jack this seemed small labor for so much fun. How he envied the fiddler as he flew round, trailing his tunes behind him!
”Wo'erp there! Stop yer old merchine! We'll take a ride ef ye don't keer!”
The pavilion was stopped, a boat lowered for Bill Powell and Minny Hart, who got in side by side, and the fiddler struck up the tune of ”Black-eyed Susie.” Jack watched that happy couple go round and round, till, by the increased velocity, their two faces melted into one, which was neither Bill's nor Minny's--it was Luck's!
”He's got one outo me,” muttered Jack; ”I've got no money, can't fiddle for a ride, nor nothin', and I don't keer a ding what becomes o' me, nohow!”
With these words Jack wended his way to a remote part of the fair ground, where, under gay awnings, the sutlers had spread their tempting variety of cakes, pies, fruits, nuts and loaves. Here were persons of all ages and sizes--men, women and children--eating at well supplied tables. The sight was a fascinating one, and, though seeing others eat did not in the least appease his own hunger, Jack stood for a long time watching the departure of pies and the steady lessening of huge pyramids of sweet cakes. He particularly noticed one little table that had on its centre a huge peach pie, which table was yet unoccupied. While he was actually thinking over the plan of eating the pie and trusting to his legs to bear him beyond the reach of a dun, Bill and Minny sat down by the table and proceeded to discuss the delicious, red-hearted heap of pastry. At this point Bill caught Jack's eye:
”Come here, Jack,” said he; ”this pie's more'n we can eat, come and help us.”
”Yes, come along, Jack,” put in Minny in her sweetest way; ”I want to tell you what a lot of fun we've had, and more than that, I want to know why you didn't come back and take me into the show!”
”I ain't hungry,” muttered Jack, ”and besides I've got to go see a feller.”
He turned away almost choking.
”Bill's got me. 'Taint no use talkin', I'm played out for good. I'm a trumped Jack!”
He smiled a sort of flinty smile at his poor wit, and shuffled aimlessly along through the densest clots of the crowd.
And it so continued to happen, that wherever Jack happened to stop for any considerable length of time he was sure to see Bill and Minny enjoying some rare treat, or disappearing in or emerging from some place of amus.e.m.e.nt.
At last, driven to desperation, he determined on trying to borrow a dollar from his father. He immediately set about to find the old gentleman; a task of no little difficulty in such a crowd. It was Jack's forlorn hope, and it had a gloomy outlook; for old 'Squire Trout was thought by competent judges to be the stingiest man in the county. But hoping for the best, Jack hunted him here, there and everywhere, till at length he met a friend who said he had seen the 'Squire in the act of leaving the fair ground for home just a few minutes before.
Taking no heed of what folks might say, Jack, on receiving this intelligence, darted across the ground, out at the gate and down the road at a speed worthy of success; but alas! his hopes were doomed to wilt. At the first turn of the road he met a man who informed him that he had pa.s.sed 'Squire Trout some three miles out on his way home, which home was full nine miles distant!
Panting, crestfallen, defeated, done for, poor Jack slowly plodded back to the fair ground gate, little dreaming of the new trouble that awaited him there.