The Circus Boys on the Mississippi Part 6

Teddy was not disturbed by the warning. He turned and started for the women's dressing tent, where he saw several of the other performers pa.s.sing through the entrance. Phil, who had stepped to the door of his own dressing tent, observed the same thing.

"I guess there must be something going on over there. I shall have to find out what it means," he thought.

"May I come in, Mrs. Waite?" called Phil from the entrance.

"Sure. Come in Phil," smiled the wardrobe woman.

Teddy had not wasted the breath to ask permission to enter, but the moment he stepped inside something caught his eyes, causing them to open a little wider.

Two trunks had been drawn up in the center; over them was thrown an American flag. At one end a flag on a standard had been planted, and on the trunks, flowers and wreaths had been placed.

"What's that thing?" asked Teddy.

"That is my grave, Master Teddy," answered Mrs. Waite in a low tone.

"Your grave?"

"Yes."

"Pshaw! That's a funny kind of grave. What's buried there--your pet poodle?"

"Teddy! Teddy!" whispered Phil reprovingly.

"Go 'way. This is some kind of a joke," growled Teddy.

"It is not a joke, though I do not understand the meaning of it just yet. You say this is your grave, Mrs. Waite?" asked Phil.

"Yes, Phil. You know my husband was a soldier?"

"No, I did not know that, Mrs. Waite. Will you tell me all about it?"

Phil was deeply interested now.

"My husband was killed at the battle of Gettysburg. He lies in Woodlawn Cemetery. I am never at home on Decoration Day. I am always on the road with the circus, so I cannot decorate the real grave."

"I understand," breathed the Circus Boy.

"Being unable to decorate my husband's real grave, I carry my grave with me. Each Memorial Day morning I prepare my grave here in the dressing tent, and decorate it as you see here, and all my friends of the circus are very good and thoughtful on that occasion."

"How long have you been with the show--how many years have you been decorating this little property grave, Mrs. Waite?"

asked Phil.

"Thirty years, Phil."

"Is it possible?"

"Yes, and it seems no more than two."

"Do you intend remaining with the show much longer--aren't you ever going to retire?"

"Yes. I am going to retire. I am getting old. I have laid up enough money to keep me for the rest of my life, and I am going to take a rest after two years more with this outfit."

"I am afraid you will miss the show," smiled the lad.

"I know I shall. I shall miss the life, the color, and I shall miss my boys and my girls. I love them all very much."

One after another, the women of the circus had come in to the dressing tent, depositing their little floral remembrances on the property grave while Mrs. Waite was talking.

Teddy, as soon as he fully comprehended the meaning of the scene, had slipped out. In a little while he returned. He brought with him a bunch of daisies that he had gathered on the circus lot.

These he had tied with a soiled pink ribbon that he had ripped from one of his ring costumes.

Phil saw the daisies, and, noting their significance, smiled approvingly.

"Teddy has a heart, after all," was his mental comment.

Teddy Tucker proceeded to the flag-draped grave, gently placed his offering upon it, then turned away.

As he did so, he was observed to brush a hand across his eyes as if something there were blurring his sight.

CHAPTER IV

THEIR CURIOSITY AROUSED

"Phil, I have an idea that you are wondering where we are bound for?" said Mr. Sparling, with a merry twinkle in his eyes.

"I will confess that I have been somewhat curious," smiled the boy. "From the route I could not imagine where you were heading."

"You are not the only one who has been guessing. Our rivals are positively nervous over the movements of this show. They think we are going to jump into the Mississippi River, or something of the sort--"

"Or float on it," added Phil.

Mr. Sparling eyed him keenly.

They were in the owner's private tent, discussing the business of the show itself, as these two did every day of the season, for Mr. Sparling had come to place no little reliance on the judgment of his young Circus Boy.

"What made you say that, Phil?"

"I had no particular reason. Perhaps I thought I was saying something funny."

"Nothing very funny about that," answered the showman.

"I agree with you."

"I thought perhaps you might ask me where we were routed for this season."

"And I thought you would tell me when you wished me to know,"