The Crimson Flash Part 7

"What did he say?" demanded Pant.

"He said he bought some from dat midget clown, an' some from a steam kettle cook, an' some from a bunco-man wid a chewed ear. Say, Mister, do I get dat oder dollar?"

Pant held it out to him. "What you puffing about?"

"Dat ticket man chased me."

"What for?"

"Don't know, boss."

For a moment they were silent.

"Say, Boss," s...o...b..ll whispered after a time, "what you s'pose made dat ere red splotch on the groun'?"

"What red spot?" There was a suspicion of a smile lurking about the corner of Pant's mouth.

"Man! Don' you know? 'Roun' dat fiah?"

"Oh, yes; I wasn't looking just then."

"Say, Boss!" The boy was whispering again. "I ain't afraid of almost nuthin'--nuthin' but signs and ghosts. You s'pose dat were a sign?"

"It might have been."

"An' say, Boss, what's dem colored fellers sayin' 'bout a wreck? Don'

mean that ere circus train's gwine wreck? Man, that'd be some kind of a wreck! Tigers fightin' b'ars, lions eatin' elephants, snakes a-crawlin'

loose, wild cats a-clawin', an monkeys screamin'! Man! Oh, man!"

For a full minute s...o...b..ll sat silent, wild-eyed and staring at the mental picture he had conjured up. Then a sudden thought struck him.

"Say, Boss, dis am circus day ain't it? An' I got two dollars I jes'

earned and ain't spent, ain't I? Boss, I'se gone right now!"

And he was.

For a long time Pant sat there in contemplative silence. Finally, with one hand he smoothed out the sand before him. On this, with his finger, he spelled out the name: BLACKIE McCREE.

Then, with a quick glance about him, as if afraid it had been seen, he erased the letters.

When Johnny Thompson had been introduced to the stable boss and had been given his a.s.signment, he lost no time in getting on a suit of unionalls and was soon at work sleeking down his three broad backed dapple grays.

It was a long task, painstakingly done, for Johnny loved horses and these three were among the finest in the circus.

His mind, however, was not always on his brush and cloth. In the grand parade, which, in Chicago did not leave the tent, but circled about in the mammoth enclosure, while the vast crowds cheered, Millie Gonzales rode standing on these three fat chargers, that, with tossing manes and champing bits, seemed at every moment ready to break her control and go rus.h.i.+ng down the arena. Johnny was to take the horses to the entrance of the big tent. That much he had been told. Would he there turn them over to Millie? And would she be wearing the missing ring? The answers to these questions he could only guess.

It was with a wildly beating heart that he at last led his three horses down the narrow canvas enclosure which led to the great tent. Already the procession was forming. Here a group of clowns waited in silence. Here a great gilded chariot rumbled forward, and here a trained elephant was being fitted with his rider's canopied seat.

By this director, then that one, Johnny was guided to the spot from which his three dapple grays would start.

He had hardly reached the position than a high-pitched, melodious, but slightly scornful, voice said:

"Why! Who are you? Where's Peter?"

"Who's Peter?" asked Johnny, doffing his cap respectfully, but studying the girl's hands the meanwhile.

"Why, he's my groom."

"Begging your pardon, he's not; I am."

"You?" She stood back and surveyed him with unveiled scorn. "You? A little shrimp like you?"

Johnny was angry. Hot words rushed to his lips but remained unspoken. He was playing a big game. For the time he must repress his pride.

"I--I--" Millie stormed on, "I like a big groom, a strong one. I shall see about this."

"Oh!" smiled Johnny, "if it's strength you want, I guess you'll find me there. And for horses, I know how to groom them."

Millie cast an appraising eye over the grays. "Did you do that?"

"Yes, please."

"They're wonderful!"

Lifting a dainty foot, she waited for Johnny's palm. Once it rested securely there, she gave a little spring and would have landed neatly on the first gray's back, had not Johnny suddenly shot his arm upward. As it was, she rose straight in the air three feet above the horses to land squarely on the middle one of the three.

She landed fairly on her feet. A whip sang through the air. She had aimed a vicious blow at Johnny's cheek. There was a wild flare of anger in her eye.

Dodging out of her reach, Johnny stood trembling for fear he had foolishly wasted his grand chance.

Presently the girl's lips curved in a half disdainful smile.

"You are an impudent fellow, and I should have some one thrash you.

"You are strong, though," she went on, "and because of that, I'll forgive you. In the future, however, remember that I am Millie Gonzales and you are my groom."

Johnny nodded gravely. The procession moved forward. Millie pa.s.sed from his view.

After calmly reviewing the situation, one fact stood out in bold relief in Johnny's mind: If it were Millie Gonzales who had the ring, his task was to be a difficult one, for she was a keen, crafty, high-tempered, unscrupulous Spaniard, who would stop at nothing to gain her end.

"Well, anyway," he decided, "if she has it, she is not wearing it. It's not on her hand. Here's hoping it's one of the other two."

He moved to a position where he could watch the parade. For a full three minutes his eyes swept it from end to end. Out of it all--the troop of elephants, the bra.s.s band, the clowns, the performers, the many strange carts and chariots--one figure stood supreme: A girl who rode high on a throne, mounted upon a great chariot, escorted by six footmen, and drawn by six prancing chargers.

"The queen of the circus!" he thought. "I wonder who she is."

Johnny had hardly spoken the words when, for a second, the girl's smiling face was turned his way. He caught his breath sharply. "She's one of the three," he gasped. "If it is she who has the ring--"