The Gentleman from Indiana - Page 69/212

Mr. Bardlock joined in the laugh against himself, and proceeded with his

wife to some seats, forty or fifty feet distant. When he had settled

himself comfortably, he shouted over cheerfully to the unhappy editor:

"Them shell-men got it in fer you, Mr. Harkless."

"Ain't that fool shet up yit?" snarled the aged Mr. Bodeffer,

indignantly. He was sitting near the young couple, and the expression of

his sympathy was distinctly audible to them and many others. "Got no more

regards than a brazing calf-disturbin' a feller with his sweetheart!"

"The both of 'em says they're goin' to do fer you," bleated Mr. Bardlock.

"Swear they'll git their evens with ye."

Mr. Martin rose again. "Don't git scared and leave town, Mr. Harkless," he

called out; "Jim'll protect you."

Vastly to the young man's relief the band began to play, and the

equestrians and equestriennes capered out from the dressing-tent for the

"Grand Entrance," and the performance commenced. Through the long summer

afternoon it went on: wonders of horsemanship and horsewomanship; hair-

raising exploits on wires, tight and slack; giddy tricks on the high

trapeze; feats of leaping and tumbling in the rings; while the tireless

musicians blatted inspiringly through it all, only pausing long enough to

allow that uproarious jester, the clown, to ask the ring-master what he

would do if a young lady came up and kissed him on the street, and to

exploit his hilarities during the short intervals of rest for the

athletes.

When it was over, John and Helen found themselves in the midst of a

densely packed crowd, and separated from Miss Briscoe and Lige. People

were pushing and shoving, and he saw her face grow pale. He realized with

a pang of sympathy how helpless he would feel if he were as small as she,

and at his utmost height could only see big, suffocating backs and huge

shoulders pressing down from above. He was keeping them from crowding

heavily upon her with all his strength, and a royal feeling of

protectiveness came over him. She was so little. And yet, without the

remotest hint of hardness, she gave him such a distinct impression of

poise and equilibrium, she seemed so able to meet anything that might

come, to understand it--even to laugh at it--so Americanly capable and

sure of the event, that in spite of her pale cheek he could not feel quite

so protective as he wished to feel.

He managed to get her to one of the tent-poles, and placed her with her

back to it. Then he set one of his own hands against it over her head,

braced himself and stood, keeping a little space about her, ruggedly

letting the crowd surge against him as it would; no one should touch her

in rough carelessness.