A Positive Cure.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 472, 17 May 1890, Page 6

A Positive Cure.

By Robert Grant. CHAPTER 111. * There was nothing more to be said. If Uncle Henry had seen us, he had seen us: a nd ibe only thing for us to do was t 0 keep out of his way until the circus train started. With this in mind we glided, still crouching, along the edge of the crowd until we had slipped behind an angle of the big tent. Peering forth, we then endeavoured to distinguish him among the black press of people, but he was not to be seen. Evidently if he had recognised us he had decided to go on. * Here we remained for a quarter of an hour longer, by the end of which time, that portion of the audience which had lingered to see the fat lady and the curiosities were moving off, and the hucksters were extinguishing their lights. An array of retainers began the work of demolishing the big tent, a proceeding which we watched with breathless interest. In the twinkling of an eye, so to speak, the huge canvas village collapsed, and was gathered by nimble fingers into a marvellously small compass, the tent poles were uprooted, and the sea of ropes and gymnastic apparatus disentangled and systematised. The herd of horses and ponies was driven into the cars allotted to them, and the cages of wild beasts, the gilded chariots, and. other vehicles were severally bestowed in the proper vans. We lay on the grounds at the outskirts of this activity, absorbed in observation of what was goiner on, and the more eager because of all we saw, to become a part of the show. We admired, especially, the control which the elephant drivers had over those huge, over-topping quadrupeds. Indeed, Steve was so much entranced by the sight that he expressed a doubt as to whether even a lion-tamer or a snake-charmer was more to be envied than they. The time had now arrived, however, when it was necessary for us to fix upon a scheme of concealment. Little by little order was resulting out of chaos and the various vans had been united on the side tracks into the semblance of a train ; the acrobats and other performers, both male and female, had exchanged their circus attire for everyday clothes, and were arranging themselves in the sleeping cars. It became a serious question as to where we should hide ourselves. ’ Stealthily approaching the train, we examined car after car in the hope of discovering a shelter among the baggage, but the baggage car was occupied by sundry attendants sure to detect us if we were to come aboard; and the sleeping cars were overflowing with people. Our hopes were sinking.. We had not foreseen so much difficulty in executing our plan. Shutters had been put up along the sides of the cages, and we could hear the various cries of the wild creatures within who were no longer visible. A gaping half hundred of spectators, many of them urchins like ourselves, stood watching the proceedings and waiting for the train to start. The train, Owing to its length, was as yet in detachments ranged side by side. Determined to be thorough, Steve and I went up and down on either side of each detachment, in search of a hiding-place. At one point there were three parallel lines close together of four or five vans each, and as we worked our way in between two of them screened from generalobservation,lsuddenly perceived a cage one of the shutters of which was lying on the ground. Either the attendant had been suddenly called away and left it there, or it had fallen off. As we stood peering in,. expecting to perceive some creature advance from the background, I found on grasping one of the bars that the door of the cane was on the jar. Here was an opportunity certainly. I pulled and it swung open without noise. We were both trembling with excitement. ‘ “ What’s in there do you suppose, Steve ?” ‘“ I can’t see a thing; can you ? I guess it’s an empty cage. They would never have left it open if it weren’t.” ‘ “ But it might be a lion or a tiger,” I suggested. ‘ “ We’ve got our knives any way.” “ ‘ I’m not afraid if you’re not,” I answered. ‘ “ Let’s strike a match and see,” said Steve, beginning to fumble in his pocket. ‘ Just at that moment I caught sight of two men, one of whom carried a lanthorn, come round from behind the last car. They were talking together,and fortunately the one with the light turned his back to us and began to gesticulate as though he were excited.

“‘ Get in or we’ll be spotted,” I exclaimed eagerly to Steve. ‘So saying,l raised myself on to the floor of the van and crawled inside. Steve followed me closely. * “Shut the door,” I whispered. *He did so and secured the hasp. Almost instantly, we heard a shrill whistle and the man with the lanthorn came rapidlyuptoour car. He stopped short for a moment,while we held our breath ; then he raised the shutter from the ground and fastened it in place. Immediately after there was a bumping ahead, as of an engine being connected. Evidently the train was about to start. We were lying in the middle of a large cage, on a bed of straw, that had been pretty well trodden down. It was now so dark that we could not see each other's face. In the roof was an aperture about two feet square, through which we could perceive the sky overhead, made apparent by a single star. We were boxed in with a vengeance, and here we must remain until the train stopped in the morning, and trust to being able to slip the shutter and escape before wo were detected. ‘ “ We’re in for it now,” I said to Steve gaily. ‘ “Isn’t it sport?” was the jubilant answer. * At that moment we heard a rustling sound that made us clutch each other and listen. All was still again, but so vivid was the impression produced on each of us that we exclaimed simultaneously, “What was that ?” * “ There’s something in here with us,” I added. As I spoke the engine gave a puff and a snort and the train began to move jerkily forward. The next moment there was a renewed rustling in the same direction as before, and I came in contact with an object that interjected itself violently between Steve and me, I was knocked prostrate. As I raised myself on my elbow, I fully expected to encounter teeth and claws, in anticipation of which I whipped out my knife from its sheath. Ail was still again, deathly still. I knew that I was unhurt, but I was trembling from head to foot. The onslaught had been so precipitate that I felt bewildered. The creature, whatever it was, could be no puny beast, for it had left upon me a vivid impression of bulk and stature and a stalking etride. I was safe for the moment—but where was Steve? He might be stunned or even dead. * “Steve—Steve,”l murmured hoarsely. “ Are you hurt ?” ‘ “ No 1” was the answer which seemed to come from a distance ; “ are you ?” ‘ “ No, not a bit; what was it?”

‘“ I couldn’t make out,” he replied in a whisper as though fearful of causing a renewal of hostilities. “ Where is it now ?” ‘“ I don’t know. Where are you ?” ‘“Over here.” ‘ “ I put out my hands to feel wheie I was and came immediately in contact with woolwork. I realised that I had either been hurled or had crawled into a corner of the car, and I judged from Steve’s voice that ho must be in the opposite corner diagonally. Our assailant then was doubtless between us. It was desirable first of all that we should be re united. ‘ “Why don’t you come over here, Steve?” I inquired accordingly. * “ Come over yourself,” said he. * “ I’d just as soon,” I answered stoutly, though I felt extremely disinclined to move. ‘ I grasped my knife, and peering into the darkness, began to sidle over the straw in the direction where I supposed Steve to be. I moved with the utmost caution in order to avoid making any noise, pausing again and again to listen in the hope of detecting the creature’s %vhereabouts by hearing it breathe, butthejarof thenowrapidly moving train frustrated my efforts. Afterevery few inches, I reconnoitred by feeling ahead with j my left hand, keeping my knife in my I right ready to strike with in case of necessity. I must have advanced in this manner about two feet when th 6 top of my head suddenly touched a warm, hairy body seemingly above me, which, the next instant, bounded in the air, and simultaneously I found myself fighting against what I took to be two large, hard, scaly legs which bestrode me. Instinctively, to ward them off, I grasped one with either hand. As I did so, the creature with a frightened, frantic bound, freed itself from my grip, and crushed me beneath two spreading claws or talons planted on my chest. ‘“Help, Steve,help!” I cried in alarm,but while I uttered the words my enemy, with another bound, was gone into darkness again. ‘ “ Oh, whatisit, Phil ? Has he hurt you?” Steve exclaimed, bending over me. ‘“ I guess not,” I said, getting up. “He trampled on me and his claws felt sharp. I’ve lost my knife too. He knocked it out of my hand.” ‘ I tried toepeak coolly and to control my nerves, which were trembling from the encounter.

‘ “ I’ve got mine all ready,” whispered Steve. “ What do you say to my lighting a match ?” he inquired. * “ I’d like to know what he is and how many of them there are,” I answered, beginning to grope about me on the straw for my knife. ‘ “ Do you think there’s more than one? I’ll find your knife, Phil.” ‘ “ There may be several for all I know. He’s a big fellow any way. He had queer long legs and was hairy,” * “ Do you think it was a bear ?” ‘ “ The legs were too long.” ‘ “A giraffehaslong legs,” said Steve, after a short silence, during which, doubtless, like myself, he was rehearsing in his mind the catalogue of wild animals. ‘ “It was no giraffe then I added impressively. “ I’m nob sure, Steve, but I rather think it was a hyena.” ‘ “ We’re goners if it is,” was the dejected answer. ‘‘ ‘ Especially if they’re two. Against one we might be able to hold our own if I can only find my knife. Besides, hyenas are more apt to attack dead people, aren’t they ?” ‘ I spoke interrogatively because I felt by no means confident of the fact. ‘ Steve did not commit himself on the point, and we both remained silent for a few moments. Perceiving that my hand was wet, I realised that it was bleeding. One of the sharp claws must have lacerated me. As I could feel the blood trickling along my wrist, I took out my handkerchief and began to staunch the wound as well as I could in the dark. ‘ “ What do you say ? Shall I light up?” asked Steve, who had produced his matchbox from his pocket. ‘ “ Hold on a minute until you have tied this handkerchief. He has scratched me a little,” I said. ‘“Scratched you?” ejaculated Steve, with horror ; and as he endeavoured to tie the ends of the handkerchief I could feel his fingers tremble. “Do you feel faint ?” he asked. ‘ “ No; I’m all right,” I replied, as he completed the knot. “ Wait a second until I got my match-box ready so as to strike together. Now, when I say ‘three’—one—two — three !” ‘ Our two parlour matches exploded at the same moment, but the top of Steve’s broke off short, and as the feeble blaze of mine gradually lit up the car our straining eyes made out a tail, black mass in one corner, at which we stared in astonished scrutiny for a moment before I exclaimed as the flames expired : ‘ “It’s no hyena, Steve, it’s a bird.” «“ A bird !" What sorb of a bird ?” cried George Cummings in astenishment, as Mr Oliver, chuckling over the reminiscence, made another pause.

CHAPTER IV. ‘ A bird it certainly was, and a big one, continued Philip Oliver by way of answer. ‘ We were both agreed as to that.’ ‘ “ It’s an ostrich, isn’t it?” said Steve.

‘ “ Or an emu,” I suggested. * ll I’ve seen emus and it isn’t an emu.” ‘“And I bet it isn’t an ostrich. Art ostrich hides its head when people look at it,” I retorted promptly. 4 “ What is it, then ?” Steve inquired.

4 We were neither of ns prepared at the moment with another theory. It was certainly a relief to know that our companion for the night was no one of the larger wild animals. The big, scaly legs and talons were now accounted for, and I had been able to distinguish in the short moment for scrutiny afforded by the match a ponderous body covered with short hairlike feathers, a large beak and curious protruberance3 along its throat;. ‘ “ It couldn’t be a dodo, could it ?” asked Steve humbly. ‘“I don’t think so. Anyhow, I don’t believe it’s dangerous.” ‘“Notun less we rouse it,’’said Steve. “I’d like to have another look at it. What do you say ?” ‘I acquiesced; and we were about to strike more matches when Steve made an exclamation of joy and cried : ‘ “ What luck ! I’ve found a bit of candle in my side pocket I didn’t know I had.” ‘This was gratifying. In another moment Steve had lighted the morsel of candle, into which he stuck the point of a knife, and we were feasting our eyes upon our enemy. He was standing in the same corner, but our gaze or the continuance of the illumination caused him presently to move his neck uneasily, and stir his feet as though he werebecoming alarmed.’ ‘ “ What a buster he is !” said Steve. ‘ “ What a funny sort of helmet he has,” I said, indicating a bony projection on the top of his head. “ And look at those queer red pouches under his throat.” * “ it’s'mighty lucky he didn’t claw your face with those big toes of his, Phil. S-s-st, boy ! Srs-st, boy ! You don’t know what to make of us, do you, old cock ?” Steve cried, at which taunting ejaculations the big bird began to show further signs of nervousness,

* “ What’s the use of rousing him, Steve ?”

‘ “ I’m not rousing him. I’m only cheering him up.” ‘Presently I spied my knife a foot or two in front of us, of which I gob possession at once, without demur on the part of the bird. Then I looked around me. The floor of the cage was covered with straw, and behind us was a bin drinking dish full 1.1 water. I had been thinking hard, and now I exclaimed, jubilantly : “•I know his name if I can only remember it. He’s a car—a cath—case —casso —” * “ Cassowary,” interjected Steve. * “ Yes, cassowary. That’s it. I guess he’s one.’ ‘“I shouldn’t wonder. There was one at the show, for I read the name on the cage. Halloo!” he added, in an alarmed tone, “ we’re on fire.”

‘ As Steve spoke he leapt up hastily and began to stamp on the straw at his further side, forgetting for a moment everything but the new peril. Scarcely had he done so than the big bird, now thoroughly alarmed, stamped its feet, and emitting a strange chuckling sound, started to run round the cage. Reminded that he was between two fires, Steve turned to ward off a collision, when the bit of candle fell .from the knife blade upon the bed and was extinguished. At the same moment the bewildered or infuriated cassowary plunged wildly forward, and happening to dodge in the same direction as Steve dodged ran between his legs and tossed him after the manner of a bull. Steve uttering in his turn a cry of dismay, fell sprawling, while his antagonist sped with a crooning cry and with bounds like an antelope around the cage. 1 was conscious of a dusky shape passing and repassing me with giant-like strides ; a pungent odour of smoke compressed my throat; then realising the greater danger that threatened us I sprang to Steve’s side to assist in the work of extinguishing the ignited straw. We stamped with vigour, but the harder we stamped the more desperately ran the affiighted bird until it seemed to fly rather than leap or run. In the course of almost every gyration it came violently in contact with the one or the other of us, until to my bewildered eyes and ears the atmosphere of the cage seemed made up of smoke, dust, feathers, straw, a beak and claws, talons, wings, somersaults and screeches. At last there came a slam-bang as of a tin pail violently smitten, after which the cassowary seemed to mount to the roof and descend upon mo like an Alpine avalanche ; then I lost consciousness. When I came to myself I was lying on top of Steve, and sore all over. The bird was still rampaging round the cage, but with evener and less excited strides, The fire seemed to be out; moreover, the straw underneath my wounded hand was wet. For a moment I supposed blood to be the cause of this, and that either Steve or 1 was bleeding to death, and in consternation I whispered : * “ Steve, Steve ; are you much hurt?” “ ‘ Not much. I wish he’d stop.” * “So do I. What makes the straw so wet ?” ‘“ He kicked over his water-pan. Didn’t you hear it ? It wasn’t a bad stroke, for it put out the fire, but it came down on my nose.” ‘“lt isn’t broken, is it?” I asked anxiously. ‘ “It feels sorb of crooked,” Steve replied, “but I can blow it all right.” ‘ The concussion and the moisture of the straw were thus explained. For some time longer our foeinan continued his gyrations, while both too sore and too cowed to move we lay in a heap, and compared whispered notes on our mutual sufferings, which had been essentially alike. We both felt as though we had been clawed and scratched from head to foot; our throats and eyes were painful with smoke and dust, and a portion of the clothing of each of us wa3 soaked with water. Most humiliating of all, our knives and the candle were both missing.

‘ At last the big bird, after diminishing gradually the length of his strides, concluded to take a rest, and settled down in a corner. Notwithstanding our bitter experiences, we concluded presently, when he had remained quiet for some minutes, to light another match in order to find our property. The instant, however, that he heard the sound, our enemy gave a wild bound and darted around the cage. * “ He’sat itagain,”criedStevedejectedly, and instinctively we buried our heads in the straw. 4 He ran for ten minutes before settling down, and subsequently through the night the slightest movement on the part of either of us started his appalling leaps. Scarcely daring to speak above our breath, so susceptible had he become to sound, we lay on the charred, damp straw, sleepless and waiting servilely for morning. The train jolted horribly, and every time that it stopped or started, the enemy found an excuse for a new excursion around the cage. After one more than unusually reckless, Steve said gloomily : ‘ “Phil, are you sorry you came ?” ‘“ If this were to last I should be ; but the worst is over, I guess. We must keep a stiff upper lip,” I answered. ‘ “My upper lip is so stiff that I can scarcely move it,” was the pathetic response.’

At this Mr Oliver’s audience burst out laughing, in which they were heartily joined by him. As the merriment subsided one of the boys inquired, ‘ Well, was it a cassowary after all ?' 4 Oh, yes : I was right on my natural history,’ said Mr Oliver. 4 And was the worst over ?’ asked George Cummings. Philip Oliver smiled, and said, ‘I will tell you what happened, and you can draw your own conclusions.’ (To be Continued. )