The Young Acrobat of the Great North American Circus Part 14

She left the room without waiting for an answer.

Kit surveyed the overalls with amus.e.m.e.nt.

"I wonder how I should look in them," he said to himself.

He drew them over his trousers, and regarded his figure as well as he could in the little seven by nine gla.s.s that hung on the wall.

"There is Kit, the young blacksmith!" he said with a smile. "On the whole, I don't think it improves my appearance. I'll take them off, and leave them for the next boy."

"What did the boy say, mother?" asked Mr. Bickford, upon his wife's return.

"He just took 'em; he didn't say anything."

"I s'pose he's never worn overalls before," said the blacksmith. "What do you think he told me on the way over?"

"I don't know."

"He said he wasn't goin' to work for me at all. He didn't like the blacksmith's trade."

"Well, of all things!"

"I just told him he hadn't no choice in the matter, that me and his uncle had arranged matters, and that I should hold him to the contract."

"I'm afraid he'll be dainty about his vittles. He didn't eat much dinner."

"Wait till he gets to work, mother. I guess he'll have appet.i.te enough.

I mean he shall earn his board, at any rate."

"I hope we won't have no trouble with him, Aaron."

"You needn't be afraid, mother."

"Somehow, Aaron, you never did manage to keep boys very long," said Mrs.

Bickford, dubiously.

"Because their folks were weak, and allowed 'em to have their own way.

It'll be different with this boy."

"What makes you think so?"

"Because his uncle is anxious to get rid of him. He told me the boy, till lately, had imagined he was goin' to have property. He's supported him out of charity, dressin' him like a gentleman, sendin' him to school, and spendin' a pile of money on him. Now he thinks it about time to quit, and have the boy learn a trade. Of course the boy'll complain, and try to beg off, but it won't be no use. Stephen Watson won't make no account of what he says. He keeps a horse himself, and has promised to have him shod at my shop."

"Well, it may be for the best; I hope so."

Aaron Bickford felt a good deal of confidence in himself. He understood very well that Kit was averse to working in his shop, but he meant to make him do it.

"I'd like to see the boy I can't master," he said to himself, complacently. "Years hence, when the boy has a forge of his own, he'll thank me for perseverin' with him. There's money to be made in the business. Why, when I began I wasn't worth a hundred dollars, and I owed for my anvil. Now I own this house and shop, and I've got a tidy sum in the bank."

This was true. But it must be added that the result was largely due to the pinching economy which both he and his wife had practiced.

When Mr. Bickford woke up the next morning it was half-past five o'clock.

"Strange how I came to oversleep," he said. "I guess I must have been more tuckered out than I supposed. Well, the boy's had a longer nap than I meant he should. However, it's only for one mornin'."

Mr. Bickford did not linger over his toilet. Five minutes was rather an overstatement of the time.

He went to Kit's chamber, and, opening the door, went in as unceremoniously as his wife had done the night before.

A surprise awaited him.

There was no one in the bed.

"What! has the boy got up a'ready?" he asked himself, in a bewildered way. "He's better at gettin' up than I expected."

Looking about him, he discovered on a chair by the bedside the overalls, and upon them a note and a silver dollar.

"What's all that mean?" he asked himself.

Looking closer he saw that the note was directed to him. Beginning to suspect that something was wrong, he opened it.

This was what the note contained:

MR. BICKFORD--I leave you a dollar to pay for my food and lodging.

I do not care to become a blacksmith. Good by.

KIT WATSON.

"I'll have him back!" exclaimed Aaron Bickford, an angry look appearing on his face. "He ain't goin' to get the best of me."

Mr. Bickford harnessed up his horse, and started after the fugitive. But in what direction should he drive? He was not long at fault. He met a milkman who had seen two boys starting out on the Grafton road, and so informed him.

"I guess they're bound for the circus," he said.

"Like as not," returned the blacksmith.

But he had a long chase of it. It was not until he was within half a mile of the circus tents that he descried the two boys, trudging along, Kit with his valise in his hand. Hearing the sound of wheels, the boys looked back, and in some dismay recognized their pursuer.

The blacksmith stood up in his wagon, and pointing his long whip at Kit, cried out, "Stop where you are, Kit Watson, or I'll give you the worst thras.h.i.+ng you ever had!"

CHAPTER XI.

KIT FALLS INTO THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY.

If Aaron Bickford expected to frighten Kit by his threat, he was destined to find himself badly mistaken.