The Young Acrobat of the Great North American Circus Part 9

"Of course not, Mr. Bickford. He can't expect it. He's a poor boy, and will have to make his own way in the world. Beggars can't be choosers, you know."

A servant was sent to the stable to summon Kit. Ralph, who thought he should enjoy the scene, accompanied him.

Kit regarded the blacksmith with some curiosity.

"This is Mr. Aaron Bickford, of Oakford, Kit," began his uncle.

"I hope you are well, Mr. Bickford," said Kit, politely.

The blacksmith gazed at Kit with earnest scrutiny.

"Humph!" said he; "are you strong and muscular?"

"Pretty fair," answered Kit, with a smile.

"Kit," said his uncle, clearing his throat, "in your circ.u.mstances I have thought it desirable that you should learn a trade, and have spoken to Mr. Bickford about taking you as an apprentice."

"In what business?" asked Kit.

"I'm a blacksmith," said Mr. Bickford, taking it upon himself to reply, "and it's a good, healthy business as any you'd want to follow."

"I have no doubt of it," said Kit, quietly, "but I don't think I should like it all the same. Uncle Stephen, how does it happen that you have selected such a business for me?"

"I heard that Mr. Bickford needed an apprentice, and I have arranged matters with him to take you, and teach you his trade."

"Yes," put in Mr. Bickford, "I've agreed to give you your board and a dollar a week the first year. That's more than I got when I was 'prentice. My old master only paid me fifty cents a week."

Kit turned to his uncle.

"Do you think my education has fitted me for a blacksmith's trade?" he asked.

"It won't interfere," replied Mr. Watson, a little uneasily.

"Wouldn't it have been well to consult me in the matter? It seems to me I am rather interested."

"Oh, I supposed you would object, as you had been looking forward to being a gentleman, but I can't afford to keep you in idleness any longer, and so have arranged matters with Mr. Bickford."

"Suppose I object to going with him?" said Kit, calmly.

"Then I shall overrule your objections, and compel you to do what I think is for your good."

Kit's eye flashed with transient anger, but as he had no idea of acceding to his uncle's order, he did not allow himself to become unduly excited. Indeed he had a plan, which made temporary submission a matter of policy.

"What's the boy's name?" asked Aaron Bickford.

"I am generally called Kit. My right name is Christopher."

"Then, Kit, you'd better be getting your traps together, for I can't stop long away from the shop."

"I have arranged to have you go back with Mr. Bickford to-day," said Stephen Watson.

"That's rather short notice, isn't it?" Kit rejoined.

"The sooner the matter is arranged, the better!" answered his uncle.

"Very well," said Kit, with unexpected submission. "I'll go and pack up my clothes."

Mr. Watson looked relieved. He had expected to have more trouble with his nephew.

In twenty minutes Kit reappeared with his school valise. He had packed up a supply of s.h.i.+rts, socks, handkerchiefs, and underclothing.

"I am all ready," he said.

"Then we'll be going," said the blacksmith, rising with alacrity.

Kit took his place on the seat beside Mr. Bickford.

"Good-by, uncle!" he said; "it may be some time before we meet again."

"What does the boy mean?" asked Stephen Watson, turning to Ralph with a puzzled look.

"I don't know. He's been acting queer all the morning."

So Kit rode away with Aaron Bickford, but he had not the slightest intention of becoming blacksmith. Instead of blacksmith's forges, visions of a circus ring and acrobatic feats were dancing before his mind.

CHAPTER VIII.

KIT'S RIDE TO OAKFORD.

Oakford was six miles away. The blacksmith's horse was seventeen years old, and did not make very good speed. Kit was unusually busy thinking.

He had taken a decisive step; he had, in fact, made up his mind to enter upon a new life. He had not objected to going away with the blacksmith, because it gave him an excuse for packing up his clothes, and leaving the house quietly.

It may be objected that he had deceived Mr. Bickford. This was true, and the thought of it troubled him, but he hardly knew how to explain matters.

Not much conversation took place till they were within a mile of Oakford. Aaron Bickford had filled his pipe at the beginning of the journey, and he had smoked steadily ever since. At last he removed his pipe from his mouth, and put it in his pocket.

"Were you ever in Oakford?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Kit. "I know the place very well."

"How do you think you'll like livin' there?"

"I don't think I shall like it."