by Enid Blyton
The children roared with laughter at him. ‘He’s as good as any clown!’ said Dick. ‘Jeremy, does he do this cricket act every night when the circus is open?’
‘Oh yes - and sometimes he hits the ball into the audience,’ said Jeremy. ‘There’s great excitement then. Sometimes, for a treat, we let one of the boys in the audience come down and bowl to Charlie. One bowled him right out once, and Charlie was so cross that he chased him all round the ring three times - just as he chased me just now. The boy didn’t like it much!’
Charlie came up to Jeremy, and put his great arms round him, trying to swing him off the ground.
‘Stop that, Charlie,’ said Jeremy, wriggling free. ‘Look out - here comes the Dancing Donkey! Better get out of the ring - goodness knows what antics he’ll be up to!’
In came the Dancing Donkey. He was dark grey, and tossed his head as he came galloping in. He stood and looked round at everyone. Then he sat down, lifted up a leg and scratched his nose. The children stared in astonishment. They had never in their lives seen a donkey do that before! Then, when the band suddenly began to play, the donkey stood up and listened, flapping his ears first one way and then another, and nodding his head in time to the music.
The band changed its tune to a march. The donkey listened again, and then began to march round the ring in perfect time - clip-clop-clip-clop-clip-clop. Then it apparently felt tired, and sat down heavily on its back legs. The children couldn’t help laughing. The donkey got up, and somehow its back legs became entangled with its front ones, and it fell down, looking most ridiculous.
‘Has it hurt itself?’ asked Anne, anxiously. ‘Oh dear - it will break one of its legs if it goes on like this. Look, it can’t untangle them, Jeremy.’
The donkey gave a mournful bray, tried to get up, and flopped down again. The band changed its tune, and the donkey leapt up at once, and began to do a kind of tap-dance - clickety-click, clickety-click, clickety-click - it was marvellous!
‘I shouldn’t have thought that a donkey could possibly have been taught to tap-dance,’ said George.
Soon the donkey seemed to feel tired again. It stopped dancing, but the band still went on playing. The donkey ran towards it and stamped its foot.
A weird voice suddenly came from it. ‘Too fast! TOO FAST!’ But the band took no notice and went on playing. The donkey bent down, wriggled hard - and its head fell off on to the grass in the ring! Anne gave a shriek of fright.
‘Don’t be an ass, Anne,’ said Dick. ‘You didn’t think the donkey was a real one, did you?’
‘Isn’t it?’ said Anne, relieved. ‘It looks just like that donkey that used to give rides to children on Kirrin beach.’
The donkey now split in half, and a small man climbed out of each half, taking their legs carefully out of the donkey’s legs. The donkey-skin fell to the ground, and lay there, flat and collapsed.
‘Wish I had a donkey-skin like that,’ said Tinker. ‘I’ve got a friend at school who could be the back legs and I’d be the front legs. The things we’d do!’
‘Well, I must say you’d make a first-class donkey, the way you behave sometimes,’ said George. ‘Look, this must be Dead-Shot Dick coming on.’
But before Dead-Shot Dick could do any of his shooting tricks, the two donkey-men had run to the band and begun a loud argument with them.
‘Why play so fast? You know we can’t do our tricks at top speed. Are you trying to mess up our turn?’
The band leader shouted something back. It must have been rude, because one of the donkey-men shook his fist and began to run towards the band.
A loud voice crashed in on the argument, and made everyone jump. It was Mr Tapper, old Grandad, giving his orders in an enormous voice.
‘ENOUGH! You, Pat, and you, Jim, get out of the ring. I give the orders, not you. ENOUGH, I SAY!’
The two donkey-men glared at him, but did not dare to say a word more. They stalked out of the ring, taking the donkey-skin with them.
Dead-Shot Dick looked very ordinary, dressed in a rather untidy flannel suit. ‘He’s not going to go all through his act,’ said Jeremy. ‘You’ll see him another night, when the show’s on for the public - he shoots at all kinds of things - even a sixpenny bit dangling on a long string from the roof - and never misses! He’s got a smashing rig-out too - sequins sewn all over his trousers and jersey - and his little horse is a wonder - goes round and round the ring and never turns a hair when Dead-Shot Dick fires his gun! Look - there he is, peeping in to see if Dick’s coming back to him.’
A small white horse was looking anxiously at the ring, its eyes fixed on Dead-Shot Dick. It pawed the ground as if to say, ‘Buck up! I’m waiting for you! Am I to come on or not?’
‘All right, Dick - you can go off now,’ shouted Grandad. ‘I hear your horse has hurt a foot - give him a good rest tonight. We’ll want him on tomorrow.’
‘Right, sir!’ said Dead-Shot Dick. He saluted smartly, and ran off to his little horse.
‘What’s next, Jeremy?’ asked George, who was enjoying everything very much.
‘Don’t know. Let’s see - there’s the acrobats - but the trapeze-swings aren’t put up yet, so they won’t come on tonight. And there’s the Boneless Man - look, there he is. Good old Boney! I like him. He’s free with his money, he is, not like some of the other folk!’
The Boneless Man looked very peculiar. He was remarkably thin, and remarkably tall. He walked in, looking quite extraordinary. ‘He can’t be boneless!’ said Dick. ‘He couldn’t walk if he was!’
But the Boneless Man soon began to seem absolutely boneless. His legs gave way at the knees, and his ankles turned over so that he sank down to the ground, unable to walk. He could bend his arms all kinds of different ways, and turned his head almost completely round on his neck. He did a few peculiar things with his apparently boneless body, and finally wriggled along the ground exactly like a snake!
‘He’ll be dressed in a sort of snake-skin when he does his act properly,’ said Jeremy. ‘Queer, isn’t he?’
‘How on earth does he do it?’ wondered Julian, amazed. ‘He bends his arms and legs all the wrong ways! Mine would break if I did that!’
‘Oh, it’s easy for him!’ said Jeremy. ‘It’s just that he’s completely double-jointed - he can bend his arms both ways, and his legs both ways, and make them seem so loose that it looks as if he really is boneless. He’s a nice chap. You’d like him.’
Anne felt a bit doubtful. What queer people made up a circus! It was a world of its own. She jumped suddenly as there came the sound of a trumpet blowing loudly.
‘That’s for supper,’ said Jeremy gleefully. ‘Come on - let’s go to old Grandma and her pot! Buck up, all of you!’
Chapter Ten
ROUND THE CAMPFIRE
Jeremy led the way out of the circus-ring. It had been well-lighted, and the night seemed very dark outside the ring. They went over the field to where a large fire was burning, cleverly set about with stones. An enormous cooking-pot was hung over it, and a very, very nice smell came to their noses as they went near.
Old Grandma was there, of course, and she began stirring the pot when she saw them. ‘You’ve been a long time in the ring,’ she grumbled to Grandad. ‘Anything gone wrong?’
‘No,’ said Grandad, and sniffed the air. ‘I’m hungry. That smells good. Jeremy, help your Grandma.’
‘Yes, Grandad,’ said Jeremy, and took a pile of plates to the old lady, who at once began ladling out pieces of meat and potatoes and vegetables from the steaming pot. Old Grandad turned to Julian.
‘Well - did you like our little rehearsal?’ he asked.
‘Oh yes!’ said Julian. ‘I’m only sorry you didn’t rehearse all the turns. I badly wanted to see the acrobats and the clowns. Are they here? I can’t see them.’
‘Oh yes - there’s one clown over there - look - with Madelon, who had the horses,’ said Grandad. The children looked - and were very disappointed. ‘Is he a clown?’ said Di
ck, disbelievingly. ‘He doesn’t look a bit funny. He looks miserable.’
‘That’s Monty all right,’ said Grandad. ‘He always looks like that out of the ring. He’ll make you double up with laughter when the circus is on, he’s a born clown - but a lot of clowns are like Monty when they’re not performing - not much to say for themselves, and looking miserable. Winks is a bit livelier - that’s him, pulling Madelon’s hair. He’ll get a smacked face in a minute, he’s a real tease. There - I knew he’d get a clip on the ear!’
Winks went howling over to the children, boo-hooing most realistically. ‘She smacked me!’ he said. ‘And she’s got such p-p-p-pretty hair!’
The children couldn’t help laughing. Mischief ran to the clown, jumped up on his shoulder and chattered comforting monkey-words into his ear. Charlie the Chimp let himself out of his cage, and came to put his great paw into Winks’s hand. They both thought that Winks really was hurt.
‘That’s enough, Winks,’ said Grandad. ‘You’ll have the horses comforting you next! You do that in the ring tomorrow when we open, and you’ll bring the house down. Sit down, and have your supper.’
‘Mr Tapper,’ said Julian. ‘There’s one member of your circus we didn’t see at the rehearsal - and that’s Mr Wooh, the Wonder Magician. Why wasn’t he there?’
‘Oh, he never rehearses,’ said Mr Tapper. ‘He keeps himself to himself, does Mr Wooh. He may come and join us for supper, and he may not. As we’re opening the circus tomorrow night, maybe he’ll turn up tonight. I’m a bit scared of him, to tell you the truth.’
‘But he’s not a real wizard, is he?’ asked Tinker.
‘Well, when I talk to Mr Wooh I feel as if he is,’ said Mr Tapper. ‘There isn’t a thing he doesn’t know about figures, there isn’t a thing he can’t do with them. Ask him to multiply any number by any other number, running into dozens of figures, and he’ll tell you in a second. He shouldn’t be in a circus. He should be an inventor of some sort - an inventor whose invention needs pages and pages of figures. He’d be happy then.’
‘He sounds a bit like my father,’ said Tinker. ‘He’s an inventor, you know, and sometimes when I creep into his study I see papers FULL of millions of tiny figures and plans and diagrams with tiny figures all over them too.’
‘Very interesting,’ said Grandad. ‘Your father and Mr Wooh ought to meet. They would probably talk figures all day long! My word - what’s that you’re handing round, young lady?’
‘Some of the food we brought,’ said Anne. ‘Have a sausage or two, Mr Tapper - and a roll - and a tomato.’
‘Well, thanks,’ said Mr Tapper, pleased. ‘Very kind of you. Nice to have met you all. You might be able to teach Jeremy a few manners!’
‘Grandad - here’s Mr Wooh!’ said Jeremy, suddenly, and got up. Everyone turned round. So this was Mr Wooh the Wonder Magician. Well, he certainly looked the part.
He stood there, with a half-smile on his face, tall, commanding and handsome. His hair was thick, and black as soot, his eyes gleamed in the fire-light, half hidden by great eye-brows, and he wore a thin, pointed beard. He had a curiously deep voice, and spoke like a foreigner.
‘So we have visitors this night?’ he said, and showed a row of gleaming white teeth in a quick smile. ‘May I join you?’
‘Oh do, Mr Wooh,’ said Anne, delighted to have the chance of talking to a Wonder Magician. ‘We’ve brought plenty of food. Do you like cold sausage - and tomato - and a roll?’
‘Most deelicious!’ said the magician, and sat down cross-legged to join the group.
‘We were disappointed not to see you at the rehearsal,’ said Dick. ‘I’d have liked to hear you doing all kinds of wizard sums in your head, as quick as lightning!’
‘My father can do that too,’ said Tinker proudly. ‘He’s a wizard at figures as well. He’s an inventor.’
‘Ha! An inventor? And what does he invent?’ asked Mr Wooh, eating his roll.
That was enough to set Tinker describing at once how wonderful his father was. ‘He can invent anything he’s asked for,’ said the boy, proudly. ‘He invented a wonderful thing for keeping aeroplanes dead straight in the right direction - better than any idea before. He invented the sko-wheel, if you know what that is - and the electric trosymon, if you’ve ever heard of that. I don’t suppose you have, though. They’re too...’
‘Wait, boy!’ said Mr Wooh, sounding most interested. ‘These things I have heard of, yes. I do not know them, but I have certainly heard of them. Your father must be a very, very clever man, with a most unusual brain.’
Tinker swelled with pride. ‘Something got into the papers about his inventions a little while ago,’ he said, ‘and reporters came down to see Dad, and his name was in the papers - but Dad was awfully cross about it. You see, he’s in the middle of the biggest idea he’s ever thought of and it messed up his work to have people coming to interview him - some of them even peered through the window, and went to see his wonderful tower, with its...’
‘Tower? He has a tower?’ said Mr Wooh, full of surprise. Before Tinker could answer, he received a hard poke from Julian’s finger. He turned crossly, to see Julian frowning fiercely at him. So was George. He went suddenly red in the face. Of course - he had been told never to talk about his father’s work. It was secret work, very secret.
He pretended to choke over a piece of meat, hoping that Julian would take the chance of changing the subject - and Julian did, of' course!
‘Mr Wooh, could you do a bit of magic reckoning with figures?’ he asked. ‘I’ve heard that you can give the answers to any sum as quick as lightning.’
‘That is true,’ said Mr Wooh. ‘There is nothing that I cannot do with figures. Ask me anything you like, and I will give you the answer at once!’
‘Well, Mr Wooh, answer this then,’ cried Tinker. ‘Multiply sixty-three thousand, three hundred and forty-two by eighty thousand, nine hundred and fifty-three! Ha - you can’t do that in a hurry!’
‘The answer is, in figures, 5127724926,’ said Mr Wooh at once, with a slight bow. ‘That is an easy question, my boy.’
‘Crumbs!’ said Tinker, astounded. He turned to Julian. ‘Is that right, Ju?’
Julian worked out the sum on paper. ‘Yes. Absolutely correct. Whew!’ he said. ‘You said that as quick as lightning!’
‘Let me give him a sum to do!’ cried George. ‘What
do you get if you multiply 602491 by 352, Mr Magician?’
‘I get the figures 2-1-2-0-7-6-8-3-2,’ said Mr Wooh, immediately. And once more Julian worked out the sum on paper. He raised his head and grinned. ‘Yes - correct. How do you do it so quickly?’
‘Magic - just a little elementary magic!’ answered Mr Wooh. ‘Try it sometime yourself. I am sure that this boy’s father would be as quick as I am!’ He looked at Tinker. ‘I should much like to meet your clever father, my boy,’ he said in his deep, foreign-sounding voice. ‘We would have much, so much to talk about. I have heard about his wonderful tower. A monument to his genius! Ah, you see, even we foreigners know of your father’s great work. Surely he is afraid of having his secrets stolen?’
‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ said Tinker. ‘The tower is a pretty good hiding-place, and...’ He stopped suddenly, and went red again as he received an even harder kick from Julian. How could he be such an ass as to give away the fact that his father’s secret plans and models were hidden in the tower?
Julian thought it was time to take Tinker firmly away from Mr Wooh and give him a good lecture on keeping his mouth shut. He looked at his watch, and pretended to be horrified at the time. ‘Good gracious-do you know what the time is? Jenny will be ringing up the police if we don’t get back straight away. Come on, Tinker, and you others, we must go. Thanks most awfully, Grandad, for letting us share your supper.’
‘But we haven’t yet finished!’ said Grandad. ‘You haven’t had enough to eat.’
‘We really couldn’t eat any more,’ said Dick, following Julian’s determin
ed lead. ‘See you tomorrow, Grandad. Good night, Grandma. Thanks very much indeed.’
‘We’ve still got bananas and apples to eat,’ said Tinker, feeling obstinate.
‘Oh, we brought those for Charlie the Chimp,’ said Dick, not quite truthfully. He could have boxed Tinker’s ears! Silly little fathead, couldn’t he realise that Julian wanted to get him away from this cunning Mr Wooh? Wait till he got Tinker by himself!
Tinker found himself hustled on all sides, and felt a bit scared. Julian sounded rather fierce, he thought. Old Grandad was most astonished at the sudden departure of his guests - but Charlie the Chimp didn’t mind! The guests had left behind a most generous supply of fruit!
Over the fence they all went, with Julian hustling Tinker in front of him. Once over the fence and out of Mr Wooh’s hearing, Julian and George rounded on the boy angrily.
‘Are you mad, Tinker?’ demanded Julian. ‘Didn’t you guess that that foreign fellow was trying to pump you about your father’s hush-hush job?’
‘He wasn’t,’ said Tinker, almost in tears. ‘You’re just exaggerating!’
‘Well, I hope I never try to give away my father’s secret work!’ said George, in a tone of such disgust that Tinker could have howled.
‘I wasn’t trying to!’ he said. ‘Mr Wooh’s all right. Why should you think he isn’t?’
‘I don’t like him and I don’t trust him,’ said Julian, sounding suddenly very grown up. ‘But there you sat lapping up everything he said, ready to pour out all he wanted to know. I’m ashamed of you. You’d get a jolly good thrashing if your father had heard you. I only hope you haven’t already said too much. You know how angry your father was when a report of his latest ideas got into the papers, and swarms of people came prying round the house...’