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The Rose in the Ring

The Rose in the Ring

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Chapter 1 THE FUGITIVE

Word Count: 5062    |    Released on: 29/11/2017

all of them drenched to the skin by the chill rain that swirled through the Gap, down into the night-

eir left, Stygian forests above and to their right. Ahead, the far-distant will-o-the-wisp flicker of many lights, blinking in the

lling lantern that sent its feeble rays no farther ahead than a dozen paces; it served best to r

had traversed almost impassable roads, unwavering persistence in command of their strength, heavy stoicism their burden. Few were the words that had passed between them during all those weary miles. An occ

p, their throats were muffled, and the broad rims of their rain-soaked hats were far down over the eyes. There wa

ought of progress by rail, for the night, at least. Rigid necessity compelled them to proceed in the face of the direst hardships. Their mission was one which could not be stayed so long as they possessed legs and stout hearts. Checked by the misfortune at the bridge, there was nothing left for them but to make the best of

ns and pleasant byways, from the tidewater country. He was the leader on this ugly night, and yet they were the masters; they followed, but he led at their bidding. They had known him for less than six hours, and yet they put their lives in his

hope in his breast. The tall man paused; the others came up beside him. He

was all t

anded the othe

fo'h

et any

s,

ke it by n

s,

ving along. It's h

s,

a deadly war not more than ten years prior to the opening of this tale had left this part of fair Virginia gasping for breath, yet too proud to cry for help. Virginia, the richest

ching out its hands to clasp Opportunity and Prosperity as those fickle commodities rebounded from the vain-glorious North; the smile was creeping back into the haggard face of the Southland; the dollars were jingling now because they were no longer lonely. The bitterness of life was not so bitter; an ancient sweetness was provi

rt of S-. The wayfarers looked at each other in the darkness and listened

murmured one of

guide, a sudden eagerness in his voice. "

gruffly. "Then the whole town is full o

ement's highest, ain't he? He's not too old for that. We'll f

emember jest when, an' they was some talk of Barnum las' yeah, they say, but he done pass us by. He's got a Holy Beheemoth that sweats blood thi

on. I'm wet clear thr

heir sullen eyes set on the lights ahead. Heavy feet, dragging like hundredweights, carried them over the last weary mile. Into the outskirts of the litt

were inside the tents beyond, or loitering near the sidewalls with singular disregard for the drizzling rain that sifted down upon their unmindful backs or blew softly into the faces of the few who enjoyed the luxury of "umberells." Despite the apparent solitude that kept pace with them down the narrow street,-little

s the main entrance of the animal tent, presided over by uniformed ticket takers. Here and there, in the gloomy background, stood the canvas and pole wagons, shining in their wetness against the feeble light that oozed through the opening between the sidewall and the edge of the flapping main top, or glistening with sudden brightness in response to the passing lantern or torch in the hand of a rubber-coated minion who "belonged to the circus,"-a vast honor, no matter how lowly his position may have been. Costume and baggage wagons, their white and gold glory swallowed up in the maw of the n

paniment to the laughter and the shouts of the delighted multitude sitting in the blue-boarded tie

g lights, the smell of animals and the smell of the canvas top! The smell of the damp handbills, the

poles" and its row of "quarters"; cold, dreary and sordid outside in

sappeared, and with it the sideshow and its banners, the Punch and Judy show, the horse tent, the cook tent, the blacksmith shop. Where once stood a dripping white city, now stretches a barren, ugly waste of unhallowed, unfamiliar ground, flanked by the solitary temple of tinsel and sawdust which they have just left behind, and which even now is being desolated by scowling men in overalls. The crowd oozes

apart from the lank, wide-eyed g

right and I'll take the other way round. We'll meet here. Keep your eye peeled. He may be hi

urned to

is is as far as we go. Here is your pay. If

good night" to his employers, and the lean mountaineer strolled over to the ticket wagon. He p

rcus men to suspect that they were searching for one among them. In the good old days of the road circus there were th

companion were man-hunters goes without saying, but that the person for whom they searched should be a hu

send its thin mist into this canvas cranny. Not so dark as he may have desired, if one were to judge by the expression in his feverish eyes as he peered back at the darkness out of which he had slunk, but so cramped in shadow that only the eye of a ferret could have distinguishe

e it glimmered invitingly under the bottom of the canvas. He knew that his tenancy must end in an hour or two: the big top would be leveled to the ground, rolled up and spirited away into the stretches that lay between this city and the next one, twenty mile

hills, he had heard them, he had seen them. Off in other parts of the country men were looking for him. In the cities

d stopped to rest, and he could hear their conversation plainly. With all the wiliness of a hunted t

ourage. Something told him that he must beat them by many miles into the town of S--. Once, when he was much younger, he had gone to S-- with his grandfather to see the soldi

y the crude sign-boards which pointed the way and told the distance to S--. Night fell, but he ran on, stumbling and faint with dread, tears rolling down his thin cheeks, sobs in his throat. Darkness hid the s

it was S--. Tortured by the vast oppressiveness of the solitude which lay behind him, peopled by a thousand ghosts whose persistent footsteps had haunted him through ev

of the most tortuous of roads. A subconscious triumph now inspired him, born of the certainty that he had left his enemies far behind. It was this oddly jubilant spur that drove him safely, almost instinctively, into the heart of S--. The music of a band both attracted and bewildered him. It was some time before he could grasp the fact that a cir

train, to secrete himself in one of the freight cars. The sudden, overpowering pangs of hunger drove this plan from his mind, combined with the discovery that no tra

e circus lot. For a long time he stood afar off in the darkness, his legs trembling, his mouth twitching, his eyes bent with pathetic intentnes

ange curiosity, he ventured into the circle of light, knowing full well, before he was near enough to

victim, the lad stared at the face of this ominous thing that proclaimed

m. He slunk back into the shadows, his hunger forgotten. For many minutes he stood in the grisly darkness, staring at the white patch on the fe

ection and boldly enter the charmed pavilion took possession of him. First, he would buy of the pieman's wares; then he would calmly present himself before the ticket wagon window, after which-But he got no farther in his dream of audacity. The placard on

s. For a while he dully watched them. They passed on. He crept from his place of hiding and, attracted by t

nces; the champing and snorting of horses in the dressing-tent died away as if by magic; the subdued voices of the men and women who waited their turn to bound into the merry ring faded into indistingu

ion of the dressing-tent, caught sight of an arm and hand lying limp under the edge of the canvas. He stared hard for a moment and then, attracted

ved the clown,

spoke. "How long and fine the fingers are. A boy'

that the fugit

ent over the form of the lad, peeri

runk," he s

d so muddy. Is he asleep? It isn't-it isn't s

plain pegged out, ma'am. Like enough 'e's some poor fool as wants to join the circus. Run away from 'ome, I daresay. We've 'ad lots of 'em follow us up lately, you know.

him to come inside the tent. Poor boy, he's half drowned. Come, de

ze fastened upon the face of the sleeper. The mother drew the child aside, an arm

ntured the mother. "Your father says the pick

hief-I'm sure of it,"

d have told at a glance that underneath the thick layer of powder and paint there was a soft, white skin; even the rough, careless application of harmless cosmetics could not, in any sense, deceive one as to the delicacy of her features. The mouth, red with the carmine grease, was gentle, even tremulous; her nose, though stre

cted by the ungainly ground shoes of the circus performer, peeped from beneath the hem of

es narrowed by interest in the stra

es, but strong and resolute in the power to meet them without flinching. This woman, you could see at a glance, was not born to the circus and its hardships; she came of another world. Tall and slender and proud she was, endowed with the poise of a thorough gentlewoman. Hers was a fine, brilliant face, crowned by dark hair t

He was sitting up, leaning forward on his hands, his ey

wn, shaking him by the shoulder.

ng grip on his arm. He felt himself being dragged into the stuffy, mysterious vestibule of the tent, into plain view of a

at ran up in tall triangles to meet a still chalkier pate-this figure with the red and black crescents on

cl

n atmosphere that is never to be found outside the low walls of a dressing-tent. He experienced a sudden feeling of suffocation. The whole world

pparent confusion here, there and everywhere. Somehow, as he stared, this conglomerate mass of unfamiliar things seemed to creep away into the black sh

him in his arms as he slip

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