AN HOUR IN BICYCLELAND.

WITH AN ACCOUNT OF A PNEUMATIC CIRCUS.

BY HAYDEN CARRUTH.

II.

It was not hard to push through the crowd, because the people, when off their bicycles, didn't stand very steadily, as Kenneth soon discovered after toppling several of them over in brushing against them. All the way through the crowd they kept hearing the man talking about the wonderful horse, and warning people to keep back from the ropes, and hold on their hats when the animal snorted. Just as they got to the front of the crowd a man came round from behind with a measure of oats on the end of a long pole, and pushed it cautiously through between the bars.

Kenneth looked at the marvellous horse about which everybody was excited. He saw a round and comfortable-appearing gray pony, which looked as if it had always been employed in jogging about hitched to a basket-phaeton, carrying some mild old gentlewoman, in a white cap, and her grandchildren.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," shouted the man standing on a box beside the cage, "watch the Titantic Terror of the Jungles lash his sides with his Audacious and Caudalogical Tail as he devours his food with Ravenous and Oats-destroying Teeth! See him stamp his Adamantine Hoofs as in his Savage Imagination he tramples upon the Prostrate Form of that Victim of a thousand battles, the Hardy Hunter! See him wave his crafty, whisper-detecting Ears as he buries his Horriferous Snout in the Iron-bound Oats and grinds them to Powder with his Dreadful and Molariferous Fangs from which fly the Lurid Sparks in all directions!"

"Well," said Kenneth, "I'm sure I don't think it's quite so bad as that man seems to think."

"Hush!" answered his companion; "the horse might hear you. I'm pretty sure I saw one spark. And of course you don't expect things in a circus to be just as they say they are."

"I suppose not," admitted Kenneth; "but it does seem to me they might have got a horse a little bigger."

"Bigger?" replied the other. "Why, he's twice as high as a bicycle!"

"Oh yes, I suppose he'll do pretty well. But I don't believe he's stamping his feet because he wishes he had the hardy hunter under them. I think he's doing it to scare away the flies."

"Flies!"' exclaimed the young man, scornfully. "Do you think as large an animal as that would be afraid of anything as small as a fly?"

"Well, it doesn't seem so," said Kenneth.

"Though, to be sure," went on the other, thoughtfully, "a tack is small, but how a bicycle will shy around one when it sees it! But we mustn't stand here any longer. I want to get into the other tent, and see Señor Chinchilla, the celebrated bare back-rider."

"Then they have more horses, do they?" asked Kenneth.

"It's so hard for you to learn," answered his companion. "Of course not! The Señor rides a bicycle."

By this time they were in their seats and looking down at the big ring, which was much larger than the ordinary circus ring. There were pneumatic cushions to sit on and to lean against. There was a brass band at one side of the tent which seemed louder than any brass band which Kenneth had ever heard before. He noticed that the musicians did not put the horns and other brass instruments to their lips, but that they held big rubber bags in their laps, to which they were attached. He asked his companion about it.

"Pneumatic bags. Full of compressed air. Blows the horns. Saves wear on lips," he answered, shortly. He was becoming much excited about the coming performance.

Soon the band began to play louder than ever, the curtains at one side of the tent parted, and the grand parade slowly filed in. The audience broke into such a hand-clapping that Kenneth was obliged to hold his own hands over his ears. It was like a dozen Fourth of July's. He looked around to find the cause, and saw that everybody was wearing gloves with big fat puffy palms, which they were clapping together as hard as they possibly could.

"What are they?" he asked of the young man, who also had on the funny gloves, and was clapping away harder than anybody else.

"Pneumatic! pneumatic!" he shouted, and kept on clapping.

In the ring the performers were all mounted on bicycles, which were slowly bearing them around, two abreast. The wheels were painted all colors, and the riders wore fancy and bright costumes. The band had also mounted bicycles, and went round with the rest, playing as hard as ever. The young man pointed out Señor Chinchilla and all of the noted performers, and Kenneth could hear him above the uproar quoting more from the bills. At the end of the procession was the clown, almost as round as a ball, riding a wheelbarrow instead of a bicycle, but which seemed to be trained to go nearly as well as the bicycles. Kenneth had seen clowns wearing clothes all padded out before, but never one so round and ball-like as this one; but his companion was laughing so at the clown that it was a long time before he could explain, and then all that Kenneth could catch was "pneumatic suit."

"Can't he walk?" asked Kenneth.

"Oh no," chuckled the young man. "He's too round. He just rolls everywhere he wants to go. Did you ever see anything so funny?"

"Well, I don't know," answered Kenneth; "I guess the horse was 'most as funny."

The young man looked hurt. "Well, I guess," he said, "that if that horse took you in his jaws once and bounded away into the Trackless Jungle, where the Baffled and Vociferous Cries of the—that is, I mean you wouldn't think him so funny."

"What are they going to do next?" asked Kenneth.

"Ground and lofty tumbling," said his companion. "See the big pneumatic mattress."

Half a dozen men came in and began turning all sorts of handsprings and summersaults on this, always bounding up very high. The clown kept getting in the way and rolling about, and sometimes the performers would bound on him. Suddenly two of the men seized him and threw him on the cushion, and he bounded up so high that he struck the top of the tent, and everybody roared again.

"Suppose he should come down on a tack?" suggested Kenneth.

"My, I wish he would!" laughed the other. "Wouldn't it be fun? He'd look just like a burst balloon."

There was a great deal more performing of various kinds, with the clown rolling about in the way all the time. Once when two strong men were tossing cannon-balls and lifting heavy weights, the clown bothered so much that they took him and played football with him, kicking him back and forth across the ring and having fine sport. There was also a grand race of the trained pneumatic kangaroos. They played leap-frog and did some high jumping, and were almost as funny as the clown. Suddenly Kenneth's companion exclaimed:

"Señor Chinchilla comes next. Now look out!"

The Señor came rolling in, sitting gracefully on his bicycle, Sir Sky-Rocket, all dressed in red and green. He dismounted, made a fine bow, and stood fanning himself while the ring-master made a little speech full of words which caused Kenneth's companion to open his eyes and mouth in astonishment. Another man took the saddle and handle-bar off the bicycle, and then the Señor bounded lightly on to the top of the frame, where he stood easily as the ring-master cracked his whip and the bicycle shot away around the ring. The clown was so impressed that he rolled away and disappeared. The band played, and the young man became so excited that Kenneth was sure he would tumble out of his seat, and so took hold of his arm.

"The Ten-Thousand-Dollar Challenge Bareback Bicycle-Rider of the World!" he exclaimed. "Without the aid of Saddle, Padding or Trappings, he boldly performs feats upon the Rearing and Plunging Wheel which Startle while they Enchant, and cause the Chilled Blood to stand still within the Frightened Vein, while they hold the Enraptured Gaze with the Marvellous Efflorescence of their Rich Ambiguity. That's what the man said, and I believe he's going to do it!"

"He does ride well," said Kenneth, watching the performance with great interest. Round and round went the Señor, leaping over banners and through hoops, but always alighting on his bicycle without mishap. He also turned summersaults, stood on his head, danced, and otherwise showed his skill. Then the band played faster, and the ring-master cracked his whip louder, and the bicycle also danced and cavorted first on one wheel, then on the other; and then it leaped over hurdles and finally through a big hoop, with the Señor still on its back. Then it went around the ring a dozen times, so fast that it could hardly be seen, with the Señor doing everything at once so fast that he could hardly be seen. Then they shot away behind the curtains, and everybody cheered harder than ever before, and the young man actually did fall out of his seat at last, and Kenneth had to drag him back, though it was scarcely necessary, as the performance was over, and they went out with the crowd.

Outside they found their wheels, and got on them and rode away along the road they had come, with the young man trying to do half the things he had seen the Señor do, and talking about the wonderful horse. Everybody was excited, and Kenneth's bicycle seemed to catch the excitement and began to run away. He did his best to hold it, but it kept going faster and faster. The young man tried to keep up, but he couldn't. The last thing Kenneth heard was his voice shouting something from the bills; then all he could feel was the rush of the wind as he shot along the road like an arrow from a bow. But suddenly he stopped with a great bump, and the next thing he knew he found himself lying on the grass under a tree.

"Well did you have a good ride on your new bicycle?" asked Kenneth's father. (They were at supper.)

"Oh yes!" answered Kenneth.

"Did you see anything new?" went on his father.

"Well, I don't know, or—no, I guess not much. I was reading circus posters on a big fence while I was going out, and I got pretty tired, and lay down under a tree to rest, and I think perhaps I may have fallen asleep a few minutes, and—and—had a little nap."

"I'm glad you didn't catch cold," said his mother. "You oughtn't to sleep on the ground."