  “Allus was bound to grab right in, That was the cut of old Seth Blinn. Finger was stuck in ev’ry pie Or else he’d know the reason why; But when he quit how people swore, For things was wuss’n they was before.” —Ballads of “Queer Capers.” By Judas,” remarked Hiram, admiringly, to Peak for the tenth time since they had observed the astonishing contretemps in the road, “I’m proud of that brother of mine. I didn’t know ’twas in him. I was afraid he was only lawyer and nothin’ else.” He relighted his cigar. “I’ve got to own up to you, Sime, that we wasn’t gettin’ along together the best that ever was. I thought he had got soaked with too many sissy notions, and there’s nothin’ that makes a circus man so sick as sissy notions. You know that! But I tell you, Sime, if he can do a job like that and only holds out now as he’s commenced, him and me is goin’ to get along fine after this.” “He seemed to be feelin’ awful bad when he went into the house,” remarked Peak, solicitously. “I didn’t notice it,” cried Hiram; “well, if that’s the case, he’s got to be chirked up. I don’t want him to lose any of his grip.” And he hurried around the corner and entered the kitchen. “What’s the matter, Phin?” he cried, bluffly. “There’s something on and you might as well out with it. It’s the Looks together against the world—and you know what the family is!” “Enough of that, Hiram!” roared the Squire, thumping the table at which he sat deep in thought, as his brother came in. Dishes fell off and were smashed on the floor. He kicked the fragments impatiently. “The Looks are rowdies, plug-uglies and street brawlers, and we ought to be ashamed to lift our heads in the presence of decency and refinement. The trouble with you is, you’re too much of a fool to know that you’re cheap—that we’re all cheap. That’s the word—cheap!” But Hiram’s good nature was not to be disturbed that morning. “You’re one of the good old breed, even if you are chewed up just this minute,” he replied cheerfully. “And whatever’s goin’ on now I’m goin’ to be in it, Phin, and you can’t shake me. I’m your brother and you can’t cut me out. Now, what is it?” It was not to be resisted, this frank and honest anxiety to be of use, and the Squire was sorely in need of counsel and aid. With a glance at the Mayo youth; who was rubbing listlessly away at a saucepan, his misty and unseeing gaze fixed on the far hills framed in the kitchen windows, the lawyer drew his brother out of the room into the yard. “What’s the matter with your friend, Phin?” inquired the showman. “He acts like a wax figger with clock-work in him.” The lawyer explained rapidly. “You ain’t goin’ to stop her, be ye?” asked Hiram when he had listened. “I’m not goin’ to let that hound break up that little family,” insisted the Squire. “Look at that poor, heart-broken boy in that kitchen and then tell me if he is to be robbed in such a fashion.” “Oh, he’ll beller like a new-weaned calf for a day or so,” said Hiram, calmly. “But he’ll get over it and be better off, like the rest of us,” he added with bitterness. “I’ll go and tell him a few things and show up what women are in this world and give him a couple horns of whisky and in an hour I’ll have him singin’ ‘Glory, hallelujah,’ and glad she’s gone.” He started away briskly, but the lawyer pulled him back roughly. “One member of our family has tried an experiment on that poor devil and it has half-killed him. Now don’t you go in there and finish the job. You’re not an expert on heart matters, Hime.” “Well, I’ll fetch her back, then,” cried Hiram, unabashed. “You can have anything you want. It’s only to say the word.” The Squire looked at him. “Bodfish won’t land her this side of the railroad at Square Harbour, of course?” asked Hiram. “Bodfish isn’t a deep knave,” said the lawyer. “He simply got away early to avoid observation at this end. He will land her there probably for the one-o’clock train, west.” “Simple matter, then. Telephone the police to arrest her and lock her up till we come.” “And have the scandal and gossip and disgrace spread from here to Hackenny, and the Oracle and people’s mouths full of it! That would be saving the reputation of the Mayo family with a vengeance, Hiram.” The showman took off his tall hat and fondled the bare spot on his head. “Oh, it’s got to be a fly-by-night, come-back-by-dark job, eh?” he observed. “Disappearin’ lady trick! Touch the button and she’s gone. Touch the button and back she comes. You only think she’s gone and she ain’t been gone at all! A very pretty little trick—-and thank you kindly for your attention, ladies and gents, one and all!” “It isn’t any time to joke, Hiram,” complained the Squire. “I must ride across country and get that girl. The old mare can’t do it. Will you lend me one of your horses?” “No.” The showman turned a quizzical gaze into his brother’s pained and puzzled eyes. “Now you think I’m a hog, don’t you, Phin? But I ain’t. I’m your brother Hime, gruff and tough, but always ready in a time of trouble when the famly’s concerned. Now you just stay here and keep your wax figger in there from falling down and bustin’ in two and lettin’ all that’s inside him run out. You understand! You want the celebrated invisible lady trick worked at Square Harbour, eh? Then you for your job and me for mine! There are some things that you can’t tell me how to do.” He trotted clumsily around the corner and entered into earnest conversation with Peak on the piazza. Both men hurried to the barn. Squire Phin gazed after them with some anxiety. He had often had good reason to doubt Hiram’s tact. He dreaded to have that hot-headed individual start on a mission where so much finesse was required. And yet he hesitated about undertaking the task himself and leaving the blundering and irresponsible husband to stir up the village, as he certainly would do if left to his own devices. The youth was at the sink, still rubbing the same saucepan. “He might stand there till night unless some one poked him,” mused the Squire. “I must take chances that Hime can manage him while I’m gone. I can’t let anyone else do the job at the other end. It needs——” He had been pondering the matter longer than he had realised. The tumult of gruff shoutings in the barn and in the rear, where the circus equipment was stored, in its new building, had been increasing. Now around the corner of the barn, with clank of whiffle-tree and jingle of harness and ruck-te-chuck of axle boxes, came one of the vans, smart in new paint and varnish. Four horses were drawing it. Across the yard they came on the trot. Hiram and his friend loomed on the box, and their plug hats loomed above them. “She’ll come back invisible, Phin,” called Hiram, swirling his whip above his head to uncoil the lash. “You’re not going after that girl in any such outlandish fashion,” roared the Squire, running from the door-stoop. “Don’t bother us,” shouted Hiram, and he cracked the lash over the heads of the rearing leaders. “We’ve got less than four hours to make twenty-five miles and there ain’t time for conversation. You for your job, me for mine.” The Squire was obliged to leap back out of the way of the plunging horses. But he ran after the van as it roared down into the road, yelling appeal and protest. “We’ll fix it,” Hiram shrieked over his shoulder as the horses began to gallop. The Squire stopped in the middle of the road, shaking his fists after the turn-out as it went around the bend at the alders in a cloud of dust. “Fix it, you damnable fool!” he gasped in his impotent rage. “You’ll fix it forever. Of all the infernal idiots in the way of a brother that a man ever had! Roaring through Square Harbour with a circus cart and four horses! Oh! Oh!” In his fury—the Look fury of which he was so ashamed—he kicked a stone out of the soil, picked it up and cast it after the distant van, which was now far out of sight. “A secret errand,” he muttered, blushing at his juvenile act. “It will be a wonder if he doesn’t get out hand-bills.” Avery’s voice behind him made him turn quickly. “I’m pesky glad you’ve driv’ the two of ’em out of town,” he said, with grim satisfaction. “There wa’n’t either of ’em any good to the place, and I’m sayin’ it to you, even if one of ’em is your own brother.” The Squire walked back into the yard without replying. “Figger-Four” hopped along beside him. “I’ve come up to resign,” he continued. “I wish I could have told him so to his face. I was goin’ to inform him that I wouldn’t work another hour for him, not if he was the Great Kajam of Pee-ru and paid me five dollars a second. He owes me two dollars and a half as it is, and I want you to collect it for me, Squire.” “My brother hasn’t gone away,” snapped the lawyer from the door-stoop. He wanted the man to leave. “If that wa’n’t goin’ away, then what do you call it?” squealed Avery, snapping up to his full height and pointing his hand at the turn of the road. “He wasn’t comin’, was he, with his four hosses and his circus cart?” “You go home and keep still,” commanded the Squire. “Hiram will be here to-morrow and will pay you if he owes you anything.” He went into the kitchen and slammed the door. “If the Looks can’t act out hogs when they’re a mind to, then I don’t want a cent,” growled Avery, scowling at the door. “But they ain’t goin’ to cheat me out of two dollars and a half, not if the court knows herself, and she thinks she do.” After another surly look at the closed door he went around the barn. The other vans were in their usual place. “There’s property enough left. I can sue and attach,” pondered the creditor. “Another thing about Hime, he’s a durn liar,” he went on mumbling. “He’s been telling me right along that his el’phunt is so much in love with him that she’d make a kick-up if he went away and left her. She ain’t makin’ no great stir near as I can see.” He peered in through the big door at the rear of the barn. Imogene had evidently been roused from her ordinary contemplative and calm mood by the routing out of the horses and their hasty departure. She stood now, twitching her ears impatiently and listening with an occasional hollow grunt of distrust. She peered at the four empty stalls with uneasiness in her little eyes and surveyed the four horses that still remained, with something like reassurance. Then she listened some more. It was evident, even to so obtuse an observer as Avery, that she was momentarily expecting the showman to come back for the other horses, and so long as they remained she considered them proof that she was not abandoned. Avery decided that this was so, muttering his convictions to himself as he stood and watched her. “I’m a blame good mind to try her,” he said. “I don’t believe she gives a tophet for him, any more’n anyone else in the world does. I can prove him out a liar along with the rest, and I’ll tell the folks so. I’ll run him into the ground! You watch me! There’s folks that think as how they can set on Sam Av’ry, but I’ll show ’em that they can’t—not, and keep their reppytations. I’m only a poor cripple and I can’t fight the way some folks do, but I’ve got a tongue in my head, and as soon as I’ve proved some things you jest watch me.” Thus soliloquising, he led the four horses, one by one, out of the barn through the rear door, knotted their halters around their necks and sent them down into the field with a slap on the flank. They frolicked away, glad of a run in the open. When the last one went out of the barn the elephant said good-bye with a melancholy “roomp.” She surged once more at her chains and the sill beams creaked. Then she settled back and eyed Avery hopefully when he came close to her. “He’s allus told me you was more’n half human,” said Avery, addressing her. “It’s prob’ly more of his lies. I’ve heard him talkin’ to you and he said you could understand human language. Another lie prob’ly. But if you can understand, then take this and chaw on it a spell; your man has run away and them’s his horses gone a-chasin’ after him, as you can see for yourself. He ain’t never comin’ back any more. He’s robbed four banks and killed three men and you ought to be ashamed of him. They’re goin’ to build a treadle for you and make you run a thrash-in’ machine and earn your livin’. There! If you can understand human talk there’s something that will int’rest you for a minit or two.” He stood back and gazed at her triumphantly. The animal had been lifting her feet uneasily for some moments. Now she gazed out through the door where the horses had disappeared and moaned pitifully. With the sagacity of a veteran she seemed to sniff the fact that her master was not on the premises. To assure herself she raised her trunk and began to trumpet the call that he had always answered. After each echoing roar she hearkened. No reply came, and each succeeding appeal was more insistent and more frantic. Avery backed to the door with considerable precipitancy. The elephant began to crouch and strain at her chains. The old beams creaked more ominously and there were crackings. “I was only foolin’ you, Imogene,” Avery faltered. “He ain’t gone at all.” The elephant stood up on her hind legs and tugged at the chains that confined her fore feet. One of them snapped. “Honest to Gawd!” shouted “Figger-Four.” The situation frightened him. Palermo with a wild elephant rampant in it would hear of his visit to the barn and would suspect and blame him. Imogene thrashed about more viciously. “There ain’t a word of truth in what I said about him. He’s right handy.” But when she snapped one of the hind-leg chains he quavered, “He was lyin’ to me! She don’t understand what you say to her!”’ He ran out to see where the horses were, thinking that their return might reassure the great beast. But they were far down in the field, scampering about. There was the “yawk” of drawing nails within, and the side of the barn shivered. “She’s a-goin’ to get loose! She’s goin’ to rip us all to pieces!” He hopped around to the front of the barn in the frantic hope that some kind of aid would present itself. “Hard-Times” Wharff, with an instinct that never failed when there was trouble on, stood across the road, his gaze on the barn. Then came an inspiration to “Figger-Four.” Since Imogene had settled in Palermo he had taken especial interest in all literature relating to elephants. He suddenly remembered an item he had seen in the miscellany of the county Oracle. It was stated there that elephants were singularly susceptible to the soothing influence of music. “Have you got your flute along, ’Quarius?” squalled Avery. The human weather-vane pulled it out and waved it. “Then, for the Lord’s sake, hurry acrost here with it. You may save lives and property.” It was at that moment that Squire Phin realised that something out of the ordinary was occurring on his premises. He came out of the kitchen-door just in time to behold “Figger-Four” and “Hard-Times” hustling around the corner of the barn. A moment later he heard the melancholy and wavery notes of the flute, and hurried into the barn by the way of the tie-up door just in time to witness the climax of Avery’s attempt at elephant-taming. “Figger-Four” was holding Uncle Wharff at the big door almost by main force, and the old man, in spite of his fright, was trying his best to play. But his goggling eyes were too busy with the distracted Imogene, who was now occupied with her last leg-chain, which was attached to an upright beam supporting an end of the scaffold. Amidst her hollow roarings the feeble tones of the flute wailed like a cricket’s chirpings in a tornado. If anything were needed to add to the exasperation of the desolated Imogene it was this mocking presence in the barn-door. With a last plunge she pulled the beam from under the scaffold and made for the door, sweeping her trunk at the men in her path. But the dragging log impeded her for a moment until she shook it out of the bight of chain. Avery and Uncle Wharff rolled over the driveway and crawled under the barn, and Imogene strode down across the field pursuing the horses. “Perhaps I didn’t play the right tune,” the Squire heard “Hard-Times” gasp under the bam in reply to an angry growl from Avery. But he didn’t wait to interrogate them. That elephant was abroad, evidently with mind determined on mischief, and he felt that his first duty was to secure a band of elephant hunters in the village and start them on the trail. When he turned into the street from the yard the parrot vigorously snapped a bar of his cage and yelled after him, “Hey, Rube!” This final and unconscious touch of satire was too much for Squire Phin’s sense of the ludicrous. He turned in his tracks and surveyed the old homestead behind the poplars. “Headquarters of the Look Brothers’ Grand Consolidated Circus and Menagerie,” he muttered, a smile creasing his cheeks even while he frowned. “I don’t know whether to laugh, cry or swear damnation!” Then he hurried on to round up his elephant posse.
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