"What is the trouble?" Derrick asked, in a perfectly calm, almost casual way. The man who was holding the horse turned to him with a grin. "We're going to show your man how to do the trick, mister," he said. "He's a fool-man, to think he can come over here and teach us boys how to ride." Derrick had not been to a public school for nothing. He caught the spirit of the thing in a moment, and with that readiness which makes the Britisher the master of circumstance wherever he goes, he nodded and smiled, and clapped the cowboy on the shoulder. "Right you are! Go ahead," he said, cheerfully, and the cowboy, evidently surprised by Derrick's complaisance, stepped back. The horse was set going, the cowboy walked slowly in the proper direction, the audience watching him in intense silence, then, with a run and a bound, he alighted on the horse's back, performing the trick to perfection. The audience thundered its applause, and Derrick, to round off the thing properly, took the cowboy's rough hand, shook it, and whispered, "Bow, bow, and get back to your place at once. Off with you!" Amidst cheers and laughter, the now shy and confused amateur obeyed, and Derrick, with his hands in his pockets, strolled across the ring, as if the whole incident had been planned. A group of persons awaited him; men and women who had paled beneath their paint, for they had expected trouble. But they were flushed now, and the women's eyes were sparkling with admiration. Isabel, in all the glory of her costume, was the first to greet him. "It was splendid," she said, in her deep contralto, and, as if involuntarily, she held out her hand. "You saved the show." Derrick, with the wholesome red of modesty mantling in his cheeks, gently pushed by them. "Nonsense! There was no danger, not a bit. Keep it going; we're all right." And so it proved; for the audience, highly pleased with itself and the member who had distinguished himself, received the rest of the bill with marked satisfaction and pleasure. "The guv'nor wants you, Mr. Green," said Sidcup, who had not joined in the congratulations and admiration of the rest. "All right," said Derrick. "Be with him in a moment." He went in search of Jackman, and found him, with a bottle of whisky, just outside the men's quarters. He looked up and snarled as Derrick approached him. Derrick took the bottle from him, and then looked down at him with an air of doubt and uncertainty. "I'm trying to make up my mind whether I should give you your discharge or a good hiding. I don't like sacking a man in a strange land, and you're not in a condition for a fair fight. What do you think I ought to do?" Jackman staggered to his feet and glared at him. "You've hit me once before, Mr. Green," he said. "Hit me again—just lay your hand on me, and it'll be the last man you ever bash. You're an upstart, that's what you are. You think, because you can come over that old fool, that you're going to lord it over everybody. You can play that sort of game with the women, but you can't with me. I'm engaged for this trip, and you can't sack me because I made a slip of it in the ring just now. I know the law, Mr. Green. You think I'm drunk. I'm sober enough to best you, anyhow." Thinking to take Derrick unawares, the foolish man aimed a blow at him; but Derrick caught the arm, and almost gently forced Jackman into his seat again. "If you hadn't gone for me I'd have sacked you; but I see there's some good left in you, anyhow. Pull yourself together, man, and don't be an idiot. Cut this stuff"—he tapped the bottle—"and do your job properly. I'll talk to you in the morning. No, I won't; but if I find you playing the giddy goat again, I'll give you your choice of a hiding or a discharge." As Derrick hurried off to the manager's office he asked himself why he had been so merciful, for the man had deserved all with which Derrick had threatened him. But Derrick knew, for as he had stood looking down at the man, he had remembered a certain young man who had been saved from playing the fool by a girl; and the remembrance would never leave him, would always make him merciful towards the folly of other men. Mr. Bloxford was not wearing his fur coat, but he nodded to the garment, where it hung on a chair behind him. "Help me on with it, will you? Took it off—thought there was going to be a row," he said, with the air of a man who is quite able alone to quell a disturbance. "You managed that very well, Mr. Green." This was the first time he had honoured Derrick with a prefix. "The neatest thing I've seen. Yes, you're a cool hand, young man. At first I thought you were going to come the high and mighty over that cowboy, and if you had, you'd have raised Hades and Thomasus. We should have had the rest of them on us and the show wrecked, like they did that other one. I tell you I was out of that coat before you could say Jack Robinson. But before you were half across the ring I twigged your game. And you played it for all it was worth. You're made of the right stuff. Yes, you're the sort of man I've read about in the silly story books; but I little thought I should ever come across him. Now, I wonder why it is?" He cocked his bald head and peered at Derrick thoughtfully. "Of course, they'd say in the books it's because you're a 'gentleman.' Well, up to now, I've always given the grin to that highfulutin notion; but—I dunno. Anyhow, I'm much obliged to you." He held out a grubby paw and shook the now very much embarrassed Derrick by the hand. "Of course, I'm going to raise your screw. We'll say, double it, and no palaver." Derrick expressed his thanks, but Mr. Bloxford waved him away. "As for that pig Jackman, we'll fire him out, of course." Derrick pleaded for the man, and Bloxford yielded, but with a shrug of the shoulders and a dissenting shake of the head. "All right," he said, grudgingly. "It's up to you, of course. But don't you forget what I told you when you and he had a shindy on board. He's the kind of man who'll wait and lay for you when he gets a chance." Derrick laughed easily as he proceeded to count the money. They drew good audiences for the whole of their stay, and then prepared to move on. As before, the heaviest of the responsibility fell on Derrick's shoulders, but it was made as light as possible for him by the good will the company bore him, which it expressed by rendering prompt obedience and willing assistance. Jackman had given no further trouble, but had gone about his work with a sullen demeanour, and he markedly avoided any meeting with Derrick, who treated him exactly as he treated every other member of the company. On the morning of their departure Derrick was standing in the centre of the tent, superintending the displacement and packing up of the seats and other properties. He was immediately beneath a large and heavy circular lamp which afforded the principal light, and up above him was Jackman, who had been sent to lower it. He was waiting for the word from the chief baggage man, who was standing at a little distance from Derrick. Derrick was moving away, when suddenly he heard a warning cry. He looked up and saw the mass of metal descending, though the baggage man had not given the word. It was a swift upward glance, and as swiftly he swerved aside. Then he felt a sharp but heavy pain on his shoulder, and fell. He was conscious of a number of voices shouting, of vague forms hurrying towards him, then all became a blank. When he recovered consciousness he found himself lying in one of the living vans. He tried to move, but the upper part of his body felt as if it were made of lead. He opened his eyes and looked round him. Someone, a tall figure, bent over him, and laid a hand on his forehead. He looked up and, with a struggle for consciousness, saw that the face above him was Isabel's. "What's the matter—what is it?" he asked, and, to his surprise and consternation, his voice sounded hollow and weak. She dropped on her knees beside him, her hand still on his brow. "You've been ill," she whispered. "Don't move. I don't think you ought to speak. Stay quite still." "But why?" he asked, with gentle impatience. "Why am I lying here, and what's the matter with me?" "You've been hurt," she said, in a voice that was trembling as well as low. "It was the lamp. Don't you remember?" Derrick knit his brows and tried to recall the past just before he became unconscious. "The lamp—Jackman!" he said, with a frown that turned to a grin; for even at that moment he appreciated the neatness of Mr. Jackman's revenge. "Don't think of it," Isabel said, her hand becoming caressing, as she passed it over his forehead. "You needn't be afraid; the beast has disappeared. Yes, he bolted, or it would have been the worse for him. The men——" Her eyes flashed, her white, even teeth clenched together. "It was a wonder you weren't killed; if you hadn't moved, just at the moment you did——" "Am I badly hurt?" asked Derrick, anxiously. "Am I going to be laid up? Awful nuisance!" "No," she said; "it was your collar-bone. It is all right now. It struck your head, too. That's why you were unconscious. We brought a doctor along with us. He'll be here presently. They wanted to take you to the hospital, but Mr. Bloxford—all of us—couldn't leave you behind." "I'm glad you didn't," said Derrick. "I shall be all right presently. I feel better already. And you have been nursing me?" he asked. A blush rose to the clear olive of her face, and she smiled, a heavenly smile, for this was a very beautiful woman, and when a beautiful woman smiles the gods nod approval. "You see, I was used to it. I was a nurse once; but I couldn't stick it—too quiet. Alice has been helping me," she added, as if forced to make the admission. "I say, you have been awfully good to me," said Derrick, gratefully. "Oh, that's all right," she said. "I—I like it. Like old times, you know. I must go and tell Mr. Bloxford; he's been like a sick monkey fretting over its young." She stood beside the bed, her eyes downcast, her face pale now, but an expression on her proud and haughty lips which would have befitted a schoolgirl. "Let me give you some broth. The doctor said you might have it, if you came to." She brought him a cup, but to Derrick's disgust he could not grasp it, and she held it to his lips while he drank. "You're an angel," he said; "yes, an angel. You look pale; you've been nursing me all this time. How long is it?" "Four days," she said, in a low voice. They had been the happiest four days of her life. "Good lord!" he muttered. "Four days! Oh, here, I say, I wish I could thank you properly, but I can't." "There's no need," she said, in a low voice. "I'll go and tell the doctor and Mr. Bloxford." She smoothed the clothes about him, her eyes still downcast, but as she went to the door she turned and looked at him. Derrick met the gaze of the dark eyes full blank, and as he did so the colour rose to his face, and it was his turn for his eyes to become downcast. He had learned her secret, and his heart was heavy within him, for, though they were unlike, the eyes of that other girl, who was always in his thoughts, flitted between him and Isabel. |