Circus Parade by Jim Tully

crumpled near Rosebud’s body.
    Finnerty stood like an immense one-eyed gorilla about to spring and snarled between oaths, “Come on you, God damn rubes, and meet your master!”
    A man circled behind him with a club. It went upward and downward while Finnerty dodged. The momentum of the intended blow threw the man off his feet for a second. Before he gained his poise Finnerty walked in close, his teeth grinding, his tongue licking the blood from his battered upper lip. His two fists struck with horrible precision on each side of the man’s jaws. The head went backward as if pulled suddenly with a rope. As he fell unconscious Finnerty kicked him twice in the groin. Still enraged, Finnerty then pounced upon him and drove his fist straight downward. The blow covered the man’s entire face with blood.
    â€œLook out, Slug,” a voice yelled, and now the bloody monster turned swift as a tiger. Two men engaged him in battle. Their fists crashed against his face. He fought them both viciously without moving backward. The band stand toppled over.
    The two men had placed the money drawer in the stand while they returned to the fight.
    The coins scattered everywhere. Many, more eager for gold than battle, scampered after it. Cameron had fought near the stand until it fell. Then, seeing money scattered on the ground he rushed madly at those who tried to pick it up. Jock had by this time come upon the scene. He charged into the fight. Seeing Rosebud unconscious, he carried him out of the fracas.
    Someone, whether stake-driver or Rube, had crashed a club against Cameron’s head. He waved from side to side, but stood up under the thudding impact. Another blow caught him across the back. A man of seventy-three, heavily ruptured and wearing a truss, he sank downward and remained on his knees by a tremendous effort of will. Then, too weak to remain in that position, he rolled over on his back and made an effort to pull his truss and the heavy weight upon it into place. Rising, he clutched at his groin with one hand, and swung a “staub” with the other. At last, fully conscious, but unable to move, Cameron lay still and blasphemed. His oaths could be heard above the noise of the conflict.
    â€œCome on, boys,” he yelled, “we can’t let the God damn ratty rubes lick us.” A man kicked at his face. He rolled over, groaning with pain, and protected it with his arms.
    Jock rushed up yelling to the man, “Come an’ battle a man that’s on his feet.” The heavier man rushed Jock but fell writhing from the effects of two blows delivered far below his waist line.
    The general noise and confusion attracted the women. The Strong Woman rushed at the enemy who retreated before her. She moved about, an infuriated four-hundred-pound giantess, her hair streaming, wet and bedraggled in the rainy night.
    Finnerty, now battered beyond recognition, fought on, though too weak to take command. It fell to Jock who was soon joined by the Baby Buzzard.
    â€œHello Betsy,” shouted Cameron upon beholding her as she slashed at the enemy with a long black-snake whip.
    â€œTell Goosey to bring the elephants,” Cameron yelled.
    Soon two elephants charged across the lot, each holding the end of a thirty-foot pole.
    Cameron lay in the path of one of the elephants. The Baby Buzzard tried to drag him away. Cameron crawled out of danger on his knees.
    Goosey rushed the elephants through the crowd while friend and foe scampered before them. They retreated with curses and moans.
    The enemy rushed off the lot pursued by Goosey and his two elephants and a roaring crowd of circus roustabouts.
    They barricaded themselves in a small rickety barn. It was soon completely demolished and its occupants beaten until they were unconscious.
    Silver Moon Dugan, the boss canvasman, gathered his fighting forces and entrained the circus.
    An engineer hauled it to a place of safety on a far siding.
    Lights were