Circus Shoes by Noel Streatfeild Page B

fence, seized a bundle of wire, and like a monkey climbed up a ladder attached to one of the king-poles. While he was up there his friend was fixing the other ends of the wires to staples on the ground. They were both very busy and hardly spoke. Now and then Gus said “Now,” or “Coming,” and the man on the ground caught an end of wire and replied “O.K.” or “Easy does it.” When they had their bar fixed up in the roof, it looked like an ordinary garden swing.
    All the while Gus was working, various tent hands who had finished their work for the moment stood round the ring smoking and watching. This disgusted Peter.
    “If I were Gus,” he whispered to Santa, “I’d make those fellows put the things up for me.”
    Santa nodded. She, too, was puzzled. Why did her uncle have to do what appeared a menial job? If had an uncle in the circus at all he must be important even if everybody did call him Gus.
    “So’d I,” she whispered back. “But perhaps they don’t know how to.”
    At this moment Gus seemed to have everything finished rope into the ring. He fetched his clogs and beckoned to his friend.
    “Ted. Come and meet my nephew and niece.”
    Ted was younger than Uncle Gus, with black curly hair. He raised his eyebrows.
    “Nephew and niece. Never knew you had any.”
    “Kedgeree and rum-I’d nearly forgotten myself. Gus took his arm. “Peter and Santa. Meet Mister Ted Kenet.”
    “Pleased,” said Ted. He felt in his pocket and produced a small paper bag. He held it out. “Have one. Sweets. But a little sulphur for the blood. Nothing like it in the spring.”
    Santa looked in the bag. The candies were yellow, rather like pieces of Edinburgh rock. She took one and bit it gingerly. It did not taste bad. She made an encouraging face.at Peter to tell him so, for he was much more fussy about eating things he did not like than she was. Peter took a small piece. He looked at Gus.
    “What’s that you’ve put up?”
    Gus gave an apologetic glance at Ted. “Brought up by my poor sister Rebecca. Mustn’t speak ill of the dead, but the woman was a fool.” He turned to Peter. “That’s a trapeze.”
    “Oh.” Peter did not like to ask what a trapeze was. Instead he turned to the question of why people like his uncle and Ted should work with all those workmen and standing about. “Why do you put it up.? If I were you I’d let them.” He nodded in the direction of the tent hands.
    “Would you! You hear that Ted? He’d, let somebody else put his stuff up for him. The boy’s a fool.” He pointed dramatically at the roof. “When Ted and me go up there to do our act, there’s nothing between us and the ring. If something went wrong we’d break our necks most like.”
    Ted nodded gloomily
    “Or worse. That’s why I take sulphur sweets. That and a nice drink of sarsaparilla keeps the blood cool.
    Gus took hold of Peter by his coat.
    “Every artiste in the circus puts up and takes his own stuff. Pork and beans, where’d he be if didn’t!”
    “Dead,” said Ted. He looked at his watch. “Dinner-time. So long.”
    “So long,” Gus replied. Then he jerked his head ward the tent exit. “Dinner-time for us, too. Come on.”
    Gus’s caravan looked quite small from the outside but inside it had a surprising lot of room. It was divided in half by a partition which made two rooms. In one half, into which the door opened, there were stove, various shelves and cupboards, a flap table which let down from the wall, and seats which did the same. It was in fact a dining-room-kitchen. A very good smelling steam was coming from a pot on the stove.
    The other room was a bedroom. There were two bunks in it. One had bedclothes and was obviously Gus’s bed. Peter and Santa tried not to stare too obviously at the second bunk, but they could not help wondering where the one who did not have it would sleep.
    Gus did not give them much time to look around.
    ‘Table wants laying, Santa.” He showed her where the