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The Circus
by
Oswald said the first thing was to collect the performing animals.
“Then perhaps,” he said, “we may find that they have hidden talents hitherto unsuspected by their harsh masters.”
So Denny took a pencil and wrote a list of the animals required.
This is it:
LIST OF ANIMALS REQUISITE FOR THE CIRCUS WE ARE GOING TO HAVE
1 Bull for bull-fight.
1 Horse for ditto (if possible).
1 Goat to do Alpine feats of daring.
1 Donkey to play see-saw.
2 White pigs–one to be Learned, and the other to play with the clown.
Turkeys–as many as possible, because they can make a noise that sounds like an audience applauding.
The dogs–for any odd parts.
1 large black pig–to be the Elephant in the procession.
Calves (several) to be camels, and to stand on tubs.
Daisy ought to have been captain because it was partly her idea, but she let Oswald be, because she is of a retiring character. Oswald said:
“The first thing is to get all the creatures together; the paddock at the side of the orchard is the very place, because the hedge is good all round. When we’ve got the performers all there we’ll make a programme, and then dress for our parts. It’s a pity there won’t be any audience but the turkeys.”
We took the animals in their right order, according to Denny’s list. The bull was the first. He is black. He does not live in the cow-house with the other horned people; he has a house all to himself two fields away. Oswald and Alice went to fetch him. They took a halter to lead the bull by, and a whip, not to hurt the bull with, but just to make him mind.
The others were to try to get one of the horses while we were gone.
Oswald, as usual, was full of bright ideas.
“I dare say,” he said, “the bull will be shy at first, and he’ll have to be goaded into the arena.”
“But goads hurt,” Alice said.
“They don’t hurt the bull,” Oswald said; “his powerful hide is too thick.”
“Then why does he attend to it,” Alice asked, “if it doesn’t hurt?”
“Properly brought-up bulls attend because they know they ought,” Oswald said. “I think I shall ride the bull,” the brave boy went on. “A bull-fight, where an intrepid rider appears on the bull, sharing its joys and sorrows. It would be something quite new.”
“You can’t ride bulls,” Alice said; “at least, not if their backs are sharp like cows.”
But Oswald thought he could. The bull lives in a house made of wood and prickly furze-bushes, and he has a yard to his house. You cannot climb on the roof of his house at all comfortably.
When we got there he was half in his house and half out in his yard, and he was swinging his tail because of the flies which bothered. It was a very hot day.
“You’ll see,” Alice said, “he won’t want a goad. He’ll be so glad to get out for a walk he’ll drop his head in my hand like a tame fawn, and follow me lovingly all the way.”
Oswald called to him. He said, “Bull! Bull! Bull! Bull!” because we did not know the animal’s real name. The bull took no notice; then Oswald picked up a stone and threw it at the bull, not angrily, but just to make it pay attention. But the bull did not pay a farthing’s worth of it. So then Oswald leaned over the iron gate of the bull’s yard and just flicked the bull with the whip lash. And then the bull did pay attention. He started when the lash struck him, then suddenly he faced round, uttering a roar like that of the wounded King of Beasts, and putting his head down close to his feet he ran straight at the iron gate where we were standing.
Alice and Oswald mechanically turned away; they did not wish to annoy the bull any more, and they ran as fast as they could across the field so as not to keep the others waiting.