by Lisa Martin
“My name is Anton,” said Anton. “And this is Ruby.”
“I’m Henry,” said the horse.
“I’m looking for my brother,” Anton explained. “Big guy, black fur, white feet, white whiskers. We think he came this way.”
“Haven’t seen him,” said the horse. “But most of the action is either in the tent or behind it.” He stretched out his neck, tossing his head to indicate the direction. “They all live back there while they wait to do their shows. It’s like a town.”
“Do you take part in the shows, Mr. Henry?” Ruby asked politely. Anton knew the great detective was eager to pick up any clues to the whereabouts of the puppies, but she was always careful to solicit information without seeming overanxious to have it. Set your subjects at ease, she told Anton. You’ll find out more than you thought you would that way.
“Not me,” Henry said. “The humans spend all their time taking care of the fancier animals, putting on the shows, and moving on to the next place. I do ordinary work, pull carts when they need to bring stuff in, take my master to the town. He’s the one running the whole shebang, so he needs a horse he can count on, not some showy, snooty thing that stands on his hind legs and neighs like a fool.”
And does your master wear a green cap? Anton thought.
“We’ve come from the Fair this morning,” Ruby said. “We were following a cart that brought a big balloon back from here, though I can’t think why they wouldn’t just fly back.”
“We see those up in the sky every couple of days,” Henry said. “Yesterday one of them things went down plop in the lake, or so we heard. Everybody was talkin’ about it.”
“The balloon fell in the lake?” Anton exclaimed.
Henry nodded. “The horse that pulls the balloon cart, Sedgwick—he’s a Thoroughbred, as he never stops telling you—he heard that it was all smashed by the water.”
“My brother was in a balloon!” Anton moaned. “He was trapped in a basket.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” the horse said. “Maybe he got out okay.”
“And,” Ruby added quickly, “maybe Anton’s brother was in a different balloon. We think the balloons might be transporting dogs to the circus,” Ruby said. “Henry, is there a dog show here?”
“Sure is,” replied Henry. “Seems to get bigger all the time. The show I mean, not the dogs. The dogs are little. They keep ’em in the last tent, back there by the big tree.”
Anton nodded grimly and took off at a trot in the direction of the tent city.
“Excuse us,” Ruby said to the horse, turning to follow her co-detective. “And thanks for your help.”
She woofed softly as she caught up to Anton. “Slow down, now. I know you’re excited, but it’s no time to be rash. We are very near our goal, but these are unscrupulous humans and we don’t want to alert them to our presence. I fear we’re very clearly not circus material.”
Anton slowed, trying to be calm. And hopeful. If only Cecil was in that tent with the puppies. Knowing my brother, he probably broke them out of there already, he thought.
“My goodness, what a smell,” said Ruby, eyeing an enormous pile of trash at the very back of the field. Sodden hay, paper scraps, and rotting food all lay heaped inside a fenced enclosure. “No wonder I’m having trouble with the finer scents around here.”
They rounded the edge of the tent town and came upon a tall spreading tree and a small, mud-spattered tent erected in the shade of its branches. There was a flap open at the front and no guard in sight. Still, Anton and Ruby approached cautiously, coming up along the side, Ruby with her nose to the ground.
“This is the place, all right,” she said, stopping on the far side of the tree trunk. “Nothing else smells like puppies. It’s the sweetest scent I know.”
Anton stopped, craning his neck to see around the tree. “What else are you getting?” he asked the bloodhound.
“There is a human, but just one. Let’s have a peek.”
Dog and cat rounded the curve and, keeping low, peeked inside the tent. The sun was low and it was gloomy inside, but they could make out two pups being schooled in dancing by a man who pointed at them by turns with a sharp stick.
“Chino,” he said, “up. Now you, Bingo.” The puppies slumped and whined but eventually stood up on their hind legs. After the man had gotten both to turn around in place, he reached in his coat pocket and doled out some treats. Then he led them behind a curtain and moved toward the doorway.
“Drop back,” Ruby said. “He’s coming out.” Anton and Ruby slipped behind the tree, and a moment later the man appeared at the opening. Without looking back he strode off toward the tent village, tapping his stick across his palm to a tune he whistled in a pitch that hurt Anton’s ears.
“Let’s make a dash for it,” Ruby said, and Anton shot out from the tree. Ruby’s lumbering gait brought her up behind Anton inside the tent. Together they approached the curtain, which was open at one side.
And there they were. Six white puppies bunched together, a few asleep, the others lolling about in the straw bedding, in a big wire cage with trays of water and food attached to the side. Six puppies but no cat, thought Anton. One of them noticed their visitors and extracted himself from the puppy pile.
“Wow, you are a big dog,” he said, pressing his nose against the wire mesh. “Do you live here?”
“No, I don’t,” said Ruby. “And neither do you. You belong with your family.”
Two more puppies joined the first. “We do, we do,” they agreed. “But we don’t know where they are.”
“They’re waiting patiently for you to come home and they’ve sent me and Mr. Anton here to bring you back,” Ruby said.
Anton examined the gate, which was attached by a cord between two clamps. “We’ll never get this open,” he murmured to Ruby.
“We want to go home,” the puppies began to cry. “We don’t like it here. It’s not nice.”
Ruby joined Anton at the latch. “If we can’t undo these fasteners,” she said, “I don’t know how we’re going to get these pups out of here.”
Anton was sniffing the cord. “I think it’s just rope,” he said. “We need a way to cut it.”
“But how?” Ruby said.
Anton grasped the cord in his claws and tore at it, but it was thick and oily, and didn’t ravel. He sat back and passed a paw over his mouth. “We need a rodent,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?” said Ruby.
“A rodent. A mouse could do this job.”
Ruby’s eyes widened. “You’re right. But where are we to find a mouse?”
Anton looked around the tent as if he might see one. When he looked back at Ruby she had an amused gleam in her eye. They both said it at once—“The rats!”
“But why would those guys do us a favor?” Anton said.
“You said it yourself—rats are such rats. I think they might if I could lead them to an adequate food supply.”
Anton nodded, and again the dog and cat spoke at once—“The trash pile!”
“Let’s go and have a word with them at once,” Ruby suggested. “We’ll be back, young ’uns,” she said to the pups as she passed through the curtain. “And you’ll soon be back with your folks.”
Anton hung back. He knew, had known at once that Cecil wasn’t in this tent, but his eyes kept searching in the gathering darkness, longing to find his brother. If his balloon really went down, he had to believe Cecil would have found some way to get out. And if he had, if he’d somehow gotten himself to this circus, he must be here somewhere. Anton followed Ruby out to the sandy grass under the tree.
“I know you’re worried about your brother,” Ruby said.
“I am,” said Anton. “I don’t want to leave here until I search for him.”
“You have a thorough look round while I go and chat with our friends in the rat pack. I’ll meet you here, and with any luck you’ll have found your brother and we can gather up these pups and take them back to the Fair.�
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Anton nodded, his thoughts all focused now on finding Cecil. “I’ll meet you here,” he agreed.
Ruby turned back toward the front gate. “Good luck,” she said as Anton headed in the opposite direction. “And don’t forget to use your nose.”
Anton turned away from the trash pile—it was definitely not the place to use one’s nose—and paused in the field to take his bearings. It was evening and the stars were glimmering dimly overhead. The air was still and heavy. Strange sounds filtered through it as mysterious and magical as the flickering fireflies lighting his way. The line of cages was straight ahead, alive with the sounds of animals he couldn’t even picture. He heard a high-pitched yowl, a chattering cry, a chuffing sound like a deer but different, a yip and yelp, a breathy whistle repeated at even intervals, an eruption of snorts, and a rasping bark, something like a coyote, but deeper. He couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Henry had said the humans spent all their time and energy taking care of the animals, putting on the shows, and moving on. Why do that? Anton wondered. It was astounding. Here he was, trying to help one set of humans and a dog find another set of humans who were stealing dogs from other humans and bringing them to the circus in balloons. The real mystery wasn’t who stole what animal from whom, but why humans were always moving animals around. Anton’s head ached from thinking about it, and he longed to discuss the problem with only one animal in the world—his brother.
He cleared his thoughts and studied the bright scene before him. Where would Cecil go? Would he wander about in the village, where the animals were bedding down for the night, or would he be attracted to the bright lights in the big tent?
Bright lights? Big tent? Anton could hear Cecil’s voice, could picture his wild grin at this choice. Of course.
He’d find a way inside, that was for sure. Anton lit out for the big tent, running full speed. It felt great to run. Ruby was a fine animal, but she was an old lady and everything about her was ponderous. Anton wasn’t going to follow his nose one more second than he had to. He would use his wits instead.
When Anton got to the big tent, everything he needed to distract the guards was right there at the gate in the form of a small girl throwing a big tantrum. She threw herself down smack in the middle of the entry screaming at the top of her surprisingly strong lungs. All the adults, the ticket taker, her parents, and two guards were absorbed in trying to calm her down. Anton slipped noiselessly alongside the gate and slunk into the shadows beyond to the wide entrance of the tent. Inside it was as bright as day, with humans all crammed into the stands, their heads raised to watch other humans who appeared to be flying through the air over a low-sided ring at the center of the tent.
Anton made his way easily under the stands to the very front. There, he saw that the humans weren’t actually flying, but rather swinging on various ropes, gracefully passing from one side of the ring to the other, sometimes doing flips in the air or dangling from one foot or hand. They were dressed in odd bright clothes that glittered in the lights playing over them.
But where is my brother? Anton scanned the staged area below. It was scattered with strange-looking equipment. Two men were moving a barrel into place and another rolled a metal pole, with one end stuck in what looked like a tree stump, onto the scene. One stopped and spoke to the other, pointing past the ring to a curtain that hung suspended from a wide bar. Anton had an itchy instinct about that curtain. Something was behind it, something big, something wild. His whiskers trembled with the sensation.
The music, which had been playing cheerfully all the while, began to swell, and the flying humans overhead all lined up on ropes and bars facing the crowds on the stands. As the audience applauded, the aerialists slid down the ropes expertly and, holding one another’s hands, bowed and waved. A drum roll sounded as they danced away, disappearing behind the curtain that had attracted Anton’s attention. As they went out, a man carrying a stick and wearing a tall hat ran in and began yelling at the audience, who continued to beat their hands together joyfully.
Anton felt all his fur rising, from his head to the tip of his tail. It was the way he felt just before a lightning bolt flashed in the sky. He crouched low in his front-row spot, his eyes riveted on the stage. Two men appeared and carefully pulled the curtain aside. They were quick to get out of the way. In the next moment, the most amazing creature in the world burst into the ring.
Anton let out a squeak of terror. It was a few moments before he realized that the animal leaping about on the stage was actually an enormous black and orange striped cat, as big as a pony. A new man followed her around the ring, snapping a whip this way and that, while the cat, who could certainly flatten the man with one stroke of her paw, cooperated sullenly. That paw! Anton thought. It’s the size of my whole body!
The man bowed to the applause while the massive cat sprang down from the barrel and bounded for the curtain. Anton scooted out a bit from the edge of the stands, craning his neck to see over the low barrier. As he did, the mesmerizing creature turned abruptly, and then something dashed out into the ring, something small and black, with white feet and a white-tipped tail, leaping with wide strides alongside the most fabulous beast who slowed a bit, lowering the great head as if to speak to a friend.
Cecil!
Chapter 13
The Great Escape
The atmosphere in the big tent was charged. Cecil’s fur stood on end as he crouched in the shadows. Tasha stood motionless nearby, shackled in a metal collar attached to heavy chains clutched tightly by two human handlers on either side of her. They were all hidden behind a thick curtain, waiting for the act before them—four humans swinging from bars and ropes high in the air—to conclude. Cecil could hear Tasha’s fast breathing and knew she was nervous, too. He cocked his head up, caught her eye, and sent her a weak smile. She nodded very slightly.
The swinging act ended and the audience clapped and whistled. There was a brief lull, and Cecil peeked under the curtain to see that various lanterns had been set on tall, spindly posts here and there around the space, casting a warm glow over the big center ring. Other workers thumped equipment into place while the musicians played a raucous tune. Tasha’s two handlers began speaking to each other, gesturing toward the ring, and the tigress purred softly down to Cecil.
“No matter what happens, I’m grateful for your help,” she said.
“It’ll work,” Cecil assured her. “I know it will.” He knew no such thing.
“I hope you find your brother and get back home.”
“Me, too.” Cecil swallowed, trying not to think of where Anton might be right now. “Good luck!” he said.
Tasha snorted. “Cats make their own luck.”
The handlers gave Tasha’s collar a shake to quiet her. Cecil saw her eyes go hard for a few seconds and he wondered how angry she might get, if provoked. Then she blinked, and a calm settled over her face. Cecil admired her self-control.
A man with long, flowing hair, dressed in tight clothing trimmed in animal fur, strode up to the curtain. Cecil stared as the man shook out his hair just like the lions in the cages at the Fair had done. Ignoring Tasha and the handlers, he brandished a long black whip in one hand and took a few deep breaths.
Tasha whispered down to Cecil, “That’s the tamer.” Cecil nodded in understanding. He was the one they would need to distract.
In the main ring, the music stopped and the ringmaster shouted to the audience. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it is time for the Main Event!” The people tittered and settled back into their seats. “May I present to you . . . the crown jewel of Russia . . . her royal highness . . . Queen Czarina, the Siberian Tigress!”
The crowd exploded with applause and everything spun into motion. With a pop of the tamer’s long whip, the handlers unclamped the collar from Tasha’s neck just as the curtains parted with a sweeping flourish. The music struck up once more, and Tasha and the tamer bounded forward into the ring.
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sp; Cecil scooted up to the edge of the curtains and tucked in to watch. It was an incredible sight. The stands were packed with cheering people, young and old, their faces open and delighted. The golden light from the burning lanterns made Tasha’s coat gleam as she stalked around the tamer. To one side stood two ladies dressed in shimmering white, each holding a wooden ring as big as a cart wheel. Tasha had told Cecil what those were for, and he shivered.
The tamer raised his whip sharply and Tasha flinched, diverting around him. He cracked the whip in the air and she jumped effortlessly onto a colorful barrel, one of five arranged in a half circle. She looked at the tamer and waited. Cecil knew she had three tricks to perform. The tamer shouted a command and she did the first one—leaping in precise bounds from barrel to barrel as he pivoted along with her, the tip of his whip inches above her head. The audience thundered their approval.
Next Tasha stood on a larger barrel in the center of the ring, snarling and clawing the air. The tamer approached, pried open her great jaws with his bare hands, and placed his head in her mouth for several seconds. How the audience shrieked at that! But Cecil knew that she allowed it for the act—she helped him, in fact.
“I could give him quite a headache if I chose to,” Tasha had confided, and Cecil did not doubt her.
Now Cecil readied his paws for his part in the show. Tasha moved into a trot for the third trick, accompanied at every step by the tamer’s whip as she circled the ring.
She called to Cecil as she passed his hiding place. “Ready?”
“I’m ready!” he shouted back, watching as she made one last circuit. As she did, the two ladies set their wooden rings into two tall holders in front of the center barrel. Then each lady touched her ring with a torch handed to her by a clearly terrified Sergio. The rings burst into flame! The crowd gasped and shrank back and the ladies moved to stand by the curtain. Now the blazing rings burned brightly one in front of the other, forming a tunnel of fire.
