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Updated: May 1, 2025
She was like the kind lady who, happening to linger at the circus while the rest of the spectators pour grossly through the exits, falls in with the overworked little trapezist girl the acrobatic support presumably of embarrassed and exacting parents and gives her, as an obscure and meritorious artist, assurance of benevolent interest.
"Here, you're not on show yet," spoke Benares, the trapezist, pulling Andy beside him as he passed along. "Your turn will come after they get rid of those aspirants yonder." The circus manager sat in a chair at the edge of a little sawdust ring that had been marked out for the occasion. The ringmaster stood near him, in charge of the ceremonies.
Some arose from their seats, craning their necks in excitement. The orchestra dropped the music to low, undecided notes. Puzzled spectators wondered if the strange appearance above was part of some new novelty change in the programme. Andy clung to the dangling strip of canvas for dear life. The trapezist, Thacher, stared at him in profound astonishment.
It would be impossible to learn who was the first aerial trapezist, for instance, or where high wire performing was brought from, just when the trick of adjusting the body to these difficult and strenuous rhythms was originated. They cannot tell you themselves. Only if there happens to be more than two generations in existence can you trace the development of this form of athletic entertainment.
Directly under Andy was the trapeze holding the man he supposed to be Thacher. Over his head swung a smaller trapeze. Andy lay flat along the sloping canvas and stuck his head further down. "Mr. Thacher! Mr. Thacher!" he shouted. "Eh, why, hello! Who are you?" In wonderment the trapezist gazed up at the earnest, agitated face gazing down at him. At that juncture there was an ominous rip.
She was like the kind lady who, happening to linger at the circus while the rest of the spectators pour grossly through the exits, falls in with the overworked little trapezist girl the acrobatic support presumably of embarrassed and exacting parents and gives her, as an obscure and meritorious artist, assurance of benevolent interest.
It was to swing sideways and down. The next instant Andy was at the side of Thacher. One hand caught and held to a rope of the trapeze. There Andy anchored, resting one knee on the edge of the performing bar. "You're a good one!" muttered the trapezist in wonder. "Don't get rattled, now." "Not while I've got my grip.
When we abandoned the rigid attention attitude for others more or less comfortable they followed our example, although they maintained a discreet alertness for the coming of the Commandant so that we might be brought to attention before he appeared upon the scene. One of the prisoners had been a Japanese trapezist and juggler. He was very old. He said, and we agreed, he was about 75 years of age.
A prodigious cheer arose, clapping of hands, juvenile yells of admiration. The band came in with a ringing march. Old Benares righted himself, Andy with him. "Su-paarb!" he said. "Can you hold on alone one little minute?" "Sure," said Andy. The trapezist reached up and untied the descending rope, secured it to the bar, and shouted to those standing below.
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