Ali and Mr. Anderson had been admiring the circus-wagons, which were as bright and shiny as new paint could make them. Ever since the great Ringden Brothers circus had gone into winter-quarters in November, the circus people who had not gone home had been working on the outfit.
All the wagons had been painted and the cages gilded, the harnesses mended and blacked, and the buckles polished. The camels and elephants had new trappings, and all the equestrian and aerial performers had new costumes. The clowns had been made gorgeous by colored suits; even the tenting had been overhauled, and the stakes, chains, and seats looked after. The blacksmith-shop and the barber-shop had new equipment, while the dining-room had an entire new set of dishes. Circus people are always breaking dishes. Rarely does a circus man eat off a whole plate, or drink out of a perfect cup.
Ali and Mr. Anderson were now sitting upon some overturned nail-kegs on the south side of the big wagon-house, enjoying the March sunshine, and it was really warm, for this was California, and the roses were in full bloom.
"It won't be long before we'll be on the road," remarked Mr. Anderson after a long pause. "We usually get started about the last of March so as to get around to Madison Square late in April."
"That's so," said Ali. "I'll be glad to be at work again. It's a great life; full of excitement."
"Yes," returned Mr. Anderson; "there's excitement enough and hard work also. I've been thinking of late that this circus life is too hard for you, Ali. You know you have had malaria, and for the past two summers riding in the hot sleepers at night and working so hard in hot weather does not seem to agree with you."
Ali sighed. "Yes, Sahib," he said, "it is hard work, but I like it."
"I've been thinking," continued Mr. Anderson, "that if I could find just the right sort of a job for you and Joie it would be better than the circus life; I mean a position, with some animal park or zoo."
"Of course I would do just what you say, Sahib," returned Ali. "I am sure you know best. You know everything."
The man reached over and squeezed the boy's hand affectionately. "All right, sonny," he said, "we'll see."
All unknown to Ali and Mr. Anderson, just the right position for Joie and the boy was being prepared at that very moment in far-away New England, in the beautiful city of Springdale, close to a majestic river, celebrated in song and story. The city fathers were discussing the advisability of securing an elephant for the park. When all the arguments, pro and con, had been heard, the city voted unanimously for the elephant; and thereby Ali and Joie's destinies were changed.
When the morning papers of Springdale announced the decision, the excitement among the young people in that city was tremendous.
Beany and Stubby and Fatty, three of her wide-awake boys meeting on a street corner, gave vent to their excitement.
"Say, fellows," cried Beany, hailing his friends with a flourish of his hands, "ain't it great that the city has voted for the elephant?"
"You bet," chorused his chums.
"Fellows," said Fatty, "teacher says that we can each of us buy a part of the elephant. I'm goin' to put in a quarter. Would that buy one hair on him?"
For answer his chums broke into peals of laughter. "Hey, Fatty," cried Stubby, poking his friend in the ribs, "where was you brought up? Don't you know elephants ain't got hair?"
"Bet you a quarter," answered Stubby.
"Don't be bettin' the quarter you are goin' to put into the elephant," warned Beany.
"I ain't. I got another. I bet you both of them."
"Aw, let's don't be wastin' our money bettin'," said cautious Stubby. "Elephants ain't got hair and there ain't no use bettin' about it. Fellows, the bakery on the corner is sellin' six stale cream-puffs for five cents to-day; a regular bargain. I've got a nickel. Let's have some." So the conversation about the elephant continued at the bakery, the boys arguing between bites at the cream-cakes, with the cream dripping from their chins.
Most of the children in Springdale were just as excited as these three boys. All sorts of plans for earning money were put into operation; concerts were given; lawn-parties were held; and never in the history of the city had children been so willing to do errands. Their unusual industry resulted in a considerable sum of money.
A week later, Mr. Anderson, who was a native of Springdale and who had spent his boyhood in the same haunts that Beany and Stubby and Fatty now occupied, received a telegram from the city. He took it to Ali.
"Son," he said, "I've got just the place for you and Joie. It is in the beautiful city of Springdale where I was born and where I spent my boyhood. They have a wonderful park of beautiful forest land, in fact, they call it Woodland Park. It is an ideal place for you. I had better wire them our acceptance at once. They want to buy Joie, but you would not want to sell him, so we will arrange for a ten-years' lease of yourself and Joie to the city of Springdale."
Thus it came about that Ali and Joie severed their relations with the great Ringden Brothers circus, and entrained for Springdale in far-away New England.
Such an outpouring of children had never been seen before in Springdale as that which welcomed Ali and Joie at the station when they arrived at the city of their adoption.
A monstrous parade had been planned, with members of the city government riding at the head and half a dozen youthful bands and drum-corps in the procession. The Boy Scouts were there, a thousand strong; and the Girl Scouts had five hundred in line; each of the city schools had its division. It was a wonderful day for the children of Springdale; and Joie and Ali rode at the very head of the procession. Joie's trappings were all new; his howdah had been gilded; and Ali looked very fine in the court dress of a Malay prince.
So while the bands blared, and the drum-corps thumped, and flags waved, and children shouted themselves hoarse, the parade wended its way to Woodland Park where Ali and Joie were to live. There was a convenient little cottage for Ali, and close to it a small barn that had been fitted up for Joie, and there was hay enough in the barn to last him for months.
Woodland Park was a beautiful place, stretching for five miles along the majestic river. There were boulevards for automobiles and foot-paths for pedestrians, winding in and out among the trees. Squirrels scampered along the pathways or chattered in the tree-tops, and birds were everywhere.
There was a large pasture for the bison, where six head grazed peacefully, and a high enclosure for the deer; there was a bird-house and a snake-house, and dens for lions, bears, and wolves; not to mention a large den, with a swimming-pool for the polar bear. So, it will be seen that Woodland Park was an Eldorado of beauty and wonder for the children of Springdale.
They had always liked the park, but now they had Joie and Ali they liked it better than ever. Every Wednesday and Saturday afternoon they would come to the park in droves, and Ali would put on his court dress and put on Joie's best howdah and take the children for rides up and down the boulevards under the friendly trees.
Joie and Ali were never more happy than when the howdah was swarming with laughing and screaming children, and Joie was pacing up and down with Ali walking at his side. Thus it was that the two grew into the hearts and affections of all the children of Springdale.
Every autumn when Ringden Brothers circus went into headquarters, Mr. Anderson would leave the show and come back to Springdale to be at home with his family. The winter evenings he and Ali spent before the open fire roasting chestnuts and popping corn, and talking over the old days of elephant-drives and tigerhunts in far-away Malay land. But, no matter upon what topic they talked, on these rare evenings, Ali was sure to steer
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the conversation back to Joie; to remind the Sahib of what a clever baby elephant Joie had been, and how wonderful he was now. But he was not an animal, Ali would insist when any one referred to him in that manner. "Joie is Folks; he knows as much as any of us. I have never forgotten, Sahib, what the old priest told me. It has saved my life several times, and it helps me always to understand the wild creatures. Joie is my brother."
The end