Leo the Circus Boy: or, Life under the great white canvas. Stratemeyer Edward

about the inclosure.

      Could he not lose himself in the crowd?

      He resolved to make the attempt.

      But he had not the price of admission, even though it was but twenty-five cents.

      Yet this did not stop the youth.

      “Necessity knows no law,” and just as Daniel Hawkins drove up within a hundred feet of him he ran in among the carriages at the gateway and entered the grounds before the gatekeeper could stop him.

      “Hi, boy, stop! Where is your ticket?”

      The policeman near the gatekeeper made a dash after Leo.

      But the boy was not to be collared.

      He sprang into the midst of a crowd, and that ended the chase so far as the guardian of the law went.

      Leo did not remain near the gates, but following the crowd, he walked to one of the main buildings and then to the large field beyond.

      Here was a small racecourse, and local horsemen were running races for small purses and side bets.

      At once something in the center of the racetrack attracted Leo’s attention.

      It was a very large balloon, swaying gracefully to and fro in the light breeze that was blowing.

      The boy was interested on the instant, as he had not seen a balloon since he was a small boy.

      “Father once went up in one of those things,” he mused, as he moved forward. “I would like to try it once myself.”

      Around the balloon were half a dozen men, preparing for the ascension, to take place half an hour later.

      Professor Williams, the aeronaut, had not yet put in appearance.

      The balloon was about filled with hot air and the men were merely keeping the air warm until the professor should arrive.

      As Leo stood by watching the arrangements an outsider came up.

      “Too bad!” he said.

      “What’s too bad?”

      “The professor can’t get here to-day.”

      “Why not?”

      “He has been taken sick and is at the hotel in New Haven.”

      “That will be a big disappointment to this crowd.”

      “I admit it, but it can’t be helped.”

      The boy listened to the conversation with interest.

      He pushed his way to where the man in charge of the balloon stood.

      “I’ll go up in the balloon for you, if you’ll pay me,” he said.

      “You!” the man looked at him in astonishment.

      “Yes.”

      “It won’t do, my lad. The crowd want somebody who will make a parachute jump, and all that.”

      “I’ll make the parachute jump if you’ll give me a few instructions.”

      The man laughed.

      “You’re a daring youngster, to say the least,” he remarked. “Why, you might break your neck.”

      “No, I wouldn’t,” returned Leo confidently.

      “Well, I’m much obliged, but I can’t use your services.”

      “Let me get in the basket and see how it feels, will you?” asked the boy, after a pause.

      “Well, seeing as you are so anxious, I’ll oblige you,” laughed the man.

      The basket rested on the ground, directly to one side of the fire, with which the air in the swaying monster was kept hot.

      Hardly had the man given permission than Leo entered the wicker inclosure.

      It was about six feet in diameter and filled with bags of sand for ballast.

      To one side of the basket was attached a parachute. This the balloonist used in making his daring jumps from the clouds.

      As Leo sat in the basket the crowd gathered around him.

      “Hullo, Leo Dunbar! what are you doing in that basket?” asked Ben Barkley, one of the rich boys of Hopsville.

      “Going to make an ascension,” returned Leo jokingly.

      “Bet you ten dollars you are not,” laughed Ben.

      “All right; I’ll take you up. But you must loan me the money, Ben.”

      “How is it old Hawkins gave you a day off?” went on Ben. “Thought he was too mean to give anybody a holiday.”

      “So he is, Ben. I took a day off and I’m going to take more.”

      “Phew! What do you mean? Have you and the old man parted company?”

      “We have.”

      “It is a wonder he would let you go – he got so much work out of you.”

      “He didn’t let me go. I ran away.”

      Ben Barkley’s eyes opened widely.

      “You don’t mean it!”

      “I do! I’m tired of being his slave.”

      “I don’t blame you a bit for leaving,” was Ben’s decided reply. “I know what a hard-hearted man he is.”

      “I’m going to carve my own way to fortune.”

      “What are you going to do?”

      Leo was about to answer when Ben was pushed to one side and the portly form of Daniel Hawkins appeared.

      “Ha! ha! So I have found you at last, you scamp!” he cried in a rage. “A pretty run you have given me! And made me pay out twenty-five cents, too, to come in the fair after you!”

      Leo was taken completely aback. He had not dreamed that the farmer would follow him into the grounds.

      “I’ll skin you!” stormed the man, seeing the boy did not immediately answer him.

      “Not much you won’t,” put in Ben Barkley.

      “What have you to do with this?” howled Daniel, turning to the rich boy.

      “You have no right to abuse Leo,” responded Ben.

      “This is none of your business!”

      “Hold him a minute, Ben!” suddenly shouted Leo. “Hold him!”

      As the boy spoke he drew from his pocket a clasp-knife.

      Quickly he opened the largest blade.

      Slash! slash! slash!

      He was cutting the ropes which held the balloon.

      “Here! What are you doing!” screamed the man in charge.

      “I’m going to escape a tyrant!” responded Leo, as he cut the last rope.

      For an instant the balloon continued to sway from side to side.

      Daniel Hawkins fought off Ben Barkley and leaped forward.

      Too late!

      Up shot the balloon, dragging the basket after it.

      In less time than it takes to tell it, Leo Dunbar was five hundred feet up in the air!

      CHAPTER VIII. – AMONG THE CLOUDS IN A THUNDERSTORM

      A cry arose.

      “The balloon has gone up!”

      “Why, the balloonist is nothing but a boy!”

      “My! but ain’t it going up fast!”

      Daniel Hawkins could do nothing but stare after the balloon.

      “Foolish boy, he will be killed!” he gasped.

      Ben Barkley was also amazed.

      “He said he would go up,” he murmured,