Part IV Chapter 3 Doctor Dolittle's Circus by Hugh Lofting
NINO
After the departure of Fatima, the snake-charmer, John Dolittle liked the life of the circus a good deal better. It had mostly been the thought that he was not doing anything to help the animals that had made him so often speak against it. But now that he had sent Sophie back to her husband; freed the snakes from a life of slavery and chloroform, and forbidden the selling of quack medicines, he began to feel that his presence here was doing good.
And then Blossom, ever since the medical lecture riot, had shown him a great deal more respect. The ringmaster had always known that he had a good thing in the pushmi-pullyu. And if it had not been for his blind rage on being turned out of the town by the Mayor, and for Fatima's eternal nagging against the Doctor, he would never have dreamed of trying to get rid of him at all.
John Dolittle's own popularity with the circus people themselves was in the end improved greatly by the incident at Stowbury. In spite of the fact that she had successfully turned many of the showmen against the Doctor, Fatima herself had always been disliked by almost every one. And when it became known that the Doctor had brought about her departure he was very soon forgiven for the loss caused by the circus being ordered out of the town.
However, his real power and influence with the show people did not properly begin until the day that the Talking Horse fell sick.
The circus had moved on to a town called Bridgeton, a large manufacturing centre, where good business was expected by Blossom. The animals and clowns and bareback riders and the rest had made their usual procession through the streets; big bills were posted all over the place, and when the enclosure was opened to the public great throngs of people had crowded up to the gates. It looked like one of the best weeks the circus had ever known.
At two o'clock the show at the big tent (for which an extra sixpence was charged) was to begin. Outside the entrance a large sign was set up showing the program: "Mademoiselle Firefly, the Bareback Rider; the Pinto Brothers, Daring Trapeze Artists; Hercules, the Strongest Man on Earth; Hop, the Side-Splitting Clown, and His Comedy Wonder-Dog, Swizzle; Jojo, the Dancing Elephant," and (in large letters) "NINO, the World-Famous Talking Horse."
Now this Nino was just an ordinary, cream-colored cob who had been trained to answer signals Blossom had bought him from a Frenchman; and with him he had bought the secret of his so-called talking. In his act he didn't talk at all really. All he did was to stamp his hoof or wag his head a certain number of times to give answers to the questions Blossom asked him in the ring.
"How many do three and four make, Nino?" Blossom would say. Then Nino would stamp the floor seven times. And if the answer was yes, he would nod his head up and down, and if it was no, he would shake it from side to side. Of course, he didn't know what was being asked of him at all, as a matter of fact. And the way he knew what answers to give was from the signals that Blossom made to him secretly. When he wanted Nino to say yes, the ringmaster would scratch his left ears; when he wanted him to answer no, he would fold his arms and so on. The secret of all these signals Blossom kept jealously to himself. But, of course, the Doctor knew all about them because Nino had told him how the whole performance was carried on.
Now, in advertising the circus Blossom always put Nino, the World- Famous Talking Horse, before all the other turns in importance. It was a popular performance and the children loved shouting questions down to the little plump cob and seeing him answer with his feet or his head.
Well, on the circus's first day in Bridgeton, a little before the show in the big tent was to begin, the Doctor and the ringmaster were in the clown's dressing-room talking. Suddenly in rushed the head stableman in a great state of excitement.
"Mr. Blossom," he cried. "Nino's sick! Layin' in his stall with 'is eyes closed. The show's due to begin in fifteen minutes and I can't do nothing with 'im--can't even get 'im on his feet."
With a hearty curse Blossom rushed out and tore away in the direction of the stables, while the Doctor followed him on the run.
When they got to Nino's stall Blossom and the Doctor found the horse in a bad state. His breathing was fast and heavy. With difficulty he was made to stand up on his feet, but for walking even a few steps he seemed far too shaky and weak.
"Darn the luck!" muttered the manager. "If he can't perform it will queer the whole week's showing. We've posted him as the start turn. The crowd will want to know about it if they don't see him."
"You'll have to make a speech and explain," said the Doctor. "That horse has a bad fever. I doubt if he can leave his stall to-day."
"Good heavens, man, we'll have to!" cried Blossom. "We'll likely have the audience asking for its money back if he don't appear. We can't have any more riots like--"
At that moment a boy came up.
"Five minutes to two, Mr. Blossom. Pierce wants to know if you are all ready."
"Hang it!" said the manager. "I can't take the ring for the first turn. I must get Nino fixed up before I can come on."
"We ain't got nobody else, Sir," said the boy. "Robinson 'asn't got back yet."
"Lord, what a day!" groaned the manager. "Well, the show can't open without a ringmaster, that's sure. And I can't leave Nino yet. I don't know what--"
"Excuse me, governor," said a voice behind him. And turning, Blossom looked into the crossed eyes of Matthew Mugg.
"Couldn't I take your place, boss?" said the Cat's-Meat-Man, "I know your whole line of talk by heart. I could introduce the turns--same as you--and nobody know the difference."
"Well," said Blossom looking him up and down, "you're about the scrubbiest ringmaster I ever see'd. But beggars can't be choosers. Come with me--quick--and I'll give you these clothes."
Then, while the Doctor turned his attention to Nino, Blossom and Matthew made off on the run for the dressing rooms. There, with the aid of Theodosia (who put a large swift pleat in Blossom's riding breeches) and a little rouge and a false moustache from the clown's make-up box, Mr. Mugg was transformed from a cat's-meat-man into a ringmaster. The ambition of his life was realized at last. And as he swaggered into the ring and looked up at the sea of faces around him his chest swelled with dignity; while Theodosia, watching him through a slit in the tent-flap, glowed with wifely pride and prayed that the pleat in his riding breeches would hold till the show was over.
In the meantime from an examination of Nino the Doctor became certain that there was no hope of his recovering in time to perform that day. He went and got some large pills from his black bag and gave him two. Presently Blossom, now dressed in a jersey and flannel pants, joined him.
"You can't have this horse perform to-day, Mr. Blossom," said the Doctor, "nor for a week, probably, at last."
"Well," said the ringmaster, throwing up his hands in despair, "we're just ruined--that's all--ruined! That row up in Stowbury got into the papers, and now if we have another frost here, we're done for. And if Nino don't go on, the crowd's going to ask for their money back, sure as you're alive. He's the start turn. We might manage if we had another act to put on in his place, but I haven't a blessed thing for an extra. And it was a short program, anyhow. We're ruined. Darn it, I never saw such a run of rotten luck!"
Poor Blossom seemed genuinely crestfallen. While the Doctor looked at him thoughtfully, a horse in the stall next to Nino's neighed softly. It was Beppo, the veteran wagon horse. A smile came into the Doctor's face.
"Look here, Mr. Blossom," said he quietly, "I think I can help you out of this trouble, but if I do you've got to promise me a few things. I know a good deal more about animals than you suppose I do. I've given up the best part of my life to studying them. You advertised that Nino understood you and could answer any questions you put to him. You and I know that's not so, don't we? The trick was done by a system of signals. But it took the public in. Now I'm going to tell you a secret of my own which I don't boast about because nobody would believe me if I did. I can talk to horses in their own language and understand them when they talk back to me."
Blossom was staring down moodily at the floor while the Doctor spoke. But at last words he gazed up at John Dolittle frowning.
"Are you crazy?" he said, "or didn't I hear straight? Talk to animals in their own language! Look 'ere: I've been in the show business thirty-seven years, knocked around with animals ever since I was a nipper. And I know there ain't no such thing as a man talking with a horse in horse language. You got a cheek to tell me a yarn like that--me, Alexander Blossom!"