Alfred, Lin and the mother were seated at the breakfast table, discussing Alfred's show. Ways and means were the subjects. The mother was an interested listener, although a quiet dissenter. She could not understand how Alfred, even with Lin's aid, could offer anything in the way of a show to entertain even children.

The price of admission was to be two ten-penny nails. The boat building industry was thriving and the boys often went aboard a new boat picking up the nails the carpenters let fall in their work. The nail idea was Lin's and we must accord her some degree of originality.

"Pins had always been the equivalent for cash for admission to amatoor shows." Lin said "our show." She always said "our show" when talking to the neighbors. When the show was referred to at home it was "Alfred's show."

Costumes were the perplexity of Alfred. He desired "purty" clothes: it made the acting look better.

Lin added: "Purty duds makes a lot in a show, or in meetin'," meanwhile looking mischievously at the mother. She said to Alfred: "Ye've got a tolerable good start fur as ye're concerned yerself, with the two suits ye fetched hum lately--the soldier suit Lacy Hare and Aunt Betsy made ye an' the one Mrs. Young lent ye."

Morg Gaskill had requested the return of the latter mentioned garments but Alfred's climbing of fences, running through briar patches and dangling out of milk wagons had pretty well used the garments up. The mother therefore in return sent similar garments.

Alfred insisted that the unmentionables Mrs. Young loaned him should be the basis of his clown suit. Although Alfred has worn many grotesque costumes since, none ever more strongly appealed to the risibilities of an audience than did those same garments. Lin said they were "the funniest fit she ever seed an' she wondered to gawd who they ever wuz made fer. Two meal sacks fastened together would fit jes' as well."

The show pa.s.sed off as amateur shows generally do, with a great many hitches, accidents and quarrels. The night was a stormy one, without and within. The audience all came early and stood around the kitchen stove while Alfred and the other performers robed themselves, for there were no dressing rooms. Lin commanded the audience to turn their faces and look toward the stove while the actors were dressing.

The audience were compelled to go through the kitchen to gain entrance to the place of exhibition, the cellar. On Lin would fall the labor of cleaning up next day; therefore, as each auditor appeared at the kitchen door, Lin shouted: "Wipe yer feet 'fore ye come in."

That the show might go on without hindrance, or for some other reason, the father and mother visited a neighbor that night. This was a great relief to Alfred and Lin.

Lin said: "Ef Mary ever sees this kitchen afore I git at it in the mornin' she'll hev a fit of the conniptions."

The show was very unsatisfactory to Alfred. He was dissatisfied with his company and declared they "couldn't do nuthin'." One or two weakened at the last moment. When looked for to take their place in the ring they were found seated or standing among the audience and no persuasion from the manager or the audience could induce them to go on with their part of the performance. This was exasperating to Alfred. He either enacted their roles or explained the part they were expected to perform.

Lin went wild over his impersonations of Daniel Boone, Santa Anna and Davy Crockett. Lin said: "I tell ye what, Lacy Hare's soldier suit come in jes' right."

Young Bill Colvin, a nephew of Uncle Joe's neighbor, was seated near the ringside. He plucked at one of the epaulets while Davy Crockett was supposed to be holding the cabin door against the wolves. This ruffled the temper of Davy to such an extent that he smote Bill. Bill smote back. Over and over they rolled on the cellar floor. Davy might have been a mighty man pitted against the wolves, but Bill Colvin was getting the better of him until Lin rushed to the rescue.

Parting the combatants, young Colvin was rushed to the door, flung half way across the street by Lin and the door slammed in his face. Lin was more loudly applauded than any other part of the show.

She made a speech:

"Ef there's any other freckled faced willun here thet's goin' to do anythin' to bust up this show, now's the time fer 'em to wade in while I'm het up. Huh, Bill Colvin thinks caus' his daddy's rich he kin do anythin' he wants to, but he'll find he's up agin a stump when he starts a fuss in this shanty."

Lin's sunny disposition was rarely crossed by shadows, but she was terribly angry and the best of order was maintained for the remainder of the evening.

Although there was no visible evidence of the mud and dirt tracked into the kitchen by the audience, the next morning the mother forever put the ban on future shows in so far as the cellar or kitchen were concerned.

Lin had constructed a rude candelabra after the style of the one in the circus. It was left hanging in the cellar. Lin lit them up when Aunt Betsy came on Sat.u.r.day to show her how "purty" they were. Afterwards, in the absence of Lin, the mother confidentially imparted the information to Aunt Betsy that "Lin was crazier over such things than Alfred, and it was pretty much all her doings."

Lin had been busy for weeks, in fact, ever since the show in the cellar, patching, sewing, and putting together old rag carpet, canvas, heavy with paint, that had been ripped from the hurricane deck of an old steamboat.

Alfred was to give another show, this time on Jeffries' Commons and under canvas, or rather, inside of canvas. Since the night the side wall fell as Dr. Playford and he were leaving the tent, the boy had been revolving this plan in his mind. He felt certain he could collect, with the aid of the boys, sufficient material to encircle the ring which had been long constructed and used to practice in. A center pole with side poles planted in the ground like fence posts. A top for the tent was out of the question but nearly sufficient material had been collected to encircle the poles, making a sidewall nearly ten feet high.

Lin had announced the price of admission at one cent and had so extensively advertised the show by word of mouth that the children were already visiting Alfred's home to buy tickets of admission. This aggravated the mother more greatly than even the cellar show. The mother feared the neighbors would think that she was interested in the show, financially.

Lin said: "Let 'em think what they durn please. Some of 'em's in a mighty big hurry to pay fur their tickets. Ef they'd pay back the saleratus, salt, sugar, tea, coffee, an' sich they've borryed from us we'd be better off. But some peepul will spend money quicker fer fun than they will fer vittles or religion."

It was the night before the show. A consultation was held in the tent between Alfred and his aids. There was an opening of at least ten feet in length in the side of the tent and no canvas or other material to close it up. Turkey Evans had brought the last strip of an old rag carpet he had taken surrept.i.tiously from an unused room of his home. The two old quilts Tom White had stolen from Betsy Smart were in place with half moons, hearts, diamonds, and sunflowers worked on them in raised figures. They gave the tent the appearance of an Indian tepee.

Win Scott had contributed all the coffee, grain or salt sacks he could secure by rummaging every building on Stable Street. Some of the boys had even appropriated the ap.r.o.ns worn by Nimrod Potts, the shoemaker. As Mr. Potts was of goodly size the two ap.r.o.ns from his shop went a long ways toward making a part.i.tion between the tent and the dressing room.

Spliced to the bed tick Bindley Livingston had thrown out of the third story window of his father's house, the ap.r.o.ns closed up the opening completely.

But the big opening near the door was still a gaping void. After all had confessed to their inability to furnish another yard of material, Alfred advised that in the garret of his grandfather's home there was a large cedar chest filled with whitest linen, three pieces of which would close up the opening but he knew grandpap would not let him take it "caus' he was a Baptis' and agin shows."

Win Scott argued that it would be no harm to take the linen. The fact that it had lain there unused was proof positive they would never miss it. Just as soon as the show was over they would take it back and no one would ever know it but themselves.

Alfred being entirely familiar with grandfather's house it was planned he should creep upstairs, open a window and throw sufficient of the linen out of the garret into old man Morehouse's back yard where the others would station themselves, carry the linen to the old school house and secrete it until the following morning.

Alfred's limbs trembled so he could scarcely stand as he opened the back door of the big stone house. Up the long flight of stairs he crept, the creaking of a loose board startling him so he nearly fainted. Although not a light burned in that part of the house, so familiar was he with its interior that he had no difficulty in finding his way.

As he reached the top of the stairs leading to the garret, still on hands and knees, the old furniture, odds and ends piled around indiscriminately, took on the grotesqueness of imps, demons and other fantastic figures. So wrought up was his imagination that nothing but the fear of ridicule from his confederates forced him on. Crawling along the dirty, sooty, begrimed floor, he soon located the old cedar chest.

Raising the lid, the aroma of camphor and rose leaves nearly overcame him. Even in the dark he could discern the folds of whitest linen.

Counting out five pieces, he tiptoed to the window. With the signal--a soft whistle--down floated the first sheet, caught by one of the boys ere it touched the ground. The next sheet hit the brick pavement with a thud. Partly unfolding the next two Alfred followed their fluttering course to the earth with his gaze. He could see the white objects moving off like specters floating through s.p.a.ce.

They appeared so ghost-like the sight almost paralyzed him. Shaking with nervousness, the last sheet left his hands accidently catching on the window fastening. It spread out like a great, white bird with flapping wings and slowly fluttered to the earth.

A door opened below. Alfred nearly collapsed. Tip-toeing across the room he stumbled over an object on the floor causing a great racket. Falling on the floor he crawled behind a number of old quilting frames and lay there ever so quiet expecting momentarily to hear some of the family ascending the stairs.

Crawling slowly to the stairs he softly descended, opened the door and shot out into the darkness of the night. The perspiration streaming down his face. Wiping it away with his soot begrimed hands, so blackened his countenance his companions scarcely recognized him when he reached the rendezvous, the old school-house on the commons.

When the last sheet fluttered down from the garret, Win Scott stepped under it. Tommy Morehouse's back door opened. With the sheet fluttering about him, Scott ran down the garden path and out through the barn into Stable Street.

Nearly opposite the stable from which he had just emerged was the big stable of the Marshall House, a tavern kept by Isaac Vance, the uncle of Ike Stribeg, the afterwards noted circus agent.

Baggy Allison and Hughey Boggs, characters of the town, were seated on a bench outside the door of the big stable. Scott, pulling the sheet more closely about him and waving his arms wildly, quickly crossed the street towards the two worthies, thinking to have some fun with them. Both caught sight of him at the same instant. One corner of the sheet, fluttering high in the air, it certainly was a skittish looking object that floated down upon the two superst.i.tious men. Over went the bench, a chair or two, Allison stepped in a tin pail as he arose, his foot entangled in it. The clattering of Baggy's foot in the pail added ten fold to the terror of Hughey. He swore afterwards he could feel the clutch of the long, bony fingers of the ghost on his neck.

[Ill.u.s.tration: He Could Feel the Clutch of Long, Bony Fingers on Him]

The hostlers flew, both trying to enter the narrow door of the tavern.

Wedged in the doorway, each thought the other holding him. Fighting, cussing, scratching, they were pulled into the big tap room filled with guests. All imagined the two hostlers were fighting and endeavored to separate them.

Baggy Allison was very slow of speech; Hughey Boggs stuttered painfully.

After they were separated they kept up their clawing and waving.

Baggy, pointing toward the stable, blurted out: "Ghost! Ghost! Ghost after us! Ketch it! Ketch it!"

Hughey stuttering more terribly, owing to his fright had, only got to "Gh--gh--gh--gh," when Baggy had finished explaining the cause of their fright.

Bud Beckley, old Johnny Holmes and Jim Hubbs, the town constable, were the first to run towards the stable, but nothing was to be seen in any direction. Baggy and Hughey were unmercifully scored for their cowardice, and were ridiculed for days afterward.

Win Scott was as badly frightened as the two hostlers. The flight of the men caused him to redouble his speed. On down Stable Street to Playford's Alley, out along the high stone wall enclosing Nelson Bowman's castle, on to Jeffries' Commons, formerly an old graveyard.

Here, according to report, the spook sank into a sunken grave. Albert Baker's mother saw the apparition as did Sammy Honesty, one of Bowman's servants.