A Gallant Grenadier: A Tale of the Crimean War. Brereton Frederick Sadleir
animal they were to transport. A sack of corn was placed on the van, and a large joint of horse-flesh hung beneath, and then, fully prepared for the journey, the gates were thrown open, and with nodded adieus from the other hands they issued from the yard and took the road for Brighton, Jim driving the horses in the van, with Phil by his side, while Timms went in front in charge of the lion. Trundling over the London cobbles they crossed one of the bridges, and before very long were out of the great city and enjoying to the full the sunshine and sweet breath of the country.
Chapter Four.
A Gallant Deed
The outdoor life agreed with Phil thoroughly, and he had scarcely been with the menagerie a month before all his paleness had disappeared, and he felt and looked in the best of health.
Constantly accompanying Jim and the old soldier upon some journey, the beginning of one week would find them at some sunny spot on the southern sea-coast, while at the end they would be slowly trudging to the north, having called en route at the headquarters in London, there to take possession of some other animal. And while they carried out this work others did the same, for the menagerie was a large and profitable concern. At the London headquarters there were cages and houses innumerable, in which the various animals were kept. But seldom indeed was any particular one a tenant of his cage for more than a fortnight, for, much to Phil’s surprise, the demand for lions, tigers, and other wild beasts was extraordinarily large. Now it was a zoological garden that wished to replace the lose of one of its show animals, and now some wealthy nobleman with a fancy for a private menagerie. Then, too, demands came from the Continent, and had to be attended to. The animals were placed in well-built, warm, but properly ventilated cages, capable of being lifted from their wheels if necessary, and in these they journeyed by road to their several destinations. In no case was the railroad used, for it was as yet very far from attaining to its present efficiency, and experience had taught the owner of the menagerie that beasts from foreign parts required to be treated like hot-house flowers, and protected from the chills and biting winds met with in England.
Two months and more passed pleasantly, and by that time Phil was quite accustomed to his work, and moreover, from frequent calls at the menagerie in London, had met all the other hands.
“I like the life immensely, and am sure it agrees with me,” he answered with enthusiasm one day when Jim suddenly turned upon him and asked him the question. “I earn more than I did some weeks ago, and in a very pleasant manner compared with the other employment. Besides, I have been amongst a number of working men and find that I can rub shoulders with them and not quarrel. It is just what I wanted to know, and now that I have had the experience I shall not be long in leaving this employment and enlisting in the army.”
“You must do just as you like there, lad,” replied Jim briskly. “Each chap settles that kind of thing for hisself. For my part, though, I’ve been too long and too contented at this here work to want to change.”
And indeed there was no doubt that Jim enjoyed his life to the full. A contented and merry fellow, he was just the one to make his companions look upon the bright side of things. Not that Phil was ever inclined to do otherwise. Up at daylight, as blithe as a lark, he was off with the horses to the nearest water so soon as the sun had lifted the mist from the ground. Then, tethering them to the wagon shafts again, he would slip off the thick rugs which covered them and groom them thoroughly, all the while giving vent to that peculiar “hiss” which seems necessary for this purpose, in a way that would have aroused the envy of many a stable lad.
That done, the canvas bin that stretched from the tip of the shaft was filled with corn, and while the sleek-coated animals set to work to consume it, Phil produced an iron tripod, gathered a pile of sticks, and set them alight. A box placed in proper position kept the breeze away on a gusty day, and in a twinkling, it seemed, the kettle above was singing, and a jet of white steam blowing into the cool morning air.
Now came the time he enjoyed most of all. Armed with a frying-pan, he sat down to prepare rashers of bacon, and if it were an extraordinary day, possibly eggs too. A shout would rouse Jim and the old soldier, and in five minutes the folding-table was set up, the tea made, and all three heartily devouring their breakfast.
“We might be in Ameriky, or some such place,” remarked Jim one morning. “It’s a treat being in the country this fine weather, and it does yer good to get up early and prepare yer own grub.”
“A precious lot of preparing you do, I notice,” laughed Timms. “Why, ever since Phil joined us he’s done all that.”
“You’ve got me there, mate, I owns,” Jim grinned. “The young un’s a beggar to work, and saves us a deal of trouble. Before he come I used to act as cook. Now I lies abed and takes it easy, as I ought to, on account of my age.”
Phil joined heartily in the laugh, for he knew well how Jim and Timms could work. As to his own share, he was glad to have plenty to do, and especially when he found he could help his two comrades, who had shown themselves such excellent fellows.
Phil liked the majority of those he met at the menagerie in London, and as for himself the other hands soon took his measure, and readily acknowledged that he was a hard-working and straight lad, willing to be friends with all. A few, however, were of the opposite opinion. There was a small clique of rowdy fellows who took an instant dislike to Phil, probably because, seeing what they were, he held aloof from them, and these, and in particular one of them, set themselves to make things unpleasant for him.
“Ought to ha’ been a lord or summat of the sort,” this worthy sneered one day as Phil passed the doorway round which they were lounging. “Thinks he owns the show – that’s what it is. I’ll take the gent down; see if I don’t, and right away too. Hi, you, Phil Western, or whatever’s yer name,” he shouted, “come here! I want to speak to yer. Now look here, Mr Dook, you’re a pretty fine bird, but where do you come from? That’s what we’re arter. Chaps of your sort don’t take to being hands in a menagerie every day, and that’s the truth, I reckon. I suppose yer wanted to hide away. That’s it, ain’t it?”
Now Phil had often been annoyed by this same young man, who went by the name of “Tony”, and in particular by the jeering way in which he shouted names and various other pleasantries after him every time he happened to pass.
“You want to know where I come from,” he replied calmly, standing close to the circle. “Then I’m afraid you will have to want.”
“Eh! What! Have to want, shall I?” Tony growled. “Now none of yer cheek. You’re too proud, that’s what you are, my young peacock, and you’ve got to get taken down.”
“That’s possible,” Phil rejoined, and was on the point of turning away to avoid a quarrel when the pleasant Tony sprang to his feet and shouting “Possible! Should just about think it is!” grasped him by the arm and swung him round till they faced one another.
“Leave go!” cried Phil, losing his temper.
“Sha’n’t till I’ve took yer down,” Tony snapped.
“Then take that!” and Phil dashed his fist into the young man’s face.
A scuffle at once ensued, and after a short and fiercely contested round, a ring was formed. But at this moment the owner of the menagerie put in an appearance and stopped the fight, with the natural result that there was bad blood between Phil and Tony from that day, and the latter never ceased to vow that he would have an ample revenge for the black eye he had received.
Now Tony had another disagreeable trait. Besides being a bully, he was also cruel, and took every opportunity of teasing a big brown bear which happened to be his special charge. The more Bruin snarled and showed his teeth, the harder Tony prodded him with his stick, till at times the poor beast was almost mad with rage. It was a dangerous game to play, and could have but one ending, and that was within an ace of being a fatal one for Tony.
It happened upon a day when Phil and his two companions had returned to London and were enjoying a well-earned rest after a few longer tramps than usual. By the merest chance, too, it was a holiday in the menagerie, for some valuable animals had recently arrived, and in consequence, the wives and children and