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I joined in with the others’ laughter, refusing to let them see me embarrassed, but I was irked. They’d all been scared for a moment, why should I be singled out?
“Must be something on the tracks,” said an acrobat.
“Probably a cow,” said another.
Time passed and the train stayed put.
“Someone go look,” said the senior acrobat, to a chorus of groans.
Everyone glanced at one another and out to the pitch-dark night between towns. Something mysterious blocked the tracks, a thing perhaps a mortal should not see. Had a disaster befallen the engine crew? Was the cabin empty even now and blood smeared down the tracks?
“Abel can go,” said the vulgar clown.
“What?” I protested.
There was no use complaining. Others took up the call, and they dragged me from my bunk. “Wait!” I cried, and struggled into my pants before they pushed me out in only my nightshirt.
The fellows hustled me to the door. “Run up the tracks and see what’s up,” called the juggler who had talked of weremonkeys, and he threw my boots after me.
“But what if the train starts?” I asked as the door slammed.
There I was, out in the middle of cricket-chirping nowhere, with nothing but the full moon to guide my way, and the occasional lit window down the length of the train. A rattle in the undergrowth made my heart lurch—a beast coming? No, just a breeze. Did I see someone on the roof? Don’t be silly, I told myself as I pulled on my boots.
From where I stood, I could find no reason for our stop. No one else had come out. They were sensibly tucked up in bed. I took a deep breath and walked down toward the engine. I hoped the boys would appreciate me after this.
A whistle split the night and I sucked in a breath. The engine chugged, chugged again, and again. Metal squealed and wheels ground. I ran for a doo
r, jumped, and missed the handle. The train moved a little faster. I aimed for the next door. This time I achieved a toehold and grabbed the handle, but it wouldn’t turn. My foot slipped. I dropped to the ground before my arm tore from its socket.
The train picked up more speed. I ran back toward my own door. There were rungs below the threshold. The fellows would let me in. Somehow the door passed me quicker than I expected.
Oh, help.
That’s when I saw the open cargo door of the elephant house approaching fast. I had to jump in or be stranded.
I flung myself through the gaping, dark hole. The momentum of the train skidded me sideways on my belly across boards and straw. I hit the doorjamb. It knocked the wind from me. My legs slid out of the door again. I grabbed for a hold and couldn’t find one. I’d be out of the door and under the wheels in a trice.
Then a hairy arm grabbed me, and I didn’t know which fate was worse.
“Hold on, Abel,” cried a familiar voice.
8
APOLLO!” I GASPED, AND CLUTCHED the offered arm. “Lord in heaven!”
The wiry dog boy, surprisingly strong, dragged me back into the car.
I scrambled to a sitting position in the straw, my breath harsh in my throat, and looked around me nervously. When I had ascertained that the elephants were in stalls and I was not in imminent danger of being stepped on, I gave in to outrage. “What in Sam Hill are you doing here?”
“Someone woke me up,” Apollo said. He squatted on his heels in canvas pants and a cotton shirt that hadn’t seen wash day in a month of Sundays. His golden pelt was knotted and snarled.
“I meant here in the circus,” I said, making no sense of his answer.
“I saw you leave,” he said. “I was sneaking up with a note from Phoebe, and there you were, sneaking too, with a suitcase! A suitcase, Abel! You were running away—without me! I had to follow.”
I had really heard someone in the corridor behind me after all.
“I kept quiet because you’d have sent me back, wouldn’t you? I heard you talking to that dotty Miss Dibble in the kitchen, so I went out the side door and waited for you.”
