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I tugged Apollo along. Perhaps the poor man didn’t have all his wits.
We found ourselves in front of the giant next. He certainly wasn’t eight feet tall, but he could have been seven and a half feet or more. Even if he’d been eight feet tall, he wouldn’t have been the tallest man in the country, for I’d met the winner of that title. He appeared sickly and lethargic, as giants often do, with swollen facial features and an oversize head. His hands were puffy and hamlike, and I would bet anything that he limped. I couldn’t tell how old he might be, as giants tend to age fast. He wasn’t much interested in what went on, but stared at the tent wall. He seemed sad.
Apollo must have sensed that too. “Hello!” he called, and waved up at the man. “You’re a very fine giant indeed.” The giant’s eyes didn’t even flicker, but I smiled at Apollo’s sweet attempt to cheer him up. I would hate to see the puppy boy exhibited like this, unkempt and uncared for.
We gathered at the far end of the tent in front of a curtained display that promised a finale.
“Man alive! Did you ever see such an all-fired sight?” said a gentleman.
“I will allow I have never,” said another. “Oddments, the whole boodle.”
“Land sakes!” said a woman, hand at her heart. “When I saw that caterpillar feller, I thought I’d have a conniption fit.”
The crowd hushed as Dr. Mink stepped in front of the curtains.
“And now the most amazing sight you will ever see in your life. A person you will tell your grandchildren about. A creature that defies the laws of nature. For a mere one dime more.”
There were some grumbles, but the gentlemen coughed up.
Dr. Mink took hold of the curtain. “May I present to you Mr. Eustace Gin
ger—the two-headed man!” He pulled the curtain aside.
We all gasped.
A man sat in a straight-backed chair, his hands folded in his lap. He appeared normal in every way, from his modest suit to his neatly trimmed beard, but out of his forehead grew a second head, a third of the size of the original.
A girl exclaimed and, by the sounds, someone fainted, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away to look.
He was no humbug. The second head was a miniature parody of the first, complete with beard. The eyes blinked and appeared to be able to see, but they were dull, with no sign of intelligence. The mouth opened and closed constantly, although no sounds came forth. I suspected that it was moronic.
Before I could ask Mr. Ginger some questions—like could his second head swallow, and did it catch cold?—Dr. Mink stepped forward and dropped the curtain.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your patronage,” he said. “Souvenirs are on sale outside.”
“Well, that’s a swindle,” I muttered to Apollo.
“What did you think?” asked Mrs. Delaney as we left the tent. Dr. Mink walked at her side. He carried his hat under his arm, revealing spiky white hair.
“Impressive,” I said. I didn’t want to be impolite and tell Dr. Mink that it bothered me that none of them did anything.
“Would you and the young fellow here care to join my troupe for a late supper?” asked Dr. Mink.
And have Mink fill Apollo’s head with ideas? I didn’t think so. “Oh, it’s much too late for a boy his age.” I didn’t like the way Mink looked at me when I said that. “Run in the house, Apollo. It’s time for bed.”
“Abel!” my dog-faced friend complained.
“I’ve a bedtime story to tell you about a dancing girl and a thief, if you behave,” I said, meaning an edited version, of course.
Apollo couldn’t resist a story. “It better be a good one,” he muttered before he ran off.
“Dr. Mink,” I said to the showman. “It strikes me that you may be in need of a performing act. Could you use a knife thrower? I have excellent skills and would be glad to demonstrate.”
“A knife thrower, eh?” the skeleton man said, and grinned. “And a dog boy.”
“No,” I said. “Apollo is going home, back to his parents, who miss him.”
“What a shame. What a shame.” Dr. Mink stroked his goatee and thought for a moment. “Well, I may have need of a knife thrower. Why don’t you show me what you’ve got in the morning, when the light is better?”
