Elijah of Buxton (11 page)

 

Cooter'd already told me about this carnival, but he'd made the mistake of asking his ma if he could go. She'd asked him if he was daft then said she was gonna make sure he didn't sneak out by having him sleep at the foot of her bed on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.

I told the Preacher, “All the growned folks said we gotta stay away from this. They said there's gambling and all sorts of horrible things going on there.”

He said, “So what do
you
think about it? I've thought of a way we can use your God-given gift to help get some money for the Settlement, but if you're having second thoughts …”

“But Ma and Pa wouldn't never let me go to something like this.”

“Elijah, there are lots of things that you do that I'm sure your mother and father would be shocked about. I'm positive they have no idea how much time you and Cooter spend wandering about in the forest late at night, do they? This wouldn't be much different than that. It would simply be a matter of meeting me later tomorrow night and then the two of us going to the carnival. I'd be there to make certain nothing bad happened to you. But, if you've changed your mind about helping the Settlement, I understand. It's easy to talk about being helpful, but actually doing what one has promised can be a lot more difficult.”

I saw what the Preacher was doing, I saw how he was using growned-folks talk to paint me in a corner. But the way I look at things, there's accidentally getting painted in a corner and there's not minding getting painted in a corner. And, truth told, I didn't mind getting painted into this one. What could be more exciting than going to a carnival to see freaks of nature and watch someone get hypnotized? Plus, the Preacher had figured out a way for me to help the Settlement too, what could be better?

“But I ain't got no money to get in, sir.”

“Elijah, your money is no good when I'm around. Besides, if you insist on paying me back you can always double up on your tithing when you go fishing.”

It waren't for myself exactly, it was for the good of the Settlement, so I said, “When should I meet you, sir?”

“That's my boy! We'll meet tomorrow night. Bring a sack full of your stones.”

As interesting as this was starting to sound, there waren't no way I was gonna miss going to this carnival!

 

On Friday night, me and the Preacher first came to a clearing that was a bit off from the main set of noise and excitement. In the middle of the clearing was a tent that had a big fresh-painted sign out front that said:

 

See Madame Sabbar,
the Royal Huntress from Sweden!
She Has Slain 541 Swedish Moth Lions
with No Weapon Other Than
Her Slingshot!!!!

 

A white man with a walking stick and a straw hat stood on a box shouting to people to pay a dime to come see this hunting woman. He yelled, “Marvel at the deadly accuracy of Madame Sabbar's slingshot! Come one, come all! You will be amazed at the things she can do with a simple stone. You will want to come back again and again. Your friends and neighbours won't believe you when you tell them about the power that Madame Sabbar's simple weapon possesses! Witness for yourself the astounding little lady who has killed five hundred and forty-one of the fiercest beasts in all of Europe, the dreaded Swedish moth lion!”

One of the white farmers called out, “That's a load of hogwash! There ain't no lions in Sweden!”

The white man pointed his walking stick at the farmer and said, “You're absolutely right, sir! Which is further proof of Madame Sabbar's skill; it shows she's wiped out the entire lot of them! Now, you'll have to hurry. Our next-to-last show begins in two minutes. Who's going to pay the ridiculously small sum of one thin dime to see this amazing woman?”

I couldn't believe it! The Preacher pulled me into the line and we waited to go in and see this woman! I started shaking right off. I hadn't never seen no one who'd killed a lion afore! I hadn't never seen no one that's ever
seen
a lion afore!

When we got to the front of the line the Preacher put down two American dimes and we went into the tent. We sat on a row of benches right up near the front of the stage. On one end of the stage there were five bull's-eye targets. Next to the targets was a big board that had a thick, dark green forest painted on it.

You could tell it waren't no forest from 'round here 'cause these woods had monkeys hanging in the trees. There were also six holes the size of supper plates cut into the board so's it 'peared to be a big knothole in each one of the trees. Under each one of the holes was a fancy writ number going from one to six. 'Cross the top of the board, spaced the same distance one from the 'nother, were ten lit candles and under the candles it looked like someone had throwed a sheet over the very top of the board. The sheet said,
THE JUNGLES OF SWEDEN
!!!

We didn't wait but a minute afore the white man with the walking stick and straw hat came out on stage and told some jokes that didn't no one think were funny. After he saw he waren't gonna encourage nothing but hisses from the crowd, he introduced us to the slingshot lady, and fierce-looking as she was, it was easy to tell she really had killed five hundred lions!

The man said, “Please, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, help me welcome Madame Sabbar, and perhaps she will show us her dexterity with these deadly slingshots.”

The man pointed at a table that had on top of it three fancy slingshots. Next to the slingshots were little piles of things I figured the woman was gonna shoot. There were some grapes and some peculiar-looking stones with holes in 'em and some real pretty marbles and some rocks that looked a little too light to be proper chunking stones.

A tiny amount of clapping came out the crowd and Madame Sabbar picked up one of the slingshots and one of the marbles. She aimed at the first bull's-eye target and shot off a marble. It hit dead centre and busted through some paper and runged a bell. She did the same thing with the next four targets, ringing a bell every time.

Folks didn't think this was such a big ruckus, 'specially not one worth paying no whole American dime for! Only one or two people clapped, but there was a lot more grumbling and hissing going on too.

The man said, “Astonishing! Astounding! But it doesn't end there, ladies and gentlemen. Once she has prepared herself, she moves on to a more challenging task. It is a well-known fact that the Swedish moth lion is drawn to candlelight, so once the roar of one of these fierce Scandinavian cats is heard, Madame Sabbar's first duty is to extinguish all of the candles as quickly as she possibly can!”

The man put his hand on his ear and said, “Hark! What was that?”

All the sudden it looked like we were gonna get our dime's worth after all!

Somewhere from behind the stage came a roar that sounded like Mr. Brown clearing flum outta his throat, but a lot louder, and Madame Sabbar sprunged to work! She picked up a different slingshot and all sorts of who-struck-John busted loose!

First thing she did was aim at the ten candles sitting atop of the board with the six holes. She was using the odd-looking stones with holes in 'em and when they flewed 'cross the tent they made a sound like one n'em fat lazy Buxton bumblebees. Once the buzzing stones got to the candles, they put the flame out quiet as a whisper. Waren't a
one
n'em candles disturbed neither! The only thing that moved on each one was the wick. Why, with the tent getting fulled up with the buzzing of ten stones and the flames getting snuffed out one after the 'nother, 'twas a sight I'd've paid one of my
own
dimes to see!

But what she did next topped even that. She turned the slingshot out at all of us in the crowd and commenced firing over our heads, putting out all the candles that runged 'round the tent!

Seems like thinking you're 'bout to get busted in the head with a buzzing stone and not having it happen makes you want to give a good old whoop. Folks that'd ducked down or throwed their arms atop their heads came right back up cheering and clapping!

Madame Sabbar gave one n'em lady curtsies.

The man said, “Did I mislead you? Did I not tell you you'd be amazed? But, oh, ye of little faith, the story is not even half told!”

The man pointed his walking stick at the board with the jungle and the six knotholes.

“For not only must Madame Sabbar be on the lookout for the dreaded Swedish moth lion, she must also keep a sharp watch for the lion's allies, the savage members of the Swedish Mobongo tribe, and especially the young chief of the tribe, MaWee!”

From behind the holey board came a set of screams and yelps and jibber-jabber, then a little white boy hanging on to a spear and sporting a big old soup bone on top of his head marched onto the stage. The only clothes he was wearing was the bottom half of a woman's dress that looked like it waren't nothing but a bunch of long leafs sewed together. On his cheeks were painted black stripes. He was hopping from one foot to the 'nother whilst someone banged on a drum. If he'd have done it any faster and with any kind of rhythm, it would have come pretty close to being dancing.

“Beware, Madame Sabbar,” the man shouted. “Young MaWee is very angry because he knows of your reputation.”

The boy shooked his spear at the slingshot lady, but 'stead of being angry, the look on his face made it seem he was afeared.

“But, what is this? Oh, no! MaWee has used some of his conjuring powers on Madame Sabbar and has rendered her blind!”

The little boy reached in a bag on his waist and throwed something all sparkling and flashing at the woman. The white man with the walking stick tied a blindfold 'round Madame Sabbar's face then pulled a cloth sack over that so's we could tell she waren't seeing a thing.

“And now that he has blinded her, MaWee will hide behind one of the trees in the Swedish jungle and most foully lie in wait for an ambush!”

The man turned the slingshot lady so's she was facing the board with the holes in it di-rect. MaWee walked behind it. But afore he went I got a good look at him. This waren't no Swedish jungle chief atall! This was Jimmy Blassingame, one of the white children from Chatham that studied at our school!

The man said, “Madame Sabbar, what can you see?”

The woman raised the sack so her mouth waren't covered and said, “Alas, I see nothing. The heathen's magic has left me completely sightless.”

The man said, “Oh, woe! And look at the cowardly savage! He's preparing to attack! What shall we do? How shall we save this innocent white woman? I can give her a weapon, but in her state how shall she use it?”

The man reached onto the table next to Madame Sabbar and put a different slingshot in her left hand. In her right hand, he put a bunch of the purple grapes. She plucked one of 'em and set it in the sling.

All the sudden Jimmy Blassingame's face popped out of the hole that had the fancy
THREE
writ underneath it, the last hole on the right in the top row.

The man screamed, “Madame Sabbar! The coward is attacking! Fire your weapon!”

Madame Sabbar lifted the slingshot and let one n'em fat purple grapes fly. It splashed on the side of the tent five feet above Jimmy's head.

“Oh, no! She
is
blinded! And look! The savage is moving to another spot from which to waylay this innocent white maiden!”

Jimmy's head came outta hole number five, which was on the bottom row in the middle of the board.

“I've got it!” the walking stick man yelled. “You good citizens of Chatham can help by calling out the number of the hole in which that black … uh … that black-
hearted
barbarian is hiding!”

Jimmy's face showed up in the last hole on the right in the bottom row and 'bout half the crowd shouted, “Six!”

Why, that hunting lady couldn't see a thing but she shot one n'em grapes so fast and true that it caught Jimmy square in the middle of his forehead! He'd ducked his head so that was all that was poking out of the hole.

Everybody laughed so hard that the tent shooked!

Jimmy went to hole number five, hole number four, hole number one, and hole number three, and every time his forehead popped out, the crowd snitched on him and Madame Sabbar gave him the same treatment.

After 'while, all the grapes that got smashed on Jimmy's forehead started leaking down into his eyes so he bended over to wipe at 'em. But when he did this he was right in front of the fifth hole and the crowd shouted, “Five!”

Madame Sabbar raised the slingshot and fired the next grape so straight that it catched Jimmy, who hadn't had no chance atall to bend his face down, right twixt his eyes.

And waren't a person more shocked by this than Jimmy Blassingame! His mouth came wide open, he stood up, his face was now in front of the second hole and, doggone-it-all, some of the rotten folks in the crowd hollered out, “Two!”

Madame Sabbar quick shot another grape and it disappeared down Jimmy's throat, making a sound like a soap bubble getting busted!

Jimmy's hands came up to his neck and he staggered out from behind the board with the jungle and the holes and started flopping 'round on stage like a fish tossed out of water.

The man with the walking stick commenced cursing and saying words I ain't never heard afore. He picked Jimmy up and gave him a squeeze 'round the middle. The grape popped outta Jimmy's mouth and rolled out into the crowd.

You'd have thought 'twaren't a funnier thing in the world had ever happened.

Even the Preacher, who most times is a pretty serious man, took to throwing his head back and howling.

Jimmy Blassingame didn't even have sense enough to get off the stage. He sat plumb up there where the man had dropped him and cried so hard that purple and black streaks ran down his cheeks and splashed onto his chest.