BILLY BUNTER'S Big Top Page 1 of 97 - Friardale

BILLY BUNTER’S Big Top
and a bathing-towel swathed round his fat person did not protect Mr. Whiffles
from the breeze that came from the sea. Lurking in the shadows round the
circus camp was extremely uncomfortable. The sight of his own clothes and
hair came as a windfall to Mr. Whiffles. Here was the thief, the blighter, the
villain who had robbed him! Vengeance and a renewed thatch were within his
grasp at one fell sweep!
His clutch was just behind Bunter as the terrified Owl fled for his fat life.
Billy Bunter ran as he had seldom run before.
Gasping and puffing and panting, he fled onward at a frantic speed.
Once the outstretched fingers behind touched his shoulder and electrified him
into greater efforts.
He had one hope. He knew that Mr. Whiffles had been avoiding the lights of
the circus and the gaze of his company ever since nightfall. It was obvious
even to the obtuse Owl that Mr. Whiffles did not want to be seen wigless. If he
could reach the lighted encampment—
He reached it!
He was almost at his last gasp as he rolled breathlessly into the radius of light
of the naphtha lamps.
There was a shout.
Half a dozen people saw him rushing frantically in, and caught a glimpse of
the wild, weird figure behind. The flaring lights gleamed on a bald head and a
bathing-towel.
Mr. Whiffles stopped.
He could not face it. He turned and rushed back into the friendly cover of
darkness. Bunter staggered on to the caravans.
He sank down on the steps of the blue-and-gold caravan, and gasped and
puffed and blew.
‘Ow! Grooogh! Wow! Oh, crumbs! Oooooch! Grooooh!’ But he knew he was
safe. The bald head that had shone and gleamed for a moment in the glare of
the naphtha lamps was gone. Montgomery St. Leger Whiffles was once more
‘lurking’.
The Return of the Native!
‘Ow! Wow! Oooooch!’
Bunter gasped spasmodically. Half the circus gathered round him. Mr. Dance
came up, Slaney came up, George came up, Tomasso Tomsonio and
Samson and Nobby Nobbs, the clown, and a dozen others came up.
‘What’s happened, guv’nor?’ asked Nobby Nobbs.
‘Grooogh! Oooch!’
‘I saw somebody—something!’ said Mr. Dance.
‘Whoooooh! Oooooh! Ooooch!’
“Ave a drink, guv’nor,’ said George Mix. ‘Shall I bring you a brandy-and-soda,
sir?’
‘Oh, crumbs!’
Bunter did not want a brandy-and-soda. He did not desire to Play Montgomery
St. Leger Whiffles to that extent.
1—I—I————’ he stuttered. He felt that an explanation was needed. ‘I—I
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