Free The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis by Michael de Larrabeiti Page B

helpless—rolling in their seats and holding their sides with the pain of laughter.
    ‘Whatever else you say about this circus,’ said Bingo, the tears streaming down his face, ‘they certainly make you laugh; I can’t stop … And look, there’s more coming.’
    It was true. About a dozen men, dressed as clowns, were coming through the wall of canvas and slipping into the circus ring. But they stood separate from the original clowns and took no part in their hilarious routine. Their make-up was different too. Although they were wearing red noses their faces were all white and their mouths were huge gashes of blue, pointing downwards in expressions of sadness and misery.
    The first group of clowns seemed puzzled by these new arrivals and gradually their act faltered and then stopped altogether. They huddled in a group and talked; they looked frightened.
    ‘It’s all part of the act,’ said Chalotte. ‘They’ll be having a fight in a minute, I bet.’
    ‘Hang about,’ said Napoleon. He half rose to his feet and glanced behind him. ‘I don’t like this. Look behind you, there’s more coming in from the back.’
    Bingo twisted in his seat, still laughing. He counted; there were too many. ‘This circus ain’t got that many clowns,’ he said, and his laughter dried like a gob of spit in brickdust.
    Knocker sprang to his feet and climbed into the ring. His catapult was in his hand and he loaded it. ‘Dammit,’ he swore. ‘They’ve got sticks and look at their boots. It’s the coppers. Somebody’s grassed. We’re surrounded.’
    There were policemen almost everywhere in the tent now; a long
line of them at the back of the ring and several groups advancing in the aisles between the rows of seats. The audience laughed. For them it was all part of the circus, a great battle between the clowns.
    ‘Catapults,’ shouted Knocker, and he fired straight at a large policeman, hitting him in the stomach. The policeman grabbed at his midriff and fell to the floor.
    ‘Come on,’ shouted Chalotte, ‘into the ring. Aim for the lights, it’s our only chance.’
    Chalotte’s idea was a good one. The Adventurers gathered together next to Knocker and the light bulbs above their heads began to shatter as they aimed and fired. The big top grew darker and the laughter of the audience died away as glass fragments began to shower on their heads.
    There was a roar from the policemen. ‘Borribles,’ they cried. ‘Stop those Borribles, get ’em.’
    Now the audience raised their voices in terror and the adults clasped their children tightly in their arms so that the policemen would make no mistake and drag them away. ‘Borribles,’ they said to one another, their voices brittle with fear. ‘Those kids are Borribles.’
    Chalotte was fighting back to back with Knocker. She aimed a stone at the main and central light. She was one of the best with a catapult and she made no mistake this time. There was an explosion and the tent was plunged into darkness. The audience screamed louder than ever and the children wept.
    ‘Don’t let ’em get away,’ roared a voice and it was a voice that sent shivers down the spine of every Borrible there. It was the voice of Sergeant Hanks and where Hanks went Sussworth was not far behind. ‘Don’t let them get away; they’re dangerous Borribles.’
    Sergeant Hanks had expected perhaps to help his cause by enlisting the aid of the audience but things didn’t work out that way. The cry of ‘Borribles’ was taken up on all sides by the spectators, sure enough, but they panicked and, snatching up their children, they leapt to their feet and began to push their way towards the exits. This confusion assisted the Adventurers for a while. It meant that the policemen, trying to reach their prey from the back of the tent, could not advance against the mass of people trying to leave. All the Borribles had to do now was
to evade the policemen actually in the circus ring, get under the canvas