Several "turns" followed, including a national dance with castanet accompaniment by a troupe of girl dancers. As before, at the termination of the turn, each performer wandered round the place collecting largesse.
After a deafening piece by the band, the platform was occupied by a coffee-coloured individual, even more massive and flabby than the man who had first appeared. Unlike the latter he was rigged out in a sort of evening dress with a broad scarlet cummerbund. A sash of the same colour was fastened over his shoulder, but underneath his coat. Rings glittered on his fingers, a brilliant tie-pin threatened to stick into his neck. His hair was long and straight, falling on his collar in well-oiled masses.
Arriving at the edge of the platform the man struck an attitude. The band struck up the opening bars of a dreamy waltz-like air.
"Don't say the blighter's going to sing!" whispered Geoff.
But no; while the principal performer maintained his tragic attitude assistants arrived with wicker crates, followed by a troop of dogs. The animals listlessly took up their position in a line just behind the principal.
Geoff began to take an interest in the business. Always keen on animals, especially dogs, he could not help pitying the dumb performers. They looked and probably were terrified. The usually sharp, alert look in a dog's eyes was noticeably absent. Whatever tricks they were about to perform Geoff realized that they were actuated by fear.
The music sank to a mere whimper. One of the assistants opened a basket and with a magnificent gesture handed the principal a silver-mounted blunderbuss. In full view of the audience the weapon was loaded with powder and buck-shot and capped.
Another assistant groping in a basket brought out a white dove and set it at liberty.
"The swine isn't going to shoot that!" exclaimed Bernard.
"No fear; it's a trick," declared Davis.
The dove fluttered upwards. It had gained a height of about thirty feet when the conjurer let fly with the blunderbuss. The bird simply vanished. No blood-stained feathers fluttered to the ground, no lifeless carcase thudded upon the platform. Instead a billowy piece of green and yellow silk glided within reach of the illusionist's outstretched hands. Holding it by two corners he displayed the Brazilian ensign.
Instantly the six dogs drawn up in line began barking as if in greeting, while most of the audience rose and cheered vociferously.
"Wonder how that was worked," exclaimed Geoff, relieved to find that in some unexplained way the dove had escaped slaughter. In fact while the uproar was in progress the bird fluttered down and hopped into the basket.
Thrice the same trick was repeated, but in other cases the flags of certain other South American Republics were displayed to the carefully rehearsed barking of delight from the canine chorus.
After the fifth shot had been fired at the mysterious and apparently bullet-proof dove the piece of silk that materialized seemingly out of the vanished bird resolved itself into the Stars and Stripes.
The conjurer held the flag aloft. The dogs set up a concerted yelp. Grinning superciliously the fellow disdainfully threw the "star-spangled banner" to the floor. Applause followed. Evidently there was little love for the Greatest Republic on Earth on the part of the Brazilian audience.
The cadets looked eagerly at the American who had previously rallied them upon their lack of patriotic spirit. He was sitting back in his chair, arms folded, legs thrust straight out, and glaring at the conjurer who had insulted his country's flag. But he did nothing—absolutely nothing!
The performance was repeated; this time the Union Jack being displayed and flaunted. For some moments the dogs alone expressed their dislike to Britain's National flag. The audience, knowing that there were several British cadets present, were decidedly reticent.
"Let's boo the blighter!" suggested Davis.
"What's the use," rejoined Fairclough. "He only did it to get our back up. Let's be dignified."
Encouraged by the passivity of the cadets, the conjurer gathered the six flags into a loose bundle and threw them into a basket.
Then he made a speech. The cadets could not understand a single word, but what the man did say was to assert that his dogs possessed such a high degree of brain power that they would unhesitatingly take any named flag from the heap.
"Margarida!" he exclaimed, addressing one of the animals. "Find for me the flag of the greatest and most enlightened country in the world—the Republic of Brazil!"
The animal thus addressed coweringly left her place in the line and commenced nosing into the jumbled heap. The conjurer, with arms folded, now stood facing the audience and with his back to the canine diviner. It was his intention to remain in this posture until a chorus of delighted barks from the rest of the animals proclaimed the successful effort of Margarida.
A crescendo of laughter caused the conjurer to swing round on his heels.
The dog had made her choice. Standing on her hind legs she held the Union Jack in her mouth.
With a snarl of rage the fellow tore the flag from Margarida's jaws, gave the cowering animal a brutal kick that lifted her completely off the ground, and threw the Union Jack upon the floor, stamping upon the flag in a paroxysm of fury.
In half a dozen bounds Geoff gained the platform. Notwithstanding the physical and moral support of his assistant the illusionist did not wait. He made a rush for the back of the stage. He was a fraction of an instant too late. With a magnificent running kick Geoff sent him flying headlong amongst the orchestra.
The place was in an uproar. Opinion was divided. Some of the audience raised cheers for the English youth, others shouted threateningly at the interrupter of the entertainment.
The cadets rising from their tables went to their chum's support, but the conjurer's human assistants made no attempt to avenge their chief. They unostentatiously faded away, taking the dogs and their paraphernalia with them.
Up ran the manager of the Babylonia, trembling and gesticulating.
"What's he gassing about?" asked Fairclough somewhat anxiously, for he knew by experience how quickly a row can develop into an affray. "Where's the Yankee? He'll be able to interpret. Keep together, you fellows!"
The loquacious citizen of the United States was no longer in evidence, but a substitute was forthcoming in the person of a well-dressed Brazilian.
"Ze managair 'e wisha you to go, senhors!" he explained. "You paya ze money for ze food an' ze drinks. An' senhors: et is my advise zet you go kweek bak to ze eschip an' do notta go by ze esmall estreetas. You onnerstanda?"
The cadets with Geoff in the centre, moved towards the entrance.
"Bunch together!" again cautioned Fairclough. "That fellow's given us good advice. Mind the side streets unless you want to look for trouble!"
CHAPTER XVIII. Running the Gauntlet
It was now a few minutes after eleven o'clock. Life in the Brazilian capital was in full swing. The brilliantly illuminated plazas were thronged with people.
"We've nearly an hour to wait for the boat," remarked Davis. "What's the programme, Fairclough?"
"Back to the quay," replied the Senior Cadet promptly. "You know what that chap said?"
"Well, it's not likely that we'll be set upon here, look you," protested the Welshman.
"Dunno about that," rejoined Fairclough. "Look astern of you."
At least fifty of the patrons of the Babylonia had followed the cadets into the street. Possibly curiosity was the prime motive, but there was no saying what might take place.
Just before reaching the waterside the cadets had to cross a large square, and thence through a narrow ill-lighted street of about a hundred yards in length. There was another way through the wide Avenida Rio Branco and thence to the Avenida do Caes on the waterfront, but the lads either did not know of its existence or, if they did, preferred to take the route by which they had come.