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Title: Joe Strong on the high wire
Motor-cycle perils of the air
Author: Vance Barnum
Release date: May 6, 2025 [eBook #76025]
Language: English
Original publication: New York: Hearst's International Library Co, 1916
Credits: Aaron Adrignola, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOE STRONG ON THE HIGH WIRE ***
JOE STRONG ON THE HIGH WIRE
OR
_MOTOR-CYCLE PERILS OF THE AIR_
By VANCE BARNUM
Author of "Joe Strong, the Boy Wizard," "Joe Strong
on the Trapeze," etc.
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
HEARST'S INTERNATIONAL LIBRARY CO.
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY
HEARST'S INTERNATIONAL LIBRARY COMPANY
JOE STRONG ON THE HIGH WIRE
CONTENTS
I. "GOOD-BYE!"
II. THE SHAKY BRIDGE
III. TURNED TURTLE
IV. A STRANGE INTEREST
V. RATHER DUBIOUS
VI. MAKING THE APPARATUS
VII. FAILURE
VIII. A NEW IDEA
IX. THE FIRST EXHIBITION
X. A CHANCE REMARK
XI. JOE WONDERS
XII. DAYS OF DARING
XIII. A BAD FALL
XIV. THE NEW MACHINE
XV. A BIG CLIMB
XVI. ACROSS A CHASM
XVII. BACK IN THE CIRCUS
XVIII. IN MADISON SQUARE GARDEN
XIX. JOE'S MARKSMANSHIP
XX. OUT WEST
XXI. RECOGNITION
XXII. GOOD NEWS
XXIII. A WILD RIDE
XXIV. THE CABLEGRAM
XXV. JOE'S INHERITANCE
ILLUSTRATIONS
"I'm coming!" shouted Joe. "Be with you in a second!"
Then Joe felt himself falling toward the net.
Then the lad found himself whizzing across the dizzy heights.
This car was moving much faster than the other had been.
JOE STRONG ON THE HIGH WIRE
CHAPTER I
"GOOD-BYE!"
"Come on, Ben, I want to introduce you to Lizzie."
"Lizzie? I thought you said her name was Helen."
"Oh, this is a different sort of lady. Of course there's a Helen too.
Come on, right over this way."
Two boys, or, rather, two youths, walked arm in arm across a lot
whereon stood several tents, one large and the others smaller. From
one came the loud trumpetings of elephants and an occasional roar of a
lion. In another tent scores of horses could be seen under the raised
sides, eating hay from canvas mangers. From still a third tent came
appetizing odors of food.
The scene was a circus, and it was as lively and animated a scene
as such always are, with men hurrying to and fro getting the animals
and wagons ready for the street parade and arranging for the two
performances that were to follow.
"Well, Ben, do you feel like coming back?" asked Joe Strong, the taller
of the two lads.
"Feel like coming back? I should say I do, Joe! But if it hadn't been
for you I never should have been able to come back."
"You might, Ben."
"No, I'm sure I shouldn't. I'd never have had the money to pay for the
operation, and that's what saved me from becoming deaf and dumb, Joe."
"Well, I'm glad I was able to have it done for you, Ben. Are you sure
you'll be able to take up the tank work again, and stay under water as
long as you used to?"
"The doctor says he doesn't see any reason why I can't."
As the two lads walked on toward the dressing tent, where the men and
women performers attired themselves in the gay suits they appeared in
at the public performances, peculiar sounds came from the canvas house.
The noise was, as nearly as it can be shown in print, like a series of
hoarse barkings, expressed by:
Hook! Hook! Hook! Ook! Ook!
"What in the world is that?" asked Benny Turton, who, as he walked
beside Joe Strong, showed somewhat the effects of a recent illness and
operation.
"That's Lizzie, saying good-morning," explained Joe.
"Well, I can't say that she has a very cheerful voice," returned Ben
with a smile.
"Still you'll find Lizzie a very cheerful and companionable young
lady," went on Joe, laughing.
"But I can't get over thinking it was a Helen I was to meet," said
Ben. "You know the Helen I mean--the one billed as Mademoiselle
Mortonti--she was with the show when I was, and I used to think you
were quite gone on her. She hasn't left, has she?"
"Oh, no," Joe answered. "Miss Morton is still with Sampson Brothers'
Show. But it's Lizzie I want you to meet now. You'll have to perform
with her in the tank, you know, if you take up the work I'm going to
leave."
"Is she a good swimmer?" asked Ben.
"One of the best in the world. She can beat you and me all to pieces."
"I'll have to practise up," said Ben, who was quite curious.
"You can never equal Lizzie," retorted Joe. "Come on now, and you'll
meet her in proper style. You might give her this, for it will be a
sure way of getting in her good graces."
As he spoke Joe Strong, who had entered the dressing tent, picked up
from a pail near the entrance a dead fish, and slipped it into Ben's
hand.
"Here! What--what in the world do you mean?" exclaimed Ben, looking at
the fish he had unwittingly taken.
"It's for Lizzie," explained Joe.
"But--but it isn't cooked."
"I know. Lizzie likes her fish raw!" Joe had hard work not to laugh at
the queer look on Ben's face.
"You've sure got me going," laughed Ben. "I give up. What's it all
about?"
"This," answered Joe, moving over toward a heavy wooden box. "Ben
Turton, allow me to present you to Lizzie, one of the best trained
sea-lions in captivity," and as Joe turned back the cover of the crate
a sea-lion wiggled her way out, and, flopping to a position in front of
Joe, raised up her sleek head and "Hooked!" in loud tones.
"Yes, Lizzie, you shall have it," Joe went on. "Give her the fish, Ben.
That's what she is begging for."
Hardly knowing what he was doing, Ben Turton held out the fish, which
the sea-lion gently took from his hand. There was a flash of small,
white and very sharp teeth and--the fish disappeared.
"Whew!" whistled Ben. "So your Lizzie is a seal, is she? And that's
how she eats fish! I shouldn't like to have her take a bite out of me."
"No danger," said Joe. "She's as gentle as a baby. Look," and he
fearlessly placed his hand in the mouth of the sea-lion, or seal, as
most persons wrongly call the sea-lion. "Lizzie and I have been working
together in the tank for some time now," he added.
"Do you mean that you actually swim in the tank with her?" asked Ben,
somewhat incredulously.
"That's what I do. And that's what has made the act so popular. I have
made a lot of changes since I temporarily took your place, Ben, and I
didn't tell you about all of them, for I wanted to surprise you. The
seal is one of the surprises."
"I should say it is!" cried Ben. "A big surprise!"
"Well, I must get ready for my farewell appearance," Joe went on.
"Come on in while I dress, and you can be planning for something new
yourself. You're going to take the work up where I leave off, you know."
"Yes, I suppose so, but I didn't figure on acting with a seal, Joe."
"Oh, you'll soon get used to that. Lizzie's a great tank actress. She
just loves to do tricks. I'll show you, and later on when the afternoon
performance is over you can put on the rubber suit yourself and get in
the tank with her. You'll like Lizzie."
"Well, perhaps I shall," said Ben, but he was rather dubious.
In the dressing tent Joe Strong donned a queer rubber suit, red in
color, and made to resemble the scales of a fish. In fact Joe was known
as the "boy fish" just as Ben, before he had been taken ill, was billed
as the "human fish."
"It seems like old times to be here again," remarked Ben, as several
of the circus men and women came in to see him, while Joe was getting
ready for his act.
"I'm glad it does," remarked the boy fish. "And I'm glad you can take
your old place back. It's a good act, and I did hate to leave the
circus without it. But I'm going to say good-bye to-day, and you can
fill my place."
"What are you going to do, Joe?"
"Well, you know I told you I had become quite an expert on the
motor-cycle."
"Yes, you mentioned it. But so much has happened lately, and in such a
short time, that I had almost forgotten it."
"I don't blame you. Well, I have an idea I can work up an act of my own
on the gasoline bicycle that will beat anything I ever did in the tank.
So I'm going to try."
"Are you going to leave the circus?"
"Yes. I have an idea I can make more money starring by myself. It will
be easier for me, too, as I can map out my own route, and if there
comes a day when I don't feel like showing I won't have to. I don't
mind hard work, but with a circus the show has to go on, and one has to
go on with it whether one wants to or not. So I'm going to cut loose."
"Well, I wish you all success, Joe. I'm glad to have my old act back in
the circus."
By this time the parade was over and the afternoon performance would
soon begin. Joe took Ben into the "main top," or the big tent where the
main show would be given.
"Hello!" exclaimed Ben, as he saw a big glass tank filled with water,
in which goldfish were swimming about. "You've made a change here, too!"
"Yes, it's a little showier, I think. Do you like it?"
"I sure do. Now I'm going to watch you act. I'll have to do as nearly
like you as I can."
With a blare of trumpets the grand entry started and then, when the
camels, the elephants and the horses with their gaily dressed riders
had filed out of the big tent, the individual and team acts began.
Joe Strong, the boy fish, went into the big tank of water and swam
about, doing fancy strokes and also going through a number of
sleight-of-hand tricks, including some with a pack of celluloid cards.
All the tricks were performed under water, Joe, of course, holding his
breath.
As a climax Joe performed with the trained seal, Lizzie, who was
released from her crate by an attendant when Joe gave the signal.
Lizzie flapped her way up a flight of steps leading to the top of the
tank, and dived in with scarcely a ripple.
"Say! won't she eat up those goldfish?" asked Ben of Helen Morton, who
stood near him watching Joe. Helen had finished some trick and fancy
riding on her trained horse, Rosebud.
"No, Lizzie can't get the fish," Helen explained. "The tank has double
sides, you see, and the fish swim in between the inner and outer sheets
of glass, so the seal can't get at them. That was my idea, Ben."
"It's a good one, all right."
Joe ate bananas under water, while Lizzie consumed fish. Then the two
went through several other tricks, the act ending when Joe had remained
under water, without coming up to breathe, for four minutes and a half.
This was not his record, but it was a long time, and the big crowd
applauded vigorously when Jim Tracy, the ring-master, announced the
time.
"I don't believe I'll be able to do that," said Ben, with a dubious
shake of his head.
"Oh, yes you will, in time," said Helen. "You'll get back to your old
form after a little practice. We're all glad to have you back with us."
"And I guess you'll be sorry to see Joe leave," suggested Ben.
"Indeed we shall!" cried Helen, and she spoke with such warmth that Ben
looked at her curiously, while Helen blushed and turned away her head.
"Well, what do you think of the act, Ben?" asked Joe, when the main
performance was over.
"It's great! You've improved it a hundred per cent. over my tank act. I
only hope I can keep it up to the mark."
"Oh, you can, Ben. Do you want to try it now?"
"I think I'd better have a little practice, yes. Then I'll sort of get
used to Lizzie."
"Oh, the seal isn't hard to act with. Come on."
A little later Ben Turton was again practising his former act as the
"human fish," and, to his delight, he found that his recent illness and
operation had not incapacitated him from doing underwater work.
He could not remain under as long as Joe had, though, but this would
come with practice. Lizzie, the trained seal, performed equally well
with either Joe or Ben, so that part of the problem was solved.
"And there's no reason why Ben can't go on with the performance
to-night," said Joe to Jim Tracy, the ring-master and one of the owners
of the Sampson Brothers' Circus. "That will let me get an early start."
"Just as you say, Joe," replied Jim Tracy. "You seem glad to leave us."
"Not at all. It's only that as long as I'm going to start out on my own
hook, the sooner I begin the better. No, I'm sorry to go, for I have a
lot of friends here."
Joe gave Benny instructions about caring for the seal and the goldfish
when the circus moved on, and also left with the "human fish" some of
the simpler tricks which Benny, in time, could learn to do. Then Joe
got ready his motor-cycle. He had a new idea in regard to using that
machine in some daring trick work, and he wanted to put his plans into
execution. He intended to ride over to see a certain man in Hertford, a
town about twenty-five miles from the place where the circus was then
showing, and he planned to reach his destination that evening, and stay
all night.
"And now are you really going to say good-bye, Joe?" asked Ben, as the
former boy fish came up with his motor-cycle.
"Yes, I'll be getting along now. You've got everything down as fine as
I can tell you, and you'll be able to start right in to-night. But I
sort of hate to go, now the time has come," and there was a suspicion
of tears in the lad's eyes.
"Come and see me once in a while," urged Ben. "I never can thank you
enough for all you have done for me. I shan't forget it."
"Oh, yes, I'll see you some time," Joe promised. "Perhaps I'll be
showing in the same town some day where the circus is billed."
He bade farewell to his many friends and acquaintances in the show,
and, last of all, he shook hands with Helen Morton.
"Good-bye, Joe," she said, and her eyes were not altogether dry. "Let
us hear from you now and then."
"I surely will!" Joe said with energy. "I'll write often."
"So will I," returned the girl in a low voice. "And, Joe, don't--don't
take too many risks, will you?"
"No," he answered.
He walked slowly away from her, mounted the machine, and, waving his
cap to the little crowd of circus folk gathered near the big tent, rode
off down the road.
"Good-bye!" called his friends after him. "Good luck and good-bye!"
"Good-bye!" answered Joe.
CHAPTER II
THE SHAKY BRIDGE
Down the highway rode Joe Strong on his powerful motor-cycle. He did
not look back after that final glance at the group of his circus
friends, for, truth to tell, the parting had affected the lad more than
he cared to admit.
He had started the spring season with the circus with the intention
of leaving to take up a new line of daring work as soon as Benny
Turton could resume his place. Still, Joe had not thought much of his
departure--that is, he had not imagined he would feel it so.
But one can not part from one's friends without a few heart-aches, and
Joe found this out, somewhat to his sorrow.
"They sure are a good bunch of folks," he mused, "even if some of them
did think I got more than my share of applause.
"And there was Helen Morton. Well----"
But Joe did not like to think of parting from her. He told himself it
would not be a parting for very long, for Helen had said something
about giving up her trick riding at the end of the present season, as
she was quite well off. She had inherited some money and property from
her grandfather's estate, and this, of late, had increased in value.
"I don't know whether my new scheme is going to work or not," mused
Joe, as he rode on; "but there's nothing like trying. If it does I'll
give the public more thrills than I've ever been able to on the trapeze
or in the fish tank."
As he came to a turn in the country road, along which he was speeding,
Joe flashed a look back. Over the trees he could see the gay flags and
banners of the circus, and part of the white top of the main tent was
visible.
"Good-bye, old show," said Joe softly. "Good-bye!"
His voice was a bit husky, and there was moisture in his eyes. Perhaps
it was caused by the wind. Joe brushed it away and then, as he passed
on out of sight of the show, he tried to smile.
"Never mind. Maybe I'll see 'em again soon," he told himself. Though he
spoke in the plural, it was in the singular that Joe thought.
"Twenty-two miles to Hertford," read Joe, as he passed a sign-post.
"I ought to make it easily before supper. Then I can call and see Mr.
Brader, and we can talk over what's best to be done. He may be able to
use these same wheels, or I may have to have a new set made. That's
got to be considered."
Joe came to a place where the road forked, and as he saw a farm wagon
at the spot he slowed down long enough to call to the driver:
"Which is the best road to Hertford?"
"The one to the left is shorter," was the answer. "But if you take that
you want to look out----"
"That's all right--thanks," Joe replied, and he flashed on before
he heard the end of the farmer's reply. Thus he did not learn until
afterward what it was he was to look out for.
"The shortest road is the one I want, every time," Joe thought. He was
on a level stretch now, and turned on more power so that the speedy
machine fairly "burned up the dust," as he expressed it. Joe was a
skillful driver, and knew how to get the best out of his steed of
steel, rubber and gasoline.
"Fifteen miles to Hertford," read Joe a little later. "I'm making good
time, all right--better than I thought. I'm glad I took this shorter
road."
Ahead of him he saw a white bridge, and in another minute he had
reached it. As he rode across it the whole structure trembled and shook
so that Joe was in alarm lest it go down with him.
The bridge fairly swayed from side to side, and Joe turned on more
power to cross it as quickly as he could, on the same theory that a
skater uses when he finds the thin ice giving way beneath him.
"Say, this bridge is dangerous!" Joe exclaimed to himself. "It's likely
to go down with a heavy load on it. Wow! Mind that, would you!" he
cried, as a plank slipped loose and went splashing into the stream
beneath, just as the rear wheel of his machine passed over the place
where the gap appeared.
The bridge trembled and the timbers groaned, as if in protest at being
ridden on, and it was with great relief that Joe found himself safe on
the other side.
"I've got to go back and see if I can't put that plank in place," the
youth said, stopping his motor-cycle.
He leaned the machine against the roadside fence and walked back to the
bridge. Near the middle was a gap where the plank had jarred out as Joe
rode over it. The boy stepped gingerly upon the structure. Even his
weight without the machine made the bridge tremble, though he knew it
could hardly go down with him.
"There ought to be something done about this," said Joe. "It's a shame
to have a bridge like this across a stream. It ought to be fixed, and
at least there ought to be a warning about crossing it with anything
heavier than a wheelbarrow. Maybe this is what that farmer was trying
to warn me about--the shaky bridge.
"I wonder if I can't put up some sort of warning sign. And I've got to
get that plank if I can. It's floating down stream, but maybe it will
lodge against the bank. This is going to delay me."
Joe was looking about for something with which to make a warning sign,
when, looking back over the road he had come, he saw a large automobile
approaching at full speed.
"If they ever hit the bridge it will go down with them sure!" cried
Joe. "I've got to warn them!"
He ran back across the tottering bridge toward the on-coming automobile
as fast as he could, crying, as he waved his hands in warning:
"Stop! Stop! Don't cross the bridge! It isn't safe!"
While Joe is thus on his way to perform his duty, it will be a good
opportunity for new readers to acquire a more intimate acquaintance
with the hero, and to learn something about the previous books in this
series.
The initial volume was "Joe Strong, the Boy Wizard; Or, The Mysteries
of Magic Exposed." In that Joe first appears discussing with some of
his country chums the performance given the previous night by Professor
Rosello, a prestidigitator. Joe, whose father had been a magician, knew
how to do some sleight-of-hand tricks, and he was showing his boy
chums some of his work when they heard the sound of an explosion.
A fireworks factory in the vicinity had blown up, and Joe managed to
save the life of Professor Rosello, who was in the place on business.
In doing so Joe ruined his suit of clothes and this so incensed his
foster-father, Amos Blackford, that the latter threatened to whip Joe.
The lad felt he was too big for this childish punishment, and ran away
from home.
Eventually he became associated with Professor Rosello, and learned
to do some mystifying tricks, all of which are explained in the book
mentioned.
From his mother, who before her marriage had been Janet Willoughby, an
English girl who became a noted circus rider, Joe had inherited great
nerve and daring. He was especially fitted for doing tricks in the air
at great heights.
The second volume of the series was called "Joe Strong on the Trapeze;
Or, the Daring Feats of a Young Circus Performer." In that we found
Joe had had an offer to join the Sampson Brothers' Circus as a trapeze
performer.
He did so and was at once wonderfully successful. As a boy he had often
practised circus acts, and now his practice was of use. Joe made many
friends in the circus, and a few enemies.
Among his friends was Bill Watson, a veteran clown who had known Joe's
mother. It was Bill's idea that Joe had money coming to him from his
mother's estate in England, her people having disowned her when she
married "Professor Morretti," or Mr. Strong, Joe's father. But Joe's
inquiries as to any inheritance due him had, so far, resulted in
nothing.
Other circus friends were Benny Turton, "The Human Fish," and Helen
Morton, who, with her trick horse, Rosebud, was one of the leading
attractions of the circus.
The third book of the series was entitled "Joe Strong, the Boy Fish;
Or, Marvelous Doings in a Big Tank." That story opens with the circus
in full blast, for it was the beginning of the summer season.
Joe noticed Benny in distress in the tank, and rescued him just in time
to save the boy from drowning. It developed that Benny had been staying
under water too long and the pressure had affected his hearing and
speech.
He went to a hospital for treatment and the circus folk were going to
give up the tank act, when Joe offered to take Benny's place, for our
hero was a natural swimmer, and in private he had stayed under water in
the tank almost as long as had Benny Turton. Joe's offer was accepted,
first temporarily and then permanently, and he became the "Boy Fish,"
and was so featured on the circus posters.
Joe changed Benny's act and added to it, introducing live goldfish into
the tank, and later on a trained seal. He also did his trapeze work and
thus received double money.
Joe was not as liberal with his money as some of the circus men thought
he ought to be. For this reason he was called hard names. But he was
saving his money to pay for an operation so Benny would not become deaf
and dumb, and this dire possibility was prevented through Joe's act,
and Benny Turton was able to rejoin the circus at the opening of the
following season.
The "boy fish" had bought a motor-cycle and in his spare moments Joe
had become an expert rider. Now, as this story opens, we find him
riding away from the circus; for Joe had certain ideas he wished to
carry out, and to do so he gave up his tank act, letting Benny resume
his old work.
"I've got to stop them from getting on the bridge!" thought Joe, as he
rushed on toward the automobile.
At first the automobile party paid no attention to him. But at last,
when they were opposite Joe, who had leaped to one side of the road,
the two men in the car seemed to comprehend that something was wrong.
"What is it?" asked the driver, bringing the machine to a sudden stop
with a screech of the brakes.
"The bridge!" panted Joe. "It's too shaky to ride over! It nearly went
down with me and my motor-cycle, and it surely will collapse with your
big car! Don't risk it!"
CHAPTER III
TURNED TURTLE
Joe Strong had run at top speed, and had traveled a goodly distance
from the bridge in a comparatively short time, for he realized that the
big automobile was going fast and would require space in which to stop.
And now the former circus performer leaned up against the mud-guard of
the car to rest and recover his breath.
"What's the trouble?" asked the man on the seat with the driver. He did
not appear to have heard what our hero had said. The driver had opened
the side door of the car, for the automobile was one of the enclosed
type.
"Bridge is shaky," said Joe again, breathing less laboredly now. He had
wonderful lung capacity, as one must who could stay under water for
nearly five minutes at a time.
"Dangerous bridge, eh?" repeated the driver. "Much obliged to you for
warning us, young fellow. We'd have been on it in another minute or
two. There ought to be a warning sign up."
"That's what I thought after I nearly went through it," Joe said. "I
knocked off a plank, and I was looking for that to replace it, and also
trying to figure out how I could put up a sign, when I saw you coming
and started down the road toward you."
"Yes, we saw you," observed the driver with a grim smile. "At first
my friend here thought you were a constable trying to arrest us for
speeding, but we weren't exceeding the limit, though we are in a great
hurry."
"It is most annoying just when we are in a rush to have to turn back
because of a dangerous bridge," put in the other man. "Don't you think
we could make it if we went over it slowly?" he asked of Joe.
The former circus performer shook his head.
"I wouldn't chance it," he said. "It almost shook to pieces when I went
over on my motor-cycle. Why, it even vibrated dangerously as I walked
over it to warn you."
"Then we can't think of taking this car across," put in the driver. "It
weighs nearly two tons, and it would crash through at once. Is there
another bridge around here?"
"I don't know," was Joe's reply. "I'm a stranger in these parts, and I
had to inquire my own way. I'm going to Hertford."
"Well, we're going farther than that," the driver said. "That is, we
are if we can make it. But I don't know," he added doubtfully. "I
guess we'd better turn back and inquire for the nearest road to the
next bridge."
He looked questioningly at his companion, who asked Joe:
"Can't we cross the stream? What sort is it--very deep?"
"It seems to be only a shallow brook," was the answer, "but I don't
know anything about it. I never saw it before. It looks as if you might
ford it, but don't take my word for it."
"We won't, thank you," the driver said. "It was mighty good of you to
warn us. Let's have a look at this stream and see what it's like," he
proposed to his fellow-traveler.
"Yes, that's our best plan. We must keep on, and we're late as it is.
Ford the stream even if we do get a bit wet. There's nothing in the car
that can spoil. I shan't mind wet feet nor will you, and the car has
been out in the rain enough not to be damaged by a little more water."
The machine was a fine one, but it bore evidences of having been driven
far and hard.
"Well, you might try it," said Joe. "The bridge certainly won't hold
you. It's hardly safe to walk across. I'm going to look for the plank I
jarred out, and see if I can't rig up a warning sign. It would be too
bad if an accident happened."
"Jump in and ride back to the bridge with us," said the driver. "We'll
help you put up a sign, though we really oughtn't to delay."
"Oh, I can manage the sign, I guess," Joe said. "My business isn't very
pressing, and I've got a speedy motor-cycle."
"We'd take you and your machine with us, only we're not going your
way," said the other man. "That is, we might if we can get across the
stream. That's the first question to be settled."
Joe got into the car. It was luxuriously fitted up, and the men in it
seemed to be wealthy. Joe wondered what their business was, and why
they were in such a rush to get on. It could hardly be that they were
traveling for pleasure, or they would not have minded going some other
way to look for a safe bridge.
"Yes, I think we can easily ford that stream," the driver of the
automobile said, as he brought the car to a stop not far from the
bridge. There was a gradual slope from the highway down to the stream
on either side of the road, and there were marks that showed where
wagons had been driven across.
Farmers will often ford a stream near a bridge to give their horses a
drink, or to soak the wheels of the vehicles which become dried out in
long spells of drought.
"Yes, we can ford that," was the opinion of the other man, as he and
the driver got out to take a close look. "How about the other side,
though? Can we get up there?" and he pointed across to the opposite
bank.
"I'll go take a look if you like," offered Joe.
"I wish you would," the man said. "Meanwhile I'll back up to a place
where I see it's a little easier to get down."
Joe crossed the bridge, which again trembled from even the slight
vibration of his steps, and found that the other slope of the ford was
even better than the one on the opposite side.
"It's all right!" he cried. "You can make it as far as this shore is
concerned. But I don't know what sort of a bed that stream has. Maybe
you'd better test it with a long pole."
"Oh, we'll take a chance!" cried the driver. "We haven't time to
experiment. I've got lots of power. Anyhow, it isn't likely we'll get
bogged, as it looks to be a gravel bottom."
The car was by this time ready to go down the slope to ford the stream.
Joe crossed the bridge again and saw the plank he had jarred out caught
on the shore a little distance below.
"I'll get that and put it in place," he said. "I don't know about
making a sign though. I could put fence rails across the road at either
end of the bridge, and that ought to be warning enough except at night.
They need red lanterns then. I may have to tell some farmer along the
road."
Joe was walking toward the plank when the automobile started down the
slope. The man drove carefully, and was soon at the edge of the brook.
"Give her a little more gas," Joe heard the driver's companion say.
"Take it on high gear too."
"Yes, that's what I'm going to do," was the answer.
Joe heard the thunderous roar when the man opened the throttle and cut
out his muffler. There was a dash of spray as the front wheels struck
the water. The car fairly shot half way across the brook.
"I guess they'll make it all right," thought Joe.
And then, as he looked, he saw the big automobile hesitate and sway. It
seemed to turn partly around. Then one side went down suddenly.
"Look out!" cried the driver's companion. "She's going over!"
But his warning came too late. The next instant the big machine lurched
farther to one side and then suddenly turned turtle in the mud and
water, sinking, upside down, into a deep hole near the bridge, the
big-tired wheels spinning around in the air.
CHAPTER IV
A STRANGE INTEREST
With an involuntary cry of alarm, Joe started to run toward the scene
of the accident. All thought of trying to recover the plank was now
gone. That could wait. The men in the automobile were in desperate
straits, if indeed they had not been killed when the big car overturned.
"I wonder if they are alive," mused Joe, as he sped on. "I've got to
get them out or they'll be drowned."
The water was about up to Joe's waist at the point where the automobile
rested in it, and without stopping to think of his clothes, Joe waded
out. The engine of the car, which had been chugging away even after the
upset, had now stopped, and from the interior of the car came cries for
help.
"I'm coming!" shouted Joe. "Be with you in a second!"
[Illustration: "I'm coming!" shouted Joe. "Be with you in a second!"]
He noted that the car did not seem to be smashed. This, he thought,
gave the men a better chance for their lives.
"At least they're not dead yet," thought Joe, for he could hear their
muffled cries.
Reaching the side of the car, Joe tried to pull open one of the side
doors. But he could not, for the reason that the top of it was jammed
down deep in the mud and the stones on the bottom of the stream. He
looked in through the glass and he saw the two men standing together on
the roof, which had now become the floor of the overturned automobile.
One of the men--he who had been steering--seemed to be hurt.
"Probably he got jammed against the wheel," Joe thought.
"Try the other door!" the second man called to Joe, when the former
circus performer had tugged in vain at the one he had reached. "Try the
other door. Maybe you can open that."
Joe waded around through the mud and water to the opposite side of the
car. But that door was as firmly wedged shut as the other.
"Shall I break the glass?" asked Joe.
"No," the man answered, with a shake of his head. "It wouldn't do any
good if you did. The opening wouldn't be big enough for us to crawl out
of--we're both pretty large, and my friend is hurt. We can't get out
unless the car is righted or pulled over on one side."
"Well, I can't do that without help," Joe called back. "I'll ride down
the road and get some men to come with ropes. Then we'll pull the car
back if we can. Anyhow we'll tilt it enough to get you out through the
door."
"Please do that!" urged the man. The one who had been steering the car
seemed too much hurt to give any orders.
"I'll be as quick as I can," Joe said, and he was glad he had his
motor-cycle with him. On that he could speedily summon help. He gave
another look at the glass panels of the side doors. As the man had
said, the opening, if all the glass were taken out, would not be large
enough to permit the egress of himself and his friend, for they were
both of large build. And though the front of the car was partly of
glass, it, too, was of small panels set in a wooden frame, and that
would have to be chopped away. Joe had no axe for such work. The car
seemed of foreign make, which, Joe thought, accounted for the rather
peculiar construction.
"Don't be any longer than you can help," urged the man who had been
doing the talking. "It's beastly uncomfortable in here."
"He speaks like an Englishman," mused Joe.
He waded up out of the stream and, hurrying to his motor-cycle, rode
off down the road, intending to stop at the first house he saw and get
help for the imprisoned men.
"I sure am a sight!" the youth reflected as he sped on. He glanced
down at his muddy feet and legs. His trousers were much in need of a
cleaning. "It's lucky I brought along a change of clothes," he said
half aloud, feeling around to make sure his valise was strapped to the
rear seat. It was safe. "If I didn't have them I'd have to lay up here
over night until a tailor could make me presentable," he reflected. "As
it is, I don't believe I'll make Hertford to-night. But I can't refuse
to help those men. It's lucky they weren't both killed when the car
went over."
It was a rather startled farmer's wife whom Joe greeted a little later
as he rode up to the side door of a big white house--the first he saw
along the highway.
"Are any of the men around?" cried Joe, jumping off quickly.
"Men? Mercy-sakes! What's the matter?" the woman demanded.
"There's an automobile upside down in the creek back there!" said Joe,
motioning back toward the stream. "There are two men caught in the car
and----"
"Caught under the car? Then they must be killed!"
"No, they're inside, but they can't get out. Are there any of the men
around--your husband and some others? It will take three or four of us
to pull the car to one side so the men can get out. One's hurt, but not
badly, I hope."
"My husband is out in the barn with the two farm hands," the woman
said. "I'll call him!"
She took down a tin horn that hung on the back porch, and blew several
quick blasts.
"They'll know that isn't the supper call," she told Joe, "and they'll
come a-running. How did it happen? Who are the men? Did the bridge fall
down?"
"No, but it's almost ready to," said Joe. "That was the cause of the
whole trouble. The bridge ought to be fixed, or a warning posted."
"Yes, the commissioners have been talking of it for some time now," she
said.
"Well, it's time they did more than _talk_!" Joe exclaimed indignantly.
Three men, at this moment, appeared in the barn door and looked
inquiringly toward the house.
"Come on, Pa!" cried the woman. "There's been an auto accident down at
the bridge over Muddy Creek. Two men hurt. Hurry!"
The men dropped some farm implements, and came racing toward the
house. One was the farmer, and the other two his helpers. Joe quickly
explained what had happened.
"It was a risky piece of business fording Muddy Creek," said the
farmer. "It's full of holes, and some are filled with quicksand. It's
all right if you know how to keep out of 'em."
"Which these men didn't know," put in Joe. "But I think we'd better
hurry to them. They may be in great distress--at least one of them may
be. We'll need some ropes and tackle to get the auto right side up
again. Have you any?"
"Yes," said the farmer. "Jack, get out the block and fall!" he ordered.
"Pete, you hitch up the light wagon. We can carry the tackle better
that way," he explained to Joe. "You ride back and tell the men we'll
be right along. Do you think you'd better go for a doctor? One lives
down the road about a quarter of a mile, though he may not be in."
"I think Dr. Brown would be home," said the farmer's wife. "I saw him
ride past a little while ago."
"Maybe I had better go and ask him to come to the bridge," said Joe.
"There's no telling how badly that man may be hurt. It won't take me
long on my machine."
"Then go," suggested the farmer.
Joe found Dr. Brown in, and the physician at once said he would go to
the scene of the accident. As Joe rode past the farmhouse on his way
back to the bridge he saw the farmer and his two men just driving out
with the tackle in the wagon.
"Tell 'em we'll be there as fast as the horse can bring us," the farmer
called to Joe as the latter sped past.
Joe found the condition of the imprisoned men little changed when he
reached them. A passing farmer had stopped, but he was unable to
render any aid, though he agreed to stay and help haul on the ropes
when the men Joe had summoned reached the place.
"How do you feel?" Joe called through the glass door, having waded out
to the car again.
The steersman shook his head dolefully.
"The steering wheel knocked the wind out of him," explained the other.
"He may be hurt inside."
"A doctor will soon be here," Joe said. "We'll have you out in a little
while."
"It can't be any too soon for me," replied the injured man. "Never
again will I try to ford a stream I don't know."
"This is a treacherous one, from what they say," commented Joe.
By this time the farmer and his men had arrived. They made an
examination of the place, to decide as to the best way to go to work,
then they fastened the ropes to the automobile. They had a regular
block and fall, with one simple and one compound pulley, and could thus
get great power from a comparatively light pull.
When the ropes were in place the farmer, his two men, the other farmer,
who had arrived in Joe's absence, and our hero took hold of the cable
and began hauling.
"Take it easy," Joe advised. "We don't want to pull it over too
suddenly, or it will smash and they may be hurt in the wreckage."
They were tilting the car up-stream, as that was the best way. And it
took only a short time to so tilt the big gasoline vehicle that one of
the doors could be opened. The uninjured man crawled out and helped the
rescuers lift out his companion.
Dr. Brown had arrived by that time, and when the steersman was carried
ashore he was ready to attend him. There were no bones broken, though
a severe blow in the stomach, when he was flung against the wheel, had
well-nigh made the man senseless.
"You'd better not try to go on," urged the physician. "I can offer one
of you accommodations in my home."
"And I can take care of the other," said Mr. Wain, the farmer whom Joe
had summoned.
"Then I guess we'd better remain here, Floyd," said the uninjured man.
"It will take a force of men to right the car, and we can't go on
to-night, anyhow. We'd better stay here."
"Yes, I think so," agreed the other. "Excuse us," he went on, speaking
to Joe, more than to any of the others. "We haven't had a chance to
thank you properly, or to introduce ourselves."
"That's so!" exclaimed his companion. "This is Mr. Floyd Strailey," he
said, nodding toward his companion. "I'm Forrest Craige. We're in the
mining business, and we've some important matters to attend to. But
they will have to wait, I suppose."
"My name is Strong," said our hero. "Joe Strong. I was performing in a
circus, but I left to-day."
"What did you say your name was?" asked Mr. Craige.
"Joe Strong."
"Strong--Strong," mused the man. "I used to know a person of that name.
I wonder if you could be any relation. I am quite interested since you
told me that. I must----"
But he did not finish the sentence, for at that moment Mr. Strailey,
who had been sitting on the grass at the side of the road, fell over in
a faint.
CHAPTER V
RATHER DUBIOUS
"Hello! What's wrong?" cried Mr. Craige, hurrying over to his friend.
"Is he----"
He looked in alarm at the physician.
"Merely a faint from the shock, I think," pronounced Dr. Brown. "I had
better get him to my house as soon as I can, though."
"Take him in the wagon," suggested the farmer whom Joe had summoned.
Mr. Strailey opened his eyes, after some ammonia stimulant had been
given him, and he tried to assure his companion that there was really
nothing the matter.
"Just keep quiet, please," advised the physician. "We'll look after
you."
The injured man was placed in the wagon on some blankets, and driven
slowly to the farmhouse.
"I'll have to get help in righting this car," said Mr. Craige. "I
wonder where there's a garage around here?"
"I passed one about two miles back," Joe said. "If you like I'll go
there and tell them to send some men."
"Well, I don't like to put you to so much trouble," said Mr. Craige.
"You've done us a lot of favors already."
"I'm only too glad to do more," Joe said. "I can make a quick trip
on my motor-cycle. It's too late for me to get to where I was going
to-night in time to attend to my business."
"Well, I'm awfully sorry for that!" exclaimed Mr. Craige. "If we hadn't
been in such a hurry to get on, this wouldn't have happened."
"Oh, it doesn't make much difference to me," Joe explained. "I can just
as well attend to my matters to-morrow. I'll go to the garage for you."
"Well, I'm a thousand times obliged to you, my dear young fellow--I
should say Mr. Strong. When you come back I'll have a word or two with
you. Just now I'm so upset over what has happened that I hardly know
which end I am standing on. We went into that beastly hole so suddenly.
It's awfully good of you. I'll see you when you come back," and, with
a wave of his hand, he hurried after the wagon containing his injured
friend.
"Too much _upset_, he said he was," mused Joe. "If he hadn't been an
Englishman he'd have seen the pun he made. The automobile was upset as
well as he. I wonder why he seemed to take such a strange interest in
me. Could he have known my father? I'll ask him when I come back."
Joe found the garage without any trouble, and the proprietor at once
agreed to send some men to get the automobile out of the creek. And
then the series of accidents that started when Joe knocked the plank
from the bridge involved our hero himself.
For as Joe started to ride back to the scene of the overturning of the
automobile, intending to dismount when he reached the shaky bridge and
wheel his machine over as he had done before, something snapped on his
machine and, looking down, he discovered a broken sprocket wheel.
"Well, if this isn't the limit!" Joe cried. "Now I am laid up for fair!"
The garage man came out to see what the trouble was.
"Can you mend it?" Joe asked.
"Not to-day," was the reply. "I'll have to send for a new wheel, as I
don't carry them in stock. I can telegraph for it, though, and have it
here on the first train in the morning. It won't take long to put it
on, once I get it."
"Then I wish you'd do it," said Joe. "I'll have to lay over here all
night, I suppose. Is there a hotel about?"
"Yes, a good one in the village, about half a mile away. You can leave
your motor-cycle here."
This Joe did, walking the distance to the hotel while the garage man
and his helpers went in a car to the scene of the accident. The men
invited Joe to ride with them, but he was tired, and there was nothing
novel in seeing an automobile hauled out of a stream. Joe had seen
elephants pull mired circus wagons out too often to be interested in
what was now about to be done.
"But some one ought to put up a danger sign at the bridge," said Joe to
the automobile men.
"I'll look after that," the garage owner promised.
"I suppose I might have gone back with them," mused Joe, "and asked Mr.
Craige why he was so interested in my name. But I'll see him in the
morning, so it will do as well."
But destiny, fate, luck, or whatever one calls it, had other plans in
store for Joe Strong.
He passed a comfortable night at the country hotel, and early the next
morning went to the garage to see about the repairs to his motor-cycle.
The new sprocket wheel had not yet arrived, but the train would soon be
in. While waiting, Joe asked the garage man about the overturned car.
"Oh, we got it out all right, just before dark," was the answer. "It
wasn't really damaged to speak of, though it was pretty well muddied up
inside, and the men went off in it."
"Went off in it!" cried Joe in surprise. "Why, I thought that Mr.
Strailey was too badly hurt to travel."
"He wasn't as badly off as it seemed, according to what they tell me,
and when Dr. Brown fixed him up, and when we got the car out and across
the creek and found she would run, the men insisted on going on."
"Where did they go?" Joe inquired.
"That I couldn't tell you," answered the garage man.
"Did they leave any address?"
"And I can't tell you that, either, I'm sorry to say. I was so busy
getting the car out that I didn't ask them. They paid me well for my
trouble, and I came back with my men. We put some red lanterns up at
the bridge, and left warning signs. I also notified the chairman of
the township committee, and he's going to have the bridge strengthened
right away."
"I should think he would!" declared Joe. "Humph," he mused, "I guess I
won't have a chance to question Mr. Craige after all. But he may have
left his address with Dr. Brown. I'll ask him, and if I get it I'll
write."
One of the assistants at the garage who had gone to the express office
to meet the early morning train, now came in with the sprocket wheel
for Joe's motor-cycle. The broken one had a flaw in it, it developed on
examination. The new one was soon adjusted, and Joe was ready to ride
off again.
"Well, I'm a day late," he mused, "but it doesn't make an awful lot of
difference. I'll see Mr. Brader to-day and find out what he thinks
of my scheme. I'll also stop and see Dr. Brown. I'd like to get Mr.
Craige's address. It sure was queer how interested he seemed when he
heard my name. I wonder what sort of mining business they are in. I
hope it isn't the kind of fake oil mining that Helen nearly lost her
money in," for the trick rider had nearly come to grief in investing
some of her money and, only for Joe, would have suffered a serious loss.
The youth approached the shaky bridge cautiously. Already men were at
work strengthening it temporarily, and Joe walked across it, pushing
his machine, and found that it did not vibrate so much as before. The
plank he had accidentally knocked out had been replaced.
But Joe was disappointed about getting the address of Mr. Craige and
his companion from Dr. Brown.
"No," said the physician, "they didn't tell me where they were going,
and if they mentioned it casually I did not hear it."
"Was Mr. Strailey able to travel?" asked the former circus actor.
"Oh, yes, in a measure. It was the blow in the stomach that knocked him
out, and a rest was what he needed. He wasn't able to drive the car
though. The other man took the wheel. They had a very narrow escape."
"That's what they did," agreed Joe. "Well, I'll go see that farmer.
Maybe he has their address."
But a second disappointment awaited the lad. Mr. Wain knew nothing as
to the destination or address of the two Englishmen, as he called them.
"All I know is that they went off after paying me," he said. "My wife
got supper for them when they found that the injured man wouldn't have
to stay at Dr. Brown's. They paid Doc well, too. They seemed to have
plenty of money."
"Yes," agreed Joe. "Their car was an expensive one."
There was nothing more he could do. True, he might ride on after the
men, and make inquiries about them. But he hardly liked to do this.
Then, too, the destination they had mentioned when he had warned them
about the bridge, was not in the direction Joe wished to travel--toward
Hertford.
"I'd have to go a long distance out of my way," Joe reflected. "And,
after all, probably that Mr. Craige might only have known my father
casually. It wouldn't look well for me to be trailing after them when
I haven't any better excuse than I have. Maybe he will write to me if
it's anything important. He could send the letter in care of Sampson
Brothers' Circus and they'd forward it to me."
Joe had mentioned to Mr. Craige that he had lately left the Sampson
Brothers' Circus, and he had of course left his address with Jim
Tracy, the ring-master, for he intended to remain in Hertford for some
little time.
So Joe rode on, and in due time he reached his destination and sought
out Mr. Brader, with whom he wanted to talk concerning a matter,
important to Joe at least.
Mr. Henry Brader was a manufacturer of circus apparatus, and owned
one of the largest concerns of the kind in the country. Many of the
performers with the Sampson show bought their trapezes and other
paraphernalia from him, and Joe himself was a customer. On one
occasion, when he had wanted a special bit of work done between
seasons, he had paid a visit to Mr. Brader's factory.
So when our hero had his "big idea" as he termed it, he at once thought
of Mr. Brader as the one to go to, not only to have the idea tried to
see if it were feasible, but also to have the special apparatus needed
made.
Joe found the manufacturer busy in his office, but he nodded kindly to
Joe, who had sent in his name, and said:
"Sit down. I'll be with you in a moment. Just have to dictate a few
letters."
Joe waited, his mind busy with many thoughts, and finally the
manufacturer turned to him, and asked:
"What can I do for you? Do you want a new kind of a fish tank, or a
pocket trapeze?"
"Neither one," answered Joe. "In fact I've left the circus."
"Left the circus? Why, I thought you----"
"Oh, I may go back when I get my new act perfected," the lad
interposed. "You know a circus is no place to try out new acts. One
wants to be perfect when one joins the show."
"That's right," agreed Mr. Brader. "Well, what's your idea?"
"I'm going to ride a motor-cycle on a high wire," said Joe.
Mr. Brader looked at him in astonishment.
"Ride a motor-cycle on a high wire?" he repeated. "It can't be done!"
"Yes, I think it can," said Joe quietly. "Now this is my idea. I'll
draw a rough sketch of the apparatus I need."
He used pencil and paper a few minutes, Mr. Brader looking on with
interest.
"Here's my scheme," said Joe. "I'm going to take the tires off the
motor-cycle wheels, and if the rims won't fit the wire I'll have them
moulded to the right shape. You can do that, can't you?"
"Maybe," conceded the manufacturer.
"Then I want two high supports made," Joe went on. "They are like the
things the life-savers use for the breeches buoy--shears, I believe
they call them."
"That's right," said Mr. Brader.
"I'll stretch my wire over the shears," Joe went on, "and pull it
tight with pulleys at either end, as we do now in the circus for the
tight-rope and wire-walkers."
The manufacturer nodded comprehendingly.
"There'll be a platform at either end of the high wire," went on Joe,
"big enough for me to get a start on with my machine. And when I get
started I'll ride across space on the high wire. What do you think of
that?"
"I think," said Mr. Brader, "that it's a rather dubious proceeding, Joe
Strong. And I think, if you try it, you'll fall and kill yourself! It
can't be done!"
CHAPTER VI
MAKING THE APPARATUS
Joe smiled as he leaned back in his chair. He seemed very confident.
Mr. Brader looked at the young fellow with a puzzled air, and shook his
head.
"Of course we can make almost any kind of apparatus, Joe," he said,
"and I know you circus fellows take mighty big risks. But I wouldn't
like to make for you, or for any one else, a piece of apparatus that
would result in sure death. You can't ride a motor-cycle on a high
wire. It can't be done!"
"Would you say a person could ride a motor-cycle over a high trestle,
on a single rail of a railroad track?" asked Joe, still smiling.
"Of course that can't be done either!" exclaimed Mr. Brader. "Ride on a
single rail? Never!"
Joe pulled from his pocket a folded newspaper clipping and silently
handed it to the manufacturer. It was an account of the feat Joe had
performed--that of riding across a high railroad trestle just as he
had described it. The details will be found in the volume prior to this.
"Is this true, Joe?" asked Mr. Brader when he had read the article. "I
mean, does it refer to you? It isn't a press-agent's yarn, gotten up
for the benefit of the circus, is it?"
"Not at all," Joe assured him. "It's the real goods. I was in a hurry
to get back to the show, and that was the only way. I didn't know it
was going in the papers. But I did ride across on the single rail, and
if I can hold my machine on such a narrow path as that, isn't it going
to be easier to do it on a wire, with the wheel rims grooved to fit?"
Mr. Brader was shaken in his unbelief, that was easy to see.
"But if you did ride the rail once, you probably couldn't do it again,"
he said. "Besides, you were down on the ground. But if you have the
apparatus built as you have sketched it--why, your wire will be fifty
feet up in the air!"
"I know," admitted Joe. "But height doesn't bother me in the least."
"You certainly have nerve when it comes to high acts," conceded the
manufacturer. "But, Joe, I don't believe it can be done."
"Will you make the apparatus for me?"
"Well, of course if you're bound to have it made, I s'pose we might as
well get the business as any one else. But I surely would hate to be
the innocent means of injury to you, Joe, or--death."
"Don't worry. I think I can do it without getting hurt. Now let's go
into details."
Mr. Brader was still dubious, but Joe's story of riding the rail had
showed the manufacturer that the young fellow knew his own capabilities.
And though he regarded the whole affair as rather foolhardy, he had not
been in the business of manufacturing circus apparatus for many years
without realizing that most of the acts in the tent were more or less
risky. Even the simplest trapeze act is likely to result in the death
of the performer if he or she is not careful. But with all his nerve
and daring, Joe Strong was careful. He usually had at least a small
margin of safety on his side.
"Give me a little more detailed sketch, Joe, and tell me how you want
the rims of your cycle wheels made, and I'll see what can be done,"
promised Mr. Brader. "But I won't take any of the responsibility. And
I'd advise you to practise on a wire hung rather low at first. Don't
try the high wire until you get some idea of how the act will go."
"I'll not, Mr. Brader," the lad promised.
"I don't see why you quit the show," the manufacturer went on. "You had
a nice act--that tank one--by all accounts. Why didn't you stick at it?"
"Oh, I wanted something new," replied Joe. "It was a pretty act, I'll
admit that, but it wasn't dangerous enough to make the people gasp."
The manufacturer shook his head.
"That's the trouble with you circus folk," he said. "You want to put in
too many thrills. Well, I suppose it's the fault of the public as much
as it is yours."
"Besides," went on Joe, "I couldn't very well stay with the show and do
the tank act, and I didn't want to do trapeze work only.
"You see, Benny Turton, the fellow who had the act before I took it up
after he collapsed, got well and came back to work, and of course I had
to give him back the tank. I was willing to, anyhow, as I wanted to
give this high-wire idea of mine a trial."
"All right, we'll make the apparatus for you," said Mr. Brader. "I'll
send one of the men out to have a look at your machine. It may be that
we'll have to make new wheels for it."
"That's what I was thinking," Joe said. "Or else new rims to fit the
wire."
"How large a wire do you think of using, Joe?"
"About half an inch in diameter. You see I must have a pretty long
stretch, and I don't want too much weight to carry about the country
with me."
"Is that your idea--traveling around giving exhibitions?"
"Yes, for a while. You know there are lots of fairs, expositions and
things of that sort in the summer that like to book balloon ascensions,
parachute drops and other thrilling exhibitions to attract a crowd.
There is money in it, I hear, and I'm going into business on my own
account, as it were. I intend to go wherever they want me to give an
exhibition of riding a motor-cycle on a high wire, and I don't want to
have too much baggage to transport. A half-inch wire rope will be heavy
enough, won't it?"
"Oh, yes, plenty. But you'll have to have new wheels, with smaller
rims. I can tell that without looking. Your tires are nearly two inches
now, aren't they?"
"Yes," answered Joe.
An examination of his motor-cycle disclosed the rims to be fitted with
two-and-a-quarter-inch tires, and there was nothing to do but to make
new grooves to fit a half-inch rope.
To ride a swiftly moving motor-cycle with two-inch rims on a half-inch
wire would allow so much side play that it would result in an accident.
Therefore changing the rims was on the side of safety.
Joe engaged board in Hertford, as he expected to stay there not only
while his apparatus was being made, but afterward, to practise his new
act. Mr. Brader's factory was equipped with a testing room, fitted with
various safety appliances where circus folk who ordered new apparatus
could give practical tests to their new devices.
"But you'll have to have your trial outdoors, in a vacant lot, Joe,"
the manufacturer said. "There isn't room in the factory."
"I realize that. Well, as I'm going to perform out in the open, at
least until I go back to the circus, I may as well get used to it."
"Then you think you may rejoin the circus?"
"I may," and Joe's mind went back to Helen. "If my act goes well,
and they are willing to pay enough, I'll consider an offer. I may be
wrong in thinking I can do better by booking myself on an independent
circuit, but I can't be sure about it until I try. So I'm going to make
the effort."
Joe's original idea for the apparatus he wanted was but little changed
when the experts at Mr. Brader's factory began working on it. The
making of the new motor-cycle wheels was done in one department, while
the building of the shears and the platforms went on in another. On
second thought Joe saved the old wheels of his machine, so he could use
it for road-riding by taking off the new special wheels and putting
back the rubber-tired ones temporarily.
"If this is a success, and I make money enough at it, I'll have a
special motor-cycle made purposely for wire-riding," he decided.
"It would be best," agreed Mr. Brader. "This machine is a little too
heavy for you. You could use a lighter wire with a lighter machine."
The shears Joe was having made were shaped like the implement after
which they are named except that they were not in the same proportion.
There were two very long and two very short "legs." The long legs,
spread apart, rested on the ground. Through the crotch, or opening
between the two short, upper legs, ran the wire rope, the ends being
fastened to heavy iron anchors, which must be buried deep and well
covered with tamped earth at each performance.
There was an anchor at either end, and pulleys were provided for
putting a great strain on the rope, making it as tight as possible.
Even then it would sag considerably in the center when Joe rode over it
on his motor-cycle.
The shears were made of light but strong steel, built in triangular
open beam, or lattice, construction, and to them was fastened a long,
narrow platform. Joe needed a platform at each end of the wire, one to
enable him to gain a start, and the other to slow down on at the end of
his perilous journey. He planned to ride three hundred feet on the high
wire, though this distance could be shortened or lengthened as occasion
required.
The wire to be used was specially made for circus work. It was light in
weight, but very strong, and would stand a heavy strain. It was tested
to over twice the weight Joe would put upon it.
And finally, after about two weeks of work, Mr. Brader said to Joe one
day:
"Well, your apparatus is finished. You can try it to-morrow if you
like."
"Good!" cried Joe. "I only hope it works!"
"And I only hope you're not hurt--or killed," said Mr. Brader in a low
voice.
CHAPTER VII
FAILURE
Outside the circus-apparatus factory a big field had been made ready
for Joe's motor-cycle experiment. The place belonged to Mr. Brader, and
there was a high wooden fence all about it, which insured a certain
amount of privacy. The lad did not want a crowd to witness his first
attempt, for it might be a failure. Then, too, there was a certain
element of risk, and Joe did not wish to risk injury to any one but
himself.
"It's just as well to keep the crowd out," he told Mr. Brader, "and I
suppose there would be a crowd if word got out of what was going on."
"Oh, yes. The boys are always ready for a free show. But there'll be no
one on hand but my own men, and not many of them, as we're pretty busy.
Are you going to take any precautions?"
"Precautions? What do you mean?"
"I mean, are you going to wear a padded suit or a helmet or anything
like that? You might tumble, you know, and though I haven't put the
wire up very high for this first ride, if you fall, going at any speed,
you may be badly hurt."
"I hadn't thought of a padded suit, though I am going to wear a
football helmet," said Joe, and he produced a heavy leather head-guard,
such as warriors of the gridiron use in the pigskin battles. "I suppose
I could pad the suit I wear."
"I would, if I were you," said Mr. Brader. "And I've done something
else, too."
"What is it?" asked Joe, curious to hear.
"Come on out to the field and you'll see."
The apparatus had been ordered set up by Joe, but he had not yet seen
it completely assembled. He intended to go over it thoroughly before
trusting himself to it, however.
Out in the field he saw two steel uprights, much lower than the ones he
contemplated using eventually if his act should prove successful. Both
he and Mr. Brader had agreed that it would be best to start the first
ride on a wire about five feet from the ground.
"And if I can keep on the wire at all, I can ride on it fifty feet in
the air as well as five," Joe reasoned.
Between the two short uprights stretched the taut wire cable, ropes and
pulleys at either end enabling Joe to make it tighter or looser as he
desired.
The wire was four hundred feet long, but the open space over which Joe
would ride was about three hundred feet. Fifty feet at each end was
taken up by two platforms. On one of these Joe expected to get his
start, and on the other he would finish, bringing his speedy machine to
a halt by a quick application of the brakes.
Carefully now, the young acrobat went over every part of the apparatus.
His first test was to go out to the middle of the span of wire and hang
by it, vibrating himself up and down.
"She sags hardly any," he called to Mr. Brader.
"No. We used a pretty strong wire, and it's under very heavy tension.
Of course it will go down more when the weight of your machine, as well
as yourself, is brought to bear. But it will stand up pretty well at
that."
"I'm sure it will. But you spoke of some precautions you had taken. I
don't see anything special."
"The men haven't set them up yet. Here they come with them now." As he
spoke some men came out of a door of the factory which opened into the
lot. They carried two big nets, and Joe recognized them as life-nets,
such as are spread under the trapeze performers in a circus.
"Oh, those!" Joe exclaimed. "Yes, I'm glad you thought of them. It's
like old times to see them."
"I thought you'd appreciate them," said Mr. Brader. "This is a new
style we're making. They're very light but strong, and can easily be
set up. It wouldn't burden you much to carry a set with you, Joe, and
if you're going into this thing, traveling about the country giving
this daring exhibition, I wish you'd take some of these nets with
you. I'll make you a special price on them--just what it costs us to
manufacture them."
"Of course I'll take them!" agreed Joe. "I didn't see how I could use
them or I'd have mentioned nets before."
"These come in two parts," explained Mr. Brader, "and can be separated
to go on either side of your platform. I realize that there is where
the greatest danger will be. Once you get started on the wire, you are
almost certain to ride over the clear space--that is, if what you tell
me you did on the rail can be duplicated on the wire.
"But in making a start, and again in stopping on the platform, you are
likely to topple off. So I'll have the nets set up, one at each end of
the wire under the platforms."
"Thank you," said Joe. "Well, I suppose I may as well start in and have
it over with," and he laughed, for he was not half as nervous over the
coming trial as Mr. Brader and some of his men were.
The platforms were long and narrow, made of skeleton steel frames which
came apart in sections, and could be quickly fitted together again.
They were supported by guy wires from the two end supports, in a simple
but ingenious fashion.
Joe went carefully over the anchorages of his wire, he inspected the
tackle by which the cable was tightened, and then looked carefully over
every inch of the wire itself.
"I don't want any loose strands sticking up to catch in the spokes of
my wheels," he said.
"We don't make wire that has strands coming loose, Joe, you rascal!"
exclaimed Mr. Brader with a laugh. "Our wire has a reputation for
dependability."
"I'm sure of that," Joe replied. "But it may fray after I use it, and I
want to get in the habit of inspecting it."
"Oh, that's right," conceded the manufacturer. "Well, are you about
ready?"
"Pretty nearly. I want to run the machine a bit. It wouldn't be any fun
to get up there on the wire and have my power give out in the middle of
the stretch."
"I should say not!"
After Joe had gone carefully over every part of the apparatus, and
had put just a little more tension on the wire, he looked over the
motor-cycle. In addition to putting on the new wheels, Mr. Brader's
men had made some slight repairs in the mechanism and given the cycle
a thorough cleaning, so that it looked almost like a new wheel. Joe
let down the rear support and, getting into the saddle, he pushed the
starting lever. This was a new model machine, and it was unnecessary
to spin the rear wheel with pedals to set the motor going. A single
thrust with the foot was all that was needed, and then, when the motor
was thrown into clutch, all the rider had to do was to rest his feet on
the supports provided and steer.
With a hum, a throb and a roar the motor-cycle engine showed what power
it possessed. The machine vibrated as Joe turned on more gasoline,
but, of course, it did not move, as the rear wheel was raised from the
ground by means of the support.
"Now this is my plan," said the youth to Mr. Brader and some of the men
who had gathered about after fixing the life-nets in place: "I'll go up
on the platform and haul the machine up by a rope."
"I'll have some of the men help you," offered the manufacturer. "You
don't want to strain your arms. And if I were you, Joe, I'd arrange to
have a little block and fall attached to one of the platforms, so you
can haul your machine up from the ground without the use of so much
muscle. A motor-cycle, such as you're using, isn't the lightest weight
in the world."
"I know, and I'll do as you say. I hadn't thought of that."
Joe ascended to the west platform, to ride toward the east, as it
was afternoon and he wanted the sun at his back. It was easy enough
to raise the motor-cycle to the low platform; but it would be more
difficult when the platforms fifty feet high were used. Joe had an
idea of getting a rope ladder for his own use, and the tackle for the
machine.
Everything was now in readiness for the first trial. Joe got on his
machine as it stood upright on the platform, held by the rear support.
He looked over to the other platform, where he hoped to land after
riding across the intervening three hundred feet on the wire. Each
platform was so arranged that the wire gradually merged into and became
a part of it. This was to enable Joe to steer easily the grooved wheels
of his machine on or off, just as he had used the boards the day he had
ridden the railroad rail.
"Well, here goes!" said Joe, mentally. Again he started the motor. It
responded instantly to the thrust of the foot lever, and the explosions
in the two cylinders came fast and true.
"No misses there," thought Joe, satisfied.
Once more he looked to the other platform. It was a tense moment, and
Mr. Brader and his men, watching, felt it perhaps more than Joe did.
For the young fellow's nerves were as steady as steel.
Joe set the engine to run at a moderate rate and then, with his hand
on the lever that threw in the gear, he reached back with one foot and
kicked up into the holding catch the rear support. Slowly, but with
gathering speed, the machine started off along the platform.
"Well, he's off!" cried Mr. Brader.
Faster and faster rode Joe. He held his front wheel as near to the
middle of the platform as he could, aiming to get it on the wire as
soon as the cable offered itself, rising from the surface of the
platform.
But something seemed to be wrong. Try as he would Joe could not get
the grooved wheel to take the wire. He saw failure ahead of him, but
he would not give up. Desperately he tried to get on the wire but it
was harder than he had supposed. Though in trials, when a wire was
laid straight out on the ground Joe had ridden from end to end without
swerving a fraction of an inch either way.
"Look out!" shouted Mr. Brader. "You'll be off the platform in a
second, Joe!"
"I know it!" Joe shouted back. "I can't make the wheels take the wire.
I've got to----"
He did not finish, for just then he reached the edge of the platform
and plunged off, motor-cycle and all.
CHAPTER VIII
A NEW IDEA
Lucky it was for Joe Strong that Mr. Brader had taken the precaution to
spread the life-nets under the platforms, for when the young wire-rider
plunged off he landed safely, if not altogether comfortably, in the
meshes below him. The motor-cycle also fell into the net, some distance
away from Joe, so that he was not injured by it. And as the lad had
shut off the power the moment he felt himself falling, no damage was
done by the spinning wheels.
Mr. Brader and his men ran forward, but Joe was in need of no
assistance. He leaped out of the net, as he had often done in the
circus after a fall or a jump from a great height, and stood looking
ruefully at the apparatus and at his motor-cycle, which some workmen
were lifting to the ground.
"What happened, Joe?" asked the manufacturer.
"That's what I'm trying to figure out," was the answer. "It's more like
what didn't happen. I couldn't get on the wire."
"What was the trouble?"
"I think I didn't get up speed enough," Joe replied. "You know the
faster a motor-cycle or a bicycle goes the easier it is to keep it in
a straight line. I've found that out by experiments. That was what
enabled me to ride the rail that time--I got up speed in a hurry and my
front wheel hit the steel true and stayed there.
"But now I couldn't get the front wheel to stay on the wire. I'm sure
it was because I didn't get up speed enough. It's the platforms. I
haven't the room to get enough speed in fifty feet."
"I don't very well see how you can have the platforms made any longer,
Joe," observed Mr. Brader. "If you add twenty-five feet to each
one--and adding less wouldn't be of much use--that will take fifty feet
off your length of open wire. Besides, making the platforms bigger will
make it necessary for you to carry a lot of weight. The platforms would
have to be made heavier if we made them longer."
"That's right," admitted Joe. He was at a loss how to solve the
problem. He had calculated that fifty feet would be room enough in
which to get a flying start, but now it seemed that the calculation was
wrong.
"The machine isn't damaged any," said one of the men, wheeling it up to
Joe and supporting it by the rear wheel arrangement.
"That's good. And I'm not hurt either. I'm glad you had the nets in
place, Mr. Brader."
"Safety first!" exclaimed the manufacturer with a smile.
Joe might have taken the fall on the ground without injury, for he was
almost like a cat in his ability to land on his feet. Still it was best
to have the nets in place.
"Well, we'll try it again," said Joe, after another inspection of his
apparatus to make sure nothing had come loose when he had fallen.
"Try it again!" exclaimed Mr. Brader. "Surely you're not going to take
another risk, Joe!"
"I've got to take risks in this business. And at that, with the nets,
it isn't such a chance. I must find out where the error is. It may
not be in the length of the platforms after all. I've got to keep on
experimenting until I get it right, for I'm going to make this act a
success. It can be done and I know it!" and Joe looked very determined
as he said this.
Again he mounted to the platform and had his machine hoisted up to him.
Before starting the engine this time Joe looked to make sure the wire
was in the exact middle of the opening in the platform. He could find
nothing wrong there, and he came to the conclusion that it was his
speed wherein lay the trouble.
"I'll get her going good this time," thought Joe. "I'll hit the wire
at my best speed and if I don't stay on--well, we'll see what happens."
Joe took his place in the saddle and started the motor. It hummed and
throbbed with the power of the gas, and then Joe kicked up the rear
support and started off, throwing the clutch in quickly.
He got off well and was steering straight for the wire where it emerged
on a slant through a slot in the platform. But again the same thing
happened. Joe could not get the grooved front wheel to take the wire
strands and once more he saw himself approaching the edge of the
platform.
"Another fall coming to me!" thought Joe grimly. "I'm glad the nets are
there, for I'm going faster and I'll fall harder this time."
He proved a true prophet, for he went off the edge of the platform with
considerable force. And this time he was not so lucky. He tried to kick
the motor-cycle away from him, but failed, and when he fell into the
net one of the long handles struck him in the side, making a painful
bruise.
Joe did not jump out of the net this time. In fact, the breath was
knocked out of him, and he had to lie still to recover himself. Mr.
Brader ran up, and with some of his men lifted Joe to the ground.
"Are you badly hurt, Joe?" the manufacturer asked.
"No--no, I guess not," was the panting reply. "I--I'll be all right in
a few minutes. Just let me get my breath."
They brought him some water, and Mr. Brader insisted on his lying down
on a pile of excelsior in the factory yard to rest.
"Well, it seems to be the same trouble," Joe said, when he had almost
recovered. "I can't get going right somehow or other up on the
platform. I know I can ride that wire if I once get on it, but the
trouble is to get on. I can't get off except with a flying start, as
the motor-cycle won't remain upright unless it's in motion."
"Better give it up and go back to the circus," suggested Mr. Brader.
"You can fix up some motor-cycle act there, Joe, that won't be as hard
as riding the wire."
"No, sir!" was the vigorous reply. "I started out to perform on the
high wire with my motor-cycle and I'm going to do it."
"Well, I like your grit," said the manufacturer, "but it's a good thing
you weren't on a high wire just now. If this happened at five feet from
the ground, what would have happened at fifty feet?"
"That's a problem in arithmetic I don't want to try to solve," Joe said
with a smile. "I'm glad I started low down. I'll keep it at this height
until I've perfected it."
"Then you're not going to give up?"
"No indeed! But I've got to study this thing out a bit more. There's
something wrong, that's evident."
"Suppose you try it with a bicycle," suggested Mr. Brader. "Take a
light wheel and remove the tires. That will give you grooved wheels
just as you have now. And a bicycle will be much lighter to experiment
with--and fall with, if you have to."
"I believe I will," decided Joe. "I'll quit for to-day and take up the
bicycle to-morrow."
The apparatus was left standing, except that the tension was taken off
the wire rope, for it had a tendency to stretch, and the young acrobat
did not wish this to happen, as it would if left tight all night.
Joe found himself so lame and stiff the next day that riding the
bicycle was out of the question. However, he bought a light wheel and
had the tires removed in readiness. Two days later he made the simpler
experiment.
He found that it was easier to work with the bicycle, but the same
trouble developed, and Joe fell off the platform as before, though
without getting in the least hurt. He could not get up speed enough to
hit the wire in the right way with the front wheel, and when he reached
the edge of the platform there was nothing to do but to go over. Had he
been able to get on the wire, of course, he could have ridden across
the open stretch to the other platform.
"There's something wrong, and I've got to find out where it is," the
boy mused as he did some hard thinking over the matter. "I'm not going
to give up, that's one sure thing."
For three or four days Joe experimented, trying out different
arrangements of the wire and the platform. Sometimes he used the
motor-cycle, managing to avoid injury by skillfully getting out of the
machine's way in his falls. The lad did not mind simple falls, for they
were part of the game in circus trapeze work. Sometimes he would use
the bicycle, but every time, either with the light or heavy machine, he
came a cropper.
"It's the platforms," Joe decided. "That's where all the trouble lies,
and yet, as Mr. Brader says, I can't very well make them any longer. I
wonder how I'm going to manage it?"
Joe drew different sketches on paper, showing new arrangements of his
apparatus. Some of these sketches he showed to Mr. Brader, and the
manufacturer at once decided against them as impracticable, either from
a mechanical or a safety standpoint.
Joe Strong was almost in despair, but he kept his grit and nerve and
did not give up.
"The platforms! The platforms!" he kept saying over and over to
himself. "If I could only make them longer, and at the same time keep
them short enough to take about with me. I'd need a sort of collapsible
platform for that. Collapsible! I wonder if that would solve the
problem. I must ask Mr. Brader."
This he did, suggesting a sort of sliding platform, that could be made
in several parts; telescopic, the mechanical term would be.
"It can't be done, Joe," said the manufacturer. "It would be altogether
too heavy."
And again Joe was almost in despair.
Then, suddenly, a new idea came to him one day. He was rather idly
making a pencil sketch of his wire apparatus when he seemed to see in
his mind a picture of it as he wanted it.
"Do away with the platforms altogether!" exclaimed Joe aloud. "That
would solve the puzzle. Slant the wire from the anchorages up over the
shears, but have them so arranged that I could ride up the slanting
wire on one side, along the level stretch and down the slant on the
other end. The slants can be made long and gradual, and I can get as
long a flying start as I want, right on the ground. The wire will
rise out of the ground at the anchorages, and I can get the required
tautness by slanting the shears back.
"By Jimminity! I believe I've got it!"
CHAPTER IX
THE FIRST EXHIBITION
Joe made a hasty sketch of his new idea, and hurried with it to Mr.
Brader's office. The manufacturer was interested at once.
"I believe you have struck it, Joe," he said. "To eliminate the
platforms would be the very thing needed. The only difficulty I see is
in riding over the wire rope at the point where the shears come under
it to support it and make it tight."
"I can get over that place all right," the youth asserted. "The shears
can be made a little differently. If a wire can be supported to allow a
grooved trolley wheel to pass along it, I can do the same thing on my
grooved motor-cycle wheels, only, of course, I'll ride along the upper
side of the wire, whereas a trolley wheel runs along the underside. The
supports are there all the while."
"Good!" cried the manufacturer. "That does away with my only objection.
Now we'll get busy on the new apparatus."
This was much simpler to construct than had been the one in which the
starting and stopping platforms were used.
The two ends of the wire were firmly fastened to two heavy anchors made
to be buried in the ground, and to resist a strong pull. When this had
been done the shears were put in place and raised, the shears being
placed sufficiently far from the spot where the ends of the wire were
buried in the ground. Thus there was a gradual slant up which Joe could
ride on his machine and reach the level stretch of wire, across which
he could then speed, riding down the slant on the other side.
As Joe's motor-cycle had no tires on it, it was necessary to have the
ground approach and the end as smooth as possible, for he would ride
along it on bare rims. But he counted on this.
"Yes, Joe, I think you have solved your problem," the manufacturer
told him. "I'll put the life-nets in place, though, around each of the
shears, for you might take a tumble after all."
"Thank you, but I don't think I shall. I believe we've got it now."
The day of the trial of the new idea came. Joe was sure of success. Mr.
Brader and his men came out to watch.
The wire rope had been attached and the anchors covered with earth,
well tamped down. The specially constructed shears, the supporting
points of which did not project above the wire, so that no obstruction
was offered the wheels of the motor-cycle, were put in place and
slanted so as to exert a powerful upward push on the cable, making it
as taut as a drum head.
The ground at either end had been made smooth and level, and a white
chalk line extended outward and away from the points where the wire
emerged from the ground.
"All I'll have to do," said Joe, "will be to ride along the ground on
the chalk line, and when I get to the wire I'll just ride up it. I
wonder why I didn't think of this at first, instead of trying to do it
from platforms."
But that is one of the mysteries of inventions. Often complicated ways
are tried until finally the simplest solution presents itself.
On account of the necessity of riding up the wire slope Joe had a
slight change made in the grooved wheels of his machine. He had them
roughened to a file-like surface on the inside, so they would grip, or
bite, the twisted wire, and thus prevent him from slipping back.
Everything was in readiness. Joe took his machine to the far end of the
starting ground. He jumped to the saddle, pressed the starting pedal,
and when the engine was pounding away he kicked up the rear support,
let the clutch in, and was off.
"This is the time I do it!" he cried.
In another instant he was riding along the white chalk mark on the
ground. To within the fraction of an inch Joe held his front wheel
true, and as he gathered speed this was easier to do.
Foot after foot he rode along, gaining in momentum with every
revolution of the wheels. He did not swerve from the chalk mark.
"I'm going to do it! I'm going to do it!" Joe exulted in his heart.
"I'm going to do it this time, sure!"
Now he was ten feet away from the up-slanting wire. Now five--now one.
Then, in an instant the grooved front wheel struck the wire with a
vibration of metal.
"Will the rear wheel take it?" was Joe's quick thought, for he realized
what would happen if one wheel went spinning up the slanting wire, and
the other did not follow.
But this accident did not happen. Up the gradual slant rode Joe, now
really, and for the first time, on a stretched and suspended wire. He
was sure he could mount to the level place--easily.
And he did. Amid the cheers of Mr. Brader and his men the courageous
youth shot out on the straight stretch of cable, the motor-cycle wheels
passing above, and safely across, the point where the shears below
supported it.
"I've done it!" cried Joe.
He was now speeding across the wire. Faster and faster Joe rode. He was
doing for the first time that which he had long dreamed of, and though
the wire was not as high as the one he intended to use later, he had
proved his theory. A motor-cycle could be ridden across a wire.
The shouts of the men continued. They were thus congratulating Joe.
The aerial motor-cyclist was now close to the end of his course. He
would then ride down the slanting hill of wire and his ambition, in
part, would have been realized.
It was comparatively easy, after all, Joe thought, once he got the
grooved wheels of his machine on the wire. After that it really would
take an effort to make them leave it.
Of course Joe discounted the danger involved. He felt sure of himself.
And while it was comparatively easy, that does not mean that any one
could have done what Joe did. It took nerve and daring, a sure eye and
muscles under perfect control. But Joe had these qualities in plenty.
The young acrobat reached the other end of the wire, and shot down the
slope and along the cleared ground. Then he brought his machine to a
stop, and stood it up, walking back to see what Mr. Brader and the
others had to say.
"Well, Joe, you did it!" cried the manufacturer, shaking hands with
him. "You did it! I congratulate you!"
"Thanks," was the youth's reply.
"Do you think you'll have the nerve to ride across the wire when it's
strung fifty feet in the air?" asked one of the men.
"Why, I think so," Joe replied. "I'm going to try it in a day or so. I
want to raise the wire gradually, in order to find out just the proper
slant to make at each end."
"A good idea," said Mr. Brader. "Well, Joe, you did it, but at first
I didn't think you would. It's a rather risky proceeding, though, at
best."
"Yes, it is," admitted the young performer. "But I like risky acts."
Which was true enough; Joe had proved that in his circus work. But then
he seemed born with a gift for that sort of thing. His mother was a
daring horsewoman, and even before she had taken up circus work she was
known to take so many chances in riding to hounds in England, and in
jumping ditches and hedges that she had quite a local fame.
Joe rode over the low wire several times more that first day of his
success. He wanted to get used to steering from the white guide line up
on to the cable, and not once did he fail.
"Though it will be different when he goes up on the real high wire,"
predicted one man.
"I don't believe so," disagreed a companion. "That lad has nerve enough
to ride across Niagara Falls on a wire, if one could be stretched and
the authorities would let him do it. He's all nerve, is Joe Strong.
And he's plucky, too!"
"Yes, he is that," the other was forced to admit.
It was about a week later that Joe finally raised the wire to the
limit of the shears--fifty feet. Meanwhile he had ridden across it
at gradually increasing heights from the ground, and he had met with
success each time. He was not at all troubled with dizziness, but he
did not look down, which makes some persons dizzy, though, of course,
not Joe. He had another reason for not wanting to gaze earthward. He
must keep his eyes fixed on the wire, to so control his motor-cycle as
to be able to have it well in hand when he reached the downward slant.
The day when Joe was to ride across the three hundred feet of wire,
raised fifty feet from the ground, saw every man in Mr. Brader's
factory out in the adjoining lot. Of course Joe was now visible to a
big crowd that stood outside the fence.
"It's your first exhibition, Joe," said Mr. Brader, as the youth got
ready to ride.
"Yes, they're having a free show," Joe remarked with a smile, as he had
a glimpse of the crowd outside the fence. "I won't make any money at
this rate, but I'll get a reputation and some advertising, and that's
what I want. Then I can book myself with some fair."
Joe looked over every foot of the wire rope, to make sure it was all
right Then he took his place at the end of the buried cable, with its
two slanting sections and the long, straight stretch.
Joe started his machine, and quickly had it going at almost full speed.
Straight and true to the chalk mark on the ground he held it, and then,
with a hum, the front and rear wheels slid up the wire.
As Joe came in sight above the fence, the big crowd gathered outside
set up a cheer, for word of what Joe was going to attempt had somehow
gotten around.
Up and up he rode, until he was fifty feet from the ground. The
motor-cycle was humming and throbbing. Out on the straight stretch of
wire he spun, and then across the intervening space. Fifty feet up in
the air was Joe Strong, riding along the tight wire, giving his first
impromptu exhibition.
Cheer after cheer came to the intrepid rider from the throng outside,
and Mr. Brader and his men mingled their shouts with those of the
others. It was a daring act.
CHAPTER X
A CHANCE REMARK
Joe Strong had succeeded. He had demonstrated that he could ride his
motor-cycle across a high wire, and that was what he had set out to do.
And it had proved to be a thrilling exploit. Joe could tell that by the
wave of excitement which swept over the big crowd outside. Mr. Brader
and his men were excited too, but in a milder manner, for they had seen
the preliminaries of Joe's performance, and knew what to expect.
But the crowd outside fairly went wild, shouting, cheering and
applauding. Some of the crowd even pushed past the watchman at the gate
and swarmed into the lot.
"They're going to make a hero of you, Joe," said Mr. Brader as he
looked at the onrushing throng.
"Not if I know it!" Joe exclaimed, and he started for the side door of
the factory. But he was too late. The crowd pressed around him, men and
boys trying to shake him by the hand, that they might be able to say
they had met the daring motor-cycle rider of the high wire.
Some boys were examining Joe's machine so closely that they were in
danger of wrecking it, and he had to beg them good-naturedly to let it
alone.
Others swarmed about the wire, looking at the supporting shears and
trying their weight on the inclined approaches. As they were likely to
displace the arrangement, the men from the factory had to make them
move away.
Altogether it was a great ovation for Joe, and he appreciated it very
much, even as modest as he was.
"If the crowds at the county fairs or other exhibitions where I show
will only make as much fuss as this, the management will think I am at
least earning my money," said Joe to Mr. Brader, when the excitement
had quieted down and the crowd had been driven out of the factory lot.
"So you are fully determined that that's what you're going to do--go
about giving exhibitions?"
"For a while, yes, if I can get some engagements."
"Oh, I guess you can do that easily enough. The act is sure to be a
thriller. I think it will draw better than an aeroplane exhibition. And
if I were you I'd have some photographs made, so as to give folks an
idea what it is like."
"I could do that," agreed Joe. "And if I could induce some moving
picture concern to put me on a film, I'd get pretty well known over
the country."
"A fine idea, Joe! I know some moving picture people and I'll speak to
them about it. I think it would make a good scene for them. It could be
released for one of the weeklies or features."
Mr. Brader was as good as his word, and a few days later Joe received
word that a camera man would visit him on a certain day to "film" him.
"Maybe, for all you know, you'll be acting for the movies yet," said
Mr. Brader, with a smile. "You surely could give them some thrills."
"Well, if they'll pay enough I'll do it," said Joe. He was not
mercenary, but he realized that this was his way to make a living, and
he decided that the time to earn money was when he was young, and while
he had such good strength and nerves.
Every day, for a week or more, Joe practised riding his motor-cycle on
the high wire, and each day crowds gathered outside the fence to watch
him. Of course this was in the nature of a free exhibition, but Joe did
not care.
He realized that it would be very difficult to do his act in a tent if
he had the wire as high and as long as he had it now. But he knew both
dimensions could be made less, and still the thrill would be retained.
"So if I want to go back to the circus, or join some show where I'll
have to be inside, I know I can do it," the youth reflected. Just at
present his idea was to offer to do the act for the management of
county fairs and large expositions, and to have it take place in the
open to draw a crowd. Joe would be paid, not by the people watching
him, but by the fair management.
"I've got to book myself just as Professor Rosello used to book his
show," Joe said.
The moving picture man came and took Joe and his motor-cycle on several
hundred feet of film, showing him getting ready to ascend the slanting
approach, after his spin across the level ground, his speedy flight
across the straight course, and his startling descent. Pictures were
also taken, showing Joe close up to the camera as he bowed and smiled
to an imaginary audience, and views were made of the crowd outside the
fence.
Later on the film was released to a chain of theatres throughout the
country, and as Joe's name appeared on the film he received what was
practically a free advertisement.
Joe also advertised in some theatrical and circus papers, announcing
what sort of an act he had, and offering to bring himself and his
paraphernalia to any fair or open-air exhibition, and to do his
"death-defying ride," as the moving picture film described it.
He asked a large sum for each performance, and he had to do this to
make up for the heavy expense he would be under. He had to take with
him considerable apparatus, and he also needed men to aid him. He
decided to take two of Mr. Brader's helpers as he traveled about the
country, for they knew best about the apparatus, and how to set it up.
Particularly must the wire be anchored well at each end. If it should
break, or pull loose when Joe was in mid-air, he would get a fall that
would almost certainly kill him. On the solicitation of Mr. Brader, Joe
decided to use a life-net stretched under the whole length of the wire.
If he fell he would fall into this, but even then there was risk, for
the heavy motor-cycle might tear through the meshes at the very point
where Joe might fall with it, and let him fall to the ground.
The youth began to get letters almost at once, asking as to his terms
and other details. These he answered. His correspondence he attended
to in the morning, then he would practise a little on the wire and in
the afternoon perhaps go off for a ride on his machine, after having
changed the wheels.
Joe received a letter from Professor Rosello, his first employer. The
magician said he had fully recovered now, and was going to take his
show out on the road again. He inquired if Joe did not want to join
him, instead of doing the dangerous wire act, which the professor had
seen advertised in one of the theatrical papers.
And, for a moment, the boy was almost tempted to go back to his
sleight-of-hand work, at least while waiting for an engagement to do
his wire act, having as yet received no definite offers. But he had
faith in himself and his attraction and he decided he would stick to it.
"They'll want me--some fair or exhibition will--sooner or later," Joe
told himself, "and I want to be ready to jump right in. I'll hang on a
bit longer."
Meanwhile he kept on with his practice until he could do the act at
night, with powerful electric lamps placed near the spot where the wire
emerged from the ground.
"I don't want to miss the wire with my front wheel or it will give me a
bad upset," Joe reflected. "But as I may have to do the trick at night
I must be ready for it."
So the lad practised night and day while waiting. And at last his
chance came, as he had thought it would.
The management of a big county fair in Clayton, a city about two
hundred miles from Hertford, wrote to him, asking for his terms and
for other details. Joe's reply was quickly answered with a note to the
effect that his price was satisfactory, asking him to come on and give
an exhibition for two days, and sending him a contract to sign.
"There's my chance!" exulted Joe, as he showed the letter to Mr.
Brader.
"I'm glad of it, Joe," the manufacturer said. "Good luck to you!"
The anchors were taken up, the wire coiled and the shears taken apart
for transportation. Joe was glad he did not have the cumbersome
platforms to move, as his transportation bill and the railroad fare
for himself and his two helpers were heavy enough. So far he had been
living and paying his expenses from the money he had saved while with
the circus. And, though he still had a sum to his credit, Joe was
anxious to be earning something. Now his chance had come.
"If I can't get any money from my mother's English estate I'll have to
earn the cash myself," thought Joe.
He looked up the route of Sampson Brothers' Circus when he had
completed the arrangements for going to the Clayton fair, and found
that the show with which he had been formerly connected would be
playing in a town about ten miles distant.
"I'll ride over and see the boys," decided Joe.
And, though he did not say so aloud, he included the "girls" with the
"boys"--at least one girl.
Jeroleman and Ryan, Joe's two helpers, very quickly packed the
apparatus for transportation. Then, one day, having bidden good-bye to
Mr. Brader, Joe set forth to give his first public exhibition with his
motor-cycle on the high wire.
His journey to Clayton was without incident, and he found the fair in
full progress when he arrived. He learned that a certain daring aviator
had disappointed the management by failing to appear, and they had
engaged Joe instead.
There was ample space to set up the wire in the middle of the oval
race-track, and from there a good view of Joe's daring feat could be
had from all over the grounds.
There was no trouble in setting up the wire, and at last the time
came when Joe was to give his exhibition. A record-breaking crowd was
in attendance, for the attraction had been well advertised, and, Joe
learned later, his moving pictures had been shown in town a few days
before. So he had an audience all ready and waiting for him.
"Well, is everything all right?" asked the daring motor-cyclist, as he
came out of his dressing tent, wearing a suit of white tights which
would make him very conspicuous as he flashed along the high wire on
his motor-cycle.
"Everything as tight as a drum," reported Jeroleman.
"And the life-nets are there too," said Ryan.
"Well, I hope I'll not need them," Joe said, with a smile, as he put
on his head-guard. He wore this, but he had decided against the padded
suit since he had the life-net to depend on in case of a fall.
He had looked over the anchors, the shears, the wire and his
motor-cycle, and he was now ready to start. The ground had been
carefully smoothed for him.
The aerial wire-rider, which is as good a name as can be invented for
Joe, mounted his machine at the end of the stretch. There was a little
wait, as Jeroleman and Ryan took their places, one at either end of the
wire, to help Joe if he should meet with an accident. The crowd waited
in anxious suspense.
"Is everything ready?" cried Joe dramatically. He had learned that
while in the circus.
"Ready!" answered Jeroleman.
"Ready!" echoed Ryan.
"Here I come!" Joe cried.
He started the motor, kicked up the rear support and a second later was
rushing across the ground toward the wire.
The grooved front wheel took the wire easily, and the rear wheel
followed.
"There he goes!" shouted some one in the crowd, as Joe, conspicuous in
his white tights, shot up the wire incline.
Up and up he went. Then out on the straight stretch.
"There he is! He's riding the high wire!" cried hundreds.
And Joe was. Just as he had done in private, he did now in public. On
and on he rode, fifty feet up in the air, with nothing but a slender
wire between him and the nets below. On and on he went, a flashing
figure in the sunlight, until he reached the other support and then
down to the ground he rushed, bringing up with a squeaking of brakes at
the fringe of spectators, kept back a safe distance by means of a rope.
Ryan ran up and helped Joe off the motor-cycle. There was really no
need of this, as the lad was not in the least exhausted. But it made
the trick look more spectacular and dangerous, though it was dangerous
enough, as one may easily guess.
"Great! That was great!"
"Most thrilling thing I ever witnessed!"
"I wouldn't take that ride for a million dollars!"
These were some of the excited comments Joe heard made in the crowds
that watched him. But as our hero walked back to his little dressing
tent, having bowed his acknowledgments to the applause, he heard a
chance remark that set his blood to tingling as neither the applause
nor the ride had done.
"By Jove! that was cleverly done," some man in the crowd exclaimed.
"My! that boy has as much nerve as a girl I knew in England. Janet
Willoughby was a daring rider!"
Joe started. Janet Willoughby was the maiden name of his mother.
CHAPTER XI
JOE WONDERS
Rather exhausted, not so much physically as mentally, by the nervous
strain of performing so thrilling an act before a big crowd for the
first time, Joe Strong did not at first realize just what he ought to
do on hearing his mother's name mentioned by some one in the throng.
Then, as he thought of how important it might be for him to see who
had spoken, and, perhaps, question him, Joe looked eagerly among the
persons in front of him to see who the man might be.
He saw no one he knew, which was not to be wondered at. At first he had
an idea it might be some former circus acquaintance of Mrs. Strong's.
"But he must have known her in England, to speak of her as a girl, and
of her riding and by her maiden name," reflected Joe. "And if he knew
her----"
He paused a moment, almost overwhelmed by the idea that suddenly came
to him.
"Why," he thought, "that person might know something of mother's
family, whether she had inherited any property or not, and if any was
due me. I must find out who it was."
Joe started toward the crowd held back by the rope. The people were
still cheering and applauding, for the thrilling ride of the young lad
in white tights had made a great impression on them. But Joe saw no one
he knew.
"How can I find out who it was?" he asked himself.
"Come on to your tent," Ryan was urging him. "You're in a perspiration
and you'll take cold."
"Wait a minute," said Joe, but his assistant threw a blanket over the
shoulders of the young motor-cycle rider.
Then an idea came to Joe.
"That was an Englishman who spoke," he reflected. "I could tell that by
his accent. And if he knew my mother he must have lived in England near
her. It's queer, too, but I've heard that same voice somewhere before.
I wonder where it was. I'll see what this will bring about."
Stepping close to the rope that held back the crowd, Joe asked in a
loud voice:
"Are there any Englishmen here?"
It was rather a strange question, and the throng must have felt as
much, for they stared curiously at Joe. But he took what was perhaps
the only method open to him of discovering who had made the remark
about Janet Willoughby.
"Englishmen?" repeated a man in the crowd.
"Yes," went on Joe. "I just heard a remark made by a man with an
English accent, and I want to find out who it was."
"I guess we're all pretty much English here," said another man with a
laugh. Indeed there were very few foreigners at the fair.
"You mean you're all Americans," said Joe, with a smile. "But I mean
an Englishman from England. Are there any such here--any one who knew
a Miss Janet Willoughby, of Surrey," for Joe had learned that his
mother's people lived in that part of England. He decided that he might
as well ask boldly the question he wanted to know.
But no one answered, though one man said:
"There was an Englishman standing near me a minute ago, just as you
rode down the wire."
"Are you sure he was English?" Joe asked.
"Sure! He had the accent all right. But he went off through the crowd
that way."
"Would you know him if you saw him again?" Joe eagerly inquired. "I'd
like to find him to ask about a lady he knew in England, for I heard
him mention her name a minute ago," Joe went on, not thinking it
necessary to say that the lady was his mother.
"I might know him if I saw him," said the man. "Though I didn't take
much notice of him."
"Just take a look around, and if you see him while I'm dressing, bring
him to my tent," said Joe, for he did not want to go about in the crowd
in his rather scanty suit. "I'll pay you for your trouble," he added.
"Oh, it's no trouble," said the speaker, a young lad about Joe's age.
"I'm glad to do it for you, but I'm not sure I can find him."
"Try, anyhow," urged Joe. It was a slender clue but worth following.
Joe went to his tent to dress, while the young searcher began to
circulate in the throng. Joe's questions had caused a little stir, and
there was much curiosity as to what his object could be, but he did not
mind the attention he had attracted.
"I wonder if that man who made the chance remark could have really
meant my mother," mused the boy on his way to his dressing tent. "Of
course there might be more than one Janet Willoughby, but when he spoke
of her as a girl in England, and what a daring horsewoman she was, it
makes a combination that would be hard to duplicate unless my mother
was meant. It would be strange if I should meet some of her former
English friends after all these years."
Bill Watson, the veteran clown, had known Joe's mother as Mrs. Strong,
and our hero, during his stay with the circus, had met several
other persons who had known his father and his mother during their
professional careers, but he had yet to meet one who had known Mrs.
Strong as a girl in England.
"If I could only find him," thought Joe, "he might put me on the
track of my inheritance, provided there is one. I wish I had acted
more quickly--as soon as I heard his remark. But it struck me all so
suddenly that I didn't know what to do. Yet I ought to know that voice.
I wonder where I have heard it before?"
Joe racked his brains in an effort to remember, but he could not. He
had met so many persons, and he had been so busy of late, perfecting
himself for his thrilling act, that events, faces, voices and
happenings overlapped each other.
"It went great!" said Jeroleman, coming in with the motor-cycle.
"Yes, it went off all right," agreed Joe.
"You're not going to work it to-night, are you?" asked Ryan.
"No, the fair closes at night. We don't have to do anything until
to-morrow, when we give two performances, one in the morning and
another in the afternoon. You two can do as you please with yourselves,
as long as you're on hand in the morning."
His helpers thanked him. As for Joe, he knew what he was going to
do--ride over to the circus, and see--but there, you can guess who it
was he wanted most to see.
Joe had donned his street attire when the man who had spoken about the
Englishman came to the tent.
"Did you find him?" asked Joe eagerly.
"Not a sign of him, I'm sorry to say. I went all through the crowd,
too. But he must have slipped away just after I noticed him. He was
standing right close to me."
Joe's hope vanished.
"Thanks," he said to the young fellow. "Are you going to be here
to-morrow?"
"That's what I am! I wouldn't miss your act for a whole lot! It's
great!"
"I'm glad you think so. Well, if you're in the crowd, and you hear any
one speak who you are sure is an Englishman, I wish you would tell him
I'd like to see him in my tent after my act is over."
"I sure will do that, Mr. Strong."
"And here's something for your trouble," said Joe, handing him a bill.
The young fellow did not want to take it, but Joe knew that service
paid for is the best rendered, and insisted. Then, as he could do
nothing more, he had Ryan change the wheels of the motor-cycle and he
rode over to the town where the circus was showing.
The afternoon performance was over when Joe reached the lots, but he
saw Helen making her way to the tent where her horse, Rosebud, was
kept, and he walked across to her.
"Well, well!" she exclaimed, blushing prettily as she shook hands with
him, "I am so glad to see you!"
"Not half as glad as I am to meet you again!" cried Joe, and he did not
let go of her hand, though Helen tried gently to withdraw it from his
clasp. "How are you, and how is Rosebud?"
"Fine! And how about yourself? Is your motor-cycle act going?"
"I've just come from my first public appearance, and, to judge by the
applause, I did well. I'll tell you all about it. I'm going to stay
for the night performance here. There's something I want to ask Bill
Watson."
CHAPTER XII
DAYS OF DARING
Helen and Joe related their experiences since the former boy fish had
left the circus, and Helen was as interested in Joe's new success as he
was in her continued one with her trick horse.
"But your act is more risky than the one in the tank or on the trapeze,
isn't it, Joe?" asked Helen.
"Well, yes, I suppose so, in a way," he admitted. "But the more risky a
thing is the better the public likes it."
"Yes, I know," she sighed. "But you will be careful, won't you, Joe?"
"Oh, yes," he answered. "By the way, how is Benny making out in the
tank? Does Lizzie behave herself?"
"Oh, yes indeed. The little seal is a dear (which isn't a joke), and
while Benny doesn't do as many tricks as you did, still his act goes
well, and he can stay under water quite a while, which, after all, is
what makes it go big."
"Glad to hear it. Then he's like himself again?"
"Better than ever. You did a wonderful thing, Joe, when you provided
for his operation. But what was it you wanted to see Bill Watson about?"
Joe told Helen of the chance remark made by the Englishman, and
explained that he wanted to ask the veteran clown if the latter knew of
any Englishmen in this country whom Joe's mother might have known as a
girl in her home country.
"Oh, Joe, do you think you will ever get an inheritance?" Helen asked.
Joe shook his head.
"It's pretty doubtful," he answered. "But I'm going to keep on trying.
I want to find that Englishman."
But Bill Watson could give Joe no clue to the man in the crowd.
"I only knew your mother after she joined a show I was with," the clown
explained. "And though I often heard her speak of people in England,
she did not mention any names that I recall now. I'm sure, though, that
she came of a wealthy family, and she used to laugh when she told how
they cast her off because she married your father, Joe. Your mother was
what I call 'game,' and she had as much nerve as you're showing. She
didn't care because she was disowned by her people, for she loved your
father. I never saw a couple fonder of one another, excepting me and my
wife," and he smiled at his remark.
"But as for that Englishman, Joe, I can't help you out any, I'm sorry
to say. It seems queer, though, that all your inquiries made of the
folks you wrote to in England amounted to nothing. I felt sure there
was property over in that country coming to you through your mother."
"Well, there doesn't seem to be," said Joe. "I only wish there was, for
I've been spending a lot lately on my new act. And I have another idea
I'd like to carry out if I could get a few thousand dollars together."
"What is it, Joe; something else risky?" asked Helen.
"Well, perhaps you'd call it that," he answered. "However, there isn't
much chance of my doing it, for I'll never get that English money."
"Maybe some one is interested in keeping it from you," suggested the
pretty little trick rider.
"Well, if there are any such persons they're having their own way all
right," Joe said. "However, there's no use dreaming about it. I'll be
making good money soon--as soon as my high-wire act gets better known."
Joe enjoyed his night at the circus, renewing old friendships, and
watching Bill Watson, the other clowns, Helen, and Benny Turton amuse
the big crowd. Of course Joe was a privileged character and had the
free entry to all the tents, side shows and everything else. He was
most interested, however, in watching Benny Turton, the "human fish,"
in the glass tank, which Joe himself had so improved. And he saw that
Benny was doing well--much better than he had ever done before.
"It's the goldfish and the seal that are the making of the act," said
Benny, when the show was over. "They've improved it a hundred per
cent., Joe, and I can't thank you enough. Lizzie is a great find. There
never was another seal like her, I believe, and she and I are great
friends."
"Glad to hear it," Joe remarked.
The show moved on that night, and Joe was to stay at a hotel, going
back to the fair grounds at Clayton in the morning.
"Don't you wish you were going on with us?" asked Helen, as she parted
from Joe.
"Well, yes, in a way I do," he said, looking at her in a manner that
made her blush. "And perhaps I may be back with you soon."
"Oh, Joe! Really?" she asked. "Tell me about it!"
"Oh, it's all up in the air yet," he parried. "I haven't my plans made."
"Oh, I do wish you'd come back," Helen said.
"I will!" promised Joe, as he said good-bye.
There was a big crowd at the fair grounds the next morning to watch the
aerial wire-rider again ride his machine across the tightly stretched
wire, and Joe performed the daring act successfully. He was surer of
himself now, as he started his motor-cycle across the ground, following
the chalk line until he began to climb the inclined wire. And he felt
an exhilaration as he spun across the level stretch, with the shouting
and wildly enthusiastic crowds beneath him.
Again Joe received an ovation as he reached the ground, and again he
had to bow his thanks. He looked eagerly for a sign of the mysterious
Englishman, but did not see him. The young investigator was on hand,
but he had only failure to report.
"I didn't see him, though I circulated all through the crowd," he told
Joe. "I guess he didn't come to the fair to-day."
"I guess not. Well, I'm much obliged to you, just the same."
"Why don't you advertise for him if he's a missing person you want to
find?" suggested the youth.
"I might do that," Joe agreed. "But I don't know just whom to advertise
for. However, I'll think about it."
Joe did consider the matter, with the result that he inserted
in several papers in the largest cities an advertisement asking
for information about any one now in America who had known Janet
Willoughby, formerly of England. Then he waited for answers.
Following the successful afternoon performance in Clayton, Joe and his
helpers packed the apparatus and shipped it on to the next place where
they were to give a performance, for while in Clayton Joe had received
a telegram from another county fair about a hundred miles away. The boy
put in three days there, thrilling big crowds twice each day, and he
received his regular price for his act.
Then came some several days of idleness, but these had been counted on.
However, the next week was completely filled with engagements, and as
Joe booked an extended route, he said:
"I guess I'm on the road to success, all right."
There followed many days of daring on Joe's part, for his act was
certainly a daring one if it was anything. But the youth was getting
used to riding his motor-cycle on the high wire, and each time he did
it he added to his experience. Ryan and Jeroleman acquired the knack
of putting up and taking down the apparatus quickly, and they worked
"almost like circus men," Joe informed them, and from his standpoint
there was no higher praise.
From city to town Joe went on his circuit, doing his act. He was his
own "boss," in that he did not depend on theatrical agencies or booking
offices to place him. He could make his own terms, and the money he
received was all his own, except the salaries he paid the two men, and
what he expended for railroad charges and cartage. Performers who
receive engagements through agents, or booking offices, have to divide
their salaries with those who secure engagements for them.
From time to time Joe had his mail forwarded to him, picking out for
receiving stations the cities where he would remain two or three days.
He received letters from Helen and from Benny and, occasionally, one
from Bill Watson, but there was no response to his advertisement.
"I guess I'll never hear anything," reasoned Joe. "Well, I've done all
I can."
CHAPTER XIII
A BAD FALL
On opening his letters one day Joe found one from the management of a
county fair that was to open in the town of Livingston the next week.
The writer offered Joe an engagement for an entire week, but at a price
considerably less than Joe had been getting from other places.
"I don't believe I'll accept," Joe half decided. "If I start to cutting
prices it will get known all over the country, and I'll have to do it
all along the line."
He was about to send back a rejection when he reflected.
"Maybe I'd better look over my engagements and see how I can make this
week fit in. A solid week in one place, even at less money, may be
better than jumping from one one-night stand to another. I guess I'll
think twice about this."
Joe found that the week for which the Livingston people wanted to
engage him was not occupied by a single engagement so far, though, as
inquiries were constantly coming in, Joe would probably soon fill it
with single-day contracts.
"I guess I'll accept, after all," he said to himself. "I can jump
to Livingston from Portville, and it won't cost much for railroad
transportation. Then a week solid will give me a chance to rest, and
Ryan and Jeroleman also."
They had been quite busy of late, going from place to place, putting up
and taking down the apparatus, and the strain was beginning to tell on
all of them.
So Joe sent an acceptance to the Livingston fair management, and made
his plans accordingly. Following the week there he was to show for
three days at one fair and three at another, necessitating only three
shifts in two weeks, which was considerably less than the average.
"And now for Livingston!" exclaimed our hero one afternoon when he had
made his last ride at one of the largest exhibitions in that part of
the country. It was a celebration of the hundredth anniversary of the
founding of the city, and Joe's act was one of many features.
"It will seem good to be a week in the same place," observed Ryan, as
he and his partner began dismounting the apparatus.
"That's right," agreed Joe.
But if Joe thought it was going to be a week unmarked by incident he
was mistaken. There was bad mingled with the good, and the bad cropped
out early the next day when our hero and his helpers reached the fair
grounds to look them over, decide on the best place to stretch the wire
and set up the supports.
As he had done in many other places, Joe picked out the grassy center
of the oval race-track as the best place for him, as from there he
could be seen by the largest crowds. Ryan and Jeroleman began to
unpack the apparatus and motor-cycle, which, as well as the sectional
supports, ground anchors, and other heavy devices, was in a crate.
"Hello! Something wrong here," exclaimed Ryan, as he took out the
gasoline machine.
"Not broken, is it?" asked Joe in anxiety.
"That's what it is. Sprocket chain of the starter is parted in two
places."
"That's queer," said Joe. "It can be easily fixed, of course, but how
did it happen?"
They discovered that when they examined the case. One end had been
smashed in the express car, and through a hole thus made something had
jammed into the chain, breaking two links.
"Well, it might be worse," said Joe, as he looked it over. "I'll take
the chain to a garage in town, while you boys set up the rest of the
stuff."
"How do you want it faced?" asked Ryan.
Joe looked up to get the directions east and west, for he always ran
the high wire that way. Thus, in the morning he would ride over it from
east to west, and so have the sun at his back, and not glaring in his
eyes. And in the afternoon he reversed his riding, going from west to
east.
"Set it up so," he said to Ryan, indicating the direction desired.
"I'll walk into town and get the chain fixed."
With the fractured sprocket chain Joe was soon on his way to a garage,
while his helpers busied themselves on the work of setting up the high
supports and stretching the wire between them.
It was still early in the morning, but there was much work to be done,
for Joe was to give his first exhibition of daring riding at 10:30
o'clock.
Ryan and Jeroleman buried the heavy steel anchors and attached to the
hooks on them the "eyes" in the ends of the wire on which Joe would
soon ride fifty feet high in the air. A crowd of fair exhibitors and
some early arrivals, mostly farmers, watched the work, though the space
around the spot where the apparatus was being set up was roped off to
keep curious ones at a comfortable distance.
In a comparatively short time, so expert had Ryan and Jeroleman become,
they had the wire in place, and stretched about as tightly as it would
be when Joe used it. He always tightened it just before the act, as it
had a tendency to sag if left up too long. Then, too, the earth anchors
would give a little, though the ground above and around them was always
wet and tamped down to make it firm.
"Now we'll put up the net and I guess we'll have finished," said Ryan.
"That is, all but putting up the dressing tent for the young boss," he
added.
"Yes, we're ready for the net now," agreed Jeroleman. "Why----Hello!
This is queer!" he exclaimed, looking about "The net box isn't here!"
"It isn't?" cried Ryan. "Then the truckman must have left it at the
express office. I'm sure I saw it there with the rest of the stuff."
"We'd better call 'em on the 'phone and find out about it. We've only
got about an hour before the first performance, and the boss will be
back any minute with the repaired chain. There's a temporary telephone
office on the grounds here. I'll call up the express agent."
"Go head," said Ryan, and Jeroleman hastened off.
There was a queer look on Jeroleman's face when he came back from
telephoning.
"The net didn't come with the rest of the stuff," he said. "The agent
has wired back about it, but it can't get here in time for the morning
show, no matter if they send it at once. There isn't a train."
"Whew!" whistled Ryan. "What's to be done?"
"I don't know. It isn't our fault. I'm positive the box with the
life-net in it was at the depot last night with the rest of the stuff."
"So am I. It must be the fault of the expressman at the other end. What
will the boss do?"
Joe was not a minute making up his mind what he would do when he
returned with the repaired sprocket chain.
"No net, eh?" he asked coolly, when the difficulty had been explained
to him. "Well, I'll ride without one, that's all."
"Ride without a net?" cried Ryan.
"You mustn't do it!" expostulated Jeroleman.
"Why not, I'd like to know?" asked our hero. "I've never had a fall
since those first few times, and I'm not going to begin now. I wouldn't
bother with the net, only I promised Mr. Brader. It's a nuisance
carting it about and spreading it each time. I'll ride without it. I'm
not going to fall."
The two helpers gazed almost spellbound at Joe.
"Well, you sure have your nerve with you!" said Ryan admiringly.
"That's what," agreed his companion.
"I need nerve in this business," laughed Joe. "I'll ride without the
net. I never think of it anyhow. I don't believe it would save me much.
The best way is not to fall."
Joe put the chain back on his motor-cycle and got ready to perform his
hair-raising act, while his men erected the dressing tent. By this time
quite a crowd had begun to filter into the fair grounds, for it was the
opening day and Joe's thrilling performance had been well advertised.
He himself supplied those engaging him with big posters, showing him
riding the high wire, and often he had seen crowds of admiring small
boys standing in front of the bill-boards.
The absence of the net did not seem to cause any comment until some of
the fair managers came to Joe's tent to find out if he was all ready to
go ahead with his share of the show. And then one man, looking at the
high and tightly stretched wire, asked:
"What happens if you fall, Mr. Strong?"
"I'm not in the habit of taking tumbles," Joe answered, with a cool
laugh.
"No, but don't you use a net in case of accident?"
"Usually, yes. But my net has gone astray, and, rather than wait for it
and delay the exhibition, I'm going to ride without the life-net this
morning."
"Oh, no, you're not!" exclaimed the objector. "We're not going to have
you killed, and then stand a law-suit for damages. You'll use a net!"
"How can I, when I haven't one?" Joe asked, a bit tartly. "And as for
damages, you seem to forget that my contract with you releases the
management from all liability for damage in case of accident. I assume
all the risks."
But it required quite a little explaining and talk before the fussy
member of the fair commission withdrew his objections.
"Well, go ahead and ride without a net, if you want to," he said, "but
if you get hurt, don't come crying to us."
"I'm not very likely to do much crying--not if I fall," said Joe
grimly, as he looked up at the high wire. "But I'm not going to
fall--don't worry."
As a matter of fact, the net did not absolutely assure Joe of safety
when he did use it. It was one of the best life-nets made--Mr. Brader
had seen to that. And had Joe fallen into it alone from a fifty-foot
height, he would probably not have been in the least injured. The
trouble was the heavy motor-cycle falling with him--in that lay the
danger, for he could not expect to fall far enough away from it to
escape injury altogether. But, as the plucky lad had said, he did not
intend to tumble.
Word soon got around that the daring young performer was going to ride
without a life-net below him, and this added to the expectant thrills
with which the crowd was imbued.
"Say, that sure will be a thriller!" said more than one to his
neighbor, as he took his seat to watch Joe.
As for our hero, he went on with his preparations as though nothing
out of the ordinary was under way. Attired in his white suit, to
which he had lately added silver spangles that sparkled like diamonds
in the sun, he stepped from his tent and took his place at the end
of the starting ground. There was a shout of welcome as Joe made his
bow, taking his helmet of leather from Ryan, and then looking over the
motor-cycle which Jeroleman stood holding for him.
There was a preliminary pause--a pause made for dramatic effect--when
Joe examined the machine, and also the wire and the supports, having
the wire made a little tighter.
"All right?" asked Ryan, as Joe came back from the farthest pair of
shears.
"All ready, yes. I'll start now."
Joe took his place in the saddle of the motor-cycle and looked about
him. There was a great silence all over the vast assemblage of persons,
for all realized that this was the most daring act they had ever
witnessed.
With a throb and a roar the engine seemed to leap into action. Then Joe
was seen speeding across the smooth ground. A moment more and he had
reached the end of the guiding chalk line. Then he began the slanting
ascent.
"There he goes! There he goes!" came the cries, from all sides.
Up and up went Joe.
Now he shot out on the straight stretch of wire. And, though it may
seem strange, Joe gave hardly a thought to the fact that there was
no protecting net beneath him. His nerves were as cool and steady as
though he were riding but a few feet from the ground.
On and on he went, with never a swerve or tremor, and almost before he
knew it he had shot across the three hundred feet and was going down
the other slope.
Joe had ridden across without a life-net.
"He did it! He did it!" yelled the crowd.
"Of course I did," said Joe to himself, smiling. "Why shouldn't I?"
But the throng seemed to marvel at the absence of the net. Long and
loudly they applauded Joe, who bowed again and again to the tribute to
his nerve.
The net arrived that afternoon, and Joe was not going to have it
stretched. But he had to change his mind when the police refused to let
him ride unless he used the net as a precaution.
"It's suicidal to ride that high wire without a net below you," said
the chief of police, to whom some one had made a complaint.
"I don't think so," Joe answered.
"Well, I do. I don't want to seem harsh, young man, but you'll ride
over a net, or you won't ride at all."
So Joe gave in. But he could not understand the objection. It was his
great nerve that made him thus callous to possible danger.
All week long the aerial wire-rider gave his two exhibitions each day
at the Livingston fair, and crowds came at each performance to watch
him. There was not a hitch in the proceedings, and Joe felt he had
earned his money. He appreciated, though, the fact of staying a week in
one place, and wished he had more engagements like this.
And it was on the last day, late in the afternoon, when the biggest
crowd of all was present that Joe's other bad luck came to him.
He was half way across the high wire, and had a sort of feeling of
relief that his week's work was about over, when suddenly a bird
flashed past so close to Joe's face as almost to touch him. The advent
of the feathered creature was so quick that Joe started, and the start
imparted itself to his handle bars.
The front wheel swerved, and Joe knew in an instant that he must act
quickly or have a bad fall. The wheel had moved more than he had
supposed, and the next instant the groove slipped off the wire.
The motor-cycle started to swing to one side, and Joe knew it was
useless to try to hold it on the wire. His one thought now was to save
himself as best he could, and he thought with relief of the net below
him.
"Look! Look! He's falling!" came the horror-stricken cry from the
watching throng.
The fire-spitting motor-cycle was now pitching forward. The front wheel
was completely off the wire, and the rear one was following.
For a fraction of a second the machine was almost crosswise of the
steel cable and then it turned over, spilling Joe from the saddle.
But before this Joe had swung himself free and was leaping out as best
he could to get away from the mass of steel. Instinctively, as he fell,
he shut off the power.
Then Joe felt himself falling toward the net, and at once his head was
as cool as it had been in the circus, where he had made hundreds of
such falls or leaps on purpose. Down and down he went.
[Illustration: Then Joe felt himself falling toward the net.]
"If I can only keep clear of the machine!" Joe thought in a flash.
CHAPTER XIV
THE NEW MACHINE
Amid a riot of frightened cries--hoarse ones from the men and shrill
screams from the women in the audience--Joe Strong fell into the net.
He fell straight and true, as he had fallen in the circus many times,
and he knew that he was safe--if only the motor-cycle would land far
enough away.
But that was just what did not happen, and as Joe settled back into
the net again after a rebound, he felt a sharp pain in one leg and a
blow on his head that caused everything to become black before him, and
then with a roaring in his ears that sounded like a cataract he lost
consciousness.
Joe had to rely on what his helpers and others told him as to the
events that followed. For when he recovered his senses he was lying on
a clean, white bed in what he realized must be a hospital.
"This is my second time in the 'sick-bay,'" mused Joe, before he
ventured to address the white-capped nurse whom he saw moving silently
about the room. "Three times and out, they say. I've still got another
chance left," he reflected grimly. Then he spoke.
"Well, it happened, didn't it?" he asked the nurse. She had her back to
him, arranging some bottles on a white enameled and glass-topped table,
and she turned around quickly.
"Oh, you must be----"
"Quiet! I know what you're going to say," interrupted Joe, with a
smile. "But I don't feel half bad, except for a headache, and I want to
know what happened."
"I--I think I'll have to wait until the doctor sees you," said the
nurse hesitatingly. "He said you must be kept quiet if you recovered
consciousness."
"That's all right," Joe said. "I'll be quiet if you tell me just what
happened. The net didn't break, did it?"
"No, from what they tell me, you were struck by the machine you were
riding. It fell on top of you. Now please be quiet, and take this."
She came toward Joe with a glass of dark-colored liquid, which did not
smell very appetizing. But he drank it, made a wry face and spoke again.
"One more question, and I'll go to sleep like a good boy, for I do feel
sleepy. There was no one else hurt, was there? No panic or anything
like that?"
"No, not that I heard of. You were the only one hurt, and I hope it
isn't bad."
"I've felt worse," Joe said, "and at the same time I've felt a whole
lot better. Now I'll be quiet."
He tried to turn over, but the movement sent such a sharp pain to his
head that he desisted and, closing his eyes, he dozed off. The doctor
was in the room when he awoke again, and it must have been some time
later, for the lights were turned on, though shaded to keep the light
out of Joe's eyes.
The physician noted a movement on the part of his patient and at once
came over to the bed. He felt Joe's pulse, looked at the temperature
chart which the nurse held out to him, and nodded as if in a satisfied
way.
"Doing pretty well," he said. "I guess it isn't a fracture after all."
"What fractured?" Joe asked.
"Your skull. You took a pretty hard knock, but it was the leather
helmet that saved you."
"Good old helmet," murmured Joe. "Did my machine break?"
"I don't know about that. But it nearly broke you. You'll do that trick
on the high wire once too often, Mr. Strong, I'm thinking."
"Oh, I'm not worrying about that," Joe said. "But I can't see what made
the wheel leave the wire, even though the bird did startle me. I'll
have to look at the rims."
"You ought to have a lighter machine if you're going to keep on with
the trick," said the doctor. "Then if it falls on you again the results
may not be so bad."
"I've been thinking of getting a new machine," Joe said, "and I guess
it's about time I did."
"Now quiet down," advised the doctor. "Rest and quiet are about all you
need."
"My leg feels as though it needed something," Joe said. "I hope it
isn't broken."
"Just a bad bruise," the doctor informed him. "You'll be able to get
around in a few days, though you may limp."
"It means some canceled engagements, even at the best," said the
motorist. "Well, it can't be helped, and I guess I'm lucky to get off
as easily as I did."
"Indeed you are!" the doctor exclaimed. "I understand you did your
first riding at our fair without a life-net."
"It hadn't come and I didn't want to disappoint the crowd," Joe
answered.
"Well, it's a good thing you had it to-day," went on the medical man.
Joe nodded. No need to tell him that. And he made up his mind never
again to ride without a net, no matter what the emergency. For this
accident had showed him that the grooved wheels of the motor-cycle
were not always so sure of clinging to the wire as Joe had supposed
they would be. But he was certain the front one must have developed a
defect. He would examine it as soon as he could.
More medicine was given the patient, and again he fell into a doze.
Whether he awoke again during the night he did not remember, but he
felt much refreshed when he saw the sun streaming in his window, and
the white-capped nurse--a different one this time--brought him his
breakfast on a tray.
"Is that all I get?" asked Joe, with a smile, as he noted the rather
small allowance.
"That's all we allow patients who have been injured as you were," she
said, and she seemed rather afraid Joe would make a scene and perhaps
demand more.
"Oh, I'm not blaming you," said Joe, with a smile, rightly guessing
that the nurse was a new one, rather unused to the vagaries of her
patients.
"I'll ask the doctor if you can have more," she said.
"No, please don't bother. I was only joking. This will do very well,"
and he proceeded to eat.
Joe was much better that day, except for a very painful leg, and he was
allowed to see Ryan and Jeroleman, who, it seemed, had made several
visits to the hospital to inquire after "the young boss."
The two helpers explained to Joe that they had rushed forward on seeing
him fall, in the hope of deflecting the motor-cycle out of its course.
But they had been unable to do so, and the heavy machine had struck
Joe.
"Which has taught me a lesson," he said; and he spoke of his intention
of getting a lighter one, made to order purposely for his act.
"And a good idea, too," said Ryan.
The men told Joe they had taken down the apparatus and had it packed
for transportation to the next town where he was to show at a fair.
Joe's money was ready for him, from the treasury of the fair which had
just closed, so Jeroleman said.
"I'll have to lay over here a week, I'm afraid," decided the performer.
"I won't dare take any chances with this leg. It might make me unsteady
on the high wire. But I'll write some letters, and see if I can't get
the motor-cycle firm started on making my new machine."
"I could go to the factory and explain just what you want," said Ryan.
"I might hurry it along, too."
"That would be a good idea," Joe said. "I guess I'll send you on, and
Jeroleman can go to the Ryetown fair people and explain why I can't
fill my engagement, though I may be able to ride the last day or two."
"Better not take any chances," advised Jeroleman, and Joe decided this
was good advice. So he canceled his engagements for the following week.
Joe sent Ryan to the factory where his motor-cycle had been made, with
instructions to have a specially light machine manufactured just for
high-wire work. Ryan had hardly arrived before he telegraphed back
that work on the new machine would be rushed, and that Joe could have
it in about a week.
Afterward Joe learned that the firm carried in stock several grades
and weights of gasoline motors, and one of the lightest of these could
be built into one of their heavier bicycles, thus making a motor-cycle
that would answer admirably for high-wire work, but which would not
stand driving over rough roads.
"But I'll use my old machine for road work," Joe decided. "And I won't
be in so much danger in case of a fall."
He progressed rapidly at the hospital, and was soon able to go about,
though he limped and had to use a cane. His first act after he left
the hospital was to examine the motor-cycle, and his suspicions were
confirmed when he found a split in the metal rim. He decided that he
must have hit a stone when riding it on the earthen approach, and
was more than pleased that he could, in the future, eliminate such
accidents by having a machine just for wire-work.
"I'll have to have the approach more carefully looked over, too,"
decided Joe. "For my new machine won't be as strong as this one."
It was the split in the rim that had caused the grooved wheel to leave
the wire, though Joe's start when the bird flew so close to him had
been the initial cause of the accident.
However, he was well out of it, as it was, and would soon be able to
resume his engagements. There was plenty of work ahead for him, since
his fame was spreading, and the ability of the high-wire act to draw
crowds to fairs and expositions was just what the managers of such
outdoor exhibitions wanted. Joe could name his own price, and his
figures were not low, for he had heavy expenses, and he wanted to make
all the money he could while he had the opportunity.
Joe's natural good health, aided by the skillful treatment of the
hospital doctor, put him well on the road to recovery, and at the end
of the week he was able to travel. He and his men went on to the place
where they had an engagement at the fair, and Joe stopped off at the
motor-cycle factory to see about his new machine.
It was almost finished, and Joe saw that it was a great improvement
over his regular road motor-cycle for his high-wire act. The new
motor-cycle was nickel-plated, and Joe knew that would show off well
with his white suit.
"The act will be much dressier," he reflected. "And I have a plan to
make it more effective still, if I can get some night engagements."
CHAPTER XV
A BIG CLIMB
The apparatus had been set up at the fair grounds in Lancaster, where
Joe had his first engagement following his accident. He had received
his new machine, and had given it a thorough test at the factory,
that he might have any possible defects remedied. None of any moment
developed, however, and Joe took the shiny machine away with him.
"But I need to try it on the wire before I ride in public in front of
the crowd," he had said to his helpers, "so we'll have to get up early
to-morrow morning, before the crowd arrives, and have a test."
Ryan and Jeroleman had decided this was a wise plan, consequently when
it was still dark the three left their hotel and made their way to the
fair grounds.
Joe still had a slight limp, but as he did not have to use the injured
leg, the left, in starting his machine, he knew he could ride all right.
It was damp and rather misty that early morning when they reached the
place where the high wire rose on its steel supports in the middle of
the race-track oval.
"You'll have to wait until it's a bit lighter," suggested Ryan, as he
and Jeroleman went carefully over the smoothed approach. Joe did not
want to ride over any more stones, and this time the ground extending
to and away from the place where the wire slanted into the ground, had
been made as nearly like a table as possible.
"Yes, I'll need a little more light to see the chalk line plainly," Joe
agreed. "But I'll start the motor and see how it works."
He brought his new machine out from the dressing tent where it had
been over night in charge of a watchman. Steadying it on the rear
supporting frame, the boy pushed over the starting lever. With a roar
the motor-cycle was in action, though not moving.
"It works a whole lot easier than my big one," said Joe. "I only hope
it doesn't prove too light for the act. It is possible there may not be
weight enough to give the proper traction."
In anticipation of this possible difficulty, the young wire-rider had
had the grooved wheels of his new machine made much rougher than those
of his former one. He hoped this would offset any lack of weight in the
small motor-cycle, which was many pounds lighter than the big roadster.
The noise of the motor attracted a few early arrivals at the fair
grounds--men in charge of the live stock and exhibits--and they
gathered about in a curious group to watch Joe's trial. But such a
small audience as this did not annoy him.
"Does she go all right?" asked Ryan, coming back with Jeroleman after
an inspection of the ground.
"Seems to be as true as a fiddle," Joe answered, shutting off the
gasoline.
It was getting lighter now, and the young wire-performer went carefully
over every bit of his apparatus, even though his two helpers had seen
that it was in proper shape. Then, satisfied that all was right,
and having seen that the life net was in place, Joe took his new
motor-cycle to the end of the starting ground, and again set it in
action.
Slowly the mists gave way before the rising sun. The chalk mark that
was to be the guiding line for Joe stood out in bold relief on the
brown earth.
"Well, here I go," he called to his helpers.
Joe pressed a spring on the frame in front of him, and this pulled
up out of the way the support of the rear wheel. This spring was an
improvement on the new motor-cycle, and made it unnecessary for Joe to
kick up the support.
Then, as the clutch lever was pushed into place, the machine began to
move. Faster and faster it went as the lad turned on more gasoline,
until it was fairly flying over the ground.
Straight and true to the chalk mark the daring driver held his steed of
steel, and then up the inclined wire it shot, and out upon the level
stretch.
"Good!" exulted Joe to himself. "She works like a charm."
There was not the least slip, which might have been the case if the
wheel had been too light.
"It goes even faster than my old one," the boy said to himself.
Almost before he knew it, Joe had reached the end and was going down.
He rode nearly to the end of the far slope and then brought his machine
to a stop.
"How about it?" called Ryan, running toward him.
"Couldn't be better! It's all right! We'll do the trick on schedule
time!"
Joe went to his breakfast, secure in the knowledge that he could give
such an exhibition as he desired.
There was a big crowd at the fair when the time came for Joe's
high-wire act that morning. But the youth was used to big crowds, for
he was a drawing card.
And, as usual, there came loud and long applause when he was high in
the air, the sun flashing on his nickel-plated motor-cycle and on the
shimmering spangles of his white suit. Below him the boy could hear
the murmurs and yells of the startled audience.
Not a hitch occurred in the act, which went off as smoothly as it
always did. More smoothly, in fact, for Joe had the lighter machine
under better control, and it was speedier.
"I wish I could add a little more to the act," remarked Joe, as he was
donning his street clothes in the dressing tent a little later. "If I
could juggle three balls while riding across the wire it would make 'em
sit up and take notice."
"Oh, you make 'em sit up enough as it is," said Ryan. "And I believe
it would be risky taking your hands off the handle bars to do any
juggling."
"I guess so," acquiesced Joe. "But never mind. I've something else in
mind."
"The act is thrilling enough in itself," Jeroleman said. "You should
hear the comments in the crowd."
"Well, I'm glad they like it," commented Joe. "It seems to me it's over
too quickly. But I can't very well make the wire any longer."
"Nobody finds any fault," Ryan told him. "It's so thrilling that it
seems longer than it really is. Don't get to worrying."
"I'll not," promised the lad.
Joe finished out the week at Lancaster without any accident to mar it.
His leg was completely healed now, and he felt in fine fettle. His
nerves were not in the least shattered as the result of his fall, and
he found himself better advertised than ever because of the accident,
which had been written up in the papers of that part of the country.
Joe's inquiries as to the identity of the man who had spoken the name
of Janet Willoughby were fruitless. There were no answers to his
advertisements, and the high-wire rider had about given up hope of ever
finding the unknown Englishman.
"And perhaps if I did it would amount to nothing," Joe reflected. "But,
all the same, I would like to know just how much he knew of my mother."
Joe had written to Helen as soon as possible after the accident,
making as light of it as he could, for he knew she would read of it in
the papers, and he did not want her to worry. In reply he received a
letter from her, begging him to be more careful. Then Joe told of his
new wheel, which would, in a measure, make it safer for him. And Helen
expressed her pleasure at this.
As the season wore on Joe fulfilled engagement after engagement, until
a certain week found him on the outskirts of Jersey City, New Jersey,
engaged for a week at a big fair.
Joe rode well there, and before larger crowds than had before greeted
him, many coming over from New York City, just across the Hudson river,
for Joe's fame was constantly spreading.
As the youth had plenty of time to himself, one day after his morning
act he took a trip to the metropolis. It was not his first visit, for
when in partnership with Professor Rosello he had gone to New York to
see about having some trick apparatus made. Since then, too, when at
times the circus had been laid up for the winter, Joe had visited the
big city.
There was a fascination about the place for Joe, as for nearly every
one else, and, having had his lunch, Joe strolled up Broadway marveling
at the never ceasing throng that flowed in both directions.
Coming to the junction of Broadway and Fifth Avenue, where stands that
peculiar structure known as the Flatiron Building, Joe saw a big crowd
gathered on the Fifth Avenue side. A quick glance showed him some men
with moving picture cameras, and as this always interested Joe he drew
closer.
"Maybe they're staging a movie drama here," Joe reflected. "I may see
the heroine tossed out of the nineteenth story window. Maybe I can
catch her," he thought, with a little laugh.
Joe managed to work his way through the press of people to where the
moving picture camera men stood. It was evident that something had gone
wrong.
"Well, are you going to do it or not?" asked one of the men of a young
fellow who was leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette. "We
can't wait all day."
"Yes, I'll do it--in a few minutes," was the reply from the youth.
"No, you won't!" angrily exclaimed another camera operator. "You're
stalling, that's what you're doing! You've lost your nerve! You're
afraid to make the climb and there's no use in our wasting our time on
you. You're afraid, and you might as well say so first as last!"
"Afraid? Afraid?" muttered the youth.
"Yes, afraid! I don't know that I blame you much," the camera man went
on. "You said you'd make the climb, and now you're afraid to do it. Own
up--you've lost your nerve, haven't you?"
The youth flicked the cigarette away, and it seemed for a moment as
though he would denounce the speaker. Then his face paled as he glanced
up the sides of the high building, and in a husky voice he said:
"Yes, I am afraid. I--I dare not make the climb."
"Was he going to climb up the Flatiron Building?" asked Joe of a camera
man who had, as yet, said nothing.
"Yes. That's what he agreed to do. It's a movie stunt, but he backed
down at the last minute. I can't blame him, but it knocks us out."
Joe looked at the tall building. It was of such a construction, with
deep grooves in the stone work, that to climb it would not be difficult
to one not afraid of dizzy heights. Firm fingers, and feet shod in
rubber-soled shoes, would make the act possible if one's muscle and
nerve held out.
"Come on, boys, there's no use in wasting any more time," said the
angry camera man, who seemed to be in charge of the others. "He won't
climb the Flatiron Building and he knows he won't."
The youth smiled in a sickly sort of way.
"I guess I have lost my nerve," he admitted.
"Come on," and the camera man started away with his machine.
"Wait a minute," said Joe. "What sort of a stunt is this, anyhow?"
"What do you want to know for--are you a reporter?" the man with the
camera asked.
"No," answered Joe, with a smile, "I'm not a newspaper man. I'm a
circus performer, a high-wire rider. If you want some one to climb up
the side of that building, and you'll make it worth my while, rather
than see you and the crowd disappointed, I'll do the trick for you."
"Will you?" eagerly cried the man. "Have you ever done it?"
"Well, I've done some stunts like it," said Joe. "I think I can manage
it all right, if the police don't interfere."
"Oh, we've arranged for that. But it's a big climb."
"I know it. But get me a pair of rubber-soled shoes and I'll do it."
"Here, take mine," said the youth who had balked at the last minute. "I
wish I had your nerve," he said admiringly.
Joe took the shoes and began removing his own.
"Get ready, boys," advised the head camera operator. "I don't know who
he is, but I guess he'll make good."
CHAPTER XVI
ACROSS A CHASM
"What's it for?" asked Joe of the leading camera man, when our hero had
donned the rubber-soled shoes. "Is it a drama?"
"No, it's just a collection of freak stunts to make thrilling reels.
We had this fellow jump off the Brooklyn bridge, and he did it without
turning a hair. But you saw what happened when it came to the Flatiron
climb. Not that I blame him. I wouldn't do it for a million dollars,
and there's only two hundred in it for you. Is that enough?"
"Plenty," answered Joe. "I'm looking for advertisement out of it."
"Oh, you'll get that, all right. Your name will be featured on the
pictures. But what's your game?"
Joe told him.
"Oh, you're _that_ fellow!" exclaimed the moving picture man. "I've
heard about you. Yes indeed! On the high wire! Well, no wonder you're
not afraid to undertake this, though it's some little climb, believe
me, friend Strong."
"I realize it," Joe said. "But the only danger is in slipping, and I'm
not going to do that. The climb in itself isn't hard, as the stones are
easy to grip and there are no long reaches."
"Yes, I suppose that's so. But it takes nerve, or rather, lack of
nerves, and a cool head."
"Well, I seem lucky enough to be built that way," replied Joe, with a
smile.
The crowd had increased until it almost blocked Fifth Avenue, and the
traffic policemen were at their wits' ends. But a permit had been
secured for the climb to be made, on condition that a life-net be
spread below, and Joe noticed this had been done. He looked at the net
to make sure it was properly stretched. Though not as good as his, it
would answer the purpose. Without it the police would have forbidden
the attempt.
"Well, I wish you luck," said the youth who had backed out of the feat.
"You sure have me beaten."
"Oh, don't feel badly about it," said Joe kindly. "I may lose my nerve
myself, some day, though I don't want to."
"No, it isn't any fun," agreed the other soberly.
The camera men had been making ready, and three of them had their
machines focused on Joe, taking pictures of him even as he was
preparing for the climb.
"We're going to take the pictures in triplicate," said the leader, "so
there won't be any risk of a mistake. I don't believe you'd stand for a
re-take."
"What's that?" asked Joe, who was not any too well versed in moving
picture nomenclature.
"It means taking the picture over again, which also means that the
actor has to do the same thing twice. None of them like it, especially
when there's any danger attached to the act, as there is here. I guess
you wouldn't like to do it twice."
"Oh, I don't know," said Joe calmly.
"So when there's not much chance for a re-take we use three or even
more cameras," the man went on. "Then, if the film breaks, or something
goes wrong with one machine, we still have the others to rely on. Well,
are you ready?"
"Yes," nodded Joe.
Then he began his climb--a climb that was to thrill thousands gathered
in the street below him, and hundreds of thousands who afterwards saw
it in the moving pictures.
The stones of the Flatiron Building are laid in such a way as to leave
grooves running horizontally. These are, in reality, stone niches, in
which Joe could insert his fingers and toes. The rubber soles of the
shoes would give a good grip, and Joe had thought to put on a pair of
gloves to save his fingers from abrasion by the rough stone.
At first it was easy enough to ascend, though a murmur broke from the
crowd as the daring youth began the ascent. But almost any one could
have climbed up the first few feet. It was going higher that made the
difficulty.
Up and up went Joe Strong. Higher and higher he mounted. As he glanced
upward he could see heads peering from the many office windows, for
word of what was going on had permeated the building.
"It isn't going to be as easy as I thought," Joe said, for the strain
was already beginning to tell on him. "I've a long way to go to the
top," he mused, after a quick upward glance.
But Joe had no thought of giving up. It was not so much for the money,
but, as he had said, for the advertisement he would get out of it. Let
it be heralded in the papers, as it was sure to be, that Joe Strong,
the daring rider of a motor-cycle across a high wire, had climbed to
the top of the Flatiron Building, and his fame as a performer of daring
feats would spread. More persons would come to see him ride, and he
could ask higher prices from the managers of the fairs and expositions.
So on and on the lad went. Below him the cameras were clicking away,
grinding out the film which would afterward show, at the rate of
sixteen pictures to a second, just what Joe had done.
Past story after story he went, sometimes so close to the open windows,
thronged with curious persons, that he could have shaken hands with
them, had he dared let go his grip long enough. But Joe took no
chances.
He stopped for a rest at the tenth story, and then went on. It was now
that his vigorous and well-trained muscles stood him in good stead. And
his nerves were never in better trim.
"I guess I'll make it," mused Joe. "I feel pretty good."
Once, when at the thirteenth story, his foot slipped on what seemed to
be a piece of fat. Joe recovered himself with an effort, and he heard a
faint sound, almost like a groan, from the throng below.
"Thirteen seems to be unlucky," thought Joe grimly, as he went on. "At
least it might have been. I wonder how that fat got on the ledge."
Then as he saw birds flying about him he knew some feathered songster
must have dropped part of his lunch there in the stone niche.
"A bird caused me to fall once," Joe mused, "and I don't want it to
happen again, even if there is a life-net below me."
It was with a feeling of relief, muscularly, not mentally, that Joe
ended his climb, and crawled into an open office window near him. A
man, looking out, grasped his hand.
"Shake!" he cried. "That was a wonderful climb, and I'm the first to
shake hands with you after it."
"Yes, you're the first," admitted Joe, with a smile.
He turned to wave his hand to the crowd below, which at once began to
cheer, men waving their hats and women their handkerchiefs. Joe saw the
cameras pointed at him, and one of the machine men was making films of
the demonstration of the crowd for future use.
Joe rested a few minutes and came down in the elevator. He was almost
overwhelmed with the rush of the crowd to greet him, and he saw scores
of hands stretched out for him to shake. He did shake as many as he
could, and then he saw his friend of the camera making his way toward
him.
"Come on, Mr. Strong!" the man called. "I've got my auto out here, and
we'll take you wherever you want to go."
"I've got to go back to Jersey City soon," Joe said. "I'm to ride there
this afternoon."
"Great Scott! After this climb?"
"Why not?" asked Joe coolly. "It's got to be done to keep the contract.
Besides, I'm all right."
They fought their way through the admiring crowd to the machine, and
Joe was induced to go to the moving picture concern, so they could get
some close-up views of Joe in the studio, to use with the outdoor film.
Joe received his money, and was assured that his name would be
featured on the film for advertising purposes. That was what he wanted.
The news of his climb up the tall building spread, and a
record-breaking crowd attended the Jersey City fair to see the daring
youth take his thrilling ride. He rode, too, most satisfactorily.
That night Joe received a visit at his hotel from Mr. Potter, the head
camera man. Joe was rather surprised at the call.
"I've come to see if you have any open dates," stated Mr. Potter.
"Open dates?" repeated Joe. "Do you want me to climb some more
buildings?"
"Well, not exactly, but I have a sort of building stunt for you, if
you'll undertake it."
"Let's hear it," suggested Joe. "I have some open time after I close in
Jersey City. Is this for the movies?"
"Yes. I am commissioned to ask if you will ride your motor-cycle on the
wire across a chasm."
"Across a chasm?" cried Joe. "How big a chasm, and where is it?"
"Right in New York City. If you're interested, I'll explain."
"Go ahead!" urged Joe. "I'm interested, all right."
"I thought you'd be," said Mr. Potter, with a smile.
CHAPTER XVII
BACK IN THE CIRCUS
Mr. Potter took out pencil and paper and drew a rough sketch. Joe, who
expected to see depicted some rocky gorge, perhaps in the Bronx section
of New York, was surprised to note that the moving picture man drew
what seemed to be two tall buildings on either side of a street.
"That's a queer sort of chasm," Joe said.
"It's about the only kind we have in the lower part of New York," Mr.
Potter answered, with a smile. "The chasm, or canyon, I refer to is
a street in the financial section of the city. There are tall office
buildings on either side of it, but the particular two I have picked
out and sketched here have flat roofs."
He looked at Joe expectantly.
"Go on," suggested the motor-cycle rider.
"I thought you'd need to have a flat roof on which to make a start with
your machine, and another flat roof for a stopping place," proceeded
the moving picture operator. "Now if we stretch a wire from the roof
of one of these buildings to the other, do you think you could ride
across on your machine?"
Joe took the sketch and studied it for a few seconds. The location of
the street was marked, and Joe, who had once or twice been down where
the New York millionaires operate in stocks and bonds, made a mental
picture of the section.
"Will you do it?" asked Mr. Potter. "Wait, though; before you answer
I'd like to state one difficulty. The buildings are over twice as high
as you say you stretch your wire. You'd have to ride across the street
at a height of over one hundred feet in the air."
"Height doesn't bother me," said Joe.
"No, I judged that from your climb up the Flatiron Building. But I
thought I'd mention it so you couldn't say we took advantage of you.
Then you'll ride for us? There'll be five hundred dollars in it for
you, and a good advertisement."
Joe considered for a moment. The money was an inducement, and so was
the advertising. And if a life-net were spread across the street below
him, he was in no more danger than in doing his regular ride. The
flat roofs as an approach and at the end of his wire would make it a
comparatively easy feat.
"Why, yes, if you can arrange it, I'll do it," he said. "That is, after
I finish my Jersey City engagement."
"Oh, yes, that's understood. Besides, we've got to make a little change
in the scenario."
"Scenario?" repeated Joe, in some surprise.
"Yes. You're to have a part in a moving picture story. I didn't mention
it at first, for I knew if you agreed to the main part you wouldn't
balk at the easier end. This is the way it is.
"We have a moving picture story, based on a big robbery in the
financial district of New York. That's why I picked out two office
buildings down near Wall Street. In the story, the hero is supposed to
aid the police after the robbery and help catch the robbers by working
his way hand over hand along a telegraph wire which stretches across
the street. Of course we planned to have a wire of our own, heavier
than a telegraph cable.
"But at the last minute, and when some of the inside stuff of the
pictures had already been made, the actor who played that part refused
to cross on the wire. He said it was too dangerous, and maybe he was
right. Anyhow, he wouldn't do it. We didn't know what to do until
to-day, when I saw you climb the building, and when I heard of your
wire-riding stunt, it occurred to me that you could do the trick for
us."
"But I never acted in the movies, except riding my motor-cycle,"
objected Joe.
"That's all we want you to do here," said Mr. Potter.
"And I don't in the least know how to behave like a hero."
"We'll coach you all right. Hero stuff is the easiest kind there is."
"But if you have some of the pictures made with one man in them, how
are you going to make me fit in--unless I look like the hero you have
been using?"
"You look enough like him for our purposes," said Mr. Potter. "We can
dress you as he was dressed, and as the action will be quick, the
substitution will not be noticed. It is often done in the movies. A
trick rider on a horse, for instance, will double with the hero or
heroine who is not able to make a good fall. Substitution is done
every day. It will be easy in your case. All you'll have to do will
be a little preliminary acting just before you ride across the street
chasm on your machine. Then will come a little bit more at the other
building, and your part is done. It will be a good advertisement for
you, I think."
"I think so, too," agreed Joe. "That's one reason why I'm doing it.
Advertising is money for me. Well, when do I begin?"
"Oh, in about a week. As I said, the scenario, or the plot of the
play, will have to be changed to make it fit. Instead of crossing a
wire by hand, we'll have you cross on the machine. You'll probably
play the part of an inventor of a new kind of motor-cycle. You will
be discovered up on the roof of the building, testing the machine when
the robbery occurs. You are appealed to to ride across on the telegraph
wire (in reality your own wire, strung by yourself) and you do it. It
will make a big hit in the movies."
"Maybe," laughed Joe. "Well, go ahead. I'll do my part."
"Of course there'll be a net below you," said Mr. Potter, "and anything
else in the way of safety you may need. And your own men can stretch
the wire so as to be sure it's all right. So, now that's settled, I'll
go ahead with my part. I'll send one of our assistant directors to
coach you as to the acting in a few days."
Joe was rather pleased, than otherwise, at the opportunity afforded him
for this new publicity. For to a circus performer or an actor publicity
is his means of livelihood. He must be well and favorably known to draw
a good salary.
"And I guess there'll be a good crowd on hand to see me ride," Joe
mused. "The movie people will see to that."
Joe continued riding on the high wire at the Jersey City fair, and
during his spare time he was coached by one of the moving picture
men in the rôle he was to play. The rôle was easy, and the lad soon
mastered it. Then he went down to look at the two buildings, one on
either side of the street across which he was to ride. It was not more
than a hundred and fifty feet--half the distance Joe was accustomed to
ride along the wire on his motor-cycle, but it was over twice as high.
However, as Joe said, that did not trouble him.
The engagement in Jersey City came to an end, and the high-wire
motor-cyclist moved his apparatus over to New York. Of course he would
not need the shears in this case, the wire extending straight out from
each flat roof, being held taut by an ingenious mechanical arrangement
that Joe designed, and which a machinist made for him, the moving
picture people paying the bill.
The roofs were of a smooth concrete mixture, and Joe knew he would have
no trouble riding his machine across them, and on to the wire as well
as off it.
There were some rehearsals up on the roof of the action called for in
the rewritten scenario, and Joe did his part very well.
"We'd make a regular movie actor of you if you'd like that sort of
life," said Mr. Potter, who was much pleased.
"No, I guess I'll stick to my own line," Joe answered.
The day of the thrilling ride came. It had been well advertised, and
big crowds were expected to be on hand in the streets near the scene
of Joe's trip across the municipal chasm. Of course there would be
no money made by the exhibition itself, but the moving picture people
counted on enough interest being aroused in the film to fill the houses
where it should be displayed later.
Several camera men were on hand, for it was one of those acts where a
"re-take" was practically out of the question. Though Joe himself felt
that if he succeeded in riding across the street once, he could do it a
second time, and oftener if necessary.
The wire had been stretched, and Joe had tested it. The cable seemed
all right. Far down in the street below was the life-net, made doubly
secure, for if Joe fell he would fall with more than twice the force
gathered from a fifty-foot drop. Boys who are studying physics can
figure out the difference for themselves.
But the brave youth had no thought of falling. Theoretically, if he
could ride on a wire across a space fifty feet up in the air, he could
do it at more than twice that distance.
Joe had been "made up" to resemble, as nearly as possible, the man who
had acted in the earlier scenes in the moving picture story, and he
felt rather odd with grease paint and a moustache on.
"Are you ready?" asked Mr. Potter of our hero.
"As ready as I ever shall be," Joe coolly answered.
"Go on, then," said the moving picture man. "Action!" he called to his
helpers, for he was not grinding the crank of a camera that day.
The preliminary scenes having been acted in the studio, on this day
the story began in the middle and Joe was discovered on the roof of
the building with his motor-cycle. He pretended to be getting it ready
for an experiment, when a girl (one of the moving picture actresses)
rushed up to him through a scuttle in the roof, and informed him of
the big robbery in one of the banks. The police were after them, but
the robbers had imprisoned the officers in a little room in the top
story of a building across the street. If Joe could ride across on the
telegraph wire, he could open the fastened-down scuttle hatch-cover,
free the police, and so enable them to catch the robbers.
This was enacted to the satisfaction of the director.
"And now for the ride!" cried Mr. Potter. "Action, there, you with the
cameras!"
There was a big and expectant crowd in the streets below. They had seen
nothing of what went on upon the roof, nor were they much interested in
that. What they wanted to see was Joe's ride across the chasm.
The youth jumped to the saddle of his machine and started the motor. A
chalk line had been marked on the roof, and in another instant Joe
was riding along it and toward the wire which stretched out from the
roof of the building where he was to the other across the street.
"Well, here I go!" mused the boy.
The front wheel took the wire. The rear wheel followed. Then the lad
found himself whizzing across the dizzy height, while down below was
the yelling, shouting and cheering throng--an enthusiastic multitude.
[Illustration: Then the lad found himself whizzing across the dizzy
height.]
Joe permitted himself one downward glance; then he fixed his eyes on
the opposite building, where he was to free the officers.
Almost before he knew it he had ridden across the street chasm. He was
on the other roof. The yelling down below continued, but Joe paid no
attention to it--he had some acting still to do.
Quickly shutting off the power of his motor-cycle as he reached the
other roof, Joe alighted from the saddle. Running to the cover of the
inside stairway, he pried it off, thus releasing the policemen. They at
once scattered to pursue the escaping robbers.
That ended Joe's part in the moving picture play, though in response
to the yells and calls from the street below he appeared at the
edge of the roof and waved his hand. A multitude of hands, hats and
handkerchiefs were waved back to him.
"Congratulations, my boy!" said Mr. Potter, when he had rejoined Joe,
the other camera men continuing to take the following scenes in what
afterward proved to be a thrilling picture. "You did it magnificently."
"Oh, it wasn't so hard after I got started," said Joe. "Now I'd like to
get some of this grease paint off my face."
"Yes. You're not used to it," assented Mr. Potter.
That evening and the next day the papers contained accounts of Joe's
ride, and he received a lot of good advertising out of it, as well as
the five hundred dollars. This last was very welcome, as Joe had no
bookings for the next week.
He determined to remain in New York until he had to go to a distant
county fair, for he had been told he might have a preliminary view of
himself in the moving pictures, and he was anxious to see them.
It was toward the close of the week that Joe received another visit. He
was in his hotel room when a card was brought to him by a bell-boy. The
card bore the name of Mr. James Tracy.
"James Tracy!" exclaimed Joe. "I hope it's Jim Tracy, the ring-master
in Sampson Brothers' Circus."
He found it was, a little later, when his visitor came up in response
to Joe's invitation.
"Jim Tracy!" cried Joe, shaking hands. "I'm glad to see you!"
"Same here, my boy! You look the same as ever."
"And how's the circus?"
"Oh, she's fine, Joe. Notice how I said 'she'?"
Joe blushed but did not reply.
"I've been reading about you, Joe," went on the ring-master. "You
certainly have 'em all sitting up and taking notice around New York. I
never saw better press notices."
"Yes, they are pretty good."
"Now say, Joe, you haven't signed any contracts, have you?" asked Mr.
Tracy earnestly.
"Contracts? No. That is, only for a week ahead. I'm due in Akron next
week."
"That's good!" exclaimed the other. "Then don't sign anything more,
Joe. Don't make any more engagements."
"Why not?"
"Because we want you, Joe. Sampson Brothers' Circus wants you. We want
you back in the circus. We've got to have a thrilling act, and yours is
the best in the country. Will you join us again, Joe?"
CHAPTER XVIII
IN MADISON SQUARE GARDEN
Joe Strong was rather taken by surprise. To be sure he had thought of
some day rejoining some circus, if not the one he had formerly been
with as the daring trapeze performer and boy fish. But he had expected
to finish out the season under his own management. As he hesitated
about answering, Jim Tracy said:
"You can practically name your own price, Joe. We've reached the point
where we've got to have a thriller, and as soon as we heard about you
we owners got together and made up our minds you would fill the bill.
We're prepared to meet your own price and give you every accommodation
you want."
"Doesn't Benny's tank act and Helen's horse draw any more?" asked Joe.
"Oh, sure! They go as well as ever, if not better. Helen is certainly
a little wonder with that Rosebud horse of hers, and Ben has added one
or two little stunts to his work. But what we want is something new and
big, and your act seems to be the thing. In fact I know it's what we
want. Will you come?"
"Let me think it over a bit," suggested Joe. "You know I'd like to come
back and join my old friends if I could make as much money under canvas
as I can outside. Only there are certain mechanical difficulties in the
way. Mine's a pretty big act, you know, and it takes lots of room."
"I know it, Joe. But we're going to buy a new main-top tent, and if you
come with us we can afford to get one so big that you can set your act
almost as you do now. You may have to shorten the wire a little and
not have it quite so high, but the act will be just as good. There's
another thing too, Joe; you can show at night with us, and in wet
weather as well as in dry. Think it over."
"I will, and I'll let you have my answer by night. Now come on out to
lunch with me. How'd you manage to get away from the show?"
"Oh, I just had to come to see you. The circus needs you, Joe."
After talking it over at lunch with the ring-master, Joe came to his
decision.
"Well, Jim Tracy, I'll come back to the show," he announced.
"Good!" was the enthusiastic response. "That's what I want to hear. Now
we'll get down to brass tacks."
This they did. In other words, they set about settling the terms of
the contract and numerous other details, with the result that Joe
received a contract that was very favorable to him financially. He was
also pleased at the prospect of getting back among his friends. He
would take Ryan and Jeroleman with him, as they understood the setting
up of the high-wire apparatus.
"Yes, it will seem good to get back under canvas again," mused Joe,
when he had affixed his signature to the contract.
"And I know a certain little lady who will be glad to hear you are
coming," said the ring-master. "She's been lonesome."
"Has she?" asked Joe.
"How'd you know whom I meant?" inquired Jim Tracy, clapping Joe on the
back.
"Oh, I--er--I sort of guessed," and Joe blushed under his tan, for he
was as brown as an Indian from being in the open air so much.
Jim Tracy went back to the circus, and Joe promised to join them at
Columbus, when he had finished his week's act in Akron.
"We work eastward after that," said Jim Tracy. "And you'll probably be
back in New York before long."
"That's good," said Joe, for he liked Manhattan Island.
"And then we're going to make a big jump to the West," went on the
ring-master. "We're going to make a trial out there. It may be a risk,
but we've decided to try it. The East is getting pretty well crowded
with shows now."
Joe's work in Akron was a success, though it was marred by a slight
accident. One day, toward the close of his engagement, he did not
hit the slanting wire properly, and as a result he narrowly missed
colliding with the base of one of the supports. But he pulled his wheel
over in time, and went shooting past.
The management feared he would give up the act for that day, but Joe
had no thought of that. He tried it again, and amid cheers from the
crowd he shot up the incline, and out on to the level wire, completing
the ride successfully.
When his week was up, Joe made ready to rejoin the circus. Some
mechanical rearrangements would be necessary in his apparatus, but he
wanted to see the new big tent before he made any changes. And when he
saw the main-top which the Sampson Brothers had purchased, Joe found
that it was larger than he had expected.
"I can do my act almost exactly as I have been doing it," he told Jim
Tracy. "And that makes it better for me, as I won't have to rejudge my
distances."
Acrobats, circus performers of all sorts, and others who do physical
turns, or acts, become mechanical after long practice. They know,
instinctively, just when to make certain jumps, just where to "take
off," and if distances are changed it confuses them. So Joe was glad he
did not have to make any great alterations. The big new tent would be
so arranged that he could ride nearly his three hundred feet, and while
the height was slightly reduced, that did not make so much difference.
It was the first day of Joe's performance with the circus he had
rejoined. All over the lot there were busy scenes. Men were putting
up the canvas shelters, others were feeding the animals or arranging
meals for the circus folk themselves. Here and there the acrobats were
looking after their apparatus, and Joe had a glimpse of Helen walking
across to see about her horse, Rosebud.
"I'm so glad you're back with us, Joe," she said.
"And so am I. It seems like old times."
"Have you heard anything more about your mother's people?" the girl
asked. "Any news of the man you overheard speak of her?"
"No, not a thing, and I don't believe I ever shall."
"Oh, you mustn't give up so soon. You may get your inheritance yet.
Look how long I had to wait for my little one."
"Oh, I'll take it if it comes," Joe remarked, with a laugh. "But as
things are going now I can get along without it. How are matters going
with you, Helen?"
"Oh, fine! Rosebud is a darling."
Joe thought he knew of some one else of whom that could be said, but he
did not make the remark aloud.
He went over to where his apparatus was put, and with Ryan and
Jeroleman began getting it in order to set up. It was about ten
o'clock, and the parade would start soon. Then would come the
afternoon's performance.
"What are you doing now, boss?" asked Ryan, as he saw Joe busily at
work over his shining motor-cycle.
"Oh, it's just a little experiment. If it goes well I'll have a little
surprise for the crowd to-night."
"Well, don't take any chances. Remember it's your first ride at night."
"Yes, I know that. Oh, this isn't any risk."
In fact, it was Joe's first night ride. Special lights had been
arranged that were to be placed on the ground near the spot where the
wires slanted out of the earth. These lights would enable Joe to see
properly to guide his grooved front wheel to the cable.
With a blare of trumpets and booming of drums the afternoon performance
opened. There was a big crowd, and Jim Tracy ascribed it to the advent
of Joe, whose performances on the high wire had been well advertised
the week before.
Joe's act came about the middle of the show, after Benny's tank act
and Helen's performance with Rosebud.
Our hero noted that Benny was doing well in the tank with the goldfish
and the seal, and that the "human fish" could stay under water much
longer than formerly.
"I guess the operation did him good in more ways than one," thought Joe.
Helen's act with Rosebud was a dainty and pretty one, and the circus
audience, especially the children, liked it very much.
"And now, Joe, we're ready for you," said the ring-master.
"All right," was the answer.
Jim Tracy made an unusually elaborate announcement concerning Joe.
He spoke of the youth's having formerly been with the circus in the
tank act, which many in the audience remembered, as the show had
played the same town the previous season. Then Joe's exploits in New
York--climbing the Flatiron Building, and riding his machine across the
street--were mentioned, until the throng was on tiptoe with expectancy.
Everything was in readiness, and when Joe, having examined his
apparatus to make sure it was all right, sent his machine across the
approach space and up the slanting wire, there was a gasp of surprise
from the crowd.
There was silence when the boy shot out across the high wire, but it
was a greater tribute than a great shout would have been. The shouting
and cheers came when Joe rode safely down the other side of the wire.
"Did you like it, Helen?" asked Joe, after he had bowed to the applause.
"I--I didn't dare look at you, Joe," she said.
"Why not?"
"I was afraid you'd fall."
"But I didn't fall!" laughed Joe. "And, really, I'd like to have you
see my act."
"I'll look at it some day, maybe," she answered, softly.
Joe had a little surprise for the audience that night. As he shot out
on the straight wire his motor-cycle suddenly became ablaze with little
twinkling lights. He had secured a storage battery and made it fast
to his machine, connecting to it scores of tiny electric incandescent
bulbs of the smallest size. These were of various colors, and, flashing
on and off as Joe worked the switch with his finger, they made a pretty
and novel effect with his white, shimmering, spangled suit.
"Great, Joe! Great!" cried the ring-master, as our hero finished the
act. "That's the best yet! Keep it up!"
"I--I looked at you that time," confessed Helen, as he went over toward
her.
"And how did you like it?"
"It was wonderful, Joe. I don't see how you think of all those things."
"Oh, they come naturally."
The show moved on, and it did better and better business all along
the route, for Joe proved to be a great attraction. Then one day the
ring-master said:
"Well, we'll be in New York City next week. We'll show there for a
month."
"Where?" asked Joe.
"In Madison Square Garden."
"That's great!" exclaimed the young performer. "Now I can really show
New Yorkers what I can do."
It is the ambition of every actor to be seen in a production on
Broadway, and it naturally follows that it is the ambition of every
circus performer to appear in Madison Square Garden, that big
amphitheatre, the Mecca of all circuses, reached by but few.
In the course of time the Sampson Brothers' Show arrived in the
metropolis, and the animals, the actors and the mass of paraphernalia
were taken to the big building.
"In Madison Square Garden!" thought Joe exultingly. "That's the place
for my stunt!"
CHAPTER XIX
JOE'S MARKSMANSHIP
There was a different atmosphere about the circus in Madison Square
Garden than there had been on the road while showing under canvas.
The performers seemed keyed up to a higher pitch, for they realized,
or most of them did, that the most critical audience in the world was
looking at them.
"You have to make good in New York--or--quit," said Jim Tracy, and
Joe felt this to be true. Still he did not worry, as his act had
already, in a measure, been on trial in the big city. Some of the other
performers, though, were a bit nervous as to how their turns would go.
Benny Turton was among them.
"I've never gone into the tank before such a crowd as we'll soon have
to face," he said. "I'm afraid I may not do well."
"Oh, of course you will!" Helen exclaimed. "Don't get nervous."
Helen herself did not seem to be the least bit nervous, though she
had never faced a New York audience, either. But Helen Morton had
the knack, which so many girls and women seem to have, or are able to
acquire, of appearing at ease whether she was so or not. It's a matter
of nerve possibly; nerve of a different sort, it may be, from that
required to perform some hazardous feat.
Madison Square Garden is a big building on Madison Avenue. If one has
ever been in New York one will remember that the building has a gold
statue of Diana, the huntress, atop the tower. It is the scene of many
exhibitions--athletic exhibitions, bicycle riding, automobile and
motor-boat shows, as well as a Mecca for the big circuses. It is all
under one roof and the animals are exhibited in the basement.
There were busy days spent in getting the show ready for presentation
to the public, for things had to be done in a manner different from
that when the circus was showing under canvas. At last everything was
accomplished by means of the wonderful system showmen have evolved
for themselves, and the opening night came. The show opened at night
instead of in the afternoon in order to have a bigger throng at the
initial performance.
Joe and his two helpers had set up his high-wire apparatus, and he had
thoroughly tested it. It did not take the boy long to get used to the
difference, and he felt that he could ride as well as he had in the
open or under the main-top.
Trumpets blared, the drums boomed and the musicians played lively airs
as the crowds filed in. It was a brilliant scene, and many society
folk made up parties to take in the wonders of the circus. It was a
fashionable fad, which the circus people fostered.
Benny Turton grew more and more nervous as the time for the opening
approached, until Joe took him off in a corner and said:
"Look here now. If you don't stop, I'll put you down with the elephants
and make you feed them peanuts, while I do your act myself and take all
the credit!"
That startled Benny, and he calmed down. And when the time came for him
to go into the tank he was as cool as he always had been. He made a big
hit, too, for the applause was generous, as it was for Helen and most
of the other performers.
The clowns, of course, gave enjoyment, not only to the little folk,
many of whom were present, but to their elders as well. Bill Watson had
added some new material to his act, which was much enjoyed; and the
other clowns, spurred by the magnetism of a New York audience, created
gales of laughter.
Joe was given a rousing reception when he came out of the dressing room
in his shimmering white suit. He began to think he was better known
than he had suspected; which was a fact, for a moving picture concern,
in view of Joe's reappearance in New York, had made a specialty of
showing in many houses the films taken of him climbing the Flatiron
Building, and riding across the street chasm.
The lad rode the wire successfully, though for one tense moment, as he
sped across the approaching space, he thought he was riding toward a
fall. A rope, loosed from some trapeze apparatus overhead, fell right
across the white chalk mark. Joe was on the point of shutting off
power, preferring to start over again, but Ryan, who was near the first
pair of shears, saw what had happened.
With a leap he reached the rope and pulled it out of the way, at the
same time crying to Joe:
"Come on!"
Joe turned the power on full, and a second later he was climbing up the
slanted wire and speeding across it. The audience began to applaud, and
this increased to a roar of appreciation when the lights were suddenly
turned out, and Joe flashed on those decorating his motor-cycle. He
made a strange picture up above in the darkness, flashing across the
high wire. Then, as he reached the end of the straight course, the
Garden was brightly illuminated again, and the lad rode down the other
slope of wire.
Our hero had to bow again and again to the applause. His first night in
Madison Square Garden was a complete success.
And Joe was glad, not only for his own sake, but for the sake of the
show. It needed to draw big crowds to make it pay, and everything that
made for popularity counted.
Helen, too, had her share of applause. Dainty horse acts are always
well received, even with the growing popularity of the automobile, and
Rosebud was certainly a beautiful animal. Helen had a new costume for
the New York engagement, and Joe thought he had never seen her look so
pretty.
"Yet I wonder if the circus is the best place for her," he mused.
"Sometimes I wish she was out of it. While there are plenty of good
people in the business, and while my mother was in it, still the
atmosphere isn't always of the best. Well, maybe some day when I get
rich, and have my inheritance from England, I can take her away."
After the opening night the circus in Madison Square Garden settled
down into the regular routine. It was much pleasanter than being on the
road, for after the performers had finished their acts in the afternoon
their time was their own for enjoyment until night. And there was much
to see and enjoy in New York.
At night, too, when they had finished, instead of taking a night trip
in a train, the men and women could go to their boarding places and
enjoy a comfortable sleep. Though, in truth, by force of habit few of
the performers had any trouble in sleeping on the train.
"I must get something new," said Joe to Helen one day, when they came
back from a trip down the bay on a sight-seeing yacht.
"Something new? What do you mean?" she asked.
"For my act," was the answer. "I think it needs something else besides
the lighting effect, and I'm going to try a new stunt."
"What is it?" asked Helen. "I think your act is all right as it is now."
"No, it needs freshening up," said Joe, "and I'm going to do it."
The next day, as soon as he had finished his act, Joe dressed in his
street garments and sought out the nearest public shooting gallery. He
took up a rifle and made so many bull's-eyes, and broke so many clay
pipes, that the proprietor looked at him in astonishment.
"Are you a professional?" he asked.
"Not a professional shot," said Joe, "though I used to be pretty good
at it. But I'm out of practice. I want to work with revolvers, but I
thought I'd start with the rifle."
"Well, if you're half as good with the revolver as you are with a
rifle, you needn't worry," said the man. "I've another gallery, on
purpose for revolver shooting, where the New York police practise."
"I think I should like to try that," said Joe, as he paid his bill for
the cartridges. Then he arranged to come on certain days of the week
and practise marksmanship.
Target practise with revolvers is vastly different from shooting with a
rifle, and Joe was not disappointed when he made low scores at first.
But gradually his skill improved, and one day he invited Helen to
accompany him, and she saw him do some really remarkable shooting.
"But what's it all for?" she asked. "I know the circus is going out
West soon. You're not afraid of bandits or train robbers, are you?"
"No, I've something else in mind," said Joe with a laugh. "I'll let you
into the secret soon."
CHAPTER XX
OUT WEST
The Sampson Brothers' Show in Madison Square Garden was drawing big
crowds, and everything seemed to be going along satisfactorily. Joe's
act on the high wire continued to thrill, and at each afternoon and
evening performance he received an ovation in the way of applause.
It would not be fair to say that Joe received more applause than any
other performer, for there were many who divided honors with him. But
the fact that his act was such a novelty counted much in his favor.
Then, too, he had been well advertised in the moving pictures and by
his climbing of the Flatiron Building.
One night one of the big elephants somehow slipped his leg chains,
walked up out of the basement, and wandered into Madison Avenue, there
to startle the crowds on the New York streets.
But he was a good-natured elephant, and when, having been missed, a
squad of men went after him and found him, he allowed himself to be led
back to his place of captivity. For a time he furnished unexpected
amusement to the Manhattanites, who are always ready for that sort of
thing.
Then, too, there was a fight between two big tigers. That occurred in
the early morning hours, and for a time pandemonium reigned in the
basement. But the animals were separated without injuring each other
very much, though if one had heard the press agent of the show relate
the story of the combat to the newspaper men later, one would have
imagined that the striped animals were only prevented from devouring
each other by the application of elephant ankuses and red-hot irons.
But that's how press agents earn their money, and, after all, the fight
was sufficiently fierce. It made a "good story," and bigger crowds than
ever came to the show to see the advertised beasts.
It was one afternoon, following a performance that had not been as
well attended as usual, that Joe passed Jim Tracy while the latter was
sitting on one of the big half-barrels used in an elephant act. The
ring-master seemed to be troubled about something.
"What's wrong?" asked Joe. "Are the elephants eating too many peanuts,
or have you the tooth-ache?"
"Neither one," the ring-master said.
"Well, something is the matter," Joe insisted.
"Yes, there is," agreed Jim Tracy. "The truth of the matter is that I
want a novelty and I don't know where to get it. I've been around to
all the booking offices, and they haven't anything on their lists but
what is as old as the hills. I want something new--something that will
put a little ginger into our show. We've got to attract the crowds
during the time we have left here. When we are out on the road I'm
not so much worried--we'll get the crowds then. But in New York it's
different. They expect something new all the while and we've got to
give it to 'em."
"Well, maybe we can," observed Joe, and there was a twinkle in his eyes
which the ring-master did not see.
"Give it to 'em? That's the trouble!" exclaimed Jim Tracy. "I don't see
how we can. I've tried to work up a new animal act, but it doesn't seem
to go. I've spoken to a number of the performers, asking them if they
didn't have something up their sleeves, but they said they were doing
all they could, and I guess that's right."
"You didn't ask me," said Joe quietly.
"You!" exclaimed the ring-master. "Why, I guess you're doing your
share, Joe. I don't expect you to add anything new. Yours is the
biggest novelty in the circus now. I don't see that you can add to it."
"Oh, but I can, though," said Joe. "I've been preparing a little
something, and I guess it's about time to pull it off now."
"For the love of sawdust! what is it?" cried Jim. "Tell me quick. Is
there a chance?"
"Well, of course, I don't know how it will go," admitted the
motor-cycle wire-rider. "But I've been practising on the quiet, and now
I'm ready to try a dress rehearsal, as you might say."
"Good!" cried the ring-master. "Do you want any help?"
"Only what Ryan and Jeroleman can give me. They're in the game with me.
Now, if you like, I'll show you what I can do."
"You're not going to cut out the wire act, are you?" asked Jim Tracy
anxiously.
"No, indeed! This is just an addition to it. Just wait a few minutes."
"All right. Hurry though."
Joe summoned his two helpers, and while one of them brought out the
motor-cycle, the other brought a box from the place where Joe kept his
paraphernalia in the big ring. There were only a few of the circus
attendants in the Garden at that hour, for most of them were at supper
or getting ready for the night performance.
After Joe had given his "dress rehearsal" as he called it, though
he rode in ordinary clothes, not putting on his fancy suit, there
was a shout of approval from Jim Tracy and from some of the other
ring-masters and managers of the big show.
"Great! Fine!" cried Jim enthusiastically. "That will make 'em stand
up and yell all right, Joe. It's just the novelty I've been looking
for, but I didn't think you'd spring it. Is that what you have been
doing every afternoon when you went off with Ryan and Jeroleman?"
"Yes," admitted our hero. "I needed some practice, and I got it on the
road. I knew if I could do it over an uneven road I could do it on the
smooth wire."
"And will you put it on to-night?"
"I sure will."
"Then I'll tip off the newspaper boys that there'll be something doing.
They haven't been giving us good write-ups lately. This is great, Joe!"
There was an air of subdued excitement among the circus folk at the
performance that night. For though Joe had tried to keep his little
novelty a secret, it had leaked out and his fellow performers were on
the alert for what would happen during his act.
The usual preparations were made, but Joe was more than usually careful
to look to every part of his apparatus. He went over the life-net
twice, though Ryan and Jeroleman assured him that they had tested it
thoroughly.
Then he looked to the wire, and made sure that it was properly taut,
while at the places where it emerged from the buried anchors, he had
the surface of the ground smoothed down just before he started to
ride, though already it was as level as a billiard table.
"But I'm going to take no chances," said Joe, grimly.
He went carefully over every inch of the approach, and at last he
announced himself satisfied. The motor-cycle was wheeled into place
and Joe took his position in the saddle. Then Ryan handed to him what
seemed to be a bundle wrapped in a flag.
"Oh, he's going to pull the old stunt," said one of the Lascalla
Brothers, with whom Joe had formerly been associated. "He's going
to wave the United States flag when he's in the middle of the wire.
That'll get him a hand, sure, but it is as old as the hills."
"Maybe he'll do it differently," suggested Señor Bogardi, the lion
tamer.
"You wait and see," returned Tonzo Lascalla, sneeringly.
Having seen that Joe was all ready, Ryan and Jeroleman took their
positions on the ground, off to the sides but at the middle of the high
wire.
"All ready?" called Joe.
"Ready!" answered his helpers in chorus.
There was a sputter as the gasoline motor started, and Joe shot forward
on his machine. Up the incline he went, and then he rode out on the
level, high wire.
There was an expectant hush as he neared the middle of the stretch, for
it seemed as if the audience had half felt that something unusual was
to occur. And then, in the center of the span of wire, something did
happen.
Joe took his hands from the guiding bars of his machine, and a close
observer could have seen that he was steering with his legs, cords
running from the end of each handle bar to his knees.
There was a flutter of flags. Tonzo Lascalla had guessed partly right,
for in each of Joe's hands fluttered the stars and stripes. But this
was not all.
From down on the ground where Ryan stood there was a motion, and a big
red glass ball went whirling up into the air toward Joe's right hand.
He extended that arm. There was a flash of flame, a puff of smoke, a
sharp report, and the red ball was shattered to bits.
Then, on the other side, tossed up by Jeroleman, came a blue ball.
Again the fire, the smoke, and the report, and that ball was shattered.
And then, dropping the two pistols into the net below him, Joe grasped
the handle bars of his machine, which had been going at full speed when
he shot, and down the incline he steered it.
There was a moment's hush before the crowd realized what had happened,
and then there broke out a tumult of cheers, yells, applause and
whistling--this last from the top gallery.
While riding across the high wire Joe had broken two glass balls with
two pistol shots.
"Great, Joe! Great!" cried Jim, rushing up to him. "It went even better
than I thought it would. That puts the ginger in all right! Listen to
'em!"
The crowd was still applauding.
"So this is what your target practice meant," said Helen, as she went
up to shake hands with Joe.
"Yes," he said. "I knew it wouldn't do to make any misses, and so I
practised. Then when I got so I was pretty fair in the gallery I went
out in the most secluded roads I could find, riding my old machine, and
I broke balls as Ryan and Jeroleman tossed them up. It took a little
while to get into form, but----"
"You did it!" cried the ring-master. "This will make a hit all right!"
And it did. There were good press notices, and the attendance that had
begun to fall off was increased.
"It couldn't have happened at a better time," said Jim Tracy. "For we
go West in three weeks, and we'll have some dandy advance notices,
thanks to you, Joe."
While the show remained in Madison Square Garden Joe continued to do
his shooting trick, creating a sensation twice a day.
The final performance had been given in the big Garden, the animals
had been led out to the cars to which they had been strangers for some
time, the performers had packed their trunks, and once more the circus
was on the road, heading for the West.
CHAPTER XXI
RECOGNITION
There were a creaking of wheels, a shrill screeching of brakes,
footings of whistles, and shouts of men. Then the long, heavy trains
came to a halt.
"Where are we?" asked sleepy voices.
"I guess we've arrived," came an answer from no one in particular.
"Well, we don't have to get up yet," was announced from one of the
berths, where the sound of a shade being pulled up could be heard,
indicating that the occupant of the bed had looked out to see how near
daylight it was.
Then followed a confused jumble of sounds, amid which the performers
tried to get a little more slumber.
The circus train was in.
Big rumbling wagons were eased down off the flat cars on heavy
runways. From some of the wagons came frightened whimperings or saucy
chatterings--the monkeys. From others came snarls and deep-throated
roars--the cats, as lions and tigers are called. Then, from other
wagons came more queer noises, a sort of combined bellowing and
rumbling as if in protest. That was the "hippo" and the "rhino," the
short names the circus men used for the hippopotamus and the rhinoceros.
Seemingly there was a riot of confusion, but in reality everything
moved along like clockwork. Each man knew what he had to do, and did
it. With the exception of the cooks and their assistants, whose duty
it was to get ready the meals for the performers and the hands, the
canvasmen were busiest of all, for the animal tent must be put up ready
to receive the denizens of forest, field or jungle, and there must be
shelter for the hundreds of horses.
The putting up of the main-top could be attended to later.
The elephants came shuffling on their padded feet from their cars where
they had been swaying to and fro all night, and for several nights,
for the circus had been four days on the road. Once the elephants had
descended, first gingerly trying the runway with their feet to see if
it would hold their enormous weight, they were put to work pushing the
heavy wagons into position so that the big teams of horses could be
attached to haul them to the circus lot.
Through all the noise and confusion the men and women performers slept,
for they were used to the racket, and would probably have apprehended
something queer had it been missing.
"Well, now the work begins," murmured Tonzo Lascalla, stretching lazily
and thrusting his head out between the curtains of his berth.
"Work! You mean the fun!" exclaimed Joe Strong, who was across the
aisle. "I'm tired of this railroad traveling. I want to get under the
main-top again, and see the crowds, hear the music and----"
"It's easy to see you're young at the business," commented Tonzo. "You
will lose your enthusiasm."
"I hope not!" returned Joe. "I don't want to get old."
The gray dawn slowly broke. Already much of the circus paraphernalia
was unloaded, and hundreds of men were on the lot arranging the tents.
From the cook wagons and from the big soup caldrons on the ground, came
the appetizing odors of breakfast. In their tents many horses were
already munching hay and oats from canvas mangers.
The performers, in their sleeping cars, began to rouse, to stretch,
to wash and make ready to get their morning meal. Some were
cross--"temperamental," it might be called. Others were jolly, calling
and laughing one to another.
"Are you glad to be on the road again?" asked Helen of Joe, as they
walked together to the breakfast tent.
"Indeed, I am," he said. "I've never been West, and I know I'm going to
like it. Fine air you have out here."
"Yes," admitted Helen, with a laugh that showed her white teeth, "it
is nice. I've always liked the West, though I haven't seen much of it
since I was a child."
"And I'm glad to be able to get at my act again," said Joe. "The days
on the road have made me a bit rusty, I'm afraid."
"Oh, no!" protested Helen.
The circus had made an unusually long jump from New York, and now it
would finish the season out West. It was the intention to winter in one
of the Southern states, and work back East again with the advent of
spring.
After Joe and Helen had eaten with some of their friends, they
separated, Helen to get ready for the parade, for she now took part in
that as a princess. She had to see to Rosebud. As for Joe, he wanted
to see that all of his high-wire apparatus was on hand and ready for
setting up.
He strolled over toward the spot where the big tent would be erected,
and found his helpers already on hand.
"Everything here?" asked Joe.
"Seems so," answered Ryan. "We've just been checking up, and nothing
seems to be missing. Feel all right?"
"Fit as a fiddle. I'm anxious for a little practice though, so I think
I'll go off for a spin, if you can manage things here."
"Oh, sure, we'll be all right," said Jeroleman.
Joe got his road motor-cycle out from his baggage and was soon spinning
down a pleasant country road. He was one of the more privileged
performers, and there was little for him to do except to ride in his
thrilling act. His men did all the hard work, though many persons
thought Joe's act was hard enough work in itself.
"This is great!" exclaimed Joe, as he spun along at high speed. He
breathed in deep of the crisp air, filling his lungs as he had done
when performing in the tank.
As he rode along the highway on his return, he saw many farm wagons
with laughing crowds of young and old folk on their way to the show. He
felt in fine form when he returned to the circus lot, and quite ready
to do his act.
"I hope we have a good audience," mused Joe, as he went to look over
his apparatus, which had been put up in the big tent.
His hope was confirmed, for the canvas shelter was crowded when the
band blared out the opening notes for the grand entry. Around the
circle went the elephants, the camels, the horses and the performers.
The show was playing its first date in the West.
"Now, Joe, ready for you!" called the ring-master, for a slight change
had been made in the time of some of the acts, and Joe's came on a
little earlier.
Joe had made certain that everything was in good order. With a rattle
and bang of his machine he started across the ground toward the
inclined wire. Another instant he was up on it and was getting ready
to break the colored glass balls, a feature which had made such a
sensation. Then, with practiced aim, Joe shattered them both, while
the crowd applauded. He then shot down the other inclined wire. But
he was going faster than he realized, or perhaps he did not have as
good control of his machine as he thought, for he rode past his usual
stopping place, on toward the crowded seats of the grand stand, before
which his wire was stretched.
"Look out!" shouted some apprehensive ones.
"Oh, there's no danger," answered Joe with a laugh, as he put on the
brake extra hard and stopped a safe distance away. Some of the men and
women in the lower seats had jumped out of the way, fearing Joe would
run into them, but they now laughed and made ready to resume their
places.
"Don't be alarmed," went on Joe. As he spoke he saw a man looking
intently at him; and something in the man's face attracted his
attention.
"Where have I seen him before?" he asked himself, as he dismounted from
the machine so Ryan could take it.
The man himself seemed strangely affected. He advanced toward Joe with
his hand half extended.
"I'm not quite sure," he began, "but I think I have seen you before."
"And I'm sure I've seen you," Joe said. "But I can't place you."
"Aren't you the young man who so kindly aided us when our automobile
turned turtle in a stream in some little country town back East?" asked
the man.
Then, in a flash recognition came to Joe.
"Of course!" he cried. "You're Mr. Floyd Strailey, and your friend Mr.
Forrest Craige was with you." And then Joe's memory served him another
turn. He recalled a certain voice in a crowd.
"Where is Mr. Craige?" he asked eagerly. "I want very much to meet him!"
"I can tell you where he is," answered Mr. Strailey. "We both tried to
find you, afterward, but could not."
"And I tried to find you," returned Joe, while to himself he said: "I
believe I'm on the track of solving the mystery."
CHAPTER XXII
GOOD NEWS
Joe's recognition of the man had created a little commotion in the
audience near Mr. Strailey's seat. Joe realized this, and, not wishing
to disturb others, he said:
"If you don't mind, and will come to my dressing room, I shall be very
glad to have a talk with you. That is, unless you want to stay and see
the rest of the performance."
"Oh, I'm not particular. I came to see you, anyhow."
"To see me?" asked Joe, as he walked beside Mr. Strailey toward the
performer's exit.
"Well, yes. I'd heard about you, and had seen you in the moving
pictures, and I wanted to see you in reality. So I came."
"Was it up to expectations?" Joe asked, with a smile.
"Much more so. I never saw anything as nervy as that."
"Glad you like it!" Joe exclaimed. "Was it as nervy as the riding my
mother, Janet Willoughby, used to do in England?" he asked, with a
sudden desire to put his ideas to the test.
"Janet Willoughby!" exclaimed Mr. Strailey. "Was she really your
mother?"
"She was," answered Joe. "And she married Alexander Strong, who was
known on the stage as Professor Morretti."
"Then it is just as Craige fancied," the other said. "He was not sure,
but he will be now. I must communicate with him."
"Look here!" exclaimed Joe earnestly, "I don't know whether I am on the
right road or not, but for some time I have been trying to get on the
track of my mother's relatives in England. And I need not keep back the
reason. It is because I think there may be an inheritance due me from
her estate."
"I will answer you as to that in a little while," was Mr. Strailey's
answer. "Tell me all you know."
By this time they had reached Joe's dressing room. He had one to
himself now, and, giving a camp-chair to his visitor and sitting on a
trunk himself, Joe began the conversation.
"There is no need of going into details about the automobile accident,"
he said.
"No," agreed his companion. "It was most unfortunate, in a way, but we
got out of it very luckily, thanks to you."
"I may be wrong," Joe resumed, "but I have an idea that Mr. Craige
showed a strange interest in me when he heard my name."
"He did," was Mr. Strailey's answer. "For he knew your mother in
England, and he knew she had been disowned when she married your father.
"Still the name 'Strong' is not uncommon and Craige was not sure you
were the son of Janet Willoughby. But at the time of the motor accident
there was no opportunity to make sure."
"And you went away in such a hurry that I had no chance to talk to
you," said Joe.
"Yes, there was an important business deal in which Mr. Craige and I
were involved, and a delay meant a serious loss to us," explained Mr.
Strailey. "So when we found that neither of us was seriously hurt, and
that the car could be made to run, we went on."
"You did not leave any address," suggested Joe.
"No, we forgot that, and it was a source of regret to us afterward, for
my friend wanted to get in communication with you for your own good.
He even went to the length of coming back to the doctor's office some
weeks later, but neither the physician nor the farmer could tell us
anything about you."
"I suppose not," said Joe. "I don't recall, now, whether I left my
address or not. Probably I did not, for I couldn't tell where I was
going to be. And so we missed one another."
"Yes," assented Mr. Strailey. "You mentioned something about being
with a circus, but Craige forgot the name, or possibly you did not
mention it, and it was not until recently that, seeing your name on
the advance posters of this circus that was to come here, Craige and
I had an idea you might be the same youth that rescued us. It was a
strange coincidence. As soon as you rode toward me a little while ago,
I recognized you at once."
"I have seen Mr. Craige, or rather heard his voice, once since the auto
accident," stated Joe.
"Is that so? Where?"
"It was when I was giving an open-air exhibition before I rejoined the
circus. I had completed my ride over the high wire when I heard some
one in the crowd say:
"'By Jove! that was clever! My! that boy has as much nerve as a girl I
knew in England. Janet Willoughby was a daring rider!' That was what I
heard," stated Joe. "And it at once set me to thinking, for that was my
mother's name. I tried to get in communication with that man, who, I
feel sure now, was Mr. Craige."
"It was," admitted Mr. Strailey. "He told me about it afterward, but he
did not recognize you as the youth who had helped us, and I suppose he
did not take note of the name that was on the posters."
"Very likely," Joe agreed. "I wore a different sort of suit from the
one he had seen me in, and he did not stay after he made the remark
that set me thinking. I tried to find him in the crowd, and even
engaged a sort of amateur private detective. But it was useless.
"And I even advertised in the papers," went on Joe, "hoping to get some
trace of Mr. Craige that way, though at the time I did not know it was
he. It is only to-day that I connect him with the strange man in the
crowd who spoke of my mother."
"Yes, it is a strange coincidence all around," agreed the Englishman.
"Craige and I, with some friends, have been out here some time, looking
after mining interests, and I guess we did not pay much attention to
the papers. However, we have found you at last."
"And where is Mr. Craige?" asked Joe.
"He is in Boltville, looking after some of our interests there. But I
am sure he will be glad to come on and tell you what he knows of your
affairs."
"Has he anything to do with my mother's estate?" asked Joe.
"I think not," was the answer. "It is only that he knows something
about it. He knows more than I do, for he came from the shire of
Surrey, where your mother's people lived, while I am a Yorkshire man."
"Then you can't tell me anything definite?" asked Joe, a little less
hopeful.
"Yes, I think I can tell you good news," was the smiling answer.
"Good news!" cried Joe. "Then I have an inheritance?"
"Well, now, I'll not be positive," replied Mr. Strailey, "but this is
how the matter stands. What I tell you, I have from Mr. Craige, and not
of my own knowledge.
"Your mother, as you probably know, came from a wealthy and
aristocratic family. When she married Mr. Strong, who was, I believe, a
stage magician, she--er--she was----"
He seemed to hesitate for fear of wounding Joe's feelings.
"Oh, go on!" exclaimed the young circus actor. "I know all about
that. Others have told me. My mother's people cast her off because
she married a public performer and became one herself. But she loved
my father, I'm sure of that, and I think more of him and her--their
memories--than I do of all the wealth and aristocrats of England!"
"That's right, my boy. Though I am an Englishman, I think some of our
standards are wrong. It's worth that tells every time. But I suppose
you know why your mother preferred to marry your father, even at the
risk of being disowned by her family?"
He looked questioningly at Joe.
"I presume it was because she loved him," he said.
"Yes, and because her relatives were trying to force her into marrying
a good-for-nothing nobleman, who had a title and not much else. But
your mother was not that kind of girl."
"Good for her!" cried Joe softly, and there were tears in his eyes.
"Now I don't know all the ins and outs of English law," went on Mr.
Strailey, "but from what Craige has told me I think your mother was
entitled to a share in a large estate, and you, being her heir, would
naturally get it now. But Craige can tell you more about it than can I.
You must see him."
"That's just what I want to do!" cried Joe.
CHAPTER XXIII
A WILD RIDE
Strange indeed had been the coincidence of Joe's meeting once again
with one of the men he had helped at the time of their automobile
accident, and he and Mr. Strailey talked about it at some length.
"And now," said Joe in conclusion, "where can I get hold of Mr. Craige?"
"I was just going to speak about that," said his companion. "At present
he is closing up a mining deal in Allaire," naming a city about a
hundred miles away. "We can write to him there, or, rather, I will, and
explain about you. Then we can find out whether Craige is coming this
way, which will make it easier for you to see him, or if he is going
farther West. In that case perhaps you'll not be able to get away from
the circus to go to him."
"It would be a little hard to get away in the height of the season,"
confessed Joe. "I suppose I could correspond with him."
"It would be much better to see him," suggested the other. "For there
are things he would like to talk over with you, I'm sure. Is there any
way you could get into personal communication with him?"
"How long is he likely to be in Allaire?" asked Joe.
"I couldn't say."
"I was going to say that the circus route will take us within ten
miles of Allaire in about a week," went on Joe, "and I could easily
ride over to see him between performances. But a hundred miles and
return is a little too much to cover between the afternoon and evening
performances. I couldn't do it even if I had the flying machine I'm
thinking of getting."
"Are you going in for aeronautics?" asked Mr. Strailey.
"Well, not exactly the way it's done now," answered Joe. "I have an
idea of my own that I'd like to carry out, but it would take more money
than I have at present. I just mentioned it casually."
"I see. Well, I think the best thing to do is to write to my friend
Craige at once, and tell him everything. Then we can find out what is
the best thing to do. I'll write for you."
"Thanks," returned Joe, gratefully. "Are you going to be in this
vicinity long?"
"No, I leave to-day. But you won't need my services after you get in
touch with Craige. He can do all that is necessary, as he knows the
facts and the situation in England, while I don't. He'll help you all
he can, I'm sure. And both he and I will never forget your help at the
time of the motor accident."
"Oh, that wasn't anything," said Joe.
At the same time he could not help thanking his lucky stars that he had
had that opportunity of making the acquaintance of the two men.
"For it may lead to something after all," mused Joe.
He and Mr. Strailey talked over the matter at some length, and decided
upon the form of letter to be sent to Mr. Craige. That was all that
could be done at the time.
As Mr. Strailey was leaving Helen passed the dressing tent and nodded
and smiled at Joe, who introduced her to his companion.
"This is one of the two gentlemen who are going to help me get my
English fortune," said Joe. "You notice how sure I am that I have one
coming to me," and he laughed.
"Well, stranger things have happened," said Mr. Strailey. "And I am
sure you deserve some good luck, Joe, for all the risks you take."
"Doesn't he!" exclaimed Helen. "I wish he'd get rich enough to give it
all up--this terribly risky motor-cycle riding."
"Well, if he gives that up he may go in for something more
risky--aeroplaning," said the Englishman.
"Aeroplaning!" exclaimed Helen. "That's the first I've heard of that,
Joe."
"Oh, it isn't exactly aeroplaning," Joe replied. "And I haven't given
it more than a passing thought. If I go in for it, though, it will be
in a safe way, so you needn't worry, Helen."
"Mr. Strong has no one else to worry about him, so I take that
responsibility upon myself," she remarked, blushing prettily as she
nodded to Mr. Strailey.
"I see," he remarked, with a quick glance toward Joe, who grew red in
his turn.
Joe had new food for thought now, in anticipating what would be the
outcome of the correspondence with Mr. Craige.
In writing to his friend, Mr. Strailey had given the dates on which the
circus would show in several different Western cities, so Mr. Craige
could mail letters to Joe.
"Well, good luck to you!" called the Englishman as he parted from Joe,
"and don't give that pretty little girl too much to worry about."
"I won't," promised Joe, shaking hands. And then to himself he added:
"I wonder what he means."
Just as if he did not know!
Joe's thoughts, as he made ready for the evening performance, were
very often on what the future might have in store for him. Several
times in the midst of attiring himself in his white, glittering suit he
found himself dreaming of some stately English home, and wondering if
he would have a share in some vast estate.
"If it comes true," murmured Joe, "I can build that machine."
But, with all his day-dreaming, Joe did not forget what he was in
the circus for, and when the time to ride the high wire came he
concentrated all his attention on that.
"It won't do to have an accident now, and cheat myself out of my
inheritance," the lad reflected.
He decided to divide his riding act into two parts at the evening
performances. This was because he wanted to ride across with his
illuminated wheel, and also shoot at the glass balls, and he could not
do both at the same time.
He might possibly have arranged it, but it was risky trying to steer
with his knees, throw on the switch controlling the storage battery and
shoot at the ascending balls.
"Besides," reasoned Joe, "it's giving the crowd too much at once. They
can't digest it."
In the afternoon, of course, his wheel was not illuminated, as the
lights would not show; so Joe merely rode across the high wire then,
and shot at the balls as he reached the center of the span.
"It will be better to add to the act at night because we have bigger
crowds out then," said Jim Tracy, when Joe told the ring-master of the
new plan.
The high-wire rider put his plan into effect the night of the day on
which he had seen Mr. Strailey again. There was a yell of delight,
especially from the boys in the circus audience, when Joe flashed on
the lights that outlined his swiftly moving machine on the high wire.
But there was more in store for the crowd.
Joe had made another change. Instead of using glass balls at night he
provided Ryan and Jeroleman with inflated toy balloons. To each one was
attached a lighted taper, so arranged that the heat of it would not
burst the little rubber bag.
The balloons floated up, one on each side, the lights glowing, and as
they came within range Joe broke first one and then the other, as he
rode swiftly along.
That "brought down the house" to use a theatrical term, and the
applause was loud and long. The circus crowd appreciated a thrilling
act, and Joe's feat fulfilled every expectation.
Again the show was on the road. Matters ran along in their usual
routine, and the performers began to make their plans for the coming
winter, though there were still several weeks when they would yet be on
the Western circuit before the show would settle down to winter in one
of the Southern States.
Joe looked eagerly for a letter from Mr. Craige, and at last one was
received.
It was not very satisfactory, however, except that it seemed to hold a
promise of a better epistle to follow. Mr. Craige stated that he was
glad to hear of Joe again, adding that in a few days he would write at
length. Just then he was too busy with a mining proposition. The letter
concluded with the words:
"If you can prove your identity, which I have no doubt you can do, I
think there is money coming to you."
"That'll be fine!" reflected Joe.
One day Helen saw Joe reading a book while waiting for his cue to go
into the tent for his wire act.
"I didn't know you cared for novels," she said playfully.
"Novels?" repeated Joe, rather taken by surprise. He tried to conceal
the title of the volume, but Helen had already had a glance at it. The
book was a work dealing with dirigible balloons and aeroplanes.
"What in the world are you trying to do, Joe?" she asked. "Was Mr.
Strailey right? Are you really going to become a 'birdman,' as they
call them?"
Joe looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he said:
"Look here, Helen! I haven't said anything about this, because it's
such a wild idea that I guess nearly every one would laugh at me. It's
nothing more than a dream at present."
"Tell me your dreams," she suggested.
Joe shook his head.
"I wish I could, for I'd like to talk it over with some one," he
went on. "But it isn't in any shape yet. I'm merely getting all the
information I can on the subject."
"Well, there's one thing sure," Helen said, "you can hardly give an
aeroplane exhibition in a circus tent."
"It isn't exactly an aeroplane that I'm thinking of," said Joe. "I
don't know what you would call it. But I might be able to use it in a
circus tent if it works right."
"Well," murmured Helen with a sigh, "I'm not very good at guessing."
"I'll tell you all about it when the time comes," promised Joe, as he
heard the signal summoning him to the big tent.
Two days later Joe received another letter from Mr. Craige. This was a
long epistle and went into detail concerning Joe's mother, with whom
the writer had been somewhat closely associated as a boy in England.
The epistle stated that the Willoughby estate was a large one and
on the death of Jason Willoughby, Joe's grandfather, it had been
partitioned among the heirs.
"Your mother's share, as I understand it, is still held in trust
for her heirs," the letter read. "And, I also understand, you are
the only one entitled to the money she would have received from
her father had she lived. However, there was a clause in your
grandfather's will, cutting your mother off. This he partially
revoked just before his death. So you may be able to get the money.
"If you will come to see me at Waterville, where I shall be until
the end of the week, I will talk the matter over with you, and
tell you how best to proceed. I can also give you letters of
introduction to two or three men in England who can help you, I
think."
Joe quickly looked up the route of the circus. In another day it would
be at Claredale, which was within a comparatively short distance of
Waterville.
"We get in Saturday, too," mused the lad. "I can ride over Sunday, and
have all day to talk with Mr. Craige. That's what I'll do."
This plan Joe carried out. That is, early Sunday morning he made ready
to ride over to Waterville on his road motor-cycle.
"Want to come along, Helen?" he asked.
"No, thank you," she said. "I have promised Mrs. Watson to go for a
walk with her, though I'd love to go with you."
"Some other time then," the boy replied.
The day seemed a fateful one for Joe. Half way to Waterville he got
a puncture and had to walk three miles to a garage to have the tire
repaired. Then, he had not ridden on more than two miles before the
sprocket chain, which seemed always to give more or less trouble,
broke, and he had to go back to the same garage to have that repaired.
It was then noon, and he decided to have dinner before proceeding. It
was three o'clock before the youth reached Waterville, the final delay
being due to the fact that some one misdirected him as to the road.
When Joe finally called at the address given by Mr. Craige, it was to
meet with another disappointment For the Englishman had left word that
business had called him to Burton, a town seven miles farther on.
"Well, this surely is not my lucky day!" exclaimed Joe. "But I'm going
to keep on. I must see Mr. Craige."
One would have thought that Fate had played Joe enough tricks, but she
still had one up her sleeve, so to speak--the worst one of all, for the
former ones were easily enough overcome.
"Mr. Craige?" repeated the man, of whom Joe inquired in Burton. "Why,
yes, he _was_ here."
"Was!" exclaimed Joe. "Isn't he here _now_?"
The man shook his head.
"He received a telegram a while ago," he said, "calling him to England,
and he has just left."
"How could he leave for England from here?"
"Well, I didn't exactly mean that," the man went on, "but he left here
in order to catch the express that will take him to New York, where he
can get a boat for England."
"I see," said Joe, rather gloomily. "Well, I guess I've missed him--at
least until he comes back."
"Yes, he's coming back in a few months," the man said, "but you might
catch him now before he takes the train."
"How?" asked Joe, stimulated to sudden interest.
"He left in an auto just a few minutes ago to get the train at Borden.
That's the only place the express stops. He has just about time to make
it, though."
"Which way did he go, and where's Borden?" cried Joe.
The man informed him. Joe darted toward his motor-cycle, which he had
left standing in the road.
"Where you going?" asked the man.
"I'm going to catch that auto!" cried Joe, and he started off on a wild
ride.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE CABLEGRAM
Joe Strong hardly stopped to consider what he was doing. He had but one
thought in mind, and that was to get in communication with Mr. Craige,
and that as soon as possible.
"For if he goes to England," mused Joe, "there is no telling when he
may come back, and I'll have no end of bother writing back and forth
about mother's property--or mine," he added, and tears came into his
eyes as he thought of her. "Then, too, if I can see him before he takes
the New York express, I may be able to induce him to act for me, or get
a lawyer, or whatever they call the law-folk in England. Yes, I've just
got to get him."
So Joe started on his wild ride, leaving a rather surprised man
watching him.
"That lad will certainly make things hum!" said the man who had told
Joe how to reach Mr. Craige.
And if Joe himself was not humming, his motor-cycle was. The machine
had served him many a good turn in spite of the fact that now and then
it went back on him, getting punctures or breaking its chain.
"If it hadn't been for this I'd never have met Mr. Craige and his
friend," reflected Joe, as he rode along, "and I never would have been
able to work up the circus act which is bringing me in such a good
salary. And if I didn't have it now I'd never be able to take after the
elusive Mr. Craige, as I'm doing."
Joe was on the only road that led to the town of Borden, and he knew
that with speed enough he would overtake the automobile in which the
Englishman was traveling. Joe had obtained a description of the car
from the man in Burton who had told him about Mr. Craige.
"And there are not so many autos out in this part of the country to-day
that I'll mistake it," reasoned the youth.
However, that only goes to show how one can be mistaken.
As Joe topped a hill in the road he saw descending the slope a big car
which answered the description of the one he had in mind.
"There he is!" Joe cried, and he turned on more power, so that he
rushed down the hill at really dangerous speed. But he did not want to
miss his man, and the time for the arrival of the train was dangerously
close.
"Hi there! Stop! Wait a minute!" cried Joe, but of course his voice
was drowned in the noise of his own machine and in that made by the
automobile ahead of him, which was traveling away at a good rate of
speed.
"I've just got to get ahead of them!" thought Joe.
He put on all the power he dared used, and, aided by the down grade,
he was quickly overtaking the car. Just ahead, and at the point where
Joe thought he could pass and get in front to bring the automobile to a
stop, was a narrow bridge.
"It's going to be a tight squeeze to get through," thought Joe, "and I
hope it isn't as rickety as the other bridge in which Mr. Craige and I
figured."
The bridge was safe enough as regarded its weight-sustaining qualities,
but it was so narrow, and the automobile was so wide, that Joe had
barely room to pass. As it was he had to take one hand from the
steering bar to avoid having his knuckles scraped against the guard
rail.
But Joe's practice in riding the wire stood him in good stead now, and
he was able to ride straight through the narrow passage.
Out in front of the automobile he shot, to the no small surprise of the
chauffeur, who had no idea any one was behind him.
Putting on all his power, Joe got ahead and then, coming to a quick
stop, he dismounted and held up a hand.
With a screeching of the brake bands the car halted, and an elderly
gentleman, putting his head out of the window, cried:
"What do you mean by stopping me? I am not exceeding the speed limit.
I'm sure, for I was watching the meter myself."
Joe was taken by surprise. The man was not Mr. Craige at all!
"I beg your pardon," was all Joe could say. "I have made a mistake. I
thought a friend of mine was in the car."
"Humph!" grunted the occupant, while the colored chauffeur grinned,
showing an expanse of white teeth.
"Have you seen another auto like yours along this road?" asked Joe.
"It's very important that I should find it."
The elderly gentleman seemed mollified by Joe's evident sincerity, and
said he had seen no other car.
"Then he must still be ahead of me," said Joe. "I'll ride on. Thank
you."
His motor was still running and he quickly threw in the clutch, and
speeded off ahead of the automobile, which came on more slowly.
"I must reach him soon now," mused our hero, "or he'll get the train,
and that means a long delay for me. I've got to get him."
He rode on, and about a mile from Borden, as he noted by a cross-road
sign-post, he saw ahead of him an automobile very similar to the one he
had so uselessly pursued.
"If he isn't in that I'll give up!" thought Joe. "At least for the time
being."
This car was moving much faster than the other had been, and Joe was
hard put to overtake it. He hung near the rear wheels for some time,
vainly endeavoring to get up speed enough to pass, but the chauffeur of
the automobile was evidently bent on making time himself, and he needed
to, for, as he went on, there sounded through the clear air the note of
a locomotive whistle.
[Illustration: This car was moving much faster than the other had been.]
"There's the train!" cried Joe. "It's going to be touch and go."
He tried to shout, thinking if the automobile would stop long enough he
could get in it, and ride along with Mr. Craige, explaining matters and
asking his advice as they rode to the depot.
"Then I could walk back and get my motor-cycle," reflected Joe.
But his shouts were not heard, and it was not until he had followed the
machine to the very depot platform that he had actually overtaken it.
A man whom Joe recognized at once as Mr. Craige got out and ran into
the station.
"Hey! Wait a minute!" begged Joe.
"No time to stop now. No time to stop now!" came floating back the
answer. "I've got to get my ticket for the express. She's coming now."
This was true enough, for the train was even then slowing up to make
the stop.
Joe was determined not to give up. He followed Mr. Craige into the
station and waited while the ticket was purchased. Mr. Craige had his
back to Joe, and when he turned around our hero exclaimed:
"Don't you know me, Mr. Craige? I'm Joe Strong, who helped you and Mr.
Strailey the time of your auto accident last spring."
No sign of recognition showed on the Englishman's face.
"I have very little time to converse with you," he said, "but though I
do know, or, rather, I have heard of a Joe Strong, you do not in the
least resemble him. Pardon me, but I must take the train."
Joe was taken aback, and then a hasty glance in a mirror showed him
what was wrong. It was the goggles he wore to protect his eyes from
dust. In a trice he snatched them off and cried:
"Do you know me now?"
"By Jove! It _is_ the youth who did us such a good turn--Joe Strong!"
cried Mr. Craige. "Pardon me. I am so sorry I did not recognize you."
"That's all right," said Joe. "I've been following you up all day. What
about my inheritance? Is there anything due me?"
"It is most unfortunate that I have to leave at once for England, or
I could talk to you about it," said Mr. Craige. "I will go into the
matter when I return. I feel sure there is something due you."
"We can talk now," said Joe. "If you go to England I was in hope that
you might act for me--of course for a compensation."
"But we can't talk now, my dear chap. The train is coming. Here it is
now!"
At that moment the express drew into the station.
"Yes, we can talk!" exclaimed Joe. "I'll ride to the next station with
you, and we can go over the matter that way. I'll come back here by
train, pick up my machine, and ride on back to the circus!"
"By Jove! You Americans certainly do things!" cried Mr. Craige. "Well,
come along. I'm in a tremendous hurry. Things are rather tangled up in
our mining syndicate, and I have to go to London to straighten them
out. It's lucky you caught me, for, as you say, if there is anything
due you I might be able to start things moving for you on the other
side. Come on; we've no time to lose."
Joe quickly bought a ticket for the next station at which the express
stopped and followed Mr. Craige into the car. He left his motor-cycle
in charge of the Borden baggageman.
"And now to business," said Mr. Craige. "We haven't any too much time
as it is. This is a fast train, and it won't be long before we're at
Mill Junction, where you'll have to get off or be carried a hundred
miles east, and then you'll not be able to get back in time for your
next performance."
Joe realized this, and at once plunged into the subject. He told of the
meeting with Mr. Strailey and all that followed, and ended by producing
certain documents, proving his birth and his right to the name Joe
Strong.
On his part Mr. Craige spoke of his early acquaintance with Janet
Willoughby, Joe's mother, and with her people in Surrey.
"And that there is something due you, I'm sure," said Mr. Craige, "for
the estate was a large one. I was interested in you and that phase of
the matter the day of our motor accident, when I heard your name. And I
intended to follow up the matter, but you know what happened."
He then went into further details, confirming what Mr. Strailey had
hinted at.
"And now what's to be done?" asked Joe.
"This, I think," replied his companion. "You let me take these papers
proving your identity, and I will submit them to one of our syndicate
solicitors. He'll take up the case for you as reasonably as any one,
and if he finds out there is money coming to you he'll get it if any
one can. I never saw such a chap for collecting money--never, by Jove!"
"And if there is some due me?" asked Joe.
"Then I'll have him send it to you, or bring it myself if I come back
in a reasonable time."
"Will it be necessary for me to go to England?" asked Joe.
"I think not, with the proofs I have here. Still I can not say for
certain."
This was about all that could be done, and when the express stopped at
Mill Junction Joe bade Mr. Craige good-bye and got off.
"Wish me good-luck on your mission!" cried the Englishman, and Joe did
most heartily.
Joe Strong had to wait some little time for a train back to Borden, and
when he reached there, and found his motor-cycle safe, he decided it
would be best to remain over night, rather than travel a strange road
after dark.
But early the next morning he was on his way back to where the circus
was playing.
"What kept you?" asked Helen. "I was quite worried about you."
"I was after my inheritance."
"Did you get it?"
"Well, I've got things started," said the youth, as he told of his
rather momentous day's experiences.
"Oh, I hope he gets it for you! I hope he does!" Helen murmured, and
Joe certainly shared in her hope.
Three weeks passed with no word from Mr. Craige and Joe was getting
a bit anxious. The show, meanwhile, moved on from city to city, and
in each place they visited Joe left careful instructions with the
postmaster to have his mail forwarded. He had also given Mr. Craige a
full route of the circus, so that, barring accidents, the Englishman
would know where Joe was each day.
And then one day, when Joe had finished his wire act, he found a
telegraph messenger boy waiting for him in the dressing tent.
"A cablegram for you," he informed Joe.
"Cablegram?" Joe's heart was beating fast.
"Yep."
With trembling fingers Joe tore open the envelope. The message read:
"Inheritance safe. Am coming back with part of it. Rest will follow.
Craige."
CHAPTER XXV
JOE'S INHERITANCE
The tip which Joe bestowed on that messenger boy was the largest that
youth had received in some time. The messenger boy looked at the
smiling lad who gave it to him, and then, as if afraid the recipient of
the cablegram might change his mind, or find out he had made a mistake,
the lad hurried off, forgetting to have Joe sign the book. He had to
come back later for that.
Joe read the message over again. Then he perused it for the third time.
"It's too good to be true!" he exclaimed.
"What is?" asked Helen, for, hardly knowing what he was doing, Joe had
spoken aloud.
For answer he held out the message to her.
She comprehended it in an instant, and her eyes sparkled as she held
her hand out to Joe, saying:
"The best of congratulations!"
"Thanks. I began almost to despair of getting it. But it seems to be
coming right along."
"It certainly does, Joe. How long do you think it will be before Mr.
Craige will get here?"
"Oh, about two weeks, I imagine. He evidently is returning right away,
or he would send the money instead of bringing it."
"Oh, Joe! I'm so glad! How much do you suppose it is?"
"I haven't an idea."
"I hope it is more than mine, though I'm not finding any fault."
Joe slowly refolded the message and put it in his pocket.
"Don't say anything to the others about it," he requested of Helen. "It
will be time enough to tell them when I have the actual cash. There may
be a slip-up at the last minute."
"Oh, I hope not, Joe!"
Helen seemed unusually thoughtful after that, so much so that Joe asked
her:
"What are you thinking about?"
"Oh, nothing," she said, blushing slightly and turning away.
"It must be something," he insisted.
"Oh, well, I was thinking, Joe, that, now you are to become rich,
you'll be saying good-bye--leaving the circus again, and this time for
good."
Joe considered a moment.
"Well, I may leave the circus," he said, "for I have a new plan I want
to try. But if I do say good-bye to the show, there is some one to whom
I will _not_ say good-bye."
"Who?" asked Helen quickly, and then she wished she could recall the
question.
"You," answered Joe in a low voice, "I'll never say good-bye to you."
Helen turned away, her cheeks reddening, and Joe took her hand.
"You wouldn't want me to say good-bye, would you?" he asked softly.
"No," she replied, and, though it was said very faintly, Joe heard it
and was happy.
Whether Joe's good fortune made him nervous, or whether there was some
slight defect in his apparatus that night did not disclose itself, but
Joe had another accident, though, fortunately, it did him no harm.
He was riding his motor-cycle across the wire for the second time, and
had just made the two shots, bursting the lighted toy balloons, when he
felt himself swerving to one side.
Joe was guiding his machine, or, rather, holding it to the straight
course of the wire, by means of thongs fastened to his knees and
attached to either handle bar. The thongs were fastened to Joe's knees
by means of clips, something like those cyclists use when they wish to
prevent their trousers from catching in the pedals.
"I'm in for another fall," thought Joe in a flash.
It was the work of but an instant to drop the two pistols and make
a grab for the handle bars, but Joe was too late. Over went the
motor-cycle, but it fell in such a way that one wheel went on one side
of the wire and the other on the opposite side, so that as Joe was
thrown out of the saddle the machine remained suspended in mid-air.
And Joe fell toward the life-net, his knees pulling free from the
steering clips.
There was a shout of alarm at Joe's tumble, but as he felt himself
hurtling through the air he reflected:
"I must make this seem part of the act, or there may be a panic!" And a
panic is the bugbear of a circus.
Calling to his aid some of his old trapeze tricks, Joe turned a series
of somersaults in the air, and when he was a short distance from the
life-net he straightened out to land feet first. The flags, which were
fastened to his shoulders, fluttered in the breeze his fall created,
and, had he but known it, Joe made a pretty picture, in his shimmering
white suit, with the stars and stripes fluttering above his head.
He landed safely in the net, and glancing up saw his machine safely
suspended on the wire. The accident had turned on the electric lights,
probably snapping on the switch, and the motor-cycle was illuminated as
it hung suspended.
Then such a roar of applause broke out that Joe knew the audience
had taken his fall as part of the act. Even Ryan and Jeroleman were
deceived. And when Jim Tracy came bustling up to Joe he said:
"That was great! Going to work that in every performance?"
"Most decidedly _not_!" exclaimed Joe. "It's too risky! It was an
accident."
But so well had he covered it, that for a moment the ring-master
believed the lad was joking, and had really planned the feat in advance.
"Well, it was the best-worked accident I ever saw," said Jim. Once more
the show moved on. The time was drawing near when the last performance
would be given, and then the circus would go into winter quarters.
Already some of the less prominent performers were leaving, for they
had engagements elsewhere and must take them at once or lose them. But
in the main the circus held together.
"What are your plans for the winter, Helen?" asked Joe, as they were
talking on this subject one day.
"I have an offer to go on the same circuit I played last year," she
said. "But I don't know that I'll accept. What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to try out the new plan of mine."
"Build an airship?"
"Not exactly. I----"
Joe was interrupted by an usher who came to tell him a gentleman was
outside asking for him.
"Bring him in," instructed Joe. He frequently received visitors,
most of whom merely wanted to shake hands, so they could boast of it
afterward. But this was no curiosity-seeker, for Joe saw Mr. Craige
advancing toward him.
"Well!" cried our hero. "I didn't expect to see you."
"No, I got out sooner than I expected, and, having some business of my
own in this neighborhood, I thought I'd call instead of writing."
"I'm glad to see you," said Joe.
"I rather thought you'd be," said the Englishman. "Now in regard to
your inheritance."
"I'll see you some other time, Joe," said Helen, getting up to leave.
"Please stay," Joe urged. "I want you to hear all about it."
"There was a lot of red tape about it, as there is about all law
matters in England," said Mr. Craige, "but there was no real
difficulty, once our solicitor got to work on the case."
"Then there was no trouble about proving my identity?" asked Joe.
"Not at all. One old fogy of a judge wanted our solicitor to produce
you in court to show that you were actually living. But I happened
to have one of your pictures doing your act, and I showed it to his
lordship."
"What did he say?" asked Helen.
"Well, he said Joe might be alive long enough to claim his inheritance,
but that he wouldn't live long if he kept on doing tricks like that,
and the solicitors laughed at the judge's joke, which pleased him very
much, and he gave us a quick decision."
"Then I have real money coming to me?" asked Joe.
"You certainly have. Here is a part of it, in the form of a certified
draft. I insisted on bringing some of it with me, and as soon as you
sign certain papers there will be more due you."
"I can't thank you enough, Mr. Craige," Joe said. "It is due to your
efforts that I have my fortune."
Mr. Craige then went into details. In brief, when Joe's grandfather
died he left a large estate. He had cut off his daughter Janet in
his will because of her marriage to the magician. But just before he
died the old Englishman seemed to repent, and he wanted to change his
will, but had no time. He did express a verbal wish, however, to have
his daughter, or her heirs, share in his wealth, and left an almost
illegible scrawl to this effect, and when the relatives tried to
enforce the actual written will there was testimony that offset it.
So a certain sum was set aside for Mrs. Strong, but all trace of her
seemed to be lost, and the money remained in the care of the court.
But Fate had acted kindly toward Joe after having given him some hard
knocks, and it has been seen how it came about that he was able to
claim his inheritance.
"And now how much is your bill?" asked Joe of Mr. Craige. "I feel that
I can't pay you enough, but I'll do the best I can."
"You don't owe me a cent," was the answer. "I had to go to England
anyhow, and I just turned the matter over to our solicitor. He did all
the work, and I think you will get a bill from him in time. But it will
not be high."
The tale of Joe's inheritance was made public, and this time he did
give a celebration to his wide circle of acquaintances.
"Well, I suppose we'll lose you now," said Jim Tracy mournfully to Joe.
"I never heard of a millionaire circus actor."
"I'm not a millionaire by a long shot," said Joe with a smile, "though
I think I will leave the circus for a while. But I'll finish out the
season with you, and maybe join again in the spring."
"Really?" cried the delighted ring-master. "And will you do your wire
act?"
"I hope to have a better turn," said Joe.
He would not tell Jim Tracy or the others what his act was to be, but
to Helen Joe said:
"I have an idea for a new kind of flying machine."
And those of you who wish to learn what sort it was, and how our hero
utilized it, are referred to the next volume of this series, which will
be entitled: "Joe Strong and His Wings of Steel; Or, A Young Acrobat in
the Clouds."
Gaily the trumpets sounded. The band blared and the drums boomed. Into
the tent swung the elephants, camels, and horses, bearing on their
backs the gaily attired men and women.
It was the grand entry, and once more the circus was in full blast. The
clowns cracked their merry jokes and went through their mirth-provoking
antics.
"There's your call, Joe," said Helen.
"Yes," he answered, "and perhaps for the last time."
In his shimmering white suit the youth was soon flashing across on the
high wire, and as he comes down on the other side, amid the applause of
the crowd, we will take leave of the circus and of Joe Strong.
THE END
* * * * *
BOOKS FOR BOYS
BY VANCE BARNUM
THE JOE STRONG SERIES
12mo. Cloth Illustrated. Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid.
JOE STRONG, THE BOY WIZARD
Or, The Mysteries of Magic Exposed
JOE STRONG ON THE TRAPEZE
Or, The Daring Feats of a Young Circus Performer
JOE STRONG, THE BOY FISH
Or, Marvelous Doings in a Big Tank
JOE STRONG ON THE HIGH WIRE
Or, Motor-Cycle Perils of the Air
JOE STRONG AND HIS WINGS OF STEEL
Or, A Young Acrobat in the Clouds
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