Joe Strong and his wings of steel

When Joe’s second, and successful, flight was concluded he found his clothes were dry enough to put on.

“Though they need a visit to the tailor’s before I shall look the way I want to,” he said with a smile. “But we’ll be traveling back after dark, so no one will see me.”

“And I’ll have the machine crated and shipped to you,” said Mr. Ryden. “Are you going to use it in the circus?”

“I haven’t quite decided,” was Joe’s reply. “Jim Tracy, our ring-master and one of the owners, doesn’t seem to think much of it. But I may cause him to change his mind. I think the wings of steel, aside from everything else, are quite a novelty.”

“They’re more than a novelty,” said Bill Watson. “They’re a dangerous toy,” and he smiled grimly.

“But they’ll attract a lot of attention,” said Benny Turton, “and that’s what one wants in a circus.”

“Well, we’ll see what can be done with them,” concluded Joe. “At least I have proved that I can fly with them.”

The journey back to the town in which the circus was to stay over Sunday was safely made. A few days later, on their arrival in another town, Joe received word from the express company that there was a big box for him.

“It’s my wings of steel,” said the young performer. “I suppose I can carry them with the rest of my baggage, Jim Tracy?” he asked the ring-master.

“Oh, yes,” was the answer. “Bring ’em along. Ben and Bill were telling me what you have been doing, but I’d rather you wouldn’t use your new machine, Joe.”

“Why not?” asked our hero in some surprise. For instead of finding the ring-master enthusiastic, as he had thought he would be, Joe found the circus owner rather indifferent toward what the boy felt was a decided triumph. “Why don’t you want me to use the wings?” he repeated.

“Because, from what Bill Watson tells me, they’re dangerous, Joe, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Why, I didn’t get hurt! I had one little accident, but I got out of it all right. My wings are as safe as——”

“They’re not any safer than your high wire, and that isn’t safe,” said the ring-master. “Understand, Joe, I’m speaking from a selfish motive. I don’t want you to get hurt, because your place would be hard to fill as a drawing attraction, and goodness knows we need that in this circus of late.”

“Oh, well, I’m not going to get hurt,” Joe declared, “and I intend to use the wings some time.”

“Well, put it off until the end of the season,” was the ring-master’s advice. “You are one of our most valuable assets, Joe, like a baby elephant——”

“Oh, don’t compare me with one of the animals,” interrupted Joe with a laugh.

“No, but you know what I mean. You’re as big a drawing card as a baby elephant would be, and you know how the crowds come to the show just to see that. So I don’t want to lose you by having you break your neck in your wings of steel—and Bill Watson declares that’s what you will do.”

“Oh, Bill! Well, Bill means all right,” said Joe with a smile, “but he’s as nervous as a woman about some things.”

“Well, just leave off the wings,” concluded the ring-master, as he passed on.

“And continue to be the baby elephant,” added Joe, who seemed amused at the idea.

“Elephant—elephant,” he repeated to himself, as he went to his dressing tent. “I wonder if I could work that trick. It would give Jim Tracy the surprise of his life—and some others, too. I’ve a good notion to try it.”

But what he was going to try Joe confided to no one—not even to Helen. She asked him about his wings of steel, but the lad had no chance to show them to her or to make another flight, for the circus was constantly on the road now, playing only two performances in each stopping place; consequently, there was not time to unbox the wings and make a flight. Not that their owner was anxious to do so, for he planned to make money out of his wings by giving exhibitions, and he did not see how he could do this by going up on the circus grounds in plain sight of every one.

“If I can’t make a contract to fly in the circus tent, which I could do, for it’s high enough, then I must make contracts with fairs and expositions, as I did when I first rode the high wire,” said Joe. “But first I’m going to carry out my surprise.”

The show played in a large city one Saturday, but the attendance was not good, and Joe saw Jim Tracy, Mr. Sampson and some of the other partners in conference later on. He heard that they were discussing ways and means of cutting down expenses, and, at the same time, making the circus a better drawing card.

“I guess it’s about time to spring my surprise,” reasoned Joe. “We will lay up over Sunday in Millburn, and that will give me a chance to get out the wings and set them up.”

Joe did not, as a rule, believe in working on Sunday, and Sunday performances were never given. But in a circus, as in many other industries and businesses, there are certain things that must be done on Sunday as well as on week days. Sometimes the show traveled on Sunday, and if it did not, there were the animals to feed and look after, and many routine tasks to perform.

So Joe felt that he had a certain right to do on Sunday what he had, of necessity, to do. Accordingly, with the help of Benny Turton, he unboxed the wings of steel and put them together. This was a comparatively simple matter, for the wings had only to be attached to the framework, and the gear wheels and torsion rods connected. The storage battery was still charged, but to make sure of plenty of current Joe had the electrodes attached to a small dynamo which was carried with the circus, the dynamo being operated by a gasoline engine. Joe had a transformer, so that the battery would receive only the proper sort of current, it being possible to change an alternation into a direct current.

The youth said nothing to Jim Tracy about the plan for a surprise. As a matter of fact, he saw little of the ring-master that day. There seemed to be some financial trouble, and that had taken him out of town for the greater part of the day.

“And are those the wings of steel, in which you fly?” asked Helen, when Joe brought her in to give her a view of the machine.

“That’s what they are, Helen. What do you think of them?”

“Joe, I think they’re very dangerous,” she answered earnestly, “and I do hope you will never get hurt in them.”

“I hope so myself, Helen, but they’re not as dangerous as you think. I’ll give you a chance to judge to-morrow.”

“Are you going to make a flight?”

“Hush!” he exclaimed, looking around to make sure no one heard. “It’s a secret!”

Helen shook her head.

“I don’t like such dangerous secrets,” she murmured.

After Joe had charged the storage battery to its capacity he gave the wings a partial trial in the privacy of the tent, when only a few of the circus folk were about. He turned on the power slightly—enough to be sure that the wings would vibrate, and he was certain that when the full strength was sent into the motors that the Bat would rise with him in it, as it had done before.

There was a worried look on the face of Jim Tracy the next day. Joe, who approached to talk over some circus matters with him, noted this, and asked:

“What’s the trouble?”

“All sorts,” answered the ring-master gloomily. “It looks as if we were going to have a frost.”

“Not this hot weather,” protested Joe, for it was the middle of the summer.

“I mean a financial frost,” Jim explained. “There has been only a small advance sale of tickets, and always before, in this town, we have drawn well. But I guess the public is getting tired of circuses—and we’ve got one of the best.”

“I know what financial troubles are,” said Joe, as he thought of his own tangled affairs in England, which were no nearer to being straightened out than before. “But why don’t you give ’em a bang-up parade, Jim, and awaken enthusiasm?”

“We’re going to have a parade, but I don’t see how I can make it any different, or make it draw a crowd to fill the tents.”

“Maybe I can think of a way, Jim. May I borrow Rajah?”

“What! Our biggest elephant?”

“I want the biggest you’ve got, and a man to steer him—or whatever it is you do to elephants. May I have him?”

“Why, yes, I suppose so. Are you going to ride in the parade?”

“Sort of. It will be my first offense.”

“Well, don’t try anything rash,” advised Jim. “Rajah won’t stand for being ridden over by a motor-cycle.”

“I won’t do that,” Joe promised, laughing.

Jim seemed strangely indifferent to what Joe proposed to do, but our hero knew it was because the ring-master was thinking of the troubles which the circus had to meet.

Monday dawned bright and clear, a fine circus day if ever there was one. Preparations for the parade started soon after breakfast, and every one had orders to look his best—to make as good a showing as possible.

Joe told Tom Layton, the mahout of Rajah, of the permission accorded by the ring-master.

“Want to ride on Rajah; eh?” repeated Tom. “Why sure, I’ve no objection. Rajah is as steady as a church and as gentle as a baby. I can do anything with him.”

“That’s why I decided on him,” said Joe. “He won’t run away if something happens, will he?”

“If something happens? What do you mean?”

Joe looked around to be sure no one was listening, and then he explained something to Tom in a low voice. The elephant man seemed surprised, and then amused. Finally he remarked:

“Well, yes, it can be done. And, as you say, we can carry up the sides of the howdah higher so no one can see what is in it.”

“That’s what I want. I think we’ll give ’em a surprise all right.”