Joe Strong and his wings of steel

With a blare of trumpets, with stirring music from the circus band on top of the big gilded wagon, with the crazy medley supplied by the clown band, with the booming of drums and the shrill tones of the calliope, or “steam piano,” as it used to be called, the parade started for the main street of the town, followed by the usual crowd of boys who had been waiting on the circus lots since early morning.

“Well, it makes a pretty good showing,” said Mr. Sampson to Jim Tracy, as they sat in their carriage at the head of the cavalcade, for the owners made it a point to do this.

“Yes, the parade is all right,” conceded the ring-master, but there was no enthusiasm in his voice. “If only we can get the crowds we’ll be all right. I don’t see anything of Joe Strong, though,” he added.

“He never goes in the parade,” commented Mr. Sampson.

“He said he wanted to this time—asked to be allowed to ride on Rajah. But I don’t see him. I wonder what Tom has made the sides of the howdah so high for?” and Jim looked at the small “house” which is carried on an elephant’s back. This howdah had been made taller, with cloth of gay colors.

Jim did not pursue the subject further, for he and Mr. Sampson began to talk of business matters. The parade was soon in the main street of the town, and certainly the crowds seemed large enough.

“They’ll come out for the free show, but they don’t seem to want to crowd the tents when they have to pay half a dollar a head,” said the ring-master gloomily.

Suddenly there appeared to be some commotion in the throng back of the carriage. Jim and Mr. Sampson turned around to see what was going on. They heard cries of wonder from the crowd.

“Look!” cried Mr. Sampson. “What is that in the howdah on Rajah’s back?”

“It’s Joe Strong and his wings of steel!” cried the ring-master. “That’s his game. He’s taken his flying machine up on the elephant’s back to give the crowd something to stare at. I wondered what he was up to, but I didn’t think of this.”

“Well, he’s making ’em sit up and take notice all right,” said Mr. Sampson eagerly.

The added cloth sides of the howdah had been dropped down, revealing Joe in his queer cage of leather and steel. The big wings, which had been folded down, were now outspread.

Then, suddenly, the wings began to vibrate up and down, slowly at first, but with increasing speed.

“Will Rajah bolt?” called Joe to the mahout on the elephant’s head.

“Not he,” answered Tom Layton. “Let her go, Joe. Start your flight whenever you’re ready, and take care of yourself.”

“Well, here I go!” cried the lad. Inside the cage of the Bat he turned the power full on, and an instant later he had risen from the elephant’s back and was soaring out of the roofless howdah, and through the air over the heads of the crowd.

Then such a roar as went up! Even the circus folk applauded, as did those in the crowd who looked on with widely opened eyes at the strange flight of the human bat.

Around and around circled Joe, eventually returning to the back of Rajah, where he landed gently. Then he made another flight, repeating this several times, and attracting more attention than anything else in the parade all along the route.

Back and forth, sometimes to the head of the procession and again to the rear, flew Joe in his wings of steel. And there was no denying the hit he had made. He kept up his flights all during the parade.

When the circus had circled back to the lots again, Jim Tracy hurried over to where Joe stood, having descended from the elephant’s back by means of a small rope ladder. The wings of steel were being lowered to the ground.

“Joe, you turned another trick for us!” exclaimed the ring-master. “That’s one of the best stunts yet. I take back all I ever said against the wings of steel. You’re going to fly in the tent, aren’t you?”

“Well, I hadn’t quite made up my mind,” said the lad.

“Then we’ll make it up for you!” cried Mr. Sampson with a laugh. “Jim and I were just wondering what we could do to make our show draw bigger crowds, and you’ve done it for us. It was great, Joe! You’ll have to give flights in the tent sure. The people will expect it.”

“Do you think they will?”

“I’m sure of it. You can fly in the tent, can’t you?”

“Oh, yes, only I can’t go up as high as the wings will take me.”

“Well, do the best you can. We’ll have crowds now all right! They’ll expect to see you do your flying stunt.”

This was proved a little later, for inquiries began to come in over the temporary telephone that had been installed on the circus grounds. Those calling up wanted to be sure they would see the young aviator in the wings of steel if they came to the circus, and they were assured that they would, for Joe decided to fly in the tent.

To do this act Joe had to omit some of his other turns, but he kept the comedy tank act, for that always “got a hand.”

“We’ll bill you as the ‘boy-bird-fish,’” said Jim Tracy. “That ought to make a hit.”

“Well, I hope, for the sake of the show, that it does,” commented Joe.

It need hardly be told what a success Joe made of his first flight in the tent. As Jim Tracy had predicted, there was a big crowd at the afternoon performance, and a larger one in the evening. Joe flew perfectly. He made his ascent from that part of the enclosed space where the chariot and other races were held, and he flew around in a circle. He did not go very high, of course, but it was flying nevertheless, and the crowd appreciated it. Joe circled back and forth over the heads of the audience, and dropped down little paper flags, which were eagerly grabbed up as souvenirs.

There was no doubt of the sensation that Joe made.

“Well, Helen, what did you think of it?” asked Joe, when the performance was over, and he had a chance to talk to his friend.

“It was perfectly marvelous, Joe!” she exclaimed. “But, oh, I just couldn’t bear to look at you! I was so afraid you’d fall!”

“Nonsense!” he laughed, “there was no danger. If the wings stopped flapping I’d just hold them out stiff and come down as easily as if I were in a parachute. Besides, I didn’t go up very high.”

“No, you couldn’t in the tent. But you may fly high some day, and then if you fall——”

She did not finish the sentence, but Joe understood.

“I’m not going to fall,” he said, and he seemed quite sure of himself.

Big new show bills were soon gotten out, showing Joe in the Bat flying through the air, while on another portion of the picture he was depicted in the tank of water with Benny. It was a novel attraction.

As has been said, it was decided to retain the tank act, for it made such a hit, and it formed a great contrast to the flying turn. Joe was, in a sense, master of two elements—the air and the water.

Once more the show was on the road, and for a time business was better, for the news of the queer flying machine, so unlike an aeroplane, had spread over the country.

Joe had no difficulty in transporting his apparatus, and the fact that the circus had a dynamo made it easy to recharge the storage battery. The young experimenter found his wings of steel worked even better than he had hoped. The newness wore off and they became more flexible, so that he could more easily guide them.

The only trouble was that in flying in the tent he hardly had room enough to give a good exhibition of what he could do. The circus tent was one of the largest made. It was bigger than the one the Sampson Brothers had used when Joe had first come to them, for they had bought one of increased size to accommodate Joe’s high-wire act.

“If necessary we’ll get a bigger one yet next season,” said Mr. Sampson. “We want you to have plenty of room, Joe.”

“Yes, that’s what I need. I really ought to fly in the open, but there would be no money in giving on open-air show.”

“Indeed not. And we need the money. How is your English inheritance coming on?”

“It isn’t coming on at all,” Joe said. “There’s some trouble I can’t understand. But it may straighten out in time.”

On reaching, in the course of the route, the town of Highfield, the managers of the circus found the lot where they were to erect their tents occupied by a man who had a captive balloon, in which, for a small sum, he allowed persons to go up.

“I’m afraid he’ll draw the crowd away from us,” said Jim Tracy.

“No, he won’t. Not after Joe does his flying act in the parade,” said Mr. Sampson, “and the crowd gets a taste of what it can see in our tents.”

It was just before the afternoon performance that Joe had the Bat out on the circus lot recharging the storage battery. Off to one side was the captive balloon, surrounded by a small crowd.

Leaving his machine in charge of the electrician, Joe strolled over to look at the captive balloon.

“Here’s your chance now, ladies and gentlemen!” exclaimed the man who owned the balloon. “Go up and see how the earth looks from the clouds. Only a quarter—twenty-five cents—for a trip in the balloon. Perfectly safe, and we land you back on earth in ten minutes. No danger at all. I go up with you, and my assistant down here pulls us back by the rope. Who’ll go up in the captive balloon?”

Several persons entered the basket which was attached to the big swaying bag, which had been filled with illuminating gas from one of the city mains.

Then suddenly, just as the balloon man was about to get into the car to rise with his passengers, something happened. Whether the rope had been frayed by too much use, or whether the balloon gave a stronger tug than usual, was not disclosed. But in a moment the balloon, a captive to earth no longer, shot up, while the women in it screamed in terror and the men shouted in alarm.