Joe Strong and his wings of steel

Joe looked at Perkins. He was in two minds as to whether or not to believe the Englishman, yet the latter seemed sincere and penitent.

“I guess you’d better tell me the whole story,” suggested the boy.

“I will,” Perkins promised. “I’ve been a bad man, but I’m done now. That fire cured me. I thought I was a goner, and when you rescued me, and when I found out it was you—well, I made up my mind to do the square thing and confess. I’ll help you all I can.”

“Come into my dressing tent,” suggested Joe kindly, for he saw that the man was nervous. “I’ll listen to what you have to say, and then we can decide what to do.”

So Perkins told his story. It was one full of plots and counterplots, not all of which involved Joe.

“This Bolling is a crook,” said Perkins. “I’m calling him that though I was one myself up to now. But I’m through!”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said the youth.

“His chief game,” went on the Englishman, speaking with a peculiar cockney accent, “is to work on involved English estates, such as your mother’s. How he got hold of that case I don’t know, but he did. The money due you—I mean the extra money besides that which you already had—was turned over to him, but he held it back, and wrote you that the matter was so involved that it wasn’t likely you’d get what was due you. Didn’t he say that?”

“In effect he did,” admitted Joe. “But how did you know?”

“Oh, I’m one of his tools—or I was!” exclaimed Perkins, with new energy. “I’m through now! Well, as I said, your money was turned over to him, as he said he represented you. Of course those who paid him expected that he would transfer the money to you, keeping out whatever his charges were. But he did not. He kept it all, and said it was in litigation—involved in lawsuits.”

“Then there wasn’t any one heir who was making trouble?” asked Joe.

“Not a one. It was all a ‘put-up job,’ as you say over here in the States.”

“And how did you happen to come over here?” asked the young acrobat.

“Well, as I say, I was one of Bolling’s tools. When he found out that you were getting suspicious, which I think he did because of your letters, he called me in. He said he thought you were going to make trouble, and that I’d better come over and make an offer to whack up with you.

“Well, I agreed to. He had me in his power, Bolling did, because of other crooked work I had done for him. So we got the route of the circus, and I made arrangements to see you. Our idea was that if we couldn’t get the whole of your money we’d take half. I was to offer to help you get what was due you if you’d give me fifty per cent.

“Of course, if you had agreed I’d have simply notified Bolling and he would have sent you half of your estate. The rest he and I would have kept—he getting the larger share, as he always does.

“But when you came to see me the other day, and when your friend came in so unexpectedly, I thought you had put up a game to trap and arrest me. That’s why I ran away in such a hurry.”

“I imagined something like that,” the youth observed.

“And that’s about all there is to tell,” said the man. “I didn’t know what next to do. Then came the fire. I was trapped in my room. There was some sort of explosion I think, it was all so sudden. We went up to the roof and—well, you saved my life. I’m doing all I can to make up for the nasty way I acted.”

“Shake hands!” exclaimed Joe impulsively. After all, the little Englishman had proved that he had good qualities in him.

“And now,” went on our hero, “I’m going to ask you for some advice. You seem to know the inside of this game. What would you say was best to do?”

“Get right after Bolling!” exclaimed Perkins. “I’ll testify against him, and my testimony will be valuable.”

“Then you’d better go back to London,” said Joe, “and see the lawyer who first acted for me—Mr. Craige’s friend. He is again taking up the case, and with your testimony he can act to better advantage. Go back to England, if you will, and help my case.”

The man seemed embarrassed.

“I’d go back in a minute, Mr. Strong,” he said, “but, to tell you the truth, I haven’t the money. Bolling gave me only enough to get to you. He said you’d come across with the money easy, so I could get back. If you’ll wait until I earn my passage, I’ll——”

“I’ll advance the cash,” said Joe.

“Then I’ll do my best to get your inheritance back from Bolling!” cried Perkins. “And I know, with the help of a good lawyer, it can be done. I just haven’t been able to sleep—not a wink—since you saved my life at the fire. I’ve kept thinking of how nasty I’ve acted toward you.”

“Well, we’ll call it even,” said Joe. “Not that money can buy a life, but I think you’ve done the square thing. Now let’s go into details, and I’ll give you a letter to Mr. Craige’s lawyer, who is acting for me again, and also arrange to advance the money to you.”

Perkins was a repentant and grateful man.

Joe told no one save Helen, Benny and Bill about the visit from the Englishman.

“I guess I’m now in a fair way to get what’s coming to me,” said the youth gleefully.

“And when you do,” remarked Benny, “I suppose you’ll invent some other queer flying machine, or something like it, and astonish the natives some more.”

“Maybe,” said the lad dreamily, as he looked at Helen and smiled.

One of the first things Joe did after he heard the confession of Perkins was to forward a cablegram to the syndicate attorney, telling briefly what had occurred. In return he got a message saying it was good news, and to send Perkins on as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, the Englishman received a cablegram himself. It was from Bolling, and read:

“What is situation in Strong case?”

“What shall I tell him?” Perkins asked Joe. “There’s one of your American expressions that has been sticking in my mind. I’d like to cable him that, if you don’t mind. It would spoof him a bit.”

“What expression is it?” the boy asked.

“Let me see now. It—it is this. Hum—now it’s queer I can’t recall it—but it means that there is an absolute absence of anything at all having happened—that is it, sir—an absolute absence of anything at all having taken place. Cable him that!”

“Oh! You mean, ‘Nothing doing!’” suggested Joe, with a laugh.

“That’s it! An absolute absence of anything at all having transpired—nothing doing—very good, cable him that.”

This Joe, still laughing, did.

Perkins went back to England, doubtless with many new and strange ideas about the United States. And the circus kept on its way.

The season was approaching when outdoor exhibitions must fold their tents away, for the days were growing shorter and fall would soon be at hand.

Still the Sampson Brothers’ Show had a few dates to fill. Business had been good since Joe’s winning of the aviation prize. That seemed to bring good luck.

They were playing in the city of Boonton, and from there the show was to go to Bridgeport for the winter. Crowded were the tents, for there had been a good advance sale of tickets and there was “straw room only,” which meant that many sat on the ground on straw placed around the ring.

“Well, Joe, how is the English money coming along?” asked Bill Watson, as he passed our hero, who was getting ready for his act.

“I haven’t heard from Perkins since he went back,” Joe replied, “but I guess everything is coming along all right. There goes my signal.”

A peculiar bugle call announced that Joe’s turn had come to circle about the tent in the Bat. He had already ridden the motor-cycle on the high wire.

There was applause as Joe took his place in the framework and started about the tent. He was now well known the country over, it seemed, and in every town where the circus showed there were special stories in the papers about the young acrobat and aviator, for Joe could qualify for both.

Up into the air went Joe. Around over the heads of the people he sailed, the big wings flapping. And as he circulated he dropped tiny flags for souvenirs.

Benny Turton was doing some preliminary work in the big glass tank, and as our hero flew over it he had a sudden idea. A smile came to his face.

“I’ll do it and surprise them all!” he said to himself.

Hovering over the tank, Joe suddenly released himself from the holding straps. Then, with a kick of his feet to turn the rudder in order to steer the Bat safely to an open space in the ring, and shutting off the current, Joe made a dive through the air toward the tank.

There were shouts of astonishment and of alarm as his form, in the shimmering white suit, shot downward, to enter the water a moment later. Benny, who was on the bottom of the tank, looked up in alarm, but a glance at Joe’s face showed him that it had been done by design, and was not an accident. Lizzie, the seal, was not in the tank just then.

Then Joe and Benny posed under the water, while the audience applauded madly at Joe’s clever trick which had so startled them when they thought it an accident.

“That was great!” cried the ring-master, as Joe came out. “You must do that every performance after this.”

“Maybe—next season,” laughed Joe. “This is the last night.”

And so it was, for the show was to disband until summer came again.

That night, as Joe was packing his trunk to go to New York, where he planned to fill a winter season engagement, a cablegram came for him. It was from the attorney for the syndicate, and read:

“Perkins a great help. Bolling has absconded. Your money safe. Am sending it on. Congratulations.”

“That’s just fine, Joe!” exclaimed Helen, when he told her. “Oh, I am so glad. What are you going to do with it all?”

“Two things,” said Joe, with a smile. “For one thing, as long as I am part owner of the show now, I’m going to invest some money in it. I’m going to make it a bigger circus—second to none in the country. I believe there’s money in the circus business.”

“And what’s the second thing you’re going to do?” asked Helen, as Joe paused.

He went over closer to her and said:

“With the rest of my money I’m going to buy an engagement ring for you. May I?”

There would be no use in setting down here Helen’s answer. You have already guessed it.

And so that brings my story to a close. Not that this was an end to the adventures of Joe Strong, for he had many more, and they may be related in another volume. But, for the present, let us say good-bye.

THE END