CHAPTER VII
JEALOUSY
“Say! she is pretty, all right, and that’s a dandy little act she has.”
“There! What did I tell you?” exclaimed Helen.
It was Joe who had made the first remark, on seeing, for the first time, Miss Tyndall with her “happy family.” The new performer had arrived and joined the circus, having been engaged personally by Mr. Sampson, the only remaining “brother” of the family which had given the show its name.
“Oh, I don’t mean anything except that she is nice looking and that her act is a novel one,” protested Joe, rather taken aback. “Can’t I say that much?”
“Oh, I’ll forgive you,” laughed Helen. “And she certainly is pretty!”
Miss Tyndall was really beautiful, and she created a favorable impression not only on the circus folk, but on the public in general. Though some of the rival performers said that the new arrival made herself appear younger than she really was.
Joe, though he heard that said, paid little attention to such jealous comments. He talked to Miss Tyndall, as did many others in the circus, but he had no special liking for her, though several of the men joked him about the matter, and hinted that Miss Tyndall was making sheep’s eyes at him.
“And you want to look out, Helen, or you’ll have a rival,” they warned the owner of Rosebud.
Helen tossed her head, and pretended not to care.
As for Joe, he was really too busy to give more than a passing thought to what was said. He had two things to worry him. One was the tangle into which his English money affairs was getting, and the other was the unsatisfactory progress made on his wings of steel.
In regard to Joe’s inheritance, the lawyer who had first represented him was away, and could not take further charge of the affair. As has been explained, the matter was in the hands of a Mr. Bolling, and Joe did not altogether like the way Mr. Bolling was doing.
Not that there was anything unprofessional in the solicitor’s conduct, and Joe could not find any flaws in his legal action. But to our hero it seemed that Mr. Bolling was not energetic enough.
“It needs some of our American lawyers to handle a case like that,” thought Joe. Mr. Bolling had written that not only was there a slim chance of Joe’s getting any more money, but that he might even be sued for what had already been paid to him.
“Well, let ’em sue!” said Joe. “They can’t get what I haven’t got. I’ve spent all of that money on my wings of steel. I had a right to it; so why shouldn’t I use it on my invention? And I’m doing my best to earn more; for I know my wings will succeed if they are properly made. I wonder how that fellow is coming on with them. I must write and find out. But first I’ve got to touch Mr. Bolling up a bit, and let him know I think I have a right to the rest of my mother’s money, and that he ought to ‘hump’ himself, as the boys say, and get it for me.”
Several letters had passed back and forth between Joe and the English solicitor, and with the writing of them, and the correspondence about the Bat, Joe was kept so busy that it is no wonder he had no time to pay much attention to Miss Tyndall, pretty and engaging as she was.
After his failure with the wings of steel the young experimenter had given the question of their construction serious thought. The thing was plain. The machine, with him in it, was too heavy to raise itself from the ground as it was then constructed.
“It is clear,” said Joe, “that I’ll have to use more powerful motors and bigger storage batteries. And how to do that is a question.”
It was at this rather discouraging point that Joe had heard of an inventor who specialized in electric motors and batteries. The young circus performer communicated with him, and engaged him to work on the problem of the wings of steel. The man, a Mr. Ryden, was much impressed with Joe’s idea, and grew enthusiastic about it. He went to the Brader factory, and there he was, at present, engaged on the reconstruction of the Bat.
Joe still kept up his two chief acts in the circus. He gave his thrilling ride across the high wire on his motor-cycle, and then created gales of laughter by falling into the tank.
Occasionally the lad did some of his sleight-of-hand tricks, at which he had been so successful when on the road with Professor Rosello. Joe wanted to keep his fingers nimble against the day when he might be soaring in his wings of steel.
“There’ll be plenty for my hands and feet to do when I get up in the air, with the different switches, rudders and things to control,” reflected the boy, “so I want to be in good practice.”
At odd times, too, Joe worked in private on the trapeze, for he wanted to keep in general good physical condition, and nothing is better for this than work on the bars or rings.
The latest reports from Mr. Ryden about the Bat were rather encouraging, and Joe was planning, when the circus should be within traveling distance of the Brader factory, to ride over on his motor-cycle to see how matters were progressing.
Joe Strong had two motor machines. One was a specially made, light one for use on the high wire, and the other was an ordinary road machine.
One day Joe was busy overhauling his road motor-cycle in preparation for a run about the country. He carried the two machines with him and often went off on little pleasure trips, sometimes taking Helen with him. He was thinking, on this occasion, of asking her to go for a ride, as there was plenty of time between the afternoon and the night performances.
However, he was not able to carry out his intentions, for, just as he had his machine in readiness and was starting to look for Helen, he saw Miss Tyndall coming toward him, with a little dog in her arms.
“Oh, Mr. Strong, I am in such trouble!” exclaimed the girl who exhibited the “happy family.”
“Trouble! What kind?” asked Joe pleasantly.
“It’s Pinky, my best little dog. He’s got a bone in his throat, and I’ve got to get him to a veterinarian right away or my pet may die. That would spoil my act! What shall I do?”
“Can’t one of the animal men get it out for you?”
“They’ve tried, but Pinky is so little they haven’t an instrument small enough. Oh! there must be a good veterinarian in the town. If I could only get Pinky to him in time! But—look!”
She held out the little dog, which seemed to be in his last stages, for he was gasping and choking.
“It’s too bad!” said Joe. “I wonder what we can do? I have it!” he cried. “Jump on my motor-cycle—it’s built for two—and I’ll run you into town in a jiffy. Then we’ll look up an animal doctor and see what can be done. I’d take Pinky in myself, only I can’t very well carry him and manage the machine.”
“Oh, I’d rather come with you myself!” exclaimed Miss Tyndall. “Pinky won’t let any one touch him if I’m not with him. It’s awfully good of you, Mr. Strong. Do I just sit on the rear seat?”
“Yes, just sit steady. I’ll have you in town in no time.”
They were off a moment later, Joe directing the machine off the circus grounds into the city on the outskirts of which the show was being given.
They inquired the way to the nearest veterinarian, and the animal doctor was soon working over Pinky. He easily extracted the bone, but the little dog was so weak that the doctor advised that it be left in his establishment, at least until night.
“Well, if I have to I suppose I must,” said Miss Tyndall. “But the act won’t be half as good without Pinky.”
“I think he’ll be in shape for the evening performance,” said the doctor. “You can come back for him then.”
So, without the little dog, Joe and Miss Tyndall left the place.
“Oh, I was so worried about him!” the girl exclaimed. “My nerves are all in a flutter. I thought he’d die. I wish I could calm myself, or I won’t be able to do my act to-night.”
“I’ll take you for a little ride,” suggested Joe. “It will do you good.”
He guided the machine off into the pleasant country, and they rode back to the circus in time for supper, Joe promising to take her on the machine later to get the dog.
After the youth had put away his motor-cycle he walked over to his dressing tent, meeting Helen on the way.
“Hello!” he called to her pleasantly. “I meant to take you for a ride this afternoon, but——”
“Oh, you needn’t bother to explain,” she cut in, passing on.
Joe started back as though struck.