CHAPTER VIII
THE NEW WINGS
For a moment Joe hardly knew what to think. He stared after Helen, who walked on with her head held high in the air. She did not once turn around, as Joe half-hoped she would do, so he knew what she had said she had really meant. For some reason or other she was angry with him.
“But what in the world for, I can’t understand,” he mused, as he walked slowly away. “Just because I didn’t take her for a ride couldn’t have made all that difference. She doesn’t care much for the motor-cycle anyhow. I’ll have to ask her what it is.”
He was undecided whether or not to do this at once or to wait a while. Finally he decided to wait. A little later he met Miss Tyndall walking along. She came over toward Joe.
“Will you have time to do me another favor?” she asked, falling into step with him.
“Another one of the dogs ill?” he asked with a smile.
“No, but I wonder if you can take me with you when you go back to get Pinky. I’ll be so anxious about him.”
“Why, yes, I intended to take you—that is, if you want to come.”
“Oh, indeed I do! I never knew before how thrilling it was to ride on a motor-cycle. I don’t see how you dare ride one on the high wire.”
“Oh, it’s all in practice and in getting used to it,” Joe said.
“How did you come to take up that line of work?” Miss Tyndall asked.
And then, almost before he realized it, Joe was telling the girl much of his past life—of going out on the road with the magician, of joining the circus, and finally of acting in the tank. In her turn Miss Tyndall told something of herself. She had always been fond of animals, and so, naturally, when she had to earn her own living she chose to do it through the medium of the “happy family” of cats, dogs and other animals.
As Joe and Miss Tyndall were thus talking Helen again passed. She bowed and smiled, but her glance did not include Joe.
“Isn’t Miss Morton a dear girl?” asked Miss Tyndall.
“Fine!” answered Joe enthusiastically.
“And she is so expert with her horse. I should think all the men in the circus would be in love with her.”
“Oh, we all like her,” said Joe warmly.
“It’s nice to be popular,” was Miss Tyndall’s comment, and she sighed a little, giving Joe a sideways glance.
“I don’t think you have any reason to complain,” he returned with a laugh. “I’ve heard many compliments about you.”
“Have you, really? Tell me about them. Please do, Joe—I mean Mr. Strong!” and she seemed confused, and blushed. “I didn’t mean to do that,” she went on. “But I hear nearly every one call you by your first name——”
“So why shouldn’t you?” interrupted Joe with a smile. “Go ahead—I like it. And I’ll call you—Hazel.”
“That will be fine!” she exclaimed, laughing. “I do so hate being formal—Joe,” and there was the dancing light of mischief in her eyes as she looked at him.
Just before the time for the evening performance Joe took Miss Tyndall on the motor-cycle over to get the little dog. It was a fine moonlight evening and the trip was soon made. Pinky had fully recovered and seemed to enjoy the ride back in Miss Tyndall’s arms. The girl and Joe plainly enjoyed the trip, for they talked nonsense and laughed all along the way.
Joe did not get a chance to speak to Helen until after the night performance, and when he did she was hurrying to the train, for the show was about to move on.
“Helen,” began Joe, “I want to ask——”
“Please don’t ask me anything now,” she said, and she smiled faintly. “I am so tired! I want to lie down. I’ll see you in the morning. Did you and Miss Tyndall have a nice ride?”
“Why—er—yes,” said Joe, haltingly. “I—er—that is——”
But Helen, hurrying on to her car, did not wait for him to finish.
“This is queer,” mused Joe. “I wonder if Helen really thinks I care for Hazel?”
And the more he thought about it the more he was puzzled.
The next day, after arriving at the place where the circus was to show and having made sure that his motor-cycle apparatus was in proper shape, Joe sought out Helen, determined to have a talk with her.
“If she thinks I deliberately took Miss Tyndall out for a ride instead of taking her, as I promised, I’ll have to tell her differently, that’s all,” mused Joe. “She must be—jealous,” and he smiled at the thought.
But the determination to clear matters up with Helen and the ability to do so, were two different things. Helen either deliberately or by accident kept out of Joe’s way all that day, and when she did meet him she seemed to have some excuse for not stopping to chat as she had formerly done.
Miss Tyndall, on the other hand, made it a point to speak to Joe several times. She invited him to come and be introduced more intimately to some of the members of her animal family, and Joe accepted. He liked Miss Tyndall very much, but not in the same way that he cared for Helen.
There was a decided coolness in Helen’s manner, and Joe could not help noticing it. It was evident to others, too, for Bill Watson, the veteran clown, spoke about it.
“What’s wrong between you and the little lady, Joe?” he asked. “You and she don’t seem to be on good terms.”
“It isn’t my fault,” protested Joe.
“And I notice you’re taking quite a shine to Miss Tyndall,” the clown went on. “Well, she’s a mighty nice little girl; but it isn’t right, Joe, to throw over old acquaintances altogether when a new one comes along.”
“I’m not!” cried Joe. Then, getting desperate, he said: “What would you do, Bill? Helen doesn’t seem to want to speak to me any more.”
“What happened?”
Then Joe told the story of the motor-cycle ride to take the dog to the doctor’s.
“That’s it!” exclaimed the clown. “Now possibly Helen doesn’t understand that. It may be that some one has been gossiping. I’ll tell you what to do. Make it a point to see her, and tell her the whole business.”
“I’ve tried to, several times, but she won’t listen. She always seems to be in too much of a hurry.”
“I’ll fix it,” said Bill. “I’ll get my wife to call her in for a chat, and then I’ll let you know. You can stroll in, just casually, and then my wife will go out and you’ll have a chance to speak to Helen. Will that do?”
“Fine, thanks.”
That plan was carried out. At first Helen seemed embarrassed when alone with Joe, but he went boldly at the work of getting the explanation over with.
“Look here, Helen!” he exclaimed, “I want to tell you about that ride with Miss Tyndall.”
“Oh, I don’t know that it’s important for me to know,” she remarked, a bit coldly.
“But I want you to listen,” he said. And then he told about the dog, and Miss Tyndall’s request that he hurry with her pet to the doctor’s.
“Oh, I didn’t know that!” Helen exclaimed. “They never told me it was to take the dog! I’m—I’m so sorry, Joe,” and she held out her hand.
“Did some one tell you about my taking her out for a ride?” Joe asked.
“Yes. It was Miss——Oh, well, I won’t mention any names. Maybe she didn’t mean to cause trouble. But when I saw you and Miss Tyndall coming back that day I thought you just went off with her for a pleasure trip.”
“No, indeed!” cried Joe.
“Not that you wouldn’t have a perfect right to, if you liked,” Helen went on, “only——”
“Only I didn’t want to!” interrupted Joe. “It was a case of doing her a favor.”
“I see,” murmured Helen, and she tried to draw away her hand, but Joe, smiling, still held it.
“It’s a fine day,” he said, “and perhaps you’d like to come for a little motor-cycle ride yourself.”
“Perhaps I would,” Helen answered softly. And a little later, as the two rode off together, there being a few hours to spare between performances, Bill Watson turned to his wife and said:
“Well, I guess those two children have made up.”
“It looks so,” agreed Mrs. Watson with a smile. “That’s what they are—just children, and nice children, too!”
“Well, you can’t be young but once!” and the old clown sighed, though the weight of years rested lightly on him.
If Miss Tyndall felt any resentment she did not show it. She was as smiling and jolly as ever to both Joe and Helen. But when she dropped several hints to Joe that another motor-cycle ride would not be objectionable, even if there were no necessity for taking a dog to the doctor’s, Joe managed to get out of it gracefully.
And thus that little episode was safely gotten over with, though for a time it caused Joe some uneasiness.
Then our hero had something new to think about. One day two letters came to him. One was from his English solicitor, stating that Joe’s financial affairs were in worse shape than ever. He was urged to come over, if he possibly could, or send money to hire additional solicitors.
“Not if I know it!” Joe exclaimed. “I would like to run over and shake ’em up, but as for money—I’ll need all I have and can get to complete my wings of steel. And, speaking of them, let’s hear what Mr. Ryden has to say,” for the other letter was from the inventor who was working on the wings of steel.
Joe had but to read a few lines before he realized that the news was good. Mr. Ryden wrote:
“I do not want to be too sanguine, but I think the new wings are going to be a success. I wish you could come and test them. They work all right, with a weight equal to yours, but it wants an actual, living person under them to make the test complete. And I confess I have not the nerve to trust myself to them.”
“Hurrah!” cried Joe, so loudly that Helen, who was passing, heard and asked:
“What is it, Joe? Are you going to get the rest of your money?”
“Not yet, but my wings of steel are finished. I’m going to try them.”
A troubled look came over Helen’s face.
“Oh, Joe, I wish you wouldn’t!” she exclaimed.
“Don’t worry,” he answered. “It will be all right. I won’t get hurt.”
Joe was anxious to test the Bat as soon as possible, and how to do this, and not lose any time from the circus, was a problem to be solved. For his high-wire act was billed in advance, and to omit it from any performance would be to keep bad faith with the public.
However, on consulting Jim Tracy, Joe learned that there would be one open date, when the circus, by reason of making a “long jump,” would not play. And as the route took them within fair distance of Mr. Brader’s factory, Joe decided he would go there, as this would be the best chance he would have to give the new wings a trial.
“And we’ll go with you,” said Ben Turton and Bill Watson, when Joe told them his plans.
“We saw the failure; now we want to see the success,” said the old clown.