CHAPTER X
THE PET CAT
The typewritten sheet of the letter from Mr. Waldon enclosed two of the engraved circus coupons. They fluttered to the floor of Joe's private tent as he tore open the envelope.
"Well, either he has discovered something, or he has sent them back and given up," mused the young magician. "Let's see what he says."
Joe quickly took in the contents of the letter. In effect it stated that Mr. Waldon had discovered which were the bogus and which were the real circus tickets. He first gave an explanation of the chemical tests he used. Joe read this hastily, but carefully, then passed to the conclusions arrived at by the expert, who was an authority on various kinds of paper, as well as chemicals.
"The ticket I have marked No. 1 is a genuine coupon, issued by your circus corporation," said Mr. Waldon in his letter. "The slip marked by me as No. 2 is a counterfeit. You will observe that they both bear the red ink serial number 356,891.
"If you were a paper expert you would observe that the paper used in the two tickets is different. There is not a very great difference, and I am inclined to think that both the genuine and the counterfeit tickets were made on paper from the same mill, but of a different 'run.' That is, it was made at a different time.
"The printer who manufactured your tickets bought his paper from a certain mill making a specialty of this particular kind. Then some one, who must know something of your financial and business interests, had the bogus tickets made, and on the same kind of paper. But there is a slight difference, which I was able to detect by means of chemical reactions. The coloring matter used varied slightly, though the texture of the two kinds of paper is almost exactly similar.
"Now, having settled that point, the solution of the remaining equations of the problem rests with you. I can not tell who had the bogus tickets printed. You will have to go to the mill making the paper and find out to whom they sold this kind. In that way you will learn the names of all printers, using it, and by a process of elimination you will get at the one who printed the counterfeits.
"This printer may be an innocent party, or he may be guilty. That is for you and the detectives to determine. I hope I have started you on the right track. I shall be interested to hear, my dear Mr. Strong, how you make out in your fire-eating act."
"I'll tell him as soon as I try it on a real audience," said Joe, with a smile, as he folded the letter. "And so counterfeit tickets have been rung in on us! Well, I suspected that, since our own men were thoroughly to be trusted. Now to get at the guilty ones. And I shouldn't be surprised if I could name one of the men involved. But I'll call a meeting, and lay this before the directors."
The Sampson Brothers' Show was incorporated and was run strictly on business lines. There was a board of directors who looked after all business matters, and Joe was soon in consultation with them, laying before them Mr. Waldon's letter and the two marked tickets.
"It would take an expert to tell them apart," said Mr. Moyne, as he examined the coupons closely. "Well, what are we to do?"
"In the first place," declared Joe, "we must change our form of general admission tickets at once. That will stop the fraud, graft, or whatever you want to call it. Then we must do as Mr. Waldon says—look for the guilty parties. We'll have to hire some detectives, I think."
This plan was voted a good one, and steps were at once taken to change the form and style of the general admission tickets. Joe also wired for a man from a well known detective agency to meet the show at the next town. Then the printing shop which made the circus tickets was communicated with.
That was all that could be done at present, and Joe gave his attention to perfecting his new fire-eating act.
He did not give up his mystery box trick, and he still presented the vanishing lady illusion, Helen assisting in both of these. Joe also did the big swing, which always caused a thrill on account of the danger involved. Careful watch was kept over the trapeze and other apparatus so that no more dangerous tampering could he attempted, and Joe always looked over everything with sharp eyes before trusting himself high in the air.
"Some one evidently has a grudge against me as well as against the circus in general," he said to Jim Tracy.
"Maybe it's the same person," suggested the ringmaster.
"Perhaps. Well, as soon as we get some word from the detectives we can start on the trail."
The circus had arrived at a large city, where it was to show three days and nights, and preparations were made for big crowds, as the city was the center of a large number of industries, where many thousands of men were employed at good wages.
"We'll play to 'Straw Room Only' at every performance," said Mr. Moyne, rubbing his hands with glee as he thought of the dollars that would be taken in. "And I'm glad we discovered the bogus tickets in time. We'd be out a lot of money if the counterfeits were to be used here."
"Yes," agreed Joe. "But we aren't out of the woods yet. The same man who imitated the light green tickets may have the bright blue ones which we now use for general admission duplicated and sell them."
"We'll have to take that chance," said the treasurer. "But I'll instruct the ticket takers to be unusually careful."
That was all that could be done. The detective had reported that he was making an examination, starting at the paper mill, and was endeavoring to learn where the bogus tickets had been made.
The circus parade had been held and witnessed by enthusiastic crowds lining the streets. Then was every prospect of big business, and it was borne out.
Joe wished he had prepared his fire act earlier but it could not be helped.
"I'll have it ready for to-morrow, though," he said to Jim Tracy, at the conclusion of the first afternoon in the big city where they were to stay three days.
"Then I'm going to have it advertised," said the ringmaster, who also sometimes acted as assistant general manager. "We'll bill it big. You're sure of yourself, are you?"
"Oh, yes," answered Joe with a laugh. "I'll give 'em their money's worth all right, but it won't be the big sensation I'm planning for later on. That will take time."
"Well, as long as it's a fire act it will be new and novel, and it will draw," declared Jim Tracy.
It was later in the afternoon, when the circus performance was over, that Joe and Helen strolled downtown, as was their custom. Some convention was being held in the city, and across one of the principal streets was stretched a big banner of the kind used in political campaigns.
It was hung from a heavy, slack wire from the brick walls of two opposite buildings, and the banner attracted considerable attention because of a novel picture on it.
Joe and Helen were standing in the street, looking up at the swaying creation of canvas and netting, when a woman's cry came to their ears.
"Look! Look! The cat! The cat is walking the wire!" she exclaimed.
Joe and Helen turned first to see who it was that had cried out. It was a woman in the street, and with her parasol she pointed upward.
There, surely enough, half way out on the thick, slack wire, and high above the middle of the street was a large white cat. It was walking the wire as one's pet might walk the back fence. But this cat seemed to have lost its nerve. It had got half way across, but was afraid to go farther and could not turn around and go back.
As Joe and Helen looked, a woman appeared at the window of one of the buildings from the front walls of which the banner was suspended, and, pointing at the cat, cried:
"A hundred dollars to whoever saves my cat! A hundred dollars reward!"
CHAPTER XI
THE RESCUE
The tumult which had arisen in the street beneath the banner when the crowd caught sight of the cat was hushed for a moment after the woman's frantic cry. Before that there had been some laughter, and not a few cat-calls and exaggerated "miaows" from boys in the street. But now every one, even the mischievous urchins, seemed to sense that something unusual was about to take place.
"Come back, Peter! Come back!" cried the woman, stretching out her arms to the cat from the window out of which she leaned. "Come back to me!"
The white cat on the wire heard the voice of the woman and seemed to want to return to its mistress. But either the cat was not an adept at turning on such a narrow support, or it was afraid to try.
And, likewise, it was afraid to go forward. There it stood, about in the middle of the wire, high above the street, and it clung to its perch by its claws.
The banner was hung from the cross wire by means of several loops of rope, and it was in some of these loops that the cat had stuck its claws, and so hung on.
As the cat remained there, suspended, the crowd in the street below increased in size. But from the time the woman had so frantically called there had been no more of the cries from the crowd that might be expected to frighten the animal.
"Will some one get my cat?" cried the woman in a shrill voice, which could easily be heard by Joe, Helen, and nearly every one else. "I'll give one hundred dollars in cash to whoever saves him!" she went on. "Come back, Peter! Come back!" she appealed.
There was a thoughtless laugh from some one at the woman's anxiety, and some one cried:
"There's lots of cats! Let Peter go!"
"The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals ought to get after whoever that was," said Helen indignantly, and there was an approving murmur from some of those near her.
"Does any one know that lady?" asked Joe, pointing at the figure in the window. A pathetic figure it was, too, of an old woman clad in black, as though she had lost all her friends.
"Yes, she's a queer character," said some one who seemed to know. "Lives up there all alone in the old house that, except for the upper part where she is now, has been turned into offices.
"She's rich, they say. Owns that building and a lot of others on this street. But she lives all alone in a few rooms, and has a lot of pet cats. I guess that's one which got away."
"It got away all right," said another man. "And I don't believe she'll ever get it back. The cat's scared to death."
"Why doesn't it jump?" asked some one. "I heard that cats always land on their feet, no matter how far they fall."
"A fall from there would kill any cat," said Joe, as he handed Helen a small package he had been carrying—a purchase he had made at one of the stores.
"What are you going to do?" she asked, sensing that Joe Strong had some object in mind.
"I'm going to get that cat," he said in a low voice. "I can't bear to see it harmed, and it can't cling there much longer. Night's coming on, too, and if it isn't rescued soon it won't be until morning. I know what it is to have a pet suffer. I'm going to get that cat!"
"Oh, mister, you can't!" cried a small girl who was standing near by and overheard this remark.
"I should say not!" exclaimed the man who had given a little personal sketch of the woman in black. "The longest ladder in the fire department won't reach up to that wire, and they can't use extension ones, or scaling ones as they could on a building. You can't get that cat, sir, though I wish some one could. I don't like to see dumb brutes suffer. But you can't get it!"
"Perhaps I can!" said Joe modestly.
He started toward the street entrance of the old building, from the upper window of which leaned the pathetic figure of the woman calling to her cat out on the swaying wire.
"Oh, Joe," Helen began, "are you really going to—" and then she stopped.
"I am!" he answered, for he knew she understood. "Wait here for me. I won't be long."
Only a few in the crowd had heard what Joe said, or understood his intentions as he made his way through the press of people. The woman at the window was unaware of the fact that some one had heard her and was about to heed her appeal.
"A hundred dollars to whoever saves my cat!" she cried again.
This time no one laughed.
Joe Strong, acrobat, athlete, magician, and possessed of many other muscular accomplishments started up the stairs. The lower part of the office building was deserted at this hour, but he made his way to the place where he judged the woman lived alone. He was confirmed in this belief by hearing from behind a closed door the barking and whining of dogs.
"She must keep a regular menagerie," mused Joe. "Probably these are all the friends she has, poor old lady!"
He knocked on a door that seemed to be the entrance to the living apartments. There was a cessation of the barking and whining, and a moment later a querulous voice asked:
"Who is there? What do you want?"
"Is that your cat out on the wire?" asked Joe.
"Yes! Oh, yes! That's Peter! My favorite cat! Oh, have you saved him? Have you got him down? No, you can't have! He's out on that wire yet!" she cried. And then she opened the door.
Joe was confronted by the same woman he had observed leaning from the window. Her face was pale, and she was quite elderly. But there was a kind and pathetic look about her eyes. Once, she must have been beautiful.
Joe had no time to speculate on what might have been the romantic history of the woman. She looked eagerly at him.
"What do you want?" she demanded. "I never see any one. I live here alone. I must beg you to excuse me. I have to see if some one will not, save my cat."
"That is just what I came up for," said Joe, smiling. "I am a lover of animals myself. I'd like to save your pet."
"Oh, if you will, I'll pay you the hundred dollars!" cried the woman. "I have it!" she went on eagerly. "It's in here," and she motioned to the rooms. They were tastefully, but not lavishly, furnished.
"We'll talk about that later," said Joe, with a smile. "The point is let me get the cat first."
"But you can't get him from here—from these rooms!" the woman in black exclaimed. "He's out on the wire! You'll have to climb up in some way! Oh, I don't know how you can do it!" There were tears in her eyes and she clasped her hands imploringly.
"I can't get your cat from the street," said Joe. "That's why I came up here. I must walk out on the wire from your window. Have you a pair of slippers? The older and softer the better—slippers with thin, worn soles."
"Why, yes, I have. But you—you can't walk out on the wire! It is too small, almost, for my cat! You can't do it! It is impossible!"
"Oh, no," answered Joe gently, "it isn't impossible. I have done it before. If you'll let me get to a window near which the wire is stretched, and if you will let me take a pair of old slippers."
"Come in!" interrupted the eccentric old woman, opening wide the door. "I don't in the least know what you intend to do, but something seems to tell me I can trust you. And if only you can save Peter—"
"I'll try," said Joe simply.
The woman began to search frantically in a closet, throwing out shoes, dresses, and other feminine wearing apparel. As she delved among the things, a shout arose from the street, the noise of the voices floating in through the open window. Joe looked out.
"Oh, has Peter fallen?" cried the woman.
That, too, had been Joe's thought.
"No," he answered, as he took an observation. "Your cat has only changed his position a little. I suppose the crowd thought it was going to fall, but it's all right. I'll soon have it back to you. Is it a vicious cat?"
"Oh, no indeed. He's as gentle as can be. But perhaps he might be so scared now that he wouldn't know what he was doing. I see what you mean. Here, I'll give you an old pair of gloves for your hands."
"That's what I want," said Joe. "I can't afford to have my hands scratched, as I do some legerdemain tricks. But I need some soft-soled slippers more than I need gloves."
"Here is a pair," said the woman. "They're mine. I wear large ones, for I like to be comfortable."
"They'll fit me," decided Joe, after an inspection. "Just what I want, too!"
He began to take off his shoes.
"Do you really mean you are going to walk out on that wire and get my cat?" asked the woman, comprehending his intention as she saw Joe putting on the slippers and drawing on the old gloves she had given him. They were a man's size, and he judged she must have used them in rough work about the house.
"I'm going out on the wire to get your cat," he said.
"Oh, but I ought not to let you! You may fall and be killed! When I said I'd give a hundred dollars to whoever would save Peter, I did not mean that any one should risk his life. Much as I love my cat, I couldn't allow that."
"I'll be all right," said Joe easily. "Walking wires is part of my business. Now don't worry. And please don't scream if you are going to watch me."
She looked at him curiously.
"I am not in the habit of screaming," she said quietly.
"Well, I thought it best to mention it," said Joe.
He was now ready for his most novel form of walking the wire. He moved toward the window from which the woman had leaned. It was the same casement whence the cat had started on its perilous journey. Joe felt sure of himself. The slippers were just what he needed, with soft, pliable soles, worn thin. They were the best substitute he could have found for his circus shoes.
The wire from which the banner was suspended was fast to an eye-bolt set in the brick wall of the building a little below the sill of the window. It had been easy for the cat to step out and get on the cable.
Joe appeared at the window. He had taken off his coat and, in his white shirt, blue tie, and black trousers, he made a striking figure in the brilliant sunset light.
Instantly the crowd in the street saw him and divined his intention. Joe doubted not that Helen was looking up at him.
It was an easy step for him from the window sill to the wire from which was suspended the banner. He knew it would support his weight in addition to the big net affair. The size of the cable and the manner in which it was fastened told him that. Still he cautiously tried it with one foot before trusting all his weight to it. The spring of the wire told him all he needed to know.
Pausing a moment to make sure of himself, Joe Strong started to walk across the wire toward the clinging cat. The crowd gave one roar of welcome and approval, and then became hushed. This was what Joe wanted.
Now it was just as if he were doing the act in the circus. Only there was this difference—there was no safety net below him. But it was not the first time Joe had taken this risk. True, beneath him were the hard stones of the street, but a fall from the height at which he now was would be fatal, no matter what the character of ground under him. He dismissed all such thoughts from his mind.
Slowly, and with the caution he always used, Joe started on his journey across the wire. The cat felt his coming, and turned its head, as it crouched down, and looked at him. But it did not move. The creature was literally "scared stiff."
Foot by foot Joe progressed. Below him the crowd watched breathlessly. Joe knew Helen was there, praying for him, though he could not see her. In the window stood the figure in black, a silent, hopeful but much worried woman. She kept her promise not to scream, but Joe realized that the crucial moment was yet to come.
On and on he went nearer and nearer to the crouching cat. If only the animal would have sense enough to lie still and not make a fuss when he picked it up, Joe felt that all would be well.
But would Peter behave? That was the question.
Joe was now almost over the middle of the street. Far below him was the crowd—a sea of upturned faces, reddened by the reflected rays of the setting sun. The throng was silent. Joe was glad of that.
"Keep still now, Peter, I'm coming for you!" said Joe in a low voice.
"That's right, Peter!" added the woman. "Be a good cat now. You are going to be saved! Keep still and don't scratch!"
Whether the cat heard and understood it is hard to say. But it uttered a pitiful:
"Mew!"
Inch by inch, foot by foot Joe advanced. He was quite sure of himself now. He felt that he could easily have walked across the wire from building to building, with the street chasm below him, and even could have made the return trip. But picking up the cat and carrying it back was another thing. It would have been easier for Joe to have carried a man across on his back. He could direct the motions of the man. Could he those of the cat?
Still he was going to try.
On and on he went. The woman in black was leaning from the window, holding out her arms as though to catch Joe should he fall.
But he did not think of falling.
In another few seconds he was standing right over the cat. He could see the animal's claws tensely clinging to the rope strands that held the banner. Now came ticklish work.
"Easy, Peter! Go easy now!" said Joe soothingly.
He slowly and carefully stooped down. It was a trick he had often performed in the circus on the high wire. But never under circumstances like this.
Joe's hands came in contact with the fur of the cat's back. He gently stroked the animal, murmuring:
"Come on now, Peter! Let go! Loosen your claws! I'm not going to hurt you. Let me pick you up!"
Again it is hard to say that the cat knew what Joe was saying, but it certainly made its body less tense. The claws were loosed. Joe straightened up, holding the cat in his arms. He could feel its heart beating like some overworked motor.
A roar arose from the crowd, but it was instantly hushed. The throng seemed to realize that the return journey was infinitely more perilous than the outward one had been.
Joe could not turn. He must walk backward to the window, carrying the cat, which at any moment might become wild and scramble from his arms, upsetting his balance.
Yet Joe Strong never faltered.
CHAPTER XII
THE FIRE ACT
Realizing that he must use every caution, Joe Strong had two things to think of. One was himself, and the other the cat. He could not carry the creature in his arms, as he needed to extend them to balance himself. He had walked short distances along slack wires without doing this, but in those cases he had been able to run, and his speed made up for the lack of balancing power of the extended arms. Now, however, he needed to observe this precaution.
What could he do with the cat?
In that moment of peril a boyhood scene arose to Joe's mind. He recalled that on the farm where he had lived there was a pet cat which liked to crawl up his back and curl on his shoulders, stretching out completely across them and snuggling against the back of his head.
"If I can get this cat to do that I'll be all right," thought Joe. "I'll try it."
Balancing himself, he changed the cat's position and put it up on his shoulder. Even if it rested on only one it would leave his hands free and he could extend his arms and balance himself. But Peter seemed to know just what was wanted of him. With a little "mew," the animal took the very position Joe wanted it to—extended along his back, close to his head.
And not until then did Joe begin to step backward. Breathlessly the crowd watched him. Step by step he went, feeling for the wire on which he placed his feet. And each step made him more confident.
The crowd was silently watching. It was reserving its wild applause.
Step by step Joe walked backward until he heard the low voice of the woman at the open window.
"Shall I take Peter now?" she asked.
"Can you reach him?" asked Joe. He knew he was close to the building.
"Yes," she answered.
"Then do," said Joe. "He may try to spring off when he sees himself so close to you. Take him. I'll stand still a moment."
He felt the cat stirring. The next instant he was relieved of Peter's weight, and then, with a quick turning motion, Joe himself was half way within the window and sitting on the sill.
He had walked out on the wire, stretched a hundred feet above the street, and rescued the cat. The pet was now in the arms of the woman in black.
And then such a roar as went up in the crowd! Men thumped one another on the back, and then shook hands, wondering at their foolishness and why there was such a queer lump in their throats.
"Oh! Oh!" gasped the woman, as she hugged Peter to her. "I can never thank you enough—not in all my life. It may be foolish to care so much for a cat. But I can't help it. It isn't all that. I couldn't have borne it to have seen him fall and be killed."
"He's all right now—after he gets over being scared," said Joe, as he stroked the cat in the arms of the woman in black.
"And now will you let me know to whom I am indebted?" she asked. "Please come in, and I'll pay you the reward."
"Well, I'll come in and put on my shoes," said Joe, with a smile. "I didn't need the gloves," he added. "Peter was very gentle."
"Oh, he's a good cat!" said his mistress. "And now," she added, when Joe had resumed his shoes and coat, "will you please tell me your name and how you learned to walk wires and rescue cats?"
"I never rescued cats before," Joe returned, smiling. "It's something new. But walking wires is my trade—or one of 'em. I'm with the circus. I do some tricks and—"
"Oh, are you the man who gets out of the box?" she cried. "I have read about that trick."
"It is one of mine," said Joe modestly.
"I'm so glad to know you!" exclaimed the woman. She seemed less of a recluse than at first. "I haven't been to a circus for years—not since I was a child," she continued, half sadly, Joe thought. "But I'm coming to-night!" she exclaimed. "I'll have the janitor look after my cats and dogs, and I'll go to the circus. I want to see you act. It will bring back my lost youth—or part of it," she murmured.
"Allow me to make sure that you will be there," said Joe. "Here is a reserved ticket. I will look for you."
"And now let me give you the reward I promised," begged the woman, as Joe was about to leave. "I have the money here—in cash," she added quickly. She went to a bureau, putting Peter down on a cushion. The cat observed Joe intently. The woman came back with a roll of bills.
"No, really, I couldn't take it!" protested Joe. "I didn't save your cat for money. I was glad enough to do it for the animal's sake."
"Please take it!" she urged. "I—I am well off, even if I live here," she said hesitatingly. "I shall feel better if you take it."
"And I shall feel better if you give it to the Red Cross," said Joe. "That needs it, to help the stricken, more than I do. I make pretty good money myself," he added. "And I didn't do this for a reward."
"But I promised it!"
"Well, then consider that I took it, and you, in my name, may pass it on to the Red Cross," said Joe. "And now, may I ask your name?"
The woman told him. It was Miss Susan Crawford. The name meant nothing to Joe, though he afterward learned she was a member of an old, wealthy and aristocratic family. She had had an unfortunate love affair, and, her family having all died, she made for herself a little apartment in one of her many buildings and lived there with her pets—a recluse in the midst of a big city. It was a pathetic story.
"I wish you would let me reward you in some way," said Miss Crawford wistfully, as Joe left. "You did so much, and you get nothing out of it."
"Oh, yes I do," returned the young acrobat. "I'll get a lot of advertising out of this, and it will be the best thing in the world for the circus."
And Joe was right. The next day the papers all carried big stories of his wire-walking feat to save the cat that had ventured out over the street and was afraid to go back. Bigger crowds than ever came to the circus.
As she had promised, Miss Crawford was at the evening performance, and Joe introduced a little novelty in one of his "magic stunts," producing a cat instead of a rabbit from a man's pocket. As he held it up he looked over and smiled at the old lady in black, for he had given her a seat near his stage. She smiled back.
Joe never saw her again. She was found dead a few months later in her lonely rooms, with her cats and dogs around her. But Joe always remembered her.
The street wire-walking feat was the talk of the city, and when, the following day, Joe announced that he was ready to put on his fire act, which had been well advertised, every one was on figurative tiptoes to see what it would be.
Joe had made all his preparations, and he had taken care to provide against danger and accidents. He realized the risk he was running in handling fire in a circus tent before crowds of people. But extinguishers were provided, and one of the fire-fighting force of the circus was constantly on hand.
After the preliminary whistle of the ringmaster which ended the other acts and prepared for Joe's new one, the young magician advanced to the platform and gave a little "patter."
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "in introducing my new act I wish, first of all, to assure you that there is no danger. Even though I seem to be in the midst of fire, do not be alarmed. I shall be safe, and no harm will come to you."
Joe did this to forestall a possible panic.
"You have all heard of the ancient salamanders," he went on. "It is reputed that this animal was able to live in the midst of fire. As to the truth of that I can not say. I never saw a salamander, that I know of. But that fire may safely be handled by human beings, and not at the risk of being burned, I am about to demonstrate to you. I shall first show you how to carry fire about in your hands, so that if you run short of matches at any time you will not lack means of igniting the gas, starting your kitchen range, or enjoying your smoke. While the stage is being made ready for my main act, I will show you how to carry fire in your hands."
CHAPTER XIII
A SENSATIONAL DIVE
Striking a match, Joe ignited two candles that stood on a little table at one side of his stage. On the other side his assistants were setting up the apparatus he intended to use in his more elaborate experiments.
"You observe that the trick has not yet begun," said Joe, with a laugh, as he blew out the match. "In other words, I am lighting these candles in the ordinary way—just as any one of you would do it, if he needed to. In a moment I will show you how to light the candles in case one is accidentally blown out and you have no match."
Allowing both candles to burn up well, with clear, bright flames, Joe suddenly blew out one.
"Now," he said, "I will show you how to carry fire in your hands from the lighted to the unlighted candle. Watch me closely!"
Joe cupped his hands around the lighted candle, seeming to take the flame up in his fingers. When he removed his hands, which he still held in cup, or globular, shape, the second candle had been extinguished. Both were now out.
"You will notice that I am carrying the flame in my hands from one candle to the other," said Joe, in a loud voice, as he walked across the stage.
For an instant he spread his hands, cup fashion, around the candle he had first blown out. Suddenly he withdrew his hands, holding them wide apart and in full view of the audience, and, lo! the unlighted candle was glowing brightly.
There was a moment of silence, and then the applause broke forth. Joe bowed and said:
"That is how to carry fire in your hands. But please don't any of you try it unless you get the directions from me."
"Tell us how to do it!" piped up a small boy.
"Come and see me after the show!" laughed Joe.
And, while on this subject, it might be well to explain how Joe did the trick. It is very simple, but it takes practice, and an amateur may easily be fatally burned in the attempt, simple as it is.
Joe lighted the candles in the usual way, with a match, as already explained. There was no trick about this, nor about blowing out one. But immediately after that the trick started. Joe placed a little piece of waxed paper between the first and second fingers of his left hand as soon as he had blown out the first candle. This paper was a slender strip, and could not be seen by the audience.
When he cupped his hands around the remaining lighted candle Joe ignited this waxed strip, taking care to work it away from his palms and fingers. It burned with a tiny flame and with scarcely any heat in the middle of the hollow cup formed by his hands.
As soon as he had ignited the paper Joe, by pressing the lower edges of his palms against the blazing wick of the candle, extinguished it. This had the same effect as though he had "pinched" out the flame with finger and thumb, as many country persons put out, or "snuff," candles to-day—for candles are still much used in some places.
Now we have Joe with a little blazing taper concealed in his cupped hands, advancing to the candle he first blew out. He placed his hands around this, lighted the wick from the taper, which he at once crushed between his fingers, and the trick was done.
The candle was lighted, the remains of the little taper were concealed between Joe's fingers, and it looked as though he had really carried fire in his hands. The quickness with which he pinched out the candle flame, and also smothered the taper after he had used it, prevented him from being burned in the slightest. But it is best for a boy unpracticed and without the dexterity of a professional prestidigitator not to undertake to play with fire.
Joe Strong believed in doing his tricks and acts artistically and elaborately. He had watched other performers "dress their act," and he had often improved on what even stage veterans had done. His apprenticeship had been a stern but good one.
And now he was going to introduce something novel in his fire-eating tricks, but he was also going to add to that. He had read considerable of late about the fire-eating tricks of the old "magicians" and had delved into many curious old books. Now he was going to give his audience some of this information.
"There is a trick in everything," said Joe, as he faced his audience in readiness for the fire-eating act. "If I told you that I actually swallowed blazing fire, any physician would know that I was not telling the truth. I do not really eat the fire. I only seem to do so. But if in doing so I can deceive you into thinking I do, and you are thrilled and amused, you get your money's worth, I earn mine, and we are all satisfied. So don't be alarmed by what you see.
"The resistance of the human body to heat is greater than many persons suppose," said Joe. "And there is a vast difference between wet heat and dry heat. Water, above one hundred and fifty degrees, would be unbearable. It would really burn you badly. Water, as you know, boils at two hundred and twelve degrees Fahrenheit. But before this point is reached it is capable of ending life.
"Dry heat, however, is different. Men have frequently borne without permanent discomfort dry heat up to three hundred degrees. This heat is often reached in the drying rooms of oilcloth and oiled silk factories.
"Now the fire I handle is dry heat. I would no more think of pouring boiling water over my hands than I would of taking poison. And yet I will show you that I can thrust my hand into a blazing fire and suffer no harm.
"In an old book I read that to enable one to thrust one's hands into the fire all you had to do was to anoint them with a mixture of bol armenian, quicksilver, camphor and spirits of wine. I should prefer to leave that mixture alone, though in the book it is said that if one puts that mixture on his hands he may handle boiling lead.
"Perhaps some ancient magician did this, but I think he depended more on water than on anything else. If your hands are wet there is formed on them a film of moisture which, for a moment, will enable you to withstand high degrees of dry heat.
"In another old book I read that if one prepared himself with 'liquid stortax,' which is juice from a certain tree growing in Italy, he could enter fire, bathe in fire, put a burning coal on his tongue, and even swallow fire.
"Now I am not going to let you into all my secrets. You shall see—what you shall see!" concluded Joe.
As intimated before, the method Joe Strong used is not going to be printed here. You have been given some genuine ancient formulae, safe in the knowledge that some of the ingredients can not be obtained. And the modern substitutes are not going to be told. Enough to say that Joe had "prepared himself."
The young magician looked to see that all was in readiness. Perceiving that it was, he retired for a moment to a cabinet set up on the stage, and when he came out he was ready for his tricks.
Joe advanced to what seemed to be an elaborate candelabra in which seven tapers were set. He stood in front of this a moment, and then he announced:
"Having lived on a fire diet so long I have a bit to spare. I will light these candles without using a match."
He waved his hand over the candelabra. Sparks were seen to shoot from his finger tips, and in an instant the seven lights were glowing. That was an electrical trick. In reality the candles were gas jets, made to look like wax tapers, and Joe lighted them from an electric current produced by a dry battery he carried on his person.
He then proceeded to his main trick. He picked up a plate. It seemed to contain pieces of bread. Joe touched the edge of the plate to a flame of one of the candles. In an instant the plate was ablaze, and Joe calmly began putting the blazing stuff on it into his mouth.
Cube after cube of the blazing "bread" he lifted up on a fork and thrust between his lips. And he seemed to enjoy the "eating" of it.
The audience was spellbound. Every one's eyes were on Joe Strong doing his fire-eating trick.
The plate was empty. Joe looked about as though for something else hot to eat. He caught up an article from a table. Holding it to the flame of a candle, it was at once ablaze.
And then, with a thrilling cry, Joe Strong leaped from the stage, his two hands, held high above his head, seeming to be enveloped in a mass of fire. And with this fire held over him, he ran toward the tank in which Benny Turton did his "human fish" act.
The next instant Joe Strong, apparently ablaze all over, dived into the tank.
CHAPTER XIV
HEAD FIRST
Which was the more surprised—Benny Turton, who had just finished his fish act in his tank, the spellbound audience, or Jim Tracy, who was, in a way, directing Joe's performance—it would be hard to say. All three were thrilled by the unexpected outcome of the fire-eating act. Joe Strong alone seemed perfectly at his ease, and, it might be mentioned incidentally, perfectly at home in the water. He had, as told in a previous volume, entitled "Joe Strong, the Boy Fish," perfected himself in this sort of work, and could remain submerged for an unusually long time.
Of course the fire which seemed to envelop the young magician was instantly put out when he leaped into the tank. He was wearing a rather fancy suit, and as he came up, wet and bedraggled, Jim Tracy could not help wondering what Joe meant by his performance.
"Joe! Joe! was that part of the act or an accident?" asked Jim in a low voice, as he ran over to where Joe was now climbing out of the tank. For one instant Joe hesitated. The audience was wildly applauding now. Clearly there was but one thought in their minds. The whole thing was a trick—Joe had only pretended to be on fire and had taken that sensational means of appearing to extinguish the blaze.
But the ringmaster noted a queer look on his friend's face. It was not the look it usually wore when Joe had completed some hazardous or sensational trick.
"Are you hurt, Joe—burned?" asked Jim Tracy anxiously.
"No," was the answer. "It was all part of the act!"
The ringmaster looked satisfied, and it was not until some time afterward that he learned what a narrow escape Joe had had.
"This will be part of the fire-eating stunt at every show," said Joe to the ringmaster. "You might make the announcement so the people won't be scared."
"I will! Say, it's some stunt all right!" And then Jim began with his sonorous "Ladies and gentlemen!" He stated that the young fire-eater would show his familiarity with, and mastery over, fire by setting himself ablaze and leaping into the tank to extinguish the flames. The ringmaster added that there would be no danger to either the audience or the performer in this feature.
Joe bowed to the applause that followed, and then hurried to his dressing room to don dry clothes for his mystery box trick.
"I should think, if you were going to do tank work, you'd wear a suit better adapted to it—like mine," said Benny Turton, whose apartment was next to Joe's in the dressing tent.
"I'm going to," Joe announced, looking around to make sure no one overheard. "The fact of the matter is, Benny, I didn't count on pulling off this stunt. It was an accident. Some of the alcohol I use on the tow was spilled on my sleeves and caught fire. Then more flames burst out. Luckily they were at my back, so when I ran the flames were fanned away from me. But I knew the tank was the safest place to go, and in I jumped."
"But I heard you tell Jim it was all arranged."
"I did that so the crowd wouldn't get into a panic. However I am going to work the trick at each performance after this, only I'm going to wear a different suit."
And Joe did. He had a garment partly made of asbestos, though outwardly it did not resemble that fire-resisting material any more than do the asbestos curtains in theaters. And at the conclusion of his fire-eating act Joe would seemingly burst into fire and run blazing across the stage to leap into the tank of water.
This finish to the act never failed to win great applause. And once in the tank Joe did some of the under-water tricks that had brought him fame. He was careful, however, not to duplicate anything that Benny Turton did, for he did not want to "crab" the act of his friend.
But Joe's fire and water act was one of the big features on the circus bill.
"Is this the sensation you were speaking of?" asked Helen one day, when they had concluded an afternoon's performance.
"No," answered Joe. "This only came about by accident. I'm working on something more sensational yet, and I am going to ask you to help me."
"I'm sure I'll do anything I can," said she.
"You won't be in any danger," the young magician went on. "I'm beginning to understand fire better the more I study it. I'm not getting too familiar, either, let me tell you. Even a little scorch is very painful."
"I glanced through one of your books the other day," remarked Helen. "Do you really suppose some of those old magicians actually handled fire in the way it is stated?"
"Well, at least they pretended to," said her friend. "There are tricks in all trades, you know."
As the circus went on its way business kept up well, and it was seen that the season was going to be an excellent one from a financial standpoint.
"Any more bogus tickets coming in?" asked Joe one day of the treasurer.
"Not since we adopted the new style," was the answer.
"Have the detectives gotten on the trail of the man, or the men, who cheated us?" asked Helen.
"Not yet," reported Mr. Moyne. "The last report I had from them was that they were getting nearer and nearer to a certain person whom they suspected. They promise an arrest soon."
"That's the usual story," remarked Joe. "However, we don't so much care about an arrest now if we have stopped the counterfeit tickets from being worked off on us."
"Well, there's always a chance that the same thing will happen again," returned Mr. Moyne. "It's too easy money for the criminals to give up, I'm afraid. I'm on the lookout every day for more counterfeits."
"Well, I'll leave it to you," remarked Joe. "Whenever anything happens let me know and we'll take some action."
Joe Strong was now kept very busy in the circus. In fact he was what would be called a "star." He did his mystery box trick, and, with Helen, worked the "vanishing lady" trick so neatly that no one guessed how it was done. The ten thousand dollars was not claimed, successfully, though several tried it, with the result that several local Red Cross organizations were enriched by the hundred dollar forfeit.
In addition to these mystery acts, and some more ordinary sleight-of-hand tricks which he used to fill in with, Joe did his fire-eating trick, ending that act with the plunge into the tank. This never failed to create a sensation.
"But it isn't the big sensation I'm after!" said Joe, when his friends congratulated him. "Wait until you see that!"
Another feature of Joe's performance was his wire-walking. Since he had rescued the lady's cat he had added this to his share of the program, and it was a thriller enjoyed by many audiences.
"But it's a little tame," said Joe one day to Jim Tracy. "I want to put a little more pep into it."
"How are you going to do it?" asked the ringmaster.
"I think I know a way," was the answer.
And a few days later Joe gave a demonstration.
The wire on which he performed was a high one, stretched between two well-braced poles. On each pole was fastened a small platform, somewhat like those high up in the tent where the big swing was fastened.
Joe walked across the wire from one platform to the other, doing various "stunts" on the slender support. One day Jim Tracy noticed that a long to the ground between one of the rings and a wooden platform.
"What's that, Joe?" asked the ringmaster, "Looks like an extra guy wire for the pole."
"No, that's for my new stunt," said Joe. "I'll show you at this show."
The audience watched him performing on the high wire. Jim Tracy was watching, too, for he remembered what Joe had said. Suddenly, at the conclusion of the usual wire-walking feats, Joe stooped, placed his head on the slanting wire, raised himself until he was standing with his legs up and spread apart. Then he quickly flung wide his hands and slid on his head down the slanting win to the ground, stopping himself just before he reached it by grasping the wire in his gloved hands.
Jim Tracy, who was sitting on a box, leaped to his feat.
"Head first!" he cried. "That's some stunt!"
And the audience seemed to think so, too, from the way it applauded.