Professor Rosello and Joe Strong looked at each other. It was not unusual for the magician to receive telegrams in reference to his professional engagements, but Joe up to now had never received one of the lightning messages which, to the most of us, are unusual occurrences.
"Are you sure it's for me?" Joe asked the boy, as he opened the door.
"It's got your name on it," was the answer. That seemed proof enough for any one.
"Maybe it's from your folks—the deacon," suggested the professor. "Something may have happened."
He really hoped there had not, but, in a way, he wanted to prepare Joe for a possible shock.
"I wonder if it can have anything to do with the deacon's robbery," mused Joe as he took the message from the waiting lad. "But, no, it can't be that. Denton and Harrison are still in jail—or they were at last accounts—and the robbery is cleared up as much as it ever will be. Can't be that."
And then, unwilling and unable to speculate further, and anxious to know just what was in the message Joe tore open the envelope. The message was typewritten, as are most telegrams of late, and the message read:
"If you are at liberty, can use you in a single trapeze act. Forty a week to start. Wire me at Slater Junction. We show there three days. Jim Tracy—Sampson Bros. Circus."
"What is it?" asked the professor as he noted a strange look on Joe's face. In fact, there was a combination of looks. There was surprise, and doubt, and pleased anticipation.
"It's an offer," answered Joe, slowly.
"An offer!"
"Yes, to join a circus."
"A circus!"
The professor did not seem capable of talking in very long sentences.
"Yes, the Sampson Brothers' Show," Joe went on. "You know I went to see them that time they played the same town and date we did. I met the 'human fish' and——"
"Oh, yes, I remember. You did some acts on the trapeze then."
"Yes, and this Jim Tracy—he's ring-master and one of the owners—made me a sort of offer then. But I didn't want to leave you. Now he renews the offer."
The boy wizard handed the message to the professor who read it through carefully. Then after a look at Joe he said:
"Well, my boy, that's a good offer, I'd take it. I sha'n't be able to pay you forty a week for some time, though you might make it if you took my show out on the road alone, or with one assistant. Then, too, there's always a chance to make more in a circus—that is, if you please your public. I might say thrill them enough, for your trapeze act will have to be mostly thrills, I take it."
"Yes," assented Joe. And, somehow, a feeling of exultation came to him. While doing puzzling tricks before a mystified audience was enticing work, yet Joe had a longing for the circus. He was almost as much at home high in the air, with nothing but a slack wire or a swaying rope to support him, as he was on the ground. Part of this was due to his early attempts to emulate the feats of circus performers, but the larger part of it was born in him. He inherited much of his daring from his mother, and his quickness of eye and hand from his father.
Moreover, mingled with the desire to do some thrilling act high up on a trapeze in a circus tent, while the crowd below held its breath, Joe felt a desire to meet again pretty Helen Morton, whose bright smile and laughing eyes he seemed to see in fancy now.
"It's a good offer," went on the professor, slowly, "and it seems to come at the right time for both of us, Joe. We were talking about your taking out my show. I really don't feel able to keep up with it—at least for a time. Are you ready to give me an answer now, Joe, or would you like to think it over a bit?"
"Perhaps I had better think of it a bit," the youth answered. "Though I have pretty nearly made up my mind."
"Don't be in a hurry," urged Professor Rosello. "There is no great rush, as far as I am concerned. One or two days will make no difference to me. Though if you don't take up my offer I shall probably lease the show to some professional. I want to keep my name before the public, for probably I shall wish to go back into the business again. And besides, it is a pity to let such a good outfit as we now have go into storage. But think it over carefully. I suppose, though, that you will have to let the circus people know soon."
"They seem to be in a hurry—wanting me to telegraph," responded Joe. "I'll give them an answer in a few hours. I think I'll go out and walk around town a bit. I can think better that way."
"Go ahead, Joe, and don't let me influence you. I want to help you, and I'll do all I can for you. You know I owe much to you. Just remember that you have the option on my show, such as it is, and if you don't take my offer I won't feel at all offended. Do as you think right."
"Thank you," said Joe, feelingly.
There was not much of interest to see in the town where they had come, expecting to give a performance, but Joe did not really care for sights just then. He had some hard thinking to do and he wanted to do it carefully. Hardly conscious of where he was walking, he strolled on, and presently found himself near the outskirts of the town, in a section that was more country than town. A little stream flowed through a green meadow, the banks bordered by trees.
"It looks just like Bedford," mused Joe. "I'm going to take a rest there."
He sat down in the shade of a willow tree and in an instant there came back to him the memory of that day, some months ago, when he had come upon his chums sitting under the same sort of tree and discussing one of the professor's tricks which they had witnessed the night before.
"Then there was the fireworks explosion. I rescued the professor—ran away from home—was chased by the constables—hopped into the freight car—the deacon's house was robbed and set on fire and—— Say! what a lot has happened in a short time," mused Joe. "And now comes this offer from the circus. I wonder if I'd better take it or keep on with the professor's show. Of course it would be easier to do this, as I'm more familiar with it."
Just then there recurred to Joe something he had often heard Deacon Blackford say.
"The easiest way isn't always the best."
The deacon was not, by any means, the kindest or wisest of men, and certainly he had been cruel at times to Joe. But he was a sturdy character, though often obstinate and mistaken, and he had a fund of homely philosophy.
Joe, working one day in the deacon's feed and grain store, had proposed doing something in a way that would, he thought, save him work. "That's the easiest way," he had argued.
"Well, the easiest way isn't always the best," the deacon had retorted.
Joe remembered that now. It would be easier to keep on with the professor's show, for the work was all planned out for him, and he had but to fulfil certain engagements. Then, too, he was getting to be expert in the tricks.
"But I want to get on in life," reasoned Joe. "Forty dollars a week is more than I'm getting now, nor will I stick at that point in the circus. It will be hard work, but I can stand it."
He had almost made up his mind. He decided he would go back and acquaint the professor with his decision.
As Joe was passing a sort of hotel in a poor section of the town he almost ran into, or, rather, was himself almost run into by a man who emerged from the place quickly but unsteadily.
Joe was about to pass on with a muttered apology, though he did not feel the collision to be his fault, when the man angrily demanded:
"What's the matter with you, anyhow? Why don't you look where you're going?"
"I tried to," said Joe, mildly enough. "Hope I didn't hurt you."
"Well, you banged me hard enough!"
The man seemed a little more mollified now. Joe was at once struck by something familiar in his voice and his looks. He took a second glance and in an instant he recognized the man as one of the circus trapeze performers he had seen the day he went to the big tent, or "main top," of Sampson Brothers' Circus to watch the professionals at their practice. The man was one of the troupe known as the "Lascalla Brothers," though the relationship was assumed, rather than real.
Joe gave a start of astonishment as he sensed the recognition. He was also surprised at the great change in the man. When Joe had first seen him, a few months before, the performer had been a straight, lithe specimen of manhood, intent, at the moment when Joe met him, on seeing that his trapeze ropes were securely fastened.
Now the man looked and acted like a tramp. He was dirty and ragged, and his face bore evidences of dissipation. He leered at Joe, and then something in our hero's face seemed to hold his attention.
"What are you looking at me that way for, young fellow?" he demanded. "Do you know me?"
"No, not exactly," was the answer. "But I've seen you."
"Well, you're not the only one," was the retort. "A good many thousand people have seen me on the circus trapeze. And I'd be there to-day, doing my act, if it hadn't been for that mean Jim Tracy. He fired me, Jim did—said he was going to get some one for the act who could stay sober. Huh? I'm sober enough for anybody, and I took only a little drink because I was sick. Even at that I can beat anybody on the high bar. But he sacked me. Never mind! I'll get even with him, and if he puts anybody in my place—well, that fellow'd better look out, that's all!"
The man seemed turning ugly, and Joe was glad the fellow had not connected him with the youth who had paid a brief visit to the trapeze tent that day, months before.
"I wonder if it's to take his place that Jim Tracy wants me?" mused Joe, as he turned aside. "I guess Jim put up with this fellow as long as he could. Poor chap! He was a good acrobat, too—one of the best in the country." Joe knew the Lascalla Brothers by reputation.
"If I take his place——" Joe was doing some quick thinking. "Oh, well, I've got to take chances," he told himself. "After all, we may never meet."
Joe had fully made up his mind. Before going back to the professor he stopped at the telegraph office and sent this message to Jim Tracy.
"Will join circus in two days."
"Well?" questioned Professor Rosello, as Joe came back to the hotel. "Is it my show or——"
"The circus," answered Joe, and he did not smile. He was rather serious about it, for in spite of what his friend had said Joe could but feel that the magician might be disappointed over the choice. But Professor Rosello was a broad-minded man, as well as a fair and generous one.
"Joe, I'm sure you did just the right thing!" he exclaimed, as he shook hands with the boy wizard, or rather with the former boy wizard, for the lad was about to give up that life. Yet Joe knew that he would not altogether give it up. He would always retain his knowledge and ability in the art of mystifying.
"Yes, I thought it all over," said Joe, "and I concluded that I could do better on the trapeze than at sleight-of-hand. You see, if I want to be a successful circus performer I have to begin soon. The older I get the less active I'll be, and some tricks take years to polish off so one can do them easily."
"I understand," the professor said. "I think you did the right thing for yourself."
"Of course if I could be any help to you I wouldn't leave you this way," Joe went on earnestly. "I wouldn't desert in a time of trouble."
"Oh, it isn't exactly trouble," replied the magician. "I really need a rest, and you're not taking my offer won't mean any money loss to me, though, personally, I shall feel sorry at losing you. But I want you to do the best possible thing for yourself. Don't consider me at all. In fact you don't have to. I am going to take a rest. I need it. I've been in this business nearly thirty years now, and time is beginning to tell.
"I think there is more of a future for you in the circus than there would be in magic. Not that you have exhausted the possibilities of magic by any means, but changes are taking place in the public. The moving pictures are drawing away from us the audiences we might otherwise attract. Then, too, there has been so much written and exposed concerning our tricks, that it is very hard to get up an effective illusion. Even the children can now guess how many of the tricks are done.
"It may be that I shall give up altogether. At, any rate I will lease my show out for a time. I'm I going to take a rest. And now about your plans. What are you going to do?"
"I don't exactly know," was the hesitating answer. "I have telegraphed to Mr. Tracy that I would join his circus in two days. I think I'll need that much time to get ready."
"Yes. We can settle up our business arrangements in that time, Joe. As I said, I'll be very sorry to lose you, but it is all for the best. We may see each other occasionally. Shall you tell the deacon of the change?"
"I think not. He and I don't get along very well, and he hasn't much real interest in me, now that he feels I am following in the footsteps of my father. And if he knew that I was taking up the profession my mother felt called to, he would have even less regard for me. I'll not write to him at all."
"Perhaps that is wise. I wonder, Joe, if in traveling about with Sampson Brothers' Show you will meet any one who knew your mother?"
"I wish that would happen," Joe answered. "I'd like to hear about her. I shall ask for information about her."
Joe related his encounter with one of the Lascalla Brothers—which one he did not know.
"I wonder if he'll try to make trouble?" he asked.
"I hardly think so," answered the professor. "He's probably a bad egg, and talks big. Just go on your own way, do the best you can, keep straight and you'll be all right."
They talked for some little time further, discussing matters that needed to be settled between them, and making arrangements for Joe to leave.
Now that he had come to a decision he was very glad that he was going with the circus.
"I'll be glad to meet Benny Turton, the 'human fish,' again," said Joe to himself. "His act is sure a queer one. I wonder if I could stay under water as long as he does. I'm going to try it some day if I get a chance at his tank. And Helen—I'll be glad to see her again, too."
Joe did not admit, even to himself, just how glad he would be to meet the pretty circus rider again. But he surely anticipated pleasure in renewing the acquaintance.
"That is, if she'll notice me," thought Joe. "I wonder what the social standing is between trick and fancy riders and the various trapeze performers."
The next day was a busy one. Joe had to pack his belongings. Some he arranged to store with the professor's things. He also helped his friend, the magician, to prepare an advertisement for the theatrical papers, announcing that The Rosello Show was for lease, along with the advance bookings. Joe also went over the apparatus with the professor, making a list of some necessary repairs that would have to be made.
"And now, Joe," said the professor, when the time for parting came, "I want you to feel free to use any of my tricks, or those you got up yourself, whenever you want to."
"Use the tricks?" queried Joe.
"Yes. It may be that you'll find a chance to use them in the circus, or to entertain your friends privately. I want you to feel free to do so. There will not be any professional jealousy on my part."
Joe was glad to hear this. The professor was unlike most professional persons who entertain the public.
"Well, good-bye," said Joe, as the professor went with him to the railroad station, the burns having progressed rapidly in their healing. "You'll always be able to write me in care of the circus."
"Yes, I can keep track of your show through the theatrical papers, Joe. Let me hear from you occasionally. Write to the New York address where I buy most of my stuff. They'll always have the name of my forwarding post-office on file. And now, my boy, I wish you all success. You have been a great help to me—not to mention such a little thing as saving my life," and he laughed, to make the occasion less serious.
"Thank you," said Joe. "The same to you. And I hope you will soon feel much better."
"A rest will do me good," responded the professor. Then the train rolled in, and Joe got aboard with his valise. He waved farewell to his very good friend and then settled back in his seat for a long ride.
Joe Strong was on his way at last to join the circus.
As he sat in his comfortable seat, he could not help contrasting his situation now with what it had been some months before, when he was running away from the home of his foster-father in the night and riding in a freight car to join the professor.
Then Joe had very few dollars, and the future looked anything but pleasant. He had to sleep on the hard boards, with some loose hay as a mattress.
Now, while he was far from having a fortune, he had nearly two hundred dollars to his credit, and he was going to an assured position that would pay well. It was quite a contrast.
"I wonder if I'll make good," thought Joe. Involuntarily he felt of his muscles.
"I'm strong enough," he thought with a little smile—"Strong by name and strong by nature," and as he thought this there was no false pride about it. Joe knew his capabilities. His nerves and muscles were his principal assets.
"I guess I'll have to learn some new stunts," Joe thought. "But Jim Tracy will probably coach me, and tell me what they want. I wonder if I'll have to act with the Lascalla bunch? They may not be very friendly toward me for taking the place of one of their number. Well, I can't help it. It isn't my doing. I'm hired to do certain work—for trapeze performing is work, though it may look like fun to the public. Well, I'm on my way, as the fellow said when the powder mill blew up," and Joe smiled whimsically.
It was a long and tiresome trip to the town where the circus was performing, and Joe did not reach the "lot" until the afternoon performance was over.
The sight of the tents, the smell that came from the crushed grass, the sawdust, the jungle odor of wild animals—all this was as perfume to Joe Strong. He breathed in deep of it and his eyes lighted up as he saw the fluttering flags, and noted the activity of the circus men who were getting ready for the night show—filling the portable gasoline lamps, putting on new mantles which would glow later with white incandescence to show off the spectacle in the "main top." As Joe took in all this he said to himself:
"I'm to be a part of it! That's the best ever!"
It was some little time before he could find Jim Tracy, but at length he came upon the ring-master, who was trying to do a dozen things at once, and settle half a dozen other matters on which his opinion was wanted.
"Oh, hello, Joe?" Jim called to the young performer. "Glad you got here. We need you. Want to go on to-night?"
"Just as you say. But I really need a little practice."
"All right. Then just hang around and pick up information. We don't have to travel to-night, so you'll have it easy to start. I'll show you where you'll dress when you get going. I'll have to give you some one else's suit until we can order one your size, but I guess you won't mind."
"No, indeed."
Joe was looking about with eager eyes, hoping for a glimpse of Helen Morton. However, he was not gratified just then.
"Now, Joe," went on the ring-master, coming over after having settled a dispute concerning differences of opinions between a woman with trained dogs and a clown who exhibited an "educated" pig, "if you'll come with me, I'll——"
"Well, what is it now?" asked Jim Tracy, exasperation in his voice. A dark-complexioned, foreign-looking man had approached him, and had said something in a low voice.
"No, I won't take him back, and you needn't ask!" declared Jim. "You can tell Sim Dobley, otherwise known as Rafello Lascalla, that he's done his last hanging by his heels in my show. I don't want anything more to do with him. I don't care if he is outside. You tell him to stay there. He doesn't come in unless he buys a ticket, and as for taking him back—nothing doing, take it from me!"
The foreign-looking man turned aside, muttering, and Joe followed the ring-master.
"Those fellows are always making trouble," murmured the ring-master, as he walked with Joe toward a tent where the young performer could leave his valise.
"What fellows are they?" the lad asked, but he felt that he knew what the answer was going to be.
"The Lascalla Brothers," replied Jim. "There were two brothers in the business, Sid and Tonzo Lascalla. They used to be together and have a wonderful act. But Sid died, and Tonzo got a fellow-countryman to take his place, using the same name. They were good, too. Then about four years ago they added a third man. Why they ever took up with Sim Dobley I can't imagine, but they did.
"Whatever else I'll say about Sim, I'll give him credit for being a wonder on a trapeze—that is when he was sober. When he got intoxicated, or partly so, he'd take risks that would make your hair stand up on end. That's why I had to get rid of him. First I knew, he'd have had an accident and he'd be suing the circus. So I let him go. Sim went under the name Rafello Lascalla, and became one of the brothers.
"For a while the three of them worked well together. And it's queer, as I say, how Sid and Tonzo took to Jim. But they did. You'd think he was a regular brother. In fact all three of 'em seemed to be real blood brothers. Sid and Tonzo are Spaniards, but Sim is a plain Yankee. He used to say he learned to do trapeze tricks in his father's barn."
"That's where I practised," said Joe.
"Well, it's as good a place as any, I reckon. Anyhow, I had to get rid of Sim, and now Tonzo comes and asks me to put him back. He says Sim is behaving himself, and will keep straight. He's somewhere on the grounds now, Tonzo told me. But I don't want anything to do with him. I'll stand a whole lot from a man, but when I reach the limit I'm through for good. That's what I am with Sim Dobley, otherwise known as Rafello Lascalla. You're to take his place, Joe."
"I am!"
There was no mistaking the surprise in the youth's voice.
"Why, what's the matter? Don't you want to?" asked Jim, in some astonishment.
"Yes, of course. I'll do anything in the show along the line of trapeze work you want me to. But—well, maybe I'd better tell you all about it."
Then Joe related his encounter with the discharged circus employee.
"Hum," mused Jim, when Joe finished. "So that's how the wind sets, is it? He's hanging around here now trying to find out who is going to take his place."
"And when he finds that I have," suggested Joe hesitatingly, "he may cause trouble."
Jim Tracy started.
"I didn't think of that!" he said slowly. "You say he threatened you?"
"Well, not exactly me, for he didn't know who I was," replied Joe. "But he said he'd make it decidedly hot for you, and for the man who took his place."
Jim Tracy snapped his fingers.
"That's how much I care for Sim Dobley," he said. "I'm not afraid of him. He talks big, but he acts small. I'm not in the least worried, and if you are——"
"Not for a minute!" exclaimed Joe quickly. "I guess I can look after myself!"
"Good!" exclaimed Jim. "That's the way I like to hear you talk. And don't you let Sim Dobley, or either of the Lascalla Brothers, bluff you. I'm running this show, not them! If they make any trouble you come to me."
"I guess I can fight my own battles," observed Joe calmly.
"Good!" said the ring-master again. "I guess you'll do. This is your dressing room," he went on. "Just leave your grip here, and it will be safe. You won't have to do anything to-night but look on. I'll get you a pair of tights by to-morrow and you can go on. Practise up in the morning, and work up a new act with Sid and Tonzo if you like. I'll introduce you to them at supper."
"Do you think they'll perform with me?" Joe wanted to know.
"They'll have to!" exclaimed the ring-master with energy. "This is my circus, not theirs. They'll do as I say, and if there is any funny business—— Well, there just won't be," he added significantly.
"Do Tonzo and Sid want Sim to come back and act with them?" asked Joe, as he deposited his valise in a corner of a dressing room that was made by canvas curtains partitioning off a part of a large tent.
"That's what they say. Tonzo told me that Sim would behave himself. But I'm through with Sim, and he might as well understand that first as last. You're going to take his place. Now I'll have to leave you. You'll put up at the hotel with some of the performers. Here's your slip that you can show to the clerk. I'll see you in the morning, if not before, and make arrangements for your act. To-night you just look on. Now I've got to go."
Joe looked about the dressing room. It was evidently shared with others, for there were suits of men's tights scattered around, as well as other belongings. Joe left his valise and went outside. He wanted to see all he could—to get familiar with the life of a circus.
It cannot be said that Joe was exactly easy in his mind. He would much rather have joined the circus without having supplanted a performer of so vindictive a character as Sim Dobley. But, as it had to be, the lad decided to make the best of it.
"I'll be on the watch for trouble," he murmured as he went out of the dressing tent.
A busy scene was being enacted on the circus lots. In fact, many scenes. It was feeding time for some of the animals and for most of the performers and helpers. The latter would dine in one of the big tents, under which long tables were already set. And from the distance Joe could catch an odor of the cooking.
"My, but that smells good!" he told himself. He was hungry.
The Sampson Brothers' Show was a fair-sized one. It used a number of railroad cars to transport the wagons, cages and performers from place to place. On the road, of course, the performers and helpers slept in the circus sleeping cars. But when the show remained more than one night in a place some of the performers were occasionally allowed to sleep at the local hotels, getting their meals on the circus grounds, for the cooking for and feeding of a big show is down to an exact science.
As Joe wandered forth he heard a voice calling to him:
"Well, where in the world did you come from?"
"Oh, hello!" cried our hero, as, turning, he saw Benny Turton, the "human fish," walking toward him.
"I'm glad to see you again!" went on Benny, as he shook hands with Joe.
"And I'm glad to see you."
"What are you doing here?" the "human fish" asked.
"Oh, I'm part of the show now," replied Joe, a bit proudly.
"Get out! Are you, really?"
"I sure am!" And Joe told the circumstances.
"Well, I'm glad to hear it," said Ben. "Real glad!"
"How's your act going?" asked Joe.
The "human fish" paused a moment before answering.
"Oh, I suppose it goes as well as ever," he said slowly. "Only I—— Oh, what's the use of telling my troubles?" he asked, with a smile. "I reckon you have some of your own."
"Not very big ones," confessed Joe. "But is anything the matter?"
"No, oh, no. Never mind me; tell me about yourself."
Joe told something of his experiences since last seeing Ben, and, as he talked, he looked at the youth who performed such thrilling feats under water in the big tank. Joe thought Benny looked paler and thinner than before.
"I guess the water work isn't any too healthy for him," mused Joe. "It must be hard to be under that pressure so long. I feel sorry for him."
"What are you two talking about—going to get up a new act that will make us all take back seats?" asked a merry voice. Joe recognized it at once, and, with a glad smile, he turned to see Helen Morton coming toward him.
"I thought I knew you, even from your back," she told Joe, as she shook hands with him.
"Does Rosebud want any sugar?" he asked, smiling.
"No, thank you! He's had his share to-day. But it was good of you to remember. I must introduce you to my horse."
"I shall be happy to meet him," returned Joe, with his best "stage bow."
Helen laughed merrily, as she walked across the grounds with Joe and Benny.
"It's almost supper time," she said, "and I'm starved. Can't we all eat together?"
"I don't see why not," Ben answered, and they were soon at a table where many other performers sat, all, seemingly, talking at once. Joe was very much interested.
He was more than interested in two dark-complexioned men who regarded him curiously. One was the person who had spoken to Jim Tracy. The other Joe had not seen before.
"They're the Lascalla Brothers," Ben informed him. "That is, there are two of them. The third——"
"I'm to be the third," Joe broke in.
"You are?" asked Ben, and he regarded his friend curiously. "Well, look out for yourself; that's all I've got to say."
"Why has he to look out for himself?" inquired Helen, who had caught the words. "Are you going to eat all there is on the table, Ben, so there won't be any for Mr. Strong? Is that why he must look out?"
"No, not that," Ben answered. "It—it was something else."
"Oh, secrets!" and Helen pretended to be offended.
"It wasn't anything," Joe assured her. And he tried to forget the warning Ben had so kindly given him.
Joe attended the performance that night as a sort of privileged character. He went behind the scenes, and also sat in the tent. He was most interested in the feats of the two Lascalla Brothers, and he decided that, with a little practice, he could do most of the feats they presented.
That night, at the hotel, Joe was introduced to Sid and Tonzo. They bowed and shook hands, and, as far as Joe could see, they did not resent his joining their troupe. They seemed pleasant, and Joe felt that perhaps the difficulties had been exaggerated. Nothing was said of Sim Dobley, and though Joe had been on the watch for the deposed performer that afternoon and evening, he had not seen him.
"You will, perhaps, like to practise with us?" suggested Tonzo, after a while.
"I think it would be wise," agreed Joe.
"Very well, then. We will meet you at the tent in the morning."
Bright and early Joe was on hand. Jim Tracy found him a pair of pink tights that would do very well for a time, and ordered him a new, regular suit.
At the request of Tonzo Lascalla, Joe went through a number of tricks, improvising them as he progressed. Next the two Spaniards did their act, and showed Joe what he was to do, as well as when to do it, so as to make it all harmonize.
Then hard practice began, and was kept up until the time for the afternoon show. Joe did not feel at all nervous as he prepared for his entrance. His work on the stage with Professor Rosello stood him in good stead.
In another moment he was swinging aloft with his two fellow-performers, in "death-defying dives," and other alliterative acts set down on the show bills.
"Can you catch me if I jump from the high-swinging trapeze, and vault toward you, somersaulting?" Joe asked Tonzo, during a pause in their act.
"Of a certainty, yes, I can catch you. But can you jump it?"
"Sure!" declared Joe. "I've done it before."
"It is a big jump, Mr. Strong," Tonzo warned him. "Even your predecessor would have hesitated."
"I'll take the chance," Joe said. "Now this is the way I'll do it. I'll get a good momentum, swinging back and forth. You stand upon the high platform, holding your trapeze and waiting. When I give the word and start on my final swing, you jump off, hang by your knees, hands down. I'll leap toward you, turn over three times, and grab your hands. Do you get me?"
"Of a certainty, yes. But it is not an easy trick."
"I know it—that's why I'm going to do it. Do you get me?"
"If he doesn't 'get you,' as you call it, Mr. Strong," put in Sid, "you will have a bad fall. Of course there is the life net, but if you do not land right——"
"Oh, I'll land all right," said Joe, though not boastingly.
The time for the new trick came. Joe climbed up to a little platform near the top of the tent and swung off, swaying to and fro on a long trapeze. On the other side of the tent Tonzo took his place on a similar platform, fastened to a pole. He was waiting for Joe to give the word.
To and fro, in longer and longer arcs, Joe swung. He hung by his hands. Carefully his eye gauged the distance he must hurl himself across. Finally he had momentum enough.
"Come on!" he cried to Tonzo.
The latter leaped out on his trapeze, swinging by his knees. Right toward Joe he swung.
"Here I come!" Joe shouted, amid breathless silence among the spectators below him. They realized that something unusual was going on.
"Go!" shouted Sid, who was waiting down on the ground for the conclusion of the trick.
Joe let go. He felt himself hurling through the air. Quickly he doubled himself in a ball, and turned the somersaults. Then he straightened out, dropped a few feet, and his hands squarely met those of Tonzo. The latter clasped Joe's in a firm grip, and, holding him, swung to and fro on the long trapeze.
A roar of applause broke out at Joe's daring feat. He had made a hit—a big hit, for the applause kept up after he had dropped to the life net. He stood beside Tonzo and Sid, all three bowing and smiling.
"That's the idea!" exclaimed Jim Tracy, hurrying over to where the three gymnasts stood. "Give 'em some more of that, Joe!"
"I haven't any more like that—just now," answered the young circus performer, panting slightly, for he was a bit out of breath from his exertion and the anxiety lest his trick should fail.
"Well, do it again at to-night's performance, then," urged the ring-master, and Joe nodded in agreement.
"It was a good trick, my boy," said Tonzo Lascalla, "but don't try it too often."
"Why not?" Joe asked.
"Because it is risky. I might not catch you some day."
"I'd only fall into the life net if you did miss," said Joe coolly, though, for a moment, he thought there might be a hidden meaning in what his fellow-performer said.
"Well, it is not every one who knows how to fall into a life net," put in Sid Lascalla. "If one lands on his head the neck is likely to be dislocated."
"I know how to fall," Joe declared, and, though he spoke positively, he was not in the least boastful. "Here, I'll show you," he went on.
Their act was not quite finished, but before going on with the next gymnastic feat Joe caught hold of a hoisting rope that ran through a pulley, and, at a nodded signal, one of the ring-men hauled the lad up to the top of the tent to the little platform where Joe had stood when taking his place on the high trapeze.
Joe signaled to the ring-master that he was going to make a jump into the net from that height, and at once the crowd again became aware that something unusual was going on. It was a jump seldom made, at least in The Sampson Brothers' Circus. The platform was fully twenty feet higher than the trapeze from which Joe and his fellow-performer had dropped a few minutes before. And, as Sid Lascalla had said, there was a risk even in jumping into a life net. But Joe Strong seemed to know what he was about.
"Say, he's going to do some jump!" exclaimed Benny Turton, who came into the ring at that moment, dressed in his shimmering, scaly suit, ready to do his "human fish" act.
"That's what!" cried Jim Tracy. "Give him the long roll and the boom!" he called to the leader of the musicians.
As Joe poised for his jump the snare drummer rattled out a "ruffle," and as it started Joe leaned forward and leaped.
Down he went, for a few feet, as straight as an arrow. Then he suddenly doubled up into a sort of ball, and began turning over and over. The crowd held its breath. The drum continued to rattle out its thundering accompaniment. How many somersaults Joe turned none of the spectators reckoned, but the youthful performer kept count of them, for he wanted to "straighten out," to land on his feet in the net.
"He'll never do it!" predicted Tonzo Lascalla.
And it did begin to look as though Joe had miscalculated.
But no. Just before he reached the springy life net he straightened out and came down feet first, bouncing up, and down like a rubber ball. The instant he landed the bass drum gave forth a thundering "boom," and as Joe rose, and came down again, the drummer punctuated each descent with a bang, until the crowd that had applauded madly at the jump was laughing at the queer effect of Joe's bouncing to the accompaniment of the drum.
"He did it!" cried Jim Tracy. "It was a great jump. We'll feature that now."
He looked at Sid and Tonzo Lascalla, as though asking why they had not worked something like this into their acts previously. But the Spaniards only shrugged their shoulders and raised their eyebrows.
"That was great, Joe!" exclaimed Benny Turton, as Joe leaped to the ground over the edge of the life net. "Great!"
Joe smiled happily.
"It was wonderful," added Helen Morton, who was about to put her trick horse, Rosebud, through his paces. "It was wonderful—but I don't like to see anybody take such risks."
"Anybody?" asked Joe in a low voice.
"Well, then—you," she whispered, as she ran off to her ring.
"Well, I did it, you see," observed Joe to his two partners. "I guess I know how to fall into a net."
"You sure do!" averred the ring-master. "Try that at each performance, Joe."
"Only—be careful," added Tonzo Lascalla. "We do not want to have to get another partner."
The act of Joe and the two other "Lascalla Brothers" came to an end with Joe and Sid hanging suspended from the legs of Tonzo, who supported himself on a swinging trapeze. It made an effective close.
Joe was through then, and could watch the rest of the show or go to bed, as he pleased. He elected to stay in the "main top" and watch Helen in her act. He was also much interested in the "human fish."
"Pshaw!" Joe heard Jim Tracy murmur, as he, too, looked at Benny in the tank. "He isn't staying under as long as he used to, not by half a minute. I wonder what's the matter with him. First we know he'll be cutting the time, and we'll hear a howl from the public. That won't do! I'll have to give him a call-down."
Joe felt sorry for Ben, who did not seem at all well. Joe thought he had better not interfere, but he resolved to speak to the water-performer privately, and see if he could not help him.
Joe repeated his sensational acts at the next day's performances, and that night he and the others in the circus moved on to the next stand. Joe wrote a line to Professor Rosello, telling him of the success.
It was a quite novel experience for Joe, traveling with a circus. But he was used to sleeping cars by this time, on account of the going from town to town with the magician.
However, he had never before had a berth in a train filled with circus performers, and, for a time, he could not sleep because of the strangeness. But he soon grew used to it, and in a few nights he could doze off as soon as he stretched out.
Joe's new suit of pink tights arrived. It matched those of the Lascalla Brothers. In fact, Joe was now billed as one of that trio, though, of course, he went by his own name in private. He was sufficiently dark as to hair and complexion to pass for a Spaniard.
To quote his own words, Joe was "taking to the circus life as a duck does to water." He seemed to fit right in. He made some new friends, but of all the men or youths in the show he liked best Benny Turton and the ring-master. Joe and the Lascalla Brothers got along well, but there was not much intimacy between them, though they worked well in the "team."
Joe was on the lookout for any signs of Sim Dobley, but that unfortunate man did not appear, as far as our hero could learn. If Sid or Tonzo made further appeals for his reinstatement they said nothing about it to Joe.
As the show went on, playing from town to town, Joe become more and more used to the life. He liked it very much, and each day he was becoming more proficient on the trapeze.
One day, about two weeks after he had joined the circus, Joe had an idea for a new feat. It involved his jump from a distance, catching Tonzo Lascalla by the legs and hanging there. It was harder than making a leap for the other performer's hands, since, if Joe missed his clutch, Tonzo would have a chance to grab him with his hands. But when Joe leaped for his partner's feet a certain margin of safety was lost.
It was not that a fall would be dangerous if Joe missed, for the life net was below him. But the effect of the trick would be spoiled.
They practised the trick in private—Joe and Tonzo—and for a time it did not seem to work. Joe fell short every time of grasping the other's legs.
"You will never do it," said Sid, and there was a queer look on his face as he glanced at Tonzo. The other seemed to wink, just the mere fraction of a wink, and then, like a flash, it came to Joe.
"He doesn't want me to do it," thought our hero. "Tonzo wants me to fail. He doesn't want me to be successful, for he thinks maybe he can get Sim back. But I'll fool him! I think he has been drawing up his legs the instant I jumped for them, so I would miss. I'll watch next time."
This Joe did, and found his surmise right. Just before he reached with outstretched hands for Tonzo's legs, the man drew them slightly up, and, as a result, Joe missed.
"Here's where I turn a trick on him," mused the young performer, as he failed and landed in the net In his next attempt Joe leaped unusually high, and though Tonzo drew up his legs he could not pull them beyond Joe's reach.
"That's the time I did it!" cried Joe, as he made the catch and swung to and fro.
Sid, on the ground below, shrugged his shoulders, and said something to Tonzo in Spanish.