THE CHEMIST'S LETTER
"Oh, Joe, you'll surely burn yourself!" exclaimed the startled bareback
rider.
"Did you get burned?" questioned Mrs. Watson.
"Some trick!" declared the snake charmer.
For the moment there was some excitement, for this was a new act for the
circus people.
Helen soon recovered her customary composure, and then she explained the
cause of her excitement and the startled cry she had given. She had, of
course, expected some trick with fire when Joe had summoned her and the
others to his own private part of the dressing tents. But she had not
expected to see him actually put the blazing material in his mouth.
"I thought there was some sleight-of-hand performance about it," she
said. "I had an idea that you only pretended to put the blazing stuff in
your mouth, Joe. And when I saw it I was afraid you'd breathe in the
flames and--and--"
She did not need to go on, they all understood what she meant, for
every one in the circus knew that Helen and Joe were engaged.
"I once saw a little boy burned at a bonfire at which he was playing,"
went on Helen. "He died. Since then the sight of fire near a human being
has always a bad effect on me. But I suppose I can get over it, if I
know there is no danger," she said with a slight smile at Joe.
"Well, I can assure you there isn't the slightest danger," he declared.
"If there was, I should be the first to give it up. I am as fond of
living as any one."
"You don't show it, young man, in some of the tricks you do," commented
Mrs. Watson, with the freedom befitting a "circus mother," and the
privilege of an old friend. "You must remember that you don't live only
for yourself," and she looked significantly at Helen.
"Oh, I'll be careful!" promised Joe. "And now I'll do the trick again
for you, and let you see that it's absolutely harmless. Any of you could
do it--if you knew how."
"Excuse me!" exclaimed Jim Tracy. "Not for mine!"
However they all watched Joe eagerly and interestedly, even Helen. He
did not seem to make any unusual preparations. He merely took a drink of
what seemed to be water. Then he ignited something in the flame of the
candle and placed the burning stuff in his mouth, seeming to chew it
with gusto.
"Oh!" exclaimed Helen. But beyond that and a momentary placing of one
hand over her heart, she did not give way to emotion. Then, as Joe did
the fire-eating trick again, Helen forced herself to watch him closely.
As he had said, he took no harm from the act.
"Tell us how you do it," begged Bill Watson. "When I get over being
funny--or getting audiences to think I am--I may want to live on
something hot. How do you work it?"
"Well," said Joe, "if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not tell. It
isn't that I'm afraid of any of my friends giving the trick away, and so
spoiling the mystery of it for the crowds. It's just as it was in my box
act. If any of you are asked how I do this fire trick you can truly say
you don't know, for none of you will know by my telling, not even Helen,
though she is in on the box secret. I'll only say that I protect my face
and mouth, as well as hands, in a certain way, and that I do, actually,
put the blazing material into my mouth. I am not burned. So if any one
asks you about the act you may tell them that much with absolute truth.
Now the question is--how is it going to go with the audiences? We need
something--or, at least, I do--to create a sensation. Will this answer?"
"I should say so!" exclaimed Jim Tracy. "That ought to go big when it's
dressed up."
"Oh, this is only the ground work," said Joe. "I'm going to elaborate
this fire act and make it the sensation of the season. I've only begun
on it. I got from a chemist the materials I want with which to protect
myself, and I have shown, to my own and your satisfaction, that I can
eat fire without getting harmed. So far all is well. Now I'm going to
work the act up into something really worth while."
"But you'll still be careful, won't you, Joe?" asked Helen.
"Indeed I will," he assured her.
"Do the trick once more, Joe," suggested Bill Watson. "I'm coming as
close as you'll let me, and I want to criticize it from the standpoint
of a man in the audience."
"That's what I'm after," said Joe. "If there are any flaws in the act,
now is the time to find it out."
Once more he set the material ablaze and put it into his mouth. Bill
Watson watched closely, and, at the end, the old clown shook his head.
"I saw you actually put the fire in your mouth," he testified. "No one
can do more than that. It takes nerve!"
Of course, no one can actually swallow fire and live. The slightest
breath of flame on the lungs or on the mucous membrane of the throat
and passages is fatal. So when the terms "fire-eating" or "fire-eater"
are used it will be in the sense of its being a theatrical act. There is
a trick about it, and the trick is this:
In the first place, the flame itself is produced by blazing alcohol.
This produces a blaze, and a hot one, too, but there is no smoke. In
other words, the combustion is almost perfect, there being no residue of
carbon to remain hot after the actual flame is extinguished.
And now as to the actual putting into one's mouth something that is
blazing hot: It all depends on a very simple principle.
If the hand be thoroughly wet in water it may be safely thrust for a
fraction of a second into a flaming gas jet. But mark this--for the
_fraction of a second only_. The water forms a protecting film for the
skin, and before it is evaporated the hand must be taken out of danger.
In other words, there is needed an appreciable time for the fire to beat
the skin to the burning point.
This immunity from burns, to which the professional fire-eaters owe
their success, comes from this film of moisture on their skin. They do
not always use water--in fact, this is only serviceable for a momentary
contact with flame, and, at that, on the hands or face. In case a longer
contact is desired, a fire-resisting chemical liquid is used.
It is about the contact of flame with the tender mucous membrane
surfaces of the mouth and throat that Joe, as a fire-eater, was most
concerned.
In the first place, there is a constant film of the secretion called
saliva always flowing in the mouth. It comes from glands in the throat
and mouth, and is very necessary to good digestion.
Now, for a very brief period this saliva, which is just the same as a
film of water on the hand, resists the fire. But professional
fire-eaters do not depend on saliva alone. They use a chemical solution,
and this is what Joe did when he drank something from a glass.
What that chemical solution was, Joe kept as a closely guarded
professional secret. He feared, too, that some boy might make it, rinse
his mouth out with it, and then, getting an audience of his chums
together, might try to eat some blazing coals. He might, and very likely
would, be severely burned, and his parents or those in charge of him
would blame Joe for allowing such dangerous information to leak out.
So, though he guarded all his secrets of magic, he was particularly
careful to keep this one to himself.
But Joe protected his mouth and throat with a fire-resisting liquid, the
formula for which was given him by the chemist to whom he submitted the
circus tickets.
The success of Joe and others of his kind depends also in this on a
well known natural law. It is that there can be no combustion in the
ordinary sense where there is no oxygen. As a candle will surely go out
if enclosed in an air-tight receptacle--that is, it will go out as soon
as it has burned up all the oxygen--just so surely will flame of any
kind go out when a person closes his mouth on it. And as there is
scarcely any air in the closed mouth--all of it going down the bronchial
tubes into the lungs--it follows that the flame dies out almost
instantly. That fact being considered, and the mouth and throat having
been previously treated with the secret chemical, there is really not so
much danger as appears.
As a matter of fact, a person inadvertently swallowing hot tea or coffee
will burn or scald his mouth or tongue much more painfully than will a
professional fire-eater. Most people know how painful a burned tongue
is.
Joe told something of the history of fire-eating "champions" to his
audience of friends, for it appeared that he had been reading up on the
subject and was well informed. Then he announced that the private
rehearsal was over.
"But I'm going to work this fire-eating up into something that will
cause a sensation," he said. And he made good his promise.
It was about a week after this, and the circus had been traveling
about, playing to good business, when Joe received a letter. In the
upper left-hand corner was the imprint of Herbert Waldon, Chemist.
"I hope he has some news about the circus tickets!" exclaimed Joe. For
the show had been losing money steadily by means of the bogus coupons;
not as much as at first, but enough to make it necessary to discover the
fraud. And, so far, Mr. Moyne had not been successful.
"Perhaps this explains the mystery," mused Joe as he opened the letter.