THE SWINDLERS AGAIN
Joe Strong, having checked his rapid, head-first and head-on slide down
the slanting wire by grasping it in his gloved hands, gave a "flip-flop"
and stood up, bowing to the loud applause. Jim Tracy and some of the
other circus employees surrounded the young man.
"Why didn't you tell us you were going to pull off something like this?"
demanded the ringmaster.
"Because I wasn't sure until the last minute that I would do it,"
answered Joe. "I hadn't practiced it as much as I should have liked, but
when I got up there on the platform I felt pretty sure I could do it. I
wasn't running much risk anyhow, except that of failure. I knew I
wouldn't fall, for I could have grabbed the wire in my hands if I had
started to topple over."
"But how did you do it?" asked some one, who came up to join the
wondering throng after Joe's feat had been performed. "I've seen you
stand on your head before, but to slide down a wire--say, what sort of
scalp have you, anyhow?"
Joe laughed and held out a close-fitting skull-cap of leather. Fastened
to the leather was a small steel framework, and in this frame were two
small grooved wheels, like the wheels of a trolley by means of which
street cars receive the electric current from the wire. Joe put the cap
on his head to show how it enabled him to do the trick. The big races
were on now, as the close of the performance was close at hand, and the
crowd was paying attention to the contests and not to the group of
performers surrounding the young magician.
Once they had seen the cap with the grooved wheels on top placed on
Joe's head, his friends understood how the trick was done. He had simply
to balance himself on his head on the wire, a feat he had often
performed before. The natural attraction of gravitation did the rest. He
simply slid down on the wheels, his extended arms and legs steadying
him.
"It's just as if you had a roller skate on your head," said Señorita
Tanlozo, the snake charmer, who had strolled into the main tent after
her act in the side show was over.
"Exactly," said Joe, with a smile. "Would you like to try it?"
"Not while my snakes are alive!" she assured him.
"Well, it's another drawing card for the Sampson Brothers' Show," said
Jim Tracy that night when the receipts were being counted and
preparations being made for moving on to the next city. "How long are
you going to keep it up, Joe?"
"As to that, I can't say," was the answer. "But I like the game, and I
want to see the circus a success."
"It's a big one now, thanks in a large part to you," observed the
ringmaster. "But you'd better take a rest now, Joe, my boy. Don't try to
pull off any more spectacular stunts."
"Oh, I haven't pulled off my big one yet," replied the young magician.
"I mean the one with the fire. I'm working on that. If it comes out the
way I think it will we'll have to give three performances a day instead
of two."
"Oh, we can't do that!" protested Mr. Moyne, the treasurer. "It's hard
enough keeping account of the money and tickets now, with two shows a
day. If we have three--"
He paused, for it was very evident Joe was only joking, and there were
smiles on the faces of the other circus folk.
"Don't worry!" said Joe to the treasurer. "I don't want to act three
times a day any more than you want to count the tickets and cash. And, I
suppose, if we could, by some means, give three performances, it would
only give our swindling ticket friends more chance to work their scheme.
By the way, there are no further signs of their putting bogus tickets
on sale, are there?"
"Not since we started the detectives at work," the treasurer answered.
"But I'm always on the watch, and so are the men at the entrances."
"It's about time those detectives got results, I think," declared Jim
Tracy. "I wonder what they think we're paying them for?"
"It takes time for a thing like that to be cleaned up," said Joe.
"Well, I know what I'd do if I were detecting," half-growled the
ringmaster.
"What?" inquired the treasurer.
"I'd round up and arrest a certain few worthless men I know who used to
be in the circus business--some with this show!" declared Jim. "It's
queer, but our outfit seems to be the only one that they pick on. That's
what makes me think it was some one who used to work for us."
"Who?" the treasurer wanted to know.
"Well, I'm not mentioning any names," declared the ringmaster, as he
prepared to divest himself of his dress suit in readiness for the trip
to the circus train. "But I have my suspicions."
"What makes you say ours is the only circus to have lost money on bogus
tickets?" asked Joe.
"Read it in _Paste and Paper_," was the answer. That was the name of the
trade journal devoted to the interests of circus folk, tent shows, and
the like. "The last number had a piece in it about our losing money on
fake tickets," went on the ringmaster, "and it said it was the first
case of its kind to appear in several years. There have been no
complaints of circuses in other parts of the country being cheated that
way, this article said. So I know it's some one picking specially on
us."
"Well, perhaps you're right," assented Joe. "But as long as we have
changed our style of tickets and they haven't tried their tricks again,
maybe we've settled them."
"All the same I'm going to be on the watch," declared the treasurer.
The city where the circus showed the following day and night was a large
one. A new automobile industry employing many hands had located there
within the last six months. It was decided to make a stay of two days in
this place, since the advance agent reported that many of the men worked
overtime and nights, and otherwise they could not see the performance.
"Well, I'm glad we're to be here two days," remarked Helen, as she
passed Joe's private quarters, where he was going over some of his
apparatus, costumes, and effects.
"Yes, we'll have a good night's rest," he agreed, though, truth to tell,
the circus folk were so used to traveling that the train journey almost
every night did not bother them. Still they always welcomed a stay in a
city over night.
"You seem busy," remarked Helen, as she sat down on a box and watched
Joe.
"Yes, I'm going to introduce a little novelty in the slide down the
slanting wire," he answered. "I'm going to work in a fire stunt."
"A fire stunt!" exclaimed Helen. "Surely you aren't going to--"
"Oh, it won't be dangerous!" Joe assured her, guessing her thoughts.
Helen had learned that the jump into Benny's tank the first time was due
to an accident. "It's just a bit spectacular and will liven things up a
bit, I think. If it goes well I have an idea you can work one of the
features in your bareback act."
"Oh, Joe, I never could walk a wire, nor slide down on my head, the way
you do. And I don't see how Rosebud could, either." And Helen gave a
merry little laugh at the vision she raised.
"Oh, I'm not going to have your horse walk the tight rope nor the high
wire!" laughed Joe. "It would be a corking good stunt if we could,
though. No, this is simpler. I'll tell you about it later."
Mrs. Watson, wife of the veteran clown, called for Helen just then,
asking her to go to see one of the women performers who was ill.
"I'll see you later, Joe," Helen called out, as she left him.
Joe was busy mixing up some chemicals in a pail on the ground outside
his tent when he was accosted by a rather hoarse voice asking:
"Any chance for a job here, boss?" Joe looked up to see a somewhat
disreputable figure of a man observing him. The fellow looked like the
typical tramp, perhaps not quite so ragged and dirty, but still in that
class. However, there was something about the man that attracted Joe's
attention. As he said afterward, his visitor had about him the air of
the "profesh."
Joe's first impulse was to say that he knew of no job, or else to refer
his accoster to the head canvas man, who hired transient help in putting
up the main top and in pulling or driving stakes. But as Joe observed
the man curiously watching him, he had another idea. Before he could act
on it, however, the man exclaimed:
"You do a fire-eating stunt, don't you?"
"Yes," Joe answered. And then it occurred to him to wonder how the man
knew. True he might have observed Joe in some of the many performances,
but the man did not look like one who would spend money on circus
tickets. He might have crawled under the tent, but it did not seem
exactly probable. And, of course, some of the circus employees plight
have pointed Joe out to the man as the actor who handled fire. But,
again, Joe did not believe this. So he asked:
"How did you know?"
For answer the man pointed to the pail of chemicals into which Joe was
about to dip a suit of tights.
"Smelled the dope," was the brief answer. "You're using tungstate of
soda, aren't you?"
"Yes," answered Joe, surprised that a man, evidently of such a class,
should recognize the not very common chemical.
"We used to use alum in the old days," the man went on. "I guess the new
dope's better, though I never tried it."
"Are you in the business?" asked Joe.
"Well, I--er--I used to be," and the man straightened himself up with an
air of forgotten pride. "I was with a circus once--used to do a
fire-eating act and jump into a fake bonfire. I doped my clothes with
alum water though. That's great stuff for preventing the fire taking
hold if you don't stay in the blaze too long. But, as I say, they've
discovered something new."
"You used to be a fire-eater?" asked Joe curiously.
"Yes. And I was counted a pretty good one. But I lost my nerve."
"How?"
"Well--er--not to put too fine a point on it, I got too fond of the
fire-water. Couldn't stay on the water-wagon long enough, got careless
in my act, went down and out. Oh, it's the old story. You've probably
heard it lots of times. But I would like a job now. I'm actually hungry,
and I've seen the time I could blow the bunch to champagne and lobster."
Joe, on impulse, and yet, too, because he had an object, was just going
to offer the man help when he saw Mr. Moyne coming across the lot toward
him from the ticket wagon. The afternoon performance was about to start.
"They're here again!" cried the treasurer.
"Who?" asked Joe.
"The ticket swindlers!"