RINGS OF FIRE
Instantly Joe Strong lost interest in the "tramp fire-eater," as he
afterward came to call the man. All the attention of the young magician
was centered on what the treasurer had said.
"Are you certain of this?" asked Joe.
"Positive!" was the answer. "We've been keeping careful watch, paying
special attention to the red serial numbers, and some duplicates have
been taken in at the main entrance. The swindlers are at work again."
"But our new tickets!" exclaimed Joe. "The new style of paper and the
precautions we have taken! What of that?"
In answer Mr. Moyne held out two tickets, both bearing the same serial
number in red ink.
"Which is the bogus and which is the genuine?" he asked.
Joe looked carefully at the two. He examined them for a full minute.
"I can't tell!" he admitted.
"And no one else can, either," declared the treasurer. "We're up
against it again! Those fellows are too clever for us. Now we'll lose a
lot of money!"
"Well, it won't break us," said Joe easily. "Though, of course, no one
likes to be cheated. The only thing to do is to get the detectives busy.
Let them know the new turn affairs have taken, and I'll send these two
tickets to our chemist friend. He can tell which is printed from our
regular stock, and which is the counterfeit.
"Then, too, it ought to be easier to catch the rascals now than it was
at first. You see, we didn't know how long the old tickets had been
counterfeited. Now we're warned, first shot out of the box, about the
new ones. And since the paper mill hasn't been supplying our printer
with the new kind of paper very long, it ought to be easy to trace where
the new and clever counterfeit supply is coming from."
"Well, I hope they can catch the scoundrels," said Mr. Moyne. "I
certainly hate to see money lost."
Mr. Moyne was an ideal treasurer. He always had the interests of the
circus at heart, and one would think that the money came out of his own
pocket to hear him talk about the counterfeit tickets. In a way he did
lose, personally, since he was one of the owners of the show, and the
less money that came in the less his stock dividends would amount to.
"I'll write to Mr. Waldon to-night," said Joe, as he took the two
tickets. "And we'll notify the detectives. Now I must get ready for my
act. That can't be dropped."
"Having trouble, eh?" asked the tramp, who had moved a little to one
side.
"Oh, well, just a little," admitted Joe, who was not altogether pleased
that this talk should have been overheard by a stranger.
"Did you say there was any chance for a job?" asked the ragged man.
"Well, I don't know," said Joe, rather doubtfully. "Is that straight
goods, about your being a fire-eater?"
"I was once. But I'm not looking for that kind of a job now," was the
quick answer. "I lost my nerve, I tell you. Handling stakes or driving a
wagon would be my limit."
"What sort of an act in the fire line did you have?" asked Joe, for a
certain idea was beginning to form in his mind.
"It was a good act!" was the response, and again the spark of pride
seemed about to be fanned into a flame. "Got any old-timers in this here
circus of yours?"
"Yes," answered Joe. "There's Jim Tracy and Bill Watson and--"
"Bill Watson who used to clown it?" cried the man eagerly.
"He clowns it yet."
"Old Bill!" murmured the tramp. "Him still making good in the business,
and me a bum! Well, it's all my own fault. If I'd stuck to the
fire-eating and not drinking fire-water I'd be somewhere to-day. Just
ask Bill Watson what sort of an act Ham Logan had--'Coal-fire Logan!'"
exclaimed the man. "That was my title. Hamilton Logan is my name, but I
haven't told any one in--not in a long time," he added, and he looked
away. "But ask Bill Watson about me."
"Here he comes now," said Joe, as he observed the veteran clown
approaching. "Suppose you ask him yourself."
For an instant Ham Logan hesitated. Then he stepped forward and
confronted the old clown. The latter paid no attention at first,
evidently thinking the man one of the many hangers-on about a circus
ground.
"Joe," began Bill Watson, "Helen sent me to ask you if you have any
ammonia in your kit--I mean the kind they give the ladies when their
hearts are weak, or something like that. One of the girls has some kind
of a little spell, and we can't find the doctor."
"Yes, I have some ammonia," said Joe. "I'll get it."
Ham Logan looked Bill Watson in the face, and asked:
"Don't you remember me?"
"Can't say that I do," was the somewhat cool response of the veteran
clown. "Is there any reason why I should?"
"Do you remember Coal-fire Logan?"
Bill Watson started, looked more closely at the man, and then slowly
asked:
"Are you Ham Logan?"
"What's left of me--yes."
"Well, I'll be gum swizzled!" exclaimed Bill. "Say, did the elephant
step on you or one of the tent wagons roll over you?"
"Neither one. I'm down and out, that's all--and it's enough, too."
"Well, that's enough, I should say," commented the clown, as he took the
bottle of stimulant Joe handed him. "Last I heard of you you'd gone on a
theater circuit. That was just after you'd quit the Dobling show."
"Yes, I did do a theater circuit," admitted Ham Logan. "But it didn't
last. Or rather, I didn't last. I was just asking the young man here for
a job. I said you'd remember me."
"Well, I certainly do," returned the old clown, who was not to do his
act until later in the day.
"And I'm sorry to see you in this state, Ham. You did me a good turn
once, and I haven't forgotten. Stick around a while, and I'll see you
as soon as I play first-aid. Joe, if it isn't asking too much, will you
look after Ham for a while? He used to be a good sort, and--"
"Better say too much of a 'good _sport_,'" paraphrased the man.
"I'll take care of him," promised Joe. "Did you say you were hungry?"
asked the young magician, as the old clown turned and hurried away with
the ammonia.
"You said it! But I'm not altogether a grafter. I can work for what I
eat." And again there was a flash of pride.
"We'll talk of that later," said Joe. "Just now I want to get you
something to eat. Here, take that over to the dining tent," and he
scribbled a few words on one of his cards. "After you've eaten all you
want, and after the show this afternoon, look me up."
"Do you think you can give me work?" asked the man eagerly. "I don't
mean to act," he hastened to say. "I'm past that--down and out. But I'm
strong. I can pull on the ropes or drive stakes."
"We'll talk of that later," replied Joe gently. "Go and eat now."
"Well, I sure can feed my face!" exclaimed the man. "I--I don't know how
to thank you. Bill will tell you that I wasn't a bad fellow in my day.
I just lost my nerve--that's all. False friends and fire-water--"
"See me later," said Joe, with a friendly wave of his hand. And the man
hurried toward the dining tent, next to the cook wagons. Already he
seemed imbued with more hope and pride, something that filled Joe with
pleasure.
Joe busied himself with mixing the chemicals in the pail. As Ham Logan
had guessed, the young fire-eater was mixing up a solution of tungstate
of soda. This chemical is a salt, made by roasting wolfram with soda
ash, and wolfram is a native tungstate of iron and manganese. This soda
preparation is used commercially in making garments fire-proof, and Joe
had learned this from Mr. Herbert Waldon, the chemist. He had decided to
use this instead of an alum solution, which is credited with great
fire-resisting qualities. It has them, too, to a certain extent, but by
experimenting Joe had found the tungstate of soda best.
It was the evening of the circus in the city in which the show was to
remain two days. Ham Logan had returned to Joe after having eaten a good
meal, and later Bill Watson formed the third member of a trio that
talked for some time in a corner of Joe's tent.
As already said, it was the evening performance, and as Helen finished
her act on Rosebud she looked over toward the place where Joe was
preparing to do his slide down the slanting wire.
"I wonder what he had in mind as a new act for me," mused Helen. "I do
hope it isn't anything to do with fire. That sort of stunt creates a
sensation, but it's dangerous, in spite of what Joe does to himself. I
don't like it! Not after what happened to Joe that day!"
She had seen that Rosebud was given in charge of the groom who always
looked after the clever steed, and now Helen moved over where she could
watch Joe's comparatively new wire act.
As she approached this part of the circus tent Helen was startled to see
several men carrying large hoops on long poles, take their positions on
either side of the slanting wire down which the daring performer was
soon to slide on his head, by means of the wheeled cap.
"That's something new!" exclaimed Helen, as she saw the men with the big
hoops. "I wonder if Joe is going to jump through them, as I jump through
the paper hoops from Rosebud's back?"
Joe was up on the little platform now, having finished his wire act. He
was adjusting to his head the leather cap.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" began Jim Tracy in his sonorous voice, as he
pointed to Joe on his high perch, thus calling attention to the
performer.
All eyes were turned in his direction. Then, as Joe stooped over and
stood on his head, preparatory to sliding down the wire, the hoops,
which the men held over the cable by means of long poles, suddenly burst
into flame. Held over the wire, down which Joe would in a moment slide,
was a row of fiery circles!
Helen held her hand over her lips to stifle a scream.