HELEN'S LETTER
"Now I wonder," mused Joe as he leaped out of the net, "what they said
to each other. I'm sure it was about me. Well, let it go. I did the
trick, and I guess he won't pull his legs away again. If he does he'll
have to pull 'em so far that it will be noticed all over, and he can't
say it was an accident. I'll take care to make a high jump."
Joe practised the trick again and again, until he felt he was perfect
in it. Tonzo seemed to have given up the idea of spoiling it, if that
had been his intention, and he and Joe worked at it until they could do
it smoothly.
"When are you going to put it on?" Jim Tracy inquired, when told there
was a new feature to the Lascalla Brothers' act.
"Oh, in a couple of nights now," Joe answered.
"You sure are making good, all right," the ring-master informed him.
"I didn't make any mistake booking you. I didn't know whom to turn to
in a hurry when Sim Dobley went back on me, and then I happened to
think of you. Got your route from one of the magazines, and sent you
the wire."
"I was mighty glad to come," confessed Joe.
The new act created more applause than ever for the Lascalla Brothers
when it was exhibited, but the louder applause seemed to come to Joe,
though he did not try to keep his fellow performers from their share.
And, as might be expected, there was not a little professional jealousy
on the part of some of the other performers.
If Sid and Tonzo were jealous of him they took pains to hide that fact
from Joe, but some of the others were not so careful. A few of the
other gymnasts openly declared that the Lascalla Brothers were getting
altogether too much public attention.
"They detract from me," declared Madame Bullriva, the "strong woman,"
whose star feat was to get beneath a board platform on which stood
twelve men, and raise it from the saw-horses across which it lay.
True, she only raised it a few inches, but the act was "billed big."
"I don't get half the applause I used to," she complained to Jim Tracy.
"You let those 'Spanish onions' have too much time in the ring, and
give that Joe Strong a ruffle of drums and the big boom every time he
makes the long jump."
"But it's worth it," said the ring-master. "It's a big drawing card."
"So's my act, but I don't get a single drum beat. Can't I have some
music with my act?"
"I'll see," promised the ring-master, but he had many other things to
think of, and the act of Madame Bullriva went unheralded, to her great
disgust.
"Talk about footlight favorites," she complained to Helen Morton, as
they dressed together for a performance, "that Joe Strong is getting
all that's coming to him."
"Oh, I don't think he tries to take away from any of us," Helen
answered.
"No, he doesn't personally. He's a nice boy. But Tracy makes too much
fuss over him. I like Joe, but he and his partners are 'crabbing' my
act, all right."
"Perhaps if you spoke to him----"
"What! Me? Let him know I cared? I guess not! I'll join some other
circus first."
"You might put another man on the platform, and lift thirteen," the
young trick rider suggested.
"What! Lift thirteen? That would be unlucky, my dear. I did it once
when I was on the Western circuit in a Wild West show, and believe
me--never again! I strained a shoulder muscle, and I had to lie up in
a hospital five weeks. Twelve men are enough to lift at once, take it
from me! But Joe is a nice boy, I'll say that. Don't you like him?"
Helen's answer was not very clear, but perhaps that was because she was
fixing her hair in readiness for the entrance into the ring with her
trained horse, Rosebud.
Joe, Helen and Benny Turton seemed to have formed a little group among
themselves. They sat together at the circus table, and when they were
not "on," they were much in the company of one another.
They were about the same age, and they enjoyed each other's society
greatly, being congenial companions. Joe was "introduced" to Rosebud
and, being naturally fond of animals, he made friends with the
intelligent horse at once, which pleased Helen.
She and Joe were getting very fond of one another, though perhaps
neither of them would have admitted that, if openly taxed with it.
But, somehow or other, Joe seemed naturally to drift over near Helen
when they were both in the tent, awaiting their turns. And when their
acts were over they either took walks together in and about the town
where the circus was playing, or they sat in their dressing tent
talking. Often Benny Turton would join them, always being made welcome.
But Benny did not have much time. His shimmering, scaly, green suit
was quite elaborately made, and it took him some time to get into it.
It took equally as long to get out of it, and after his act he was
always more or less exhausted and had to rest.
"I don't know what's the matter with me," he said one day to Helen and
Joe, as he joined them after having been in the big glass tank. "But I
feel so tired after I come out that I want to go to bed."
"Maybe you stay under water too long," Helen said sympathetically.
"I don't stay under as long as I used to," Benny remarked. "In fact
Jim Tracy was sort of kicking just now. Said I was billed to stay
under water four minutes, and I was cutting it to three. I can't help
it. Something seems to hurt me here," and he put his hands to his ears
and to the back of his head.
"Maybe you ought to see a doctor," suggested Joe.
"I can't," said Benny shortly. "In this circus business if they find
out you're sick the management begins to think of booking some one else
for your act. No, I've got to keep on with it. But some days I don't
feel much like it."
Joe and Helen felt sorry for Benny, but there was little they could do
to aid him. It was not as if they could take some of the burden of
work off his shoulders. His act was peculiar, and he alone could do it.
"Though I think," said Joe to himself one day after watching Benny
perform, "I think I could stay under water almost as long as he does
after I'd practised it a bit. I'm going to try some time. I think
deep breathing exercises would help. I'm going to begin on them."
Joe had to have good "wind" for his own acts, but, as he was naturally
ambitious, he started in on systematic breathing exercises. These
would do him much general good even if he should never enter the
water-tank.
Occasionally Joe would do some simple sleight-of-hand tricks for the
amusement of Benny and Helen. He did not want to lose the art he had
acquired.
"I may want to quit the circus some day and go back in the illusion
business," he said.
"Quit the circus! Why?" Helen asked him.
"Oh, I'm not thinking seriously of it, of course," he said quickly.
"But I don't want to get rusty on those tricks."
Joe heard occasionally from Professor Rosello, who had leased his show
and was taking a much needed rest. He inquired as to Joe's progress,
and was glad, he said, to hear our hero was doing well.
One day, when the circus was playing a large manufacturing city on a
two days' date, Joe had another glimpse of the man he had supplanted.
The young trapeze artist went out of the tent when his share in the
afternoon performance was over, and as he paused to look at the crowd
in front of the sideshow tent he heard some one addressing him.
"So you're the chap that took my place, are you?" a vindictive voice
asked. "I've been wanting to see you!"
Joe turned to, behold Sim Dobley, who seemed worse off than when the
young performer had first met him.
"Yes, I've been wanting to see you!" and there was a sneer in Sim's
words.
Joe decided nothing could be gained by temporizing, or by showing that
he was alarmed.
"Well, now you've seen me, what are you going to do about it?" he
coolly asked.
"That's all right. You wait and you'll see!" was the threatening
response. "Nobody can knock me out of an engagement and get away with
it. You'll see!"
"Look here!" exclaimed Joe. "I didn't knock you out of your place. No
one did except yourself, and you know it. And I'm not going to stand
for any talk like that from you, either."
"That's right, give it to him!" said another voice, and Jim Tracy came
up. "Don't let him bluff you, Joe. As for you, Dobley, I've told you
to keep away from this circus, and I mean it! I heard you'd been
following us. Rode on one of the canvas wagons last night, didn't you?"
"Well, what if I did?"
"This! If you do it again I'll have you arrested. I'm through with
you and I want you to keep away."
"I guess this is a free country!"
"Yes, the _country_ is free, but our _circus_ isn't. You keep out in
the country and you'll be all right. Keep off our wagons. Moreover,
if I catch you making any more threats against our performers I'll----
But I guess Joe can look after himself all right," finished the
ring-master. "Just you keep away, that's all, Dobley."
The man slunk off in the crowd. Joe really felt sorry for him, but he
could do nothing. Dobley had thrown away his chances and they had come
to Joe, who was entitled to them. Later that day Joe saw Sid and Tonzo
in close conversation with their former partner, but our hero said
nothing to the ring-master about it, though he was a bit uneasy in his
own mind.
The next afternoon when Joe came out of his dressing room after his
trapeze act, he met Helen Morton. The fancy rider held an open letter
in her hand, and she seemed disturbed at its contents.
"No bad news, I hope," remarked Joe.
"No, not exactly," Helen answered. "On the contrary it may be good
news. But I don't exactly understand it. I wish Bill Watson were
here, so I could ask his advice."
"Who is Bill Watson?" asked Joe.
"He's one of our clowns, one of the oldest in the business, I guess.
He was taken ill just before you joined the show, but he's coming back
next week. I often ask his advice, and I'd like to now--about this
letter."
"Why don't you ask mine?" suggested Joe, half jokingly.