HELEN'S INHERITANCE
Joe Strong had scarcely begun his act when he became aware that indeed
the storm was no usual blow and bluster, accompanied by rain. He could
feel his trapeze swaying as the whole tent shook, and while this would
not have deterred him from going on with his performance, he felt that
an accident was likely to occur that would start a panic.
"It surely does feel as if the old 'main top' was going to fall,"
thought Joe as he swung head downward by his knees, preparatory to
doing another act. He could see that many in the audience were getting
uneasy, and some were leaving their seats, though the red-capped ushers
were going about calling:
"Sit still! Keep your seats! There is no danger. The tent is
perfectly safe."
Jim Tracy had ordered this done. As a matter of fact the tent was not
perfectly safe, but under the circumstances it was best to tell the
people this to quiet them and to avoid having them make a rush to get
out, as in that case many would be hurt--especially the women and the
children.
"It's a good thing it isn't night," reflected Joe. "Whew! That was a
bad one!" he exclaimed as a terrific blast seemed fairly to lift one
side of the tent. Men started from their seats and women and children
screamed.
"Just keep quiet and it will be all right," urged the ring-master, but
the crowd was fast getting beyond control.
Joe saw Jim Tracy sending out a gang of men to drive the tent pegs
deeper into the ground. The rain softened the soil, and thus made the
pegs so loose that they were likely to pull out. At the same time the
rain, wetting the ropes, caused them to shrink, and thus exert a
stronger pull on the pegs and poles. So the ropes had to be eased off,
while the pegs were pounded farther into the ground with big mauls.
"Lively now, men!" called the ring-master.
The big tent swayed, sometimes the top of it being lifted high up by
the wind which blew under it. Again the sides would bulge in, making
gaps by which the rain entered.
But the band kept on playing. Jim saw to that, for nothing is more
conducive to subduing a panic than to let the crowd hear music. The
performers, too, kept on with their acts, and some of the audience
began to feel reassured.
But the wind still kept up, blowing stronger if anything, and Joe and
others realized that it needed but a little accident to start a rush
that might end fatally for some.
Joe was just about to go into the second series of his gymnastic work
when he heard a tent pole beneath him snap with a breaking sound. At
first he thought it was the big one to which his apparatus was made
fast, but a glance showed him this one was standing safe. It was one
of the smaller side poles.
That part of the tent sagged down, the wind aiding in the break, and
there were cries of fear from scores of women, while men shouted all
sorts of directions.
But the circus people had gone through dangers like this before, and
they knew what to do. Under the direction of Jim Tracy and his
helpers, extra poles were quickly put in place to take the weight of
the wet canvas off the broken one. This at once raised the tent up
from those on whom it had partly fallen.
And then something else happened.
One of five horses which were being put through a series of tricks by a
man trainer, suddenly bolted out of the ring. Joe, high up in the
tent, saw him running, and noted that the animal was headed for the
ring where Helen Morton was performing with Rosebud.
"He's going to run into her!" thought Joe. "I've got to do something!"
He must think and act quickly. While attendant's were running after
the bolting horse Joe, looking down, saw that the animal would pass
close to his life net. In an instant Joe had decided what to do.
He poised on the small platform, from which he made his swings, and
dropped straight into the big net. Just as he had calculated, he
bounced up again, and as he did so he sprang out to one side.
Joe's quick eyes and nerves had enabled him to judge the distance
correctly. He leaped from the net just as the horse was opposite him,
and landed on his back in a riding position.
It was the work of but a second to reach forward, grasp the little
bridle which the animal wore, and pull him to one side.
And it was not a second too soon, either, for the horse was on the edge
of the ring in which Helen was performing with Rosebud. If the
maddened animal had gone in, there would have been a collision in which
the girl performer would, undoubtedly, have been injured.
"Good work, Joe!" cried the ring-master. "But there's plenty more to
be done. I guess we'll have to get all the men performers to help hold
down the tent. I'm afraid she's going."
"It does look so," Joe admitted as he leaped from the horse and gave
him in charge of one of the attendants. "What can we do?"
"Help drive in extra pins and attach more ropes. I'm going to dismiss
the audience. We'll stay over here to-morrow, and give an extra
performance to make up for it."
"I'll get a crowd together and we'll help the canvasmen," offered Joe.
"And I'll help," said Benny Turton, who had finished his tank act.
"Come on!" cried Joe, as he led the way.
Meanwhile Jim Tracy had requested the audience to file out as quickly
and in as orderly a manner as possible. The crowd was not large, as
the weather had been threatening in the morning and many had stayed at
home. But it was no easy matter to dismiss even a small throng in such
a storm.
However, it was accomplished, the band meanwhile playing its best, and
under hard conditions, as part of the tent over them split and let the
rain in on them.
But the music served a good turn, and while the people were hurrying
out the canvasmen, aided by the performers, Joe among them, drove in
extra pegs, tightening those that had become loose, put on additional
ropes, so that, by hard work, the big tent was prevented from blowing
down.
Once outside, the audience, though most of them were soon drenched,
took it good-naturedly. They were given emergency tickets as they
passed out, good for another admission.
And then the storm, which seemed to have reached its height, settled
down into a heavy rain. The wind died out somewhat, and there was no
danger from the collapse of the tent.
"Good work, boys!" said the ring-master, as the performers, all of them
wet through, and in their performing suits too, came in. "Good work!
If it hadn't been for you I don't know what we would have done. I'll
not forget it."
There had been some trouble in the animal tent during the storm; the
beasts, especially the elephants, evincing a desire to break loose.
But their trainers quieted them, and soon the circus was almost normal
again.
Of course the afternoon had been lost, but there was hope of a good
attendance at night if the storm were not too bad. And by remaining
over another afternoon the deficiency could be made up. Word was
telegraphed ahead to the next town announcing a postponement in the
date. The broken pole was replaced with another, and then the
performers enjoyed an unexpected vacation.
"I want to thank you, Joe, for what you did," said Helen, coming up to
him in the dining tent, where an early supper was served. "I saw what
you did--stopping that runaway horse."
"Oh, it wasn't anything," Joe said, modestly enough.
"Wasn't it?" asked Helen, with a smile. "Well, I consider myself and
Rosebud something worth saving."
"Oh, I didn't mean it that way," Joe said quickly. "But the runaway
might not have gone near you."
"Yes, I'm afraid he would. But you saved me."
"Well, if you feel that way about it," laughed Joe, for he did not want
Helen to take the matter too seriously, "why then we're even. You
saved me from a bad fall on the trapeze."
The storm subsided somewhat by night, and there was a good attendance.
And the receipts the next day were very large in the afternoon, for the
story of what the circus men had done was widely spread, and served as
a good advertisement. Joe was applauded louder than ever when he did
his acts.
The two wily Lascalla Brothers never referred to the incident of the
rotted trapeze rope, and Joe did not know whether to believe them
guilty or not. At most, he thought, they only wanted to give him a
tumble that might make him look ridiculous, and so discourage him from
continuing the work. In that case their deposed partner might get a
chance. But Joe did not give up, and he kept a sharp lookout. He
redoubled his vigilance regarding his ropes, bars and rings, inspecting
all of them just before each performance.
On arriving at the next town Helen received a note in her mail asking
her to call at the principal hotel in the place. It was signed by one
of the members of the law firm.
"You come with me, Joe," she begged. "I don't want to go alone."
"All right," agreed the young performer. "We'll go and get your
inheritance."
"If there's any to get," laughed Helen. "Oh, Joe, I'm so nervous!"
"Nervous!" he answered. "I wish I could be afflicted with nervousness
like that--money-nervousness, I'd call it!"
They found Mr. Pike, the lawyer, to be an agreeable gentleman. He had
requested Helen to bring with her the proofs of her identity, the old
Bible and other books, which she did. These the lawyer examined
carefully, and asked the girl many questions, comparing her answers
with some information in his notebook. Finally he said:
"Well, there is no doubt but you are the Miss Helen Morton we have been
looking for so long, and I am happy to inform you that you are entitled
to an inheritance from your grandfather's estate."
"Really?" cried Helen, eagerly.
"Really," answered the lawyer, with a smile. "It isn't a very large
fortune, but it will yield you a neat little income every year. In
fact there is quite an accumulation due you, and I shall be happy to
send it on as soon as I get back to New York. I congratulate you!"