JOE HEARS SOMETHING
Women and children screamed, and there were hoarse shouts from the men
who witnessed Joe's fall. At first some thought it was only part of
the acrobatic trick, but a single glance at the desperate struggles of
the young trapeze performer dispelled this idea.
For Joe was struggling desperately in the air to prevent himself from
falling head first into the life net.
It might be thought that one could fall into a loose, sagging net in
any position and not be hurt. But this is not so. A fall into a net
from a great height is often as dangerous as landing on the ground.
Circus folk must know how to fall properly.
If the person falling lands on his head he is likely to dislocate, if
not to break, his neck, and falling on one's face may sometimes be
dangerous. The best way, of course, is to land on one's feet, and this
was what Joe was trying to bring about.
When he realized that he had missed grasping the bar of the second
trapeze (though he could not understand his failure) he knew he must
turn over, and that quickly, or he would strike on his head in the net.
He tried to turn a somersault, but he was at a disadvantage, not having
prepared for that in advance.
"I've got to turn! I've got to turn!" he thought desperately, as he
fell through space.
He did manage to get partly over and when he landed in the net he took
the force of the blow partly on his head and partly on his shoulder.
Everything seemed to get black around him, and there was a roaring in
his ears. Then Joe Strong knew nothing. He had been knocked
unconscious by the fall.
The circus audience--or that part of it immediately near Joe's
trapezes--was at once aware that something unusual had occurred.
Some women arose, as though to rush out. Others screamed and one or
two children began to cry. A slight panic was imminent, and Jim Tracy
realized this.
From where she was putting her horse, Rosebud, through his paces Helen
saw what happened to Joe. In an instant she jumped from the saddle,
and ran across the ring toward the net in which he lay, an inert form.
Other circus performers and attendants rushed to aid Joe, and this
added to the confusion and excitement. Many in the audience were
standing up, trying to see what had happened, and those behind, whose
view was obstructed, cried:
"Sit down! Down in front!"
"Give us some music!" ordered Jim Tracy of the band, which had stopped
playing when Joe performed his trick in order that it might be more
impressive. A lively tune was started, and though it may seem
heartless, in view of the fact that a performer possibly was killed, it
was the best thing to do under the circumstances, for it calmed the
audience.
Tender hands lifted Joe out of the net, and carried him toward the
dressing room.
"Go on with the show!" the ring-master ordered the performers who had
left their stations. "Go on with the show. We'll look after him.
There are plenty of us to do it."
And the show went on. It had to.
"Is he--is he badly hurt?" faltered Helen, as she walked beside the
four men who were carrying Joe on a stretcher which had been brought
from the first aid tent. The circus was always ready to look after
those hurt in accidents.
"I don't think so--he took the fall pretty well--only partly on his
head," said Bill Watson, who had stopped his laughable antics to rush
over to Joe. "He may be only stunned."
"I hope so," breathed Helen.
"You'd better get back to your ring," suggested Bill. "Finish your
act."
"It was almost over," Helen objected. "I can't go back--now. Not
until I see how he is."
"All right--come along then," said the old clown, sympathetically. He
guessed how matters were between Helen and Joe. "I don't believe the
boss will mind much. There's enough of the show left for 'em to look
at."
He glanced down at Joe, who lay unconscious on the stretcher. They
were now in the canvas screened passage between the dressing tent and
the larger one, where the performance had been resumed. Helen put out
her hand and touched Joe's forehead. He seemed to stir slightly.
"Have they sent for a doctor?" she asked.
"They'll get one from the crowd," replied Bill. "There's always one or
more in a circus audience."
And he was right. As they placed Joe on a cot that had been quickly
made ready for him, a physician, summoned from the audience by the
ring-master, came to see what he could do. Silently Helen, Bill and
the others stood about while the medical man made his examination.
"Will he die?" Helen asked in a whisper.
"Not at once--in fact not for some years to come, I think," replied the
physician with a smile. "He has had a bad fall, and he will be laid up
for a time. But it is not serious."
Helen's face showed the relief she felt.
"He'll have to go to a hospital, though," continued the medical man.
"His neck is badly strained, and so are the muscles of his shoulder.
He won't be able to swing on a trapeze for a week or so."
Bill Watson whistled a low note. He knew what it meant for a circus
performer to be laid up.
"Please take him to a hospital," cried Helen impulsively, "and see that
he has a good physician and a nurse--I mean, you look after him
yourself," she added quickly, as she saw the doctor smiling at her.
"And have a trained nurse for him. I'll pay the bill," she went on.
"I'm so glad that money came to me. I'll use some of it for Joe."
"She just inherited a little fortune," explained Bill in a whispered
aside to the medical man. "They're quite fond of each other--those
two."
"So it seems. Well, he'll need a nurse and medical treatment for a
while to come. I'll go and arrange to have him taken to the hospital.
Has he any friends that ought to be notified--not that he is going to
die, but they might like to know."
"I guess he hasn't any friends but us here in the circus. His father
and mother are dead, and he ran away from his foster-father--a good
thing, too, I guess. Well, the show will have to go on and leave him
here, I suppose."
"Oh, yes, certainly. He can't travel with you."
The ambulance came and took Joe away. Jim Tracy communicated with the
hospital authorities, ordering them to give the young trapeze performer
the best possible care in a private room, adding that the management
would pay the bill.
"That has already been taken care of," the superintendent of the
hospital informed the ring-master. "A Miss Morton has left funds for
Mr. Strong's case."
"Well, I'll be jiggered!" exclaimed Jim Tracy. Then he smiled.
The circus neared its close. The animal tent came down, the lions,
tigers, horses and elephants were taken to their cars. The performers
donned their street clothes and went to their sleeping cars.
Helen, Benny Turton and Bill Watson paid a visit to the hospital just
before it was time for the circus train to leave. Joe had not
recovered consciousness, but he was resting easily, the nurse said.
"Tell him to join the show whenever he is able," was the message Jim
Tracy had left for Joe, "and not to worry. Everything will be all
right."
"Good-bye," whispered Helen close to Joe's ear, But he did not hear her.
And the circus moved on, leaving stricken Joe behind.
It was nearly morning when he came out of his unconsciousness with a
start that shook the bed.
"Quiet now," said the soothing voice of the nurse.
Joe looked at her, wonder showing in his eyes. Then his gaze roved
around the hospital room. He looked down at the white coverings on his
enameled bed and then, realizing where he was, he asked:
"What happened?"
"You had a fall from your trapeze, they tell me," the nurse said.
"Oh, yes, I remember now. Am I badly hurt?"
"The doctor does not think so. But you must be quiet now. You are to
take this."
She held a glass of medicine to his lips.
"But I must know about it," Joe insisted. "I've got to go on with the
show. Has the circus left?"
"Hours ago, yes. It's all right. You are to stay here with us until
you are better. A Mr. Tracy told me to tell you."
"Oh, yes, Jim--the ring-master. Well I--I guess I'll have to stay
whether I want to or not."
Joe had tried to raise his head from the pillow, but a severe pain,
shooting through his neck and shoulders, warned him that he had better
lie quietly. He also became aware that his head was bandaged.
"I must be in pretty bad shape," he said.
"No, not so very," replied the trained nurse cheerfully. "But you must
keep quiet if you are to get well quickly. The doctor will be in to
see you soon."
Joe sunk into a sort of doze, and when he awakened again the doctor was
in his room.
"Well, how about me?" asked the young performer.
"You might be a whole lot worse," replied the medical man with a smile.
"It's just a bad wrench and sprain. You'll be lame and sore for maybe
two weeks, but eventually you'll be able to go back, risking your neck
again."
"Oh, there's not such an awful lot of risks," Joe said. "This was just
an accident--my first of any account. I can't understand how my hands
slipped off the bar. Guess I didn't put enough resin on them. How
long will I be here?"
"Oh, perhaps a week--maybe less."
"Did they bring my pocketbook--I mean my money?"
"You don't have to worry about that," said the doctor. "It has all
been attended to. A Miss Morton made all the arrangements."
"Oh," was all Joe said, but he did a lot of thinking.
Joe's injury was more painful than serious. His sore muscles had to be
treated with liniment and electricity, and often massaged. This took
time, but in less than a week he was able to be out of bed and could
sit in an easy chair, out on one of the verandas.
Of course Joe wrote to Helen as soon as he could, thanking her and his
other friends for what they had done for him. In return he received a
letter from Helen, telling him how she--and all of the circus
folk--missed him.
There was also a card from Benny Turton, and a note from Jim Tracy,
telling Joe that his place was ready for him whenever he could come
back. But he was not to hurry himself. They had put no one in his
place on the bill, simply cutting his act out. The Lascalla Brothers
worked with another trapeze performer, who gave up his own act
temporarily to take Joe's position.
"Well, I guess everything will be all right," reflected our hero. "But
I'll join the show again as soon as I can."
Joe was sitting on the sunny veranda one afternoon in a sort of doze.
Other convalescent patients were near him, and he had been listening,
rather idly, to their talk. He was startled to hear one man say:
"Well, I'd have been all right, and I could have my own automobile now,
if I hadn't been foolish enough to speculate in oil stocks."
"What kind did you buy?" another patient asked.
"Oh, one of those advertised so much--they made all sorts of claims for
it, and I was simple enough to believe them. I put every cent I had
saved up in the Circle City Oil Syndicate, and now I can whistle for my
cash--just when I need it too, with hospital and doctor bills to pay."
"Can't you get any of it back?"
"I don't think so. In fact I'd sell my stock now for a dollar a share
and be glad to get it. I paid twenty-five. Well, it can't be helped."
Joe looked up and looked over at the speaker. He was a middle-aged
man, and he recognized him as a patient who had come in for treatment
for rheumatism.
Joe wondered whether he had heard aright.
"The Circle City Oil Syndicate," mused Joe. "That's the one Helen has
her money in--or, rather, the one that San ford put her money in for
her. I wonder if it can be the same company. I must find out, and if
it is----"
Joe did not know just what he would do. What he had overheard caused
him to be vaguely uneasy. His old suspicions came back to him.