HELEN GOES
Helen looked dazed for a few seconds. She stared at Joe as though she
did not understand what he had said. She looked at the oil stock
certificates in his hand. Joe continued to regard them dubiously.
"Worthless--my investment worthless?" Helen asked, after a bit.
"That's what I'm afraid of," Joe replied. "Of course I don't know much
about stocks, bonds and so on, but a man said this stock certificate
wasn't worth the price of a good cigar," and he held up the one the
hospital patient had given him. "Yours is the same kind, Helen, I'm
sorry to say."
"How do you know, Joe? Let me see them."
Joe gave her the two papers--elaborately printed, and lavishly enough
engraved to be government money, but aside from that worthless.
Then Joe told of the incident in the hospital--how he had accidentally
heard the man speak of the Circle City Oil Syndicate, and the
conversation that followed.
"If what he says is true, Helen, your money is gone," Joe finished.
"Yes, I'm afraid so." she said slowly. "Oh, dear, isn't it too bad?
And I was just thinking how nice it would be if I could increase my
fortune. Now I am likely to lose it. I wish I had known more about
business. I'd never have let this man fool me."
"I wish I had, too," remarked Joe. "Then I'd have advised you not to
risk your money in oil. But perhaps it isn't too late yet."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean we may be able to sell back this stock. Of course it would
hardly be right to sell it to an innocent person, who did not know of
its worthlessness, for then they would lose also. But I mean the
Syndicate might buy it back, rather than have it become known that the
concern was worthless. I don't know much about such things."
"Neither do I," agreed Helen. "I'll tell you what let's do, Joe.
Let's ask Bill Watson. He use to be in business before he became a
clown, and he might tell us what to do."
"A good idea," commented Joe. "We'll do it."
The old clown was in the dressing room, but he came out when Helen and
Joe summoned him, half his face "made up," with streaks of red, white
and blue grease paint.
"Oh, Bill, we're in such trouble!" cried Helen,
"Trouble!" exclaimed Bill. The word seemed hardly to fit in with his
grotesque character. "What trouble?"
"It's about my money," Helen went on. "I'm going to lose it all, Joe
thinks."
"Oh, not all!" exclaimed the young trapeze performer quickly. "Only
what you invested in oil stock. Here's the story, Bill," and Joe
related his part of it, Helen supplying the information needed from her
end.
"Now," went on Joe, as he concluded, "what we want to know is--can
Helen save any of this oil money?"
Bill Watson was silent a moment. Then he slowly shook his head.
"I'm afraid not," he answered. "Money invested in wild-cat oil wells
is seldom recovered. Of course you could bring a lawsuit against this
Sanford, but the chances are he's skipped out by this time."
"Oh, no, he hasn't," Helen exclaimed. "I had a letter from him only
the other day. He asked me if I didn't want to buy some more stock. I
know where to find him."
Once more the veteran clown shook his head.
"He might allow you to find him if he thought you were bringing him
more cash for his worthless schemes," he said, "but if he found out you
wanted to serve papers on him in a suit, or to get hold of him to make
him give back the money he took from you, Helen, that would be a
different story. I'm afraid you wouldn't see much of Mr. Sanford then.
He'd be mighty scarce."
"Could we sell back the stock to the oil company?" Joe wanted to know.
"Hardly," answered the clown. "They make that stock to sell to the
public, and they never buy it back unless there's a chance for them to
make money. And, according to Joe's tale, there isn't in this case."
"Not by what that man said," affirmed the young trapeze performer.
"I suppose the only thing to do," went on the old clown, "would be to
give the case into the hands of a good lawyer, and let him see what he
could do with it. Turn over the stock to him, give him power to act
for you, Helen, and wait for what comes. You'll be traveling on with
the show, and you can't do much, nor Joe either, though I know he would
help you if he could, and so would I."
"That's what!" exclaimed Joe heartily.
"I'll do just as you say," agreed Helen. "But it does seem too bad to
lose my money, and I counted on doing so much with it. But it can't be
helped."
She was more cheerful over it than Joe thought she would be. He
suspected that she had not altogether lost hope, but as for himself Joe
counted the money gone, and it was not a small sum to lose.
"Come on, Helen," he said. "I noticed a lawyer's office on the main
street as I was looking at the parade. We'll go there and get him to
take the case. We'll be out of here to-night and we can leave matters
in his hands, with instructions to send us word when he has the money
back."
"And I'm afraid you'll never get that word," said the old clown.
There was time enough before the afternoon performance for Joe and
Helen to pay a visit to the law office. Joe also reported to Jim
Tracy, who was glad to see him.
"I don't want you to get on the trapeze to-day," said the ring-master.
"Take a little light practice first for a few days. And do all you can
for her," he added in a low voice, motioning to Helen.
"I sure will!" Joe exclaimed fervently.
The lawyer listened to the story as Joe and Helen told it to him, and
agreed to take the case against Sanford and the Circle City Oil
Syndicate for a small fee.
"I'll do the best I can," he said, "but I'm afraid I can't promise you
much in results. Let me have the papers and your future address."
Joe put on his suit of tights for that afternoon, though he did not
take part in the trapeze work. He fancied that the Lascalla Brothers
were not very glad to see him, but this may have been fancy, for they
were cordial enough as far as words went.
"Maybe they thought I would be laid up permanently," reasoned Joe.
"Then they could have their former partner back. I wonder if he's been
around lately?"
He made some inquiries, but no one had noticed Sim Dobley hanging about
the lots as he had done shortly after his discharge. Nor had there
been, as Joe had a faint suspicion there might be, any connection
between the train wreck and the discharged employee.
"I don't believe Sim would be so desperate as to wreck a train just to
get even with me," decided Joe. "I guess it was just a coincidence.
He only wrote that threatening letter as a bluff."
Helen Morton did not allow her distress over the prospective loss of
her money to interfere with her circus act. She put Rosebud through
his paces in the ring, and received her share of applause at the antics
of the clever horse. Helen did a new little trick--the one she had
told Joe about.
She tossed flags of different nations to different parts of the ring,
and then told Rosebud to fetch them to her, one after the other,
calling for them by name.
The intelligent horse made no mistakes, bringing the right flag each
time.
"And now," said Helen at the conclusion of her act, "show me what all
good little children do when they go to bed at night."
Rosebud bent his forelegs and bowed his head between them as if he were
saying his prayers.
"That's a good horse!" ejaculated Helen. "Now come and get your sugar
and give me a kiss," and the animal daintily picked up a lump of the
sweet stuff from Helen's hand, and then lightly touched her cheek with
his velvety muzzle.
Then with a leap the pretty young rider vaulted into the saddle and
rode out of the ring amid applause.
"You're doing beautifully, Helen!" was Joe's compliment, as Helen rode
out.
"I may be all right on a horse," she answered, "but I don't know much
about money and business."
The show moved on that night, and the next day, when the tent was set
up, Joe indulged in light practice. He found the soreness almost gone,
and as he worked alone, and with the Lascalla Brothers, his stiffness
also disappeared.
"I think I'll go on to-night," he told the ring-master.
"All right, Joe. We'll be glad to have you, of course. But don't take
any chances."
Mail was distributed among the circus folk that day following the
afternoon performance. Joe had letters from some people to whom he had
written in regard to his mother's relatives in England. One gave him
the address of a London solicitor, as lawyers are designated over
there, and Joe determined to write to him.
"Though I guess my chances of getting an inheritance are pretty slim,"
he told Helen. "I'm not lucky, like you."
"I hope you don't call me lucky!" she exclaimed. "Having money doesn't
do me any good. I lose it as fast as I get it."
She had a letter from her lawyer, stating that he had looked further
into the case since she had left the papers with him, and that he had
less hope than ever of ever being able to get back the cash paid for
the oil stock.
Joe did not intend to work in any new tricks the first evening of his
reappearance after the accident. But when he got started he felt so
well after his rest and his light practice, that he made up his mind he
would put on a couple of novelties. Not exactly novelties, either, for
they are known to most gymnasts though not often done in a circus.
Joe went up to the top of the tent. Near the small platform, from
which he jumped in the long swing, to catch Tonzo Lascalla in the
trapeze, Joe had fastened a long cotton rope about two inches in
diameter.
He caught hold of the rope in both hands and passed it between his
thighs, letting it rest on the calf of his left leg. He then brought
the rope around over the instep of his left foot, holding it in
position with pressure by the right foot, which was pressed against the
left.
"Here I come!" Joe cried, and then, letting go with his hands, Joe
stretched out his arms, and came down the rope in that fashion, the
pressure of his feet on the rope that passed between them regulating
his speed.
It was a more difficult feat than it appeared, this descending a rope
without using one's hands, but it seemed to thrill the crowd
sufficiently.
But Joe had not finished. He knew another spectacular act in rope
work, which looked difficult and dangerous, and yet was easier to
perform than the one he had just done. Often in trapeze work this is
the case.
The spectator may be thrilled by some seemingly dangerous and risky
act, when, as a matter of fact, it is easy for the performer, who
thinks little of it. On the other hand that which often seems from the
circus seats to be very easy may be so hard on the muscles and nerves
as to be actually dreaded by the performer.
Having himself hauled up to the top of the tent again, Joe once more
took hold of the rope. He held himself in position, the rope between
his legs, which he thrust out at right angles to his body, his toes
pointing straight out. Suddenly he "circled back" to an inverted hang,
his head now pointing to the ground many feet below. Then he quickly
passed the rope about his waist, under his right armpit, crossed his
feet with the rope between them, the toes of the right foot pressing
the cotton strands against the arch of his left foot.
"Ready!" cried Joe.
There was a boom of the big drum, a ruffle of the snare, and Joe slid
down the rope head first with outstretched arms, coming to a sudden
stop with his head hardly an inch from the hard ground. But Joe knew
just what he was doing and he could regulate his descent to the
fraction of an inch by the pressure of his legs and feet on the rope.
There was a yell of delight from the audience at this feat, and Joe,
turning right side up, acknowledged the ovation tendered him. Then he
ran from the tent--his part in the show being over.
For a week the circus showed, moving from town to city. It was
approaching the end of the season. The show would soon go into winter
quarters, and the performers disperse until summer came again.
Helen had heard nothing favorable from the lawyer, and she and Joe had
about given up hope of getting back the money.
The circus had reached a good-sized city in the course of its travels,
and was to play there two days. On the afternoon of the first day,
just before the opening of the performance, Joe went to Helen's tent to
speak to her about something.
"She isn't here," Mrs. Talfo, the fat lady, told him. "She's gone."
"Gone!" echoed Joe. "Isn't she going to play this afternoon?"
"I believe not--no."
"But where did she go?"
"You'll have to ask Jim Tracy. I saw her talking to him. She seemed
quite excited about something."
"I wonder if anything could have happened," mused Joe. "They couldn't
have discharged her. That act's too good. But it looks funny. She
wouldn't have left of her own accord without saying good-bye. I wonder
what happened."