STRANGE NEWS
Because of what had happened and the trouble that might be caused to Joe
should his foster-father cause his arrest, Professor Rosello made a
change in the end of his show. He substituted some simple tricks for the
more elaborate feats of magic in which he needed Joe’s help.
Still he kept the audience amused, and that was the main point.
Professor Rosello even saw Deacon Blackford laughing at some of the
tricks and the “patter” which accompanied them. But immediately after he
smiled, the stern man became more stern, as though ashamed of himself
for having given way to mirth.
“I guess he’ll find out, if he lives long enough,” thought the
performer, “that circus people and magicians aren’t as black as they are
painted.”
The professor was thoroughly impressed with the belief in Joe’s
innocence, and he did not want to see him subjected to the humiliation
of an arrest.
“Innocent as he is, and as I believe him to be,” thought the professor,
“it would take time to prove it, and it would delay my show. It may make
him look guilty to run away in this fashion, but I believe it the best
way. Later on, if necessary, Joe can give himself up and explain.”
Meanwhile Joe, having the same idea, was making his way out of the stage
door of the theatre. He hurried to the hotel, packed up his belongings
and took a train to the next town. The professor and the baggage would
come by a later train.
“That was a narrow escape,” mused Joe, as he hurried away. “I wonder how
he found me?”
The answer to that question was not difficult.
Professor Rosello went on with the performance. Among other tricks was
the one of making the arithmetic sum appear on the slate—the trick Joe
had explained to his chums the day the fireworks factory burned.
Another was the producing of hundreds of feet of colored paper, in the
shape of a ribbon, and scores of paper flowers from a hat borrowed from
some one in the audience. The hat was shown empty, and immediately
thereafter the performer, putting in the end of his wand, proceeded to
wind out on it yard after yard of paper ribbon. Next he shook out paper
flowers, so that with the ribbon, they made quite a pile on the table—a
pile much larger than the hat itself.
“I didn’t know you carried all that stuff with you, sir,” said the
professor to the man whose hat he had borrowed. “You must find it quite
a burden.
“And that isn’t all, either,” went on the performer. He looked closely
into the hat, a puzzled look came over his face, and he asked: “Have you
a permit to carry live stock about with you?”
“Live stock?” repeated the man, wonderingly.
“Yes. I see something alive in here. Here it is,” and, putting in his
hand, which was seen to be empty, while the other grasped the hat by the
brim, the professor pulled out a live and kicking guinea pig.
The audience laughed heartily at this, and the professor tried to put
back into the hat the heap of paper ribbon, flowers and the live animal.
Of course, they would not fit.
“Well,” went on the performer, with a puzzled air, “_you_ may be able to
get all those things in your hat, my dear sir, but _I_ can’t, though I
was able to get them out.”
He then piled the paper ribbon and flowers on the head covering and
passed it to the man. The guinea pig was taken in charge by the young
assistant to be used on the next occasion.
It need hardly be explained that Professor Rosello put all the articles
in the hat (“loaded” it, to use the magician’s term) as he walked back
with it from where he had borrowed it to the stage. The guinea pig,
which had been used so often in the trick that it was very tame, and
would lie quietly where placed, was first put in the bottom of the hat
while it was held close to the lower part of the performer’s vest. He
had the little animal under there, putting it in its hiding place just
before he was ready to work the trick.
The paper ribbon and flowers he had concealed in a secret pocket, and
these he slipped into the hat with the pig on his way up the stage
steps. He was now ready for the trick.
Paper ribbon for this purpose comes wound in tight rolls, and can be
bought in any conjuring-goods store. It rolls up into a very compact
mass, but when unwound, and fluffed up, occupies much greater space, so
that what seems to be a bushel or more can be taken from an ordinary
derby.
The paper flowers are in the same class. They come in compact form, in
bundles. A bundle, which can easily be palmed, is dropped into the hat.
A pressure of the thumb breaks the binding, and the tiny wire springs in
the petals of the flowers cause them to expand, thus occupying a much
larger space than before, so that the hat seems to be overflowing with
them. Under the paper ribbon and the flowers was the guinea pig. The
outside wrapping of the compact bundles of ribbon and flowers is made
black, so that it is not seen against the dark background of the hat’s
interior.
And it might be stated here that no matter what trick of this character
is done by a magician, it may be set down as a safe rule that nothing
ever comes out of a hat, a vase, a box or anything else, unless it has
first gone in. So if a magician takes a live pig out of a hat, it is
very certain he first put it there. Of course, how he gets it there is
his trick—he does it so quickly and deftly that one fails to see him.
Certainly, one cannot fold a guinea pig up into a packet the size of a
pill box, as one can yards and yards of paper ribbon, but there are ways
of getting it in a hat which differ with each conjurer.
The show was over, the audience departed, having passed an enjoyable
evening, and Professor Rosello was putting away his apparatus when he
saw a man walking down the aisle toward the stage. He suspected this was
Joe’s foster-father and the suspicion was made a certainty a moment
later.
“You had a young man working for you on the stage, didn’t you?” asked
the deacon. “He was here a while ago.”
“Yes, I have an assistant. Here, boy!” Professor Rosello called.
“No, I don’t mean that one,” said the deacon, as the small lad came out.
“I mean the other. Joe Strong his name is.”
“Oh, Joe. Yes,” said the professor slowly. “Well, he’s gone.”
“Gone?” The deacon looked startled. “I was waiting for him.”
“Well, he’s gone,” went on the professor. “He’s far away from here now.
Perhaps if he had known you wanted him he would have waited.”
“Oh, no, he wouldn’t!” exclaimed the deacon. “He knew what I wanted all
right—that is if he saw me, which I didn’t think he did. I want him on a
charge of robbery. He also set fire to my place, though I don’t say he
did that on purpose. However, he’s got to pay for the damage. But where
is he? I’ve got a warrant for him.”
“He’s gone, I tell you,” insisted the professor.
“Well, I’ll find him,” stormed the old man. “I traced him here and I’ll
trace him farther. One of the boys from our town saw him a few weeks
ago, and Joe sent a message to me, saying he didn’t take the money. But
I know he did. I made up my mind I’d get him, and I heard your show was
coming here. So I came here to wait for Joe. He may have run away again,
but I’ll get him. I’ll have him locked up for robbing me!”
“Well, you’ll have to settle that with him,” observed the professor,
coolly. “I know nothing about it, except that I believe Joe is
innocent.”
“Well, I don’t!” exclaimed the deacon. “And I’ll get him yet! You tell
him that for me!” and he shook his fist as he went out of the now dark
theatre.
“I think he means trouble,” mused the professor, as he prepared to take
the train.
As arranged, Joe and the professor met later that night in the town
where they were next to show. Professor Rosello told of his interview
with the deacon.
“He surely is after you, Joe,” he added.
“Well, I’ll have to be on the lookout; that’s all,” decided the boy
wizard. “I’m not going to be punished for something I didn’t do.”
Three days after this, having arrived at a large town where they were to
remain two nights, Professor Rosello came to the theatre in the
afternoon to see if Joe had everything in readiness for the evening’s
show.
“Joe,” remarked the magician, as he noted that his young helper had left
nothing undone, “Joe, did your foster-father ever have any business
dealings with two men whose first names were Burke and Jake?”
“Burke and Jake,” repeated Joe, thoughtfully. “I don’t know that he did.
You see he was in the feed business, and lots of men came to sell to
him, or buy. I wouldn’t know half of them, though I often helped about
the store. Why do you ask that, Professor?”
“Well, it’s a strange sort of thing, and there may be nothing in it,”
went on the professor. “But I was just down at the hotel, having a bit
of lunch, and at the table next to mine were two men. They called each
other Burke and Jake, and in the course of their talk they mentioned
Deacon Blackford’s name several times.”
“They did?”
“Yes, and not only that, but they knew about the theft of the money from
him and Mrs. Blackford.”
“Well, I suppose the deacon has pretty well advertised the loss,” said
Joe, “so there isn’t anything so strange in that.”
“No, perhaps not,” admitted the professor, slowly. “But here is the
strange part of it, Joe.
“Those two men—I didn’t catch their last names—not only seemed to know
about the loss, but they laughed over it as though it were a good joke.
In fact, I should say, just from a casual observation and from what I
heard, that they knew more about the theft than even the deacon
himself.”
“You think they do?”
“That’s my impression.”
“Maybe they were detectives,” Joe suggested. “The deacon would call in
the police, and they might be on my trail. I wonder if I had better get
out while I have the chance?”
“I wouldn’t do that,” said the professor. “These men weren’t detectives,
I’m sure of that. But they certainly laughed about the deacon’s loss in
a knowing way.”
“I wonder who they are,” mused Joe.