NEKA’S PRESENCE OF MIND.
To those standing below in the otherwise empty theatre, it looked as
if Nina Tonetti, the “Human Fly,” would be dashed to death on the
seats below her.
“Gracious!” burst from Bindley’s lips. “What shall we do?”
“Catch her if she comes!” ejaculated Longfellow Wadsworth, but even
as he spoke he felt this was well-nigh impossible, for the distance
was all of thirty-five feet.
“Keep quiet, don’t stir an inch!” cried Neka. “Try to catch her if
she falls,” he added to his companions.
With three leaps he had cleared the orchestra stalls and was on
the stage. Near to hand were several large ropes, used to haul
unnecessary scenery out of the way.
Selecting the longest of these ropes, Neka cut it away from the
blocks which held it. Then he made a slip noose in one end of the
rope.
Standing well down to the footlights, he curled the impromptu lasso
around his head and measured the distance carefully with his eye.
Whizz! Away flew the end of the rope, and the noose caught over the
bottom of the heavy brass gas fixture in the center of the theatre
ceiling.
Neka pulled the loop up, so that the end of the rope was fast. As he
did so, there came another cracking of a board.
“I am falling!” shrieked Nina Tonetti.
“Catch the rope!” yelled Neka. “Here it comes!”
As he called, he threw the loose end of the rope upward. She did not
see it coming, but as it hit her shoulder, she clutched it in one
hand.
Crack! crash! Down came the board from overhead, bringing with it a
lot of plaster and dirt and a cloud of dust. For the moment, those
below could see nothing; then they beheld Nina Tonetti swinging
safely in midair.
Bindley and Longfellow Wadsworth felt almost inclined to cheer. As
for Neka, a great load was lifted from the boy’s heart. To him it
would have been horrible to have one of their performers killed.
Down the rope, hand below hand, came the Human Fly, until within ten
feet of the floor. Then her nerve forsook her, and she fell, a limp,
unconscious mass, into Bindley’s arms.
She was carried into the dressing-room and a doctor was sent for. The
physician said her nervous system had been shocked, but she would
soon get over this. Yet it was not until a week later that Nina
Tonetti again made her appearance on the boards.
Despite the accident to one of its main drawing cards, the
Neka-Wadsworth Specialty Company met with tremendous success in
Philadelphia. On the opening night the audience was cold and
apathetic.
“We’ll have to warm ’em up,” said Bindley. “Give it to ’em hot like.”
And they did. Longfellow Wadsworth outdid himself in his droll
monologue, and for an encore came out as William Penn, to argue with
the present day citizens, and this “caught on” immediately.
For Philadelphia Neka had arranged a new fire act, which he called
the Arbor of Flames.
This new act was the last thing produced previous to the usual farce
wind-up. When the curtain went up on the scene, there was revealed
a Chinese tea garden. Into this garden stalked Neka, attired as the
Emperor of China.
He clapped his hands, and Jennie Windom came dancing in, carrying a
lighted taper. As she handed it to Neka, it went out. She appeared
frightened, but he only smiled and pointed to a bush standing nearby.
She touched the taper to the bush and immediately the taper burst
into flames again.
Then Neka took the taper and tasted of the fire on it. It seemed
to please him, and he put the taper in his mouth. From between his
partly closed teeth could be seen the fire still glowing within.
“By Jove! He must have a fire-proof mouth!” cried one spectator, and
several echoed this opinion.
The taper gone, Neka waved his hand for another and also for a cup of
tea. When the tea came, he put the taper in it, but instead of the
latter going out, the tea burst into flames. While the cup was thus
full of fire, the Fire King quaffed it with apparent satisfaction.
Suddenly he clapped his hands, and a strange green light shone all
over the stage. Then Neka passed his hands over Jennie Windom’s eyes
and put her in a trance. He made her walk around and point to several
flowers and bushes standing about.
Whatever she pointed out immediately took fire, until two flowers and
two bushes were blazing away. These stood in a small square, and from
each there slowly arose a pillar of fire, which, when it was eight
feet high, curved forward and joined the others in a cross overhead.
As soon as the pillars of fire were several feet high, burning vines
began to appear around them, and, when they were joined, they formed
a little arbor. Neka again clapped his hands and inside the arbor a
table appeared, with two seats. He seated Jennie on one seat and took
the other himself.
On the table was a covered bowl. When it was opened, fiery snakes
sprang out. But as fast as they appeared, Neka seized and devoured
them.
Finally one of the snakes got away. Still in her apparent trance,
Jennie Windom caught it in her hand. She gave a cry, there was an
explosion, and then, like a cloud, the arbor of fire disappeared, and
Neka stood down by the footlights bowing and smiling, and holding
pretty Jennie by the hand.
“Wonderful!”
“I never saw anything half so good!”
So the comments went on, and from that instant the success of the
engagement in Philadelphia was assured.
Yet Neka and Longfellow Wadsworth were not to be without trouble
while in the Quaker City. On their third day there was a very much
intoxicated variety actor came to the elocutionist for a position.
“We are all filled up,” said Longfellow Wadsworth. He knew the
fellow, and did not care to say any more.
The drunkard was very persistent, however, and soon after accosted
Neka, and the result was that the boy Fire King gave the man a piece
of his mind.
The drunkard went off, vowing vengeance. But as he was intoxicated,
Neka paid no attention to his threats.
But an hour later, a row below the stage was heard, and on going
down, Neka saw Bindley in the act of kicking the drunkard out of a
rear door.
“Found him in your dressing-room,” he said to the boy. “I tell you
we’ll have to watch out for these chaps. Lots of them are not above
stealing, especially when they are down on their luck.”
No more was said about the matter. Bindley went out and came back to
report the fellow out of sight.
“And he’s too drunk to find his way back,” he laughed.
Neka lost no time in going over his effects to see that nothing had
been stolen. Especially was he solicitous about his tricks, for the
drunkard claimed to be something of a fire king himself.
“I reckon he wouldn’t be above stealing my best tricks if he got the
chance,” he thought.
That evening Neka reached the theatre rather late, and when it was
time for him to go on, he hurried into his costume with all possible
speed.
“Five minutes, Mr. Neka!” came in the voice of the call boy, and
this meant Neka had just that length of time in which to complete his
preparations.
The time passed, and Neka went on the stage. He had just made his
bow, and was starting on some of his simpler tricks when, on glancing
into the right wing, he saw Joe Windom beckoning to him frantically.
Fearing something was wrong about his attire or preparations, Neka
artfully allowed himself to drift close to the wing. At once Joe
Windom thrust a written slip of paper in his hand.
While devouring a burning strip of cotton, Neka read the slip. It was
a mere scrawl, but it startled him greatly.
Beware of your life. That drunkard tampered with some of your
apparatus! He said he would blow you sky-high.