HELEN IS WORRIED
Joe Strong stood in a secluded part of the circus lot early one morning
before breakfast. The show had reached the place only a little while
before, there having been a delay because of a slight accident. Most of
the performers, with increased appetites, were wending their way to the
dining tents, but Joe, with coat and vest off, with shoulders thrown
back and head held high in the air, was taking in long breaths and
expelling them again to the utmost capacity of his lungs.
"What in the world are you doing, Joe?" asked Helen, who was on her way
to breakfast. "Are you trying to rival Mr. Jefferson when he breaks a
chain on his chest?" for this was one of the feats of the strong man.
"Hardly that," laughed Joe, as he let out a long breath.
"Then what are you doing?"
"Practising deep breathing for my tank work. I'm going to try for the
four-minute record to-day."
"Are you really?" Helen was much interested.
"I don't say I'm going to do it," went on Joe, for he was anything but
boastful. "But this seems a good day to make the attempt. It's clear
and crisp after the rain, and I seem to be able to hold my breath
longer on a day like this than when it's warm and muggy. So I thought
I'd get in a little early practice before I got too loggy with a big
breakfast."
"A good idea," Helen said. "I'll wait for you and we'll eat together."
"Thanks," remarked Joe. "But I'll be ten minutes yet, and your appetite
may not stand such a delay."
"Oh, yes, it will," laughed Helen. "I'll run over and see how Rosebud
is while you finish your practice," and she turned toward the horse
tent where her trick pet was contentedly munching his breakfast of
oats.
Joe practised faithfully, for he had made up his mind that this was a
good time to try to make a new under-water record--that is, new for
him.
"If I can't get an elephant, or something big like that, to work in the
water with me, I'll have to thrill the crowds by making them wonder how
I can live so long without breathing," decided Joe. "I'll do four
minutes or--bust!" and he smiled at his conceit.
Joe finished his breathing exercises. In them he made an attempt to
hold a full breath for four minutes. This he did, timing himself with
his watch. But this, of course, was in the open air, and under water
conditions were different.
"If I can only do that in the tank," thought Joe, as he noted the
second hand slip five paces beyond the four minute mark, "I'll be all
right. Well, I'm going to make a big effort."
Helen came back, and she and Joe went to breakfast. They sat not far
from Tonzo and Sid Lascalla, and the former, looking over at Joe,
asked:
"When are we going to have that supper?"
"I can't say," Joe answered, trying to be jolly about it.
"What supper is that?" inquired Helen, smiling at Joe.
"Oh, it's one he's going to give to celebrate his increase in salary,"
answered Tonzo.
Helen looked at Joe, and became aware, from the expression of his face,
that there was a hidden meaning in the words. She saw that Joe was
embarrassed and so she turned the conversation. Later on, when Helen
and Joe were alone, the young aquatic performer said:
"I suppose you are wondering what Tonzo was driving at?"
"Oh, I don't want to hear any secrets," Helen answered.
"It isn't a secret," Joe answered. "At least my increase in salary
isn't, for I told you about it. What Tonzo was hinting at was that I
ought to give some sort of banquet."
"Why?" Helen demanded.
"Oh, because I'm getting so much money. Well, I suppose I am earning
big pay, but, as I claim, I'm doing big work--that is double work. But
I'm not going to waste my money on blow-outs."
"I don't blame you," Helen said. "Don't let them worry you, Joe."
The time of the afternoon performance arrived. Everything went off well
except that in one elaborate elephant trick one of the huge beasts
refused to do his share in the act.
His trainer endeavored to force the big brute, and the elephant grew
ugly. It looked for a few seconds as if he would run out of the ring
and into the crowd. But two of the more tractable elephants were
ordered to force the unruly one into line and they did so.
This caused a little delay, and there was a slight feeling as of panic
in the audience. The elephants were near Joe's tank, and for a while
the boy fish was afraid lest they knock it over and smash it. In this
case there would be a serious delay in getting another, though one
spare glass side was always carried.
"And I don't want anything to happen when I'm going to try to make a
record," Joe thought.
He had said nothing to Jim Tracy about the attempt he was going to
make, preferring not to have the public expect too much through an
announcement by the ring-master.
Joe did his usual work, swimming about in the midst of the shimmering
goldfish, showing different strokes, turning graceful somersaults and
doing a longitudinal whirl that made him look like the propeller of
some water craft.
Then Joe performed his tricks, those with the celluloid cards seeming
especially to please the audience.
"Mr. Strong will now show you how long it is possible for him to stay
under water," announced the ring-master, "and if any of you think it is
an easy thing to do, just take out your watches and time him, holding
your own breaths as long as does the boy fish. We challenge the world
to produce his equal!"
The band blared as Joe made his bow, and then, having inflated his
lungs to their capacity, he slipped into the tank, and began "eating."
This was one of the tricks he did to keep the audience amused while the
seconds of his underwater endurance were ticked off. It would have been
rather monotonous for the crowd merely to look at Joe staying in the
tank. He must keep up some kind of action. Then, too, when he was busy,
it kept his mind from thinking of the passage of time, and the four
minutes, or whatever part of them he remained under the surface, seemed
to pass more quickly.
Finally he had done the last of his "water stuff," he had eaten the
banana, had pretended to drain his cup of tea and then, yawning and
stretching, he prepared for a "nap" under water.
"Now comes the real test!" thought Joe grimly.
Already he was beginning to feel the strain. His temples were throbbing
from the retained breath and the water pressure, and his head felt big
and stuffy. It was aching, too. Joe had placed outside the tank an
alarm clock with big figures so he could keep track of the time. Three
minutes and a half had passed, and Joe knew that every second, from now
on, would be agony for him, agony that the watching crowd little
suspected.
"Can I do it?" thought Joe. The hand was within ten seconds of the
four-minute mark. Joe, who had opened his eyes for a brief glance at
the clock, shut them again. His heart was beating like a hammer inside
his chest, trying to make up for the lack of oxygenated blood.
To Joe it seemed as if fifteen seconds had passed, He gave a swift
glance at the clock.
"Only six," he thought. "I'm afraid I can't do it."
To make a complete four minutes he must stay under water four seconds
more, and seconds, now, were like hours to him.
There was a ringing in his ears. His head throbbed painfully, he began
to yawn and stretch again, as though awakening from a sleep. He looked
up and saw Jim Tracy peering anxiously down into the tank. The
ring-master realized that this was longer than Joe had ever stayed
under water before, and he thought perhaps something had gone wrong, as
it had in the case of Benny. The ring-master was calling off the half
minutes to the crowd, in which many were holding watches.
A few had tried to imitate Joe's feat, but had given it up as a
hopeless task.
"The boy fish has now been under water, without breathing, four
minutes, ladies and gentlemen!'" cried the ring-master. "He has beaten
his own record!"
It was indeed true. But still Joe did not come up. He was fighting for
time now--fighting for fractions of a second. He felt as if he would
burst, but he did not come up. He saw, by his clock, that he had stayed
under four minutes. A second passed--two--three--and still Joe was
under water. Then he could not stand it longer. He had come close to
the world's second best record at that.
Four seconds--five--and at the last tick of the five seconds over the
four minutes, Joe shot up to the surface. He tried not to show his
exhaustion as he climbed, dripping wet, out on to the platform and
bowed to the plaudits of the enthusiastic crowd, but it was hard work
for Joe to keep up. He did it, however.
"Good work, old man!" cried the ring-master as he helped put the bath
robe about Joe. "Great work! How'd you do it?"
"Oh--I--I just did it!" panted Joe, breathing in deeply of the
life-giving air.
"You didn't tell me you were going to pull off a stunt like that."
"I--I didn't know, myself, whether or not I could do it," said Joe, as
he started for his dressing room. "And I didn't want a failure."
"Good boy!" said Jim. "I guess I didn't make any mistake raising your
salary, Joe!"
"If you'll give me more money I'll try for a better record yet," said
the boy fish with a smile.
"Say, what are you trying to do--become a millionaire?" asked the
ring-master, jokingly.
"Oh, I can always use more money," replied Joe.
As he came down to the ground he saw Tonzo Lascalla looking at him. The
trapeze performer had heard what Joe said last.
"We don't see much of your money," he commented, with a sneer.
"Why should you?" asked Joe, passing on.
"Oh, Joe! I congratulate you!" cried Helen, as soon as she saw him. "It
was wonderful!"
"Glad you think so," he replied. "But I'm not done yet."
"Are you going to try for a longer time?"
"That's what I am. I don't feel very hopeful about it though. I am
about to the limit, I guess."
The world's record for a man to stay under water, holding his breath,
is four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Joe was several seconds short
of that, but he was ambitious.
It was about a week after this that one day, as Joe and Helen were
walking around town after the afternoon performance, Helen paused in
front of a furrier's. In the window were fur coats, an advance showing
of fall and winter styles, for the summer was passing and already
merchants were preparing for the winter's trade.
"That's something I must get," Helen said. "A fur coat. I've been
wanting one a long while, and now that I have my inheritance I feel I
can afford it. My old one is about worn out."
"I'd like a fur-lined overcoat myself," Joe said.
"Why don't you get it?" asked Helen.
"Can't afford to," was Joe's reply. "I have other uses for my money."
Helen looked at him curiously, and there was a worried look on her face
that Joe did not notice.
"I wonder," mused Helen. "I wonder----"
But she did not finish her thought.