ACROSS THE TRESTLE
Helen, with a pencil and piece of paper, began rapidly making a little
sketch. Joe looked over her shoulder. They were in the outer section of
the dressing tent, waiting for their turn to go on with their acts.
"See," Helen explained, "you can easily put double glass sides on your
tank by slipping sheets of glass inside the four present outer sides,
leaving a space of five or six inches between them. Fill this space
with water, and put the goldfish in that. Then they can swim around,
and Lizzie can't get at them because they'll be protected by the
glass."
She made a sectional view of the tank with its double sides and held it
up triumphantly to Joe.
"Will that solve the puzzle?" she asked.
"Why, I really believe it will!" exclaimed Joe, after a moment's
thought. "Yes, I could have metal clips, made water-tight with rubber,
fitted inside the tank. Taking five inches off each side wouldn't mean
much loss. Then I could slip four sheets of glass down in the metal
clips, and, as you say, fill the intervening space with water for the
goldfish."
"Exactly," cried Helen. "The audience can't tell whether the fish are
in the tank with you or not, for the water and glass, being
transparent, will make it look exactly as if you and the fish and the
seal were in the same bit of water."
"Good!" cried Joe. "I'll do it! The very thing, Helen!"
The fact that persons looking directly at a glass tank of water can not
tell how far back the water and tank extends is taken advantage of by
moving picture operators in producing novel effects. Only the other day
was shown a scene where a man apparently went down to the bottom of a
river. Fish swam all about him, there was a portion of a wreck half
buried in the sand and mud, and waving aquatic plants seemed to reach
out and twine themselves around the man, while fish swam above and
below him.
This effect was produced by having the man go through certain actions
behind a square glass tank in which the sand, aquatic plants, wreck and
fish had been placed. The fish could swim about, but the man was not in
the water at all but behind the tank, the water and glass offering no
obstruction to the camera.
It was that principle which Helen suggested to Joe. He and the seal
would be doing their act behind a glass and water screen, in which fish
were swimming and aquatic plants gently waving.
Joe lost no time in putting the plan into operation. He ordered the
glass and metal holding clips, with the water-tight rubber gaskets,
from the same firm in New York that had originally made Benny's tank.
They still had the patterns, and knew just the proper size and kind of
glass to send, and Joe had no difficulty in malting his tank a double
one.
The experiment was tried in private one afternoon just before the
performance. The plants and goldfish were put in the thin outer tank
which extended all around the inner one. The fish, of course, swam
about as they were in the habit of doing. The fact that they were in a
much more restricted space did not seem to perplex or vex them.
Then Joe got into the inner tank, and Lizzie was allowed to follow him.
No sooner did the seal see herself surrounded by the fish she loved to
eat than she made a dash for a big golden one.
Of course Lizzie bumped her nose against the protecting glass, but this
did not deter her. Joe watched the sea-lion curiously. Again she made a
dash for a fish, evidently thinking she had not been quick enough to
get the first one. Again came a painful bump.
Joe continued to swim about as he always did when Lizzie was in the
tank. It was not until after her third failure that the intelligent
seal began to think something was wrong. Then she swam alongside the
inner glass. Just beyond, three-quarters of an inch away, but as secure
as though the space were miles, swam the goldfish. Lizzie could not get
them, and then she turned her big eyes on Joe as if to ask what sort of
trick this was to play on a good, performing seal.
If Joe had not been under water he would have laughed. He did this when
he came up, however, and he gave Lizzie more than her usual allowance
of common fish to make up for her disappointment over the gold ones.
But Helen's solution of the problem was perfect. The circus folk formed
a critical rehearsal audience and as Joe swam about in the inner tank
with the seal, and as the goldfish flitted about in the outer tank, Jim
Tracy said:
"It couldn't be better. The illusion is perfect. No one looking at it
as the crowd will view it, could tell but that it was all one tank.
Helen, you're a fine suggester. First I know, you'll be going into
business for yourself."
"Not while I have Rosebud," she answered, blushing. "But I'm glad my
plan worked."
Joe was glad also. Not only was he enabled to get a much more
spectacular effect by having the goldfish and his seal in the same act,
but it saved a lot of work in taking out the fish every time he wanted
to perform with Lizzie. And as it had been necessary to take the
goldfish out twice a day--for the afternoon and night performance--much
work was entailed. And there is so much to do, anyhow, in moving a
circus from place to place, that everything which makes for economy of
time or motion is very welcome and eagerly adopted.
That afternoon the audience seemed to appreciate very much the aquatic
act. It certainly made a pretty scene with Joe, in his red scaly suit,
going through all manner of performances in the water, while the dark
seal swam in and out, sometimes circling around his head, again darting
through his looped arms, while on all sides they were surrounded by
goldfish and gracefully waving green grass and plants.
It was one of the showiest acts in the circus, and taking advantage one
day of a particularly gracious reception on the part of the crowd, and
when he had lengthened his stay under water by two seconds, Joe asked
for more money.
Jim Tracy whistled in mild surprise, but he did not make half the
objections he had made on the other occasion.
"I'm under a lot more expense," Joe explained. "Lizzie cost me money,
and I have to buy fish for her every day. Besides, the extra tank
fittings cost considerable."
"All right, Joe. I'm not making any kick," said the ring-master.
"You're certainly worth a lot to us, and we can't afford to lose you. I
wouldn't say that to every performer, or they'd get such a swelled head
that there'd be no doing anything with them. But you're different, I'm
glad to say. Yes, you shall have more money. The act is worth it,
especially since you got Lizzie. First you know you'll be a
millionaire, my boy."
"Not in this business, I guess," laughed Joe.
Joe found himself liking more and more his motor-cycle rides. Helen,
too, enjoyed them very much. She was even learning to manage the
machine herself, though, as yet, she had not ventured to drive it at
more than a slow speed, and then on some little-frequented road.
As soon as the circus reached a town where it was to show, and Joe and
Helen had had their breakfast, and had seen, one to his tank and seal
and the other to her horse, they would set off for a ride through the
beautiful country. It took them away from the atmosphere of the circus,
and rested them mentally and physically. They were in better trim for
the strenuous and exacting work that was to follow.
Helen had greatly elaborated her act since the time when Joe had first
seen it. She had taken a little dog--the same one that had refused to
act with Joe in the tank--and had trained it to ride with her on
Rosebud's back. The dog did some simple tricks, and that, with the
beautiful and intelligent horse and Helen, who herself was strikingly
pretty, made an act that always was well applauded.
"I only hope you two don't have a break-down when you're out on the
road motor-cycling some day," said Jim Tracy. "If you do, and don't get
back to the show on time--well, I don't know what I'll do."
Joe had not thought of that, and thereafter he was careful not to go
too far away, so, in case of some accident to the machine, he could
hire a horse and wagon to bring him and Helen back. But the machine had
not yet given him trouble and he hoped it would not.
"I'm very glad I bought it from Babson," he said, "though the day I got
it and the seal I seemed to be going it pretty heavy in the matter of
expenditures."
Then, one day, Joe had his accident. It was not a very serious one,
merely the breaking of the motor-cycle transmission chain, but as far
as making the machine go without it, Joe might as well have had a bad
smash-up.
Helen was not with him, and he was glad of this, for when the break
came he was on his way back to the circus grounds, as it was nearing
time for the afternoon performance.
Joe tried to mend the chain himself, but a link was needed and he had
no spare one. He was looking about on the country road for some place
where he could hire a horse and carriage, when he met a small boy who
told him there was a garage about a mile away. Joe decided that if he
could get his chain repaired he could make better time than by engaging
a horse.
Accordingly he pushed the heavy machine along a sandy road until he
came to the garage and repair shop. To his delight, the machinist said
he could easily repair the chain, and he set about it.
But Joe had consumed more time in his weary walk than he was aware of,
and when the chain was mended and he set off again, he had barely time
to reach the circus on time, even if he rode at top speed, and had
excellent roads all the way.
He was returning by a different route from the one he had taken on
going out, and now he regretted it, for the way was longer.
"I'm afraid I'm not going to make it," Joe decided as he looked at his
watch. "I've cut my schedule too fine."
He came to a small village and inquired of some loungers if there was
not a shorter route to the circus town than the one he had been told to
take.
"Well, there is a short cut," said a man, "if you can ride the railroad
track. Otherwise you can't get over the river without going five miles
out of your way. The railroad bridge over the river is the only one
around here, and it's a long, high bridge at that."
"I guess I can ride the railroad," said Joe. "What sort of a bed is
it--cracked stone?"
"No, cinders."
Joe was glad to hear that, for cracked stone would have worked havoc to
his tires.
"He can't ride no railroad line," declared another man, positively.
"Why not?" Joe wanted to know.
"You can't ride over the railroad trestle, and it's more than a mile
long, counting the approaches. If you walk you won't make any better
time than if you went around the long way. You can't ride that machine
over the open ties. It would rattle it all to pieces. The only way you
can do is to walk and push it."
Joe thought for a moment.
"I think I can ride the trestle," he said.
"How?" demanded the man.
"By keeping on the steel rail. That's smooth enough."
"You never can do it!" declared the man who had offered the objection.
"You never can do it in this world. You'll be off in no time, and it's
a long fall to the river. You can't do it!"
"Can't I?" asked Joe coolly. "You come and watch me. I'm going to ride
my motor-cycle across the railroad trestle bridge on the single rail!"
Several in the crowd looked at him admiringly, while others shook their
heads.
"He'll kill himself!" murmured one old man.
"He sure has got nerve!" exclaimed a boy, admiringly.
Meanwhile a crowd of villagers followed Joe as he rode off in the
direction of the railroad. It was his only chance of getting to the
circus on time.