A BIG CLIMB
The apparatus had been set up at the fair grounds in Lancaster, where
Joe had his first engagement following his accident. He had received
his new machine, and had given it a thorough test at the factory,
that he might have any possible defects remedied. None of any moment
developed, however, and Joe took the shiny machine away with him.
"But I need to try it on the wire before I ride in public in front of
the crowd," he had said to his helpers, "so we'll have to get up early
to-morrow morning, before the crowd arrives, and have a test."
Ryan and Jeroleman had decided this was a wise plan, consequently when
it was still dark the three left their hotel and made their way to the
fair grounds.
Joe still had a slight limp, but as he did not have to use the injured
leg, the left, in starting his machine, he knew he could ride all right.
It was damp and rather misty that early morning when they reached the
place where the high wire rose on its steel supports in the middle of
the race-track oval.
"You'll have to wait until it's a bit lighter," suggested Ryan, as he
and Jeroleman went carefully over the smoothed approach. Joe did not
want to ride over any more stones, and this time the ground extending
to and away from the place where the wire slanted into the ground, had
been made as nearly like a table as possible.
"Yes, I'll need a little more light to see the chalk line plainly," Joe
agreed. "But I'll start the motor and see how it works."
He brought his new machine out from the dressing tent where it had
been over night in charge of a watchman. Steadying it on the rear
supporting frame, the boy pushed over the starting lever. With a roar
the motor-cycle was in action, though not moving.
"It works a whole lot easier than my big one," said Joe. "I only hope
it doesn't prove too light for the act. It is possible there may not be
weight enough to give the proper traction."
In anticipation of this possible difficulty, the young wire-rider had
had the grooved wheels of his new machine made much rougher than those
of his former one. He hoped this would offset any lack of weight in the
small motor-cycle, which was many pounds lighter than the big roadster.
The noise of the motor attracted a few early arrivals at the fair
grounds--men in charge of the live stock and exhibits--and they
gathered about in a curious group to watch Joe's trial. But such a
small audience as this did not annoy him.
"Does she go all right?" asked Ryan, coming back with Jeroleman after
an inspection of the ground.
"Seems to be as true as a fiddle," Joe answered, shutting off the
gasoline.
It was getting lighter now, and the young wire-performer went carefully
over every bit of his apparatus, even though his two helpers had seen
that it was in proper shape. Then, satisfied that all was right,
and having seen that the life net was in place, Joe took his new
motor-cycle to the end of the starting ground, and again set it in
action.
Slowly the mists gave way before the rising sun. The chalk mark that
was to be the guiding line for Joe stood out in bold relief on the
brown earth.
"Well, here I go," he called to his helpers.
Joe pressed a spring on the frame in front of him, and this pulled
up out of the way the support of the rear wheel. This spring was an
improvement on the new motor-cycle, and made it unnecessary for Joe to
kick up the support.
Then, as the clutch lever was pushed into place, the machine began to
move. Faster and faster it went as the lad turned on more gasoline,
until it was fairly flying over the ground.
Straight and true to the chalk mark the daring driver held his steed of
steel, and then up the inclined wire it shot, and out upon the level
stretch.
"Good!" exulted Joe to himself. "She works like a charm."
There was not the least slip, which might have been the case if the
wheel had been too light.
"It goes even faster than my old one," the boy said to himself.
Almost before he knew it, Joe had reached the end and was going down.
He rode nearly to the end of the far slope and then brought his machine
to a stop.
"How about it?" called Ryan, running toward him.
"Couldn't be better! It's all right! We'll do the trick on schedule
time!"
Joe went to his breakfast, secure in the knowledge that he could give
such an exhibition as he desired.
There was a big crowd at the fair when the time came for Joe's
high-wire act that morning. But the youth was used to big crowds, for
he was a drawing card.
And, as usual, there came loud and long applause when he was high in
the air, the sun flashing on his nickel-plated motor-cycle and on the
shimmering spangles of his white suit. Below him the boy could hear
the murmurs and yells of the startled audience.
Not a hitch occurred in the act, which went off as smoothly as it
always did. More smoothly, in fact, for Joe had the lighter machine
under better control, and it was speedier.
"I wish I could add a little more to the act," remarked Joe, as he was
donning his street clothes in the dressing tent a little later. "If I
could juggle three balls while riding across the wire it would make 'em
sit up and take notice."
"Oh, you make 'em sit up enough as it is," said Ryan. "And I believe
it would be risky taking your hands off the handle bars to do any
juggling."
"I guess so," acquiesced Joe. "But never mind. I've something else in
mind."
"The act is thrilling enough in itself," Jeroleman said. "You should
hear the comments in the crowd."
"Well, I'm glad they like it," commented Joe. "It seems to me it's over
too quickly. But I can't very well make the wire any longer."
"Nobody finds any fault," Ryan told him. "It's so thrilling that it
seems longer than it really is. Don't get to worrying."
"I'll not," promised the lad.
Joe finished out the week at Lancaster without any accident to mar it.
His leg was completely healed now, and he felt in fine fettle. His
nerves were not in the least shattered as the result of his fall, and
he found himself better advertised than ever because of the accident,
which had been written up in the papers of that part of the country.
Joe's inquiries as to the identity of the man who had spoken the name
of Janet Willoughby were fruitless. There were no answers to his
advertisements, and the high-wire rider had about given up hope of ever
finding the unknown Englishman.
"And perhaps if I did it would amount to nothing," Joe reflected. "But,
all the same, I would like to know just how much he knew of my mother."
Joe had written to Helen as soon as possible after the accident,
making as light of it as he could, for he knew she would read of it in
the papers, and he did not want her to worry. In reply he received a
letter from her, begging him to be more careful. Then Joe told of his
new wheel, which would, in a measure, make it safer for him. And Helen
expressed her pleasure at this.
As the season wore on Joe fulfilled engagement after engagement, until
a certain week found him on the outskirts of Jersey City, New Jersey,
engaged for a week at a big fair.
Joe rode well there, and before larger crowds than had before greeted
him, many coming over from New York City, just across the Hudson river,
for Joe's fame was constantly spreading.
As the youth had plenty of time to himself, one day after his morning
act he took a trip to the metropolis. It was not his first visit, for
when in partnership with Professor Rosello he had gone to New York to
see about having some trick apparatus made. Since then, too, when at
times the circus had been laid up for the winter, Joe had visited the
big city.
There was a fascination about the place for Joe, as for nearly every
one else, and, having had his lunch, Joe strolled up Broadway marveling
at the never ceasing throng that flowed in both directions.
Coming to the junction of Broadway and Fifth Avenue, where stands that
peculiar structure known as the Flatiron Building, Joe saw a big crowd
gathered on the Fifth Avenue side. A quick glance showed him some men
with moving picture cameras, and as this always interested Joe he drew
closer.
"Maybe they're staging a movie drama here," Joe reflected. "I may see
the heroine tossed out of the nineteenth story window. Maybe I can
catch her," he thought, with a little laugh.
Joe managed to work his way through the press of people to where the
moving picture camera men stood. It was evident that something had gone
wrong.
"Well, are you going to do it or not?" asked one of the men of a young
fellow who was leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette. "We
can't wait all day."
"Yes, I'll do it--in a few minutes," was the reply from the youth.
"No, you won't!" angrily exclaimed another camera operator. "You're
stalling, that's what you're doing! You've lost your nerve! You're
afraid to make the climb and there's no use in our wasting our time on
you. You're afraid, and you might as well say so first as last!"
"Afraid? Afraid?" muttered the youth.
"Yes, afraid! I don't know that I blame you much," the camera man went
on. "You said you'd make the climb, and now you're afraid to do it. Own
up--you've lost your nerve, haven't you?"
The youth flicked the cigarette away, and it seemed for a moment as
though he would denounce the speaker. Then his face paled as he glanced
up the sides of the high building, and in a husky voice he said:
"Yes, I am afraid. I--I dare not make the climb."
"Was he going to climb up the Flatiron Building?" asked Joe of a camera
man who had, as yet, said nothing.
"Yes. That's what he agreed to do. It's a movie stunt, but he backed
down at the last minute. I can't blame him, but it knocks us out."
Joe looked at the tall building. It was of such a construction, with
deep grooves in the stone work, that to climb it would not be difficult
to one not afraid of dizzy heights. Firm fingers, and feet shod in
rubber-soled shoes, would make the act possible if one's muscle and
nerve held out.
"Come on, boys, there's no use in wasting any more time," said the
angry camera man, who seemed to be in charge of the others. "He won't
climb the Flatiron Building and he knows he won't."
The youth smiled in a sickly sort of way.
"I guess I have lost my nerve," he admitted.
"Come on," and the camera man started away with his machine.
"Wait a minute," said Joe. "What sort of a stunt is this, anyhow?"
"What do you want to know for--are you a reporter?" the man with the
camera asked.
"No," answered Joe, with a smile, "I'm not a newspaper man. I'm a
circus performer, a high-wire rider. If you want some one to climb up
the side of that building, and you'll make it worth my while, rather
than see you and the crowd disappointed, I'll do the trick for you."
"Will you?" eagerly cried the man. "Have you ever done it?"
"Well, I've done some stunts like it," said Joe. "I think I can manage
it all right, if the police don't interfere."
"Oh, we've arranged for that. But it's a big climb."
"I know it. But get me a pair of rubber-soled shoes and I'll do it."
"Here, take mine," said the youth who had balked at the last minute. "I
wish I had your nerve," he said admiringly.
Joe took the shoes and began removing his own.
"Get ready, boys," advised the head camera operator. "I don't know who
he is, but I guess he'll make good."