RECOGNITION
There were a creaking of wheels, a shrill screeching of brakes,
footings of whistles, and shouts of men. Then the long, heavy trains
came to a halt.
"Where are we?" asked sleepy voices.
"I guess we've arrived," came an answer from no one in particular.
"Well, we don't have to get up yet," was announced from one of the
berths, where the sound of a shade being pulled up could be heard,
indicating that the occupant of the bed had looked out to see how near
daylight it was.
Then followed a confused jumble of sounds, amid which the performers
tried to get a little more slumber.
The circus train was in.
Big rumbling wagons were eased down off the flat cars on heavy
runways. From some of the wagons came frightened whimperings or saucy
chatterings--the monkeys. From others came snarls and deep-throated
roars--the cats, as lions and tigers are called. Then, from other
wagons came more queer noises, a sort of combined bellowing and
rumbling as if in protest. That was the "hippo" and the "rhino," the
short names the circus men used for the hippopotamus and the rhinoceros.
Seemingly there was a riot of confusion, but in reality everything
moved along like clockwork. Each man knew what he had to do, and did
it. With the exception of the cooks and their assistants, whose duty
it was to get ready the meals for the performers and the hands, the
canvasmen were busiest of all, for the animal tent must be put up ready
to receive the denizens of forest, field or jungle, and there must be
shelter for the hundreds of horses.
The putting up of the main-top could be attended to later.
The elephants came shuffling on their padded feet from their cars where
they had been swaying to and fro all night, and for several nights,
for the circus had been four days on the road. Once the elephants had
descended, first gingerly trying the runway with their feet to see if
it would hold their enormous weight, they were put to work pushing the
heavy wagons into position so that the big teams of horses could be
attached to haul them to the circus lot.
Through all the noise and confusion the men and women performers slept,
for they were used to the racket, and would probably have apprehended
something queer had it been missing.
"Well, now the work begins," murmured Tonzo Lascalla, stretching lazily
and thrusting his head out between the curtains of his berth.
"Work! You mean the fun!" exclaimed Joe Strong, who was across the
aisle. "I'm tired of this railroad traveling. I want to get under the
main-top again, and see the crowds, hear the music and----"
"It's easy to see you're young at the business," commented Tonzo. "You
will lose your enthusiasm."
"I hope not!" returned Joe. "I don't want to get old."
The gray dawn slowly broke. Already much of the circus paraphernalia
was unloaded, and hundreds of men were on the lot arranging the tents.
From the cook wagons and from the big soup caldrons on the ground, came
the appetizing odors of breakfast. In their tents many horses were
already munching hay and oats from canvas mangers.
The performers, in their sleeping cars, began to rouse, to stretch,
to wash and make ready to get their morning meal. Some were
cross--"temperamental," it might be called. Others were jolly, calling
and laughing one to another.
"Are you glad to be on the road again?" asked Helen of Joe, as they
walked together to the breakfast tent.
"Indeed, I am," he said. "I've never been West, and I know I'm going to
like it. Fine air you have out here."
"Yes," admitted Helen, with a laugh that showed her white teeth, "it
is nice. I've always liked the West, though I haven't seen much of it
since I was a child."
"And I'm glad to be able to get at my act again," said Joe. "The days
on the road have made me a bit rusty, I'm afraid."
"Oh, no!" protested Helen.
The circus had made an unusually long jump from New York, and now it
would finish the season out West. It was the intention to winter in one
of the Southern states, and work back East again with the advent of
spring.
After Joe and Helen had eaten with some of their friends, they
separated, Helen to get ready for the parade, for she now took part in
that as a princess. She had to see to Rosebud. As for Joe, he wanted
to see that all of his high-wire apparatus was on hand and ready for
setting up.
He strolled over toward the spot where the big tent would be erected,
and found his helpers already on hand.
"Everything here?" asked Joe.
"Seems so," answered Ryan. "We've just been checking up, and nothing
seems to be missing. Feel all right?"
"Fit as a fiddle. I'm anxious for a little practice though, so I think
I'll go off for a spin, if you can manage things here."
"Oh, sure, we'll be all right," said Jeroleman.
Joe got his road motor-cycle out from his baggage and was soon spinning
down a pleasant country road. He was one of the more privileged
performers, and there was little for him to do except to ride in his
thrilling act. His men did all the hard work, though many persons
thought Joe's act was hard enough work in itself.
"This is great!" exclaimed Joe, as he spun along at high speed. He
breathed in deep of the crisp air, filling his lungs as he had done
when performing in the tank.
As he rode along the highway on his return, he saw many farm wagons
with laughing crowds of young and old folk on their way to the show. He
felt in fine form when he returned to the circus lot, and quite ready
to do his act.
"I hope we have a good audience," mused Joe, as he went to look over
his apparatus, which had been put up in the big tent.
His hope was confirmed, for the canvas shelter was crowded when the
band blared out the opening notes for the grand entry. Around the
circle went the elephants, the camels, the horses and the performers.
The show was playing its first date in the West.
"Now, Joe, ready for you!" called the ring-master, for a slight change
had been made in the time of some of the acts, and Joe's came on a
little earlier.
Joe had made certain that everything was in good order. With a rattle
and bang of his machine he started across the ground toward the
inclined wire. Another instant he was up on it and was getting ready
to break the colored glass balls, a feature which had made such a
sensation. Then, with practiced aim, Joe shattered them both, while
the crowd applauded. He then shot down the other inclined wire. But
he was going faster than he realized, or perhaps he did not have as
good control of his machine as he thought, for he rode past his usual
stopping place, on toward the crowded seats of the grand stand, before
which his wire was stretched.
"Look out!" shouted some apprehensive ones.
"Oh, there's no danger," answered Joe with a laugh, as he put on the
brake extra hard and stopped a safe distance away. Some of the men and
women in the lower seats had jumped out of the way, fearing Joe would
run into them, but they now laughed and made ready to resume their
places.
"Don't be alarmed," went on Joe. As he spoke he saw a man looking
intently at him; and something in the man's face attracted his
attention.
"Where have I seen him before?" he asked himself, as he dismounted from
the machine so Ryan could take it.
The man himself seemed strangely affected. He advanced toward Joe with
his hand half extended.
"I'm not quite sure," he began, "but I think I have seen you before."
"And I'm sure I've seen you," Joe said. "But I can't place you."
"Aren't you the young man who so kindly aided us when our automobile
turned turtle in a stream in some little country town back East?" asked
the man.
Then, in a flash recognition came to Joe.
"Of course!" he cried. "You're Mr. Floyd Strailey, and your friend Mr.
Forrest Craige was with you." And then Joe's memory served him another
turn. He recalled a certain voice in a crowd.
"Where is Mr. Craige?" he asked eagerly. "I want very much to meet him!"
"I can tell you where he is," answered Mr. Strailey. "We both tried to
find you, afterward, but could not."
"And I tried to find you," returned Joe, while to himself he said: "I
believe I'm on the track of solving the mystery."