A WILD RIDE
Strange indeed had been the coincidence of Joe's meeting once again
with one of the men he had helped at the time of their automobile
accident, and he and Mr. Strailey talked about it at some length.
"And now," said Joe in conclusion, "where can I get hold of Mr. Craige?"
"I was just going to speak about that," said his companion. "At present
he is closing up a mining deal in Allaire," naming a city about a
hundred miles away. "We can write to him there, or, rather, I will, and
explain about you. Then we can find out whether Craige is coming this
way, which will make it easier for you to see him, or if he is going
farther West. In that case perhaps you'll not be able to get away from
the circus to go to him."
"It would be a little hard to get away in the height of the season,"
confessed Joe. "I suppose I could correspond with him."
"It would be much better to see him," suggested the other. "For there
are things he would like to talk over with you, I'm sure. Is there any
way you could get into personal communication with him?"
"How long is he likely to be in Allaire?" asked Joe.
"I couldn't say."
"I was going to say that the circus route will take us within ten
miles of Allaire in about a week," went on Joe, "and I could easily
ride over to see him between performances. But a hundred miles and
return is a little too much to cover between the afternoon and evening
performances. I couldn't do it even if I had the flying machine I'm
thinking of getting."
"Are you going in for aeronautics?" asked Mr. Strailey.
"Well, not exactly the way it's done now," answered Joe. "I have an
idea of my own that I'd like to carry out, but it would take more money
than I have at present. I just mentioned it casually."
"I see. Well, I think the best thing to do is to write to my friend
Craige at once, and tell him everything. Then we can find out what is
the best thing to do. I'll write for you."
"Thanks," returned Joe, gratefully. "Are you going to be in this
vicinity long?"
"No, I leave to-day. But you won't need my services after you get in
touch with Craige. He can do all that is necessary, as he knows the
facts and the situation in England, while I don't. He'll help you all
he can, I'm sure. And both he and I will never forget your help at the
time of the motor accident."
"Oh, that wasn't anything," said Joe.
At the same time he could not help thanking his lucky stars that he had
had that opportunity of making the acquaintance of the two men.
"For it may lead to something after all," mused Joe.
He and Mr. Strailey talked over the matter at some length, and decided
upon the form of letter to be sent to Mr. Craige. That was all that
could be done at the time.
As Mr. Strailey was leaving Helen passed the dressing tent and nodded
and smiled at Joe, who introduced her to his companion.
"This is one of the two gentlemen who are going to help me get my
English fortune," said Joe. "You notice how sure I am that I have one
coming to me," and he laughed.
"Well, stranger things have happened," said Mr. Strailey. "And I am
sure you deserve some good luck, Joe, for all the risks you take."
"Doesn't he!" exclaimed Helen. "I wish he'd get rich enough to give it
all up--this terribly risky motor-cycle riding."
"Well, if he gives that up he may go in for something more
risky--aeroplaning," said the Englishman.
"Aeroplaning!" exclaimed Helen. "That's the first I've heard of that,
Joe."
"Oh, it isn't exactly aeroplaning," Joe replied. "And I haven't given
it more than a passing thought. If I go in for it, though, it will be
in a safe way, so you needn't worry, Helen."
"Mr. Strong has no one else to worry about him, so I take that
responsibility upon myself," she remarked, blushing prettily as she
nodded to Mr. Strailey.
"I see," he remarked, with a quick glance toward Joe, who grew red in
his turn.
Joe had new food for thought now, in anticipating what would be the
outcome of the correspondence with Mr. Craige.
In writing to his friend, Mr. Strailey had given the dates on which the
circus would show in several different Western cities, so Mr. Craige
could mail letters to Joe.
"Well, good luck to you!" called the Englishman as he parted from Joe,
"and don't give that pretty little girl too much to worry about."
"I won't," promised Joe, shaking hands. And then to himself he added:
"I wonder what he means."
Just as if he did not know!
Joe's thoughts, as he made ready for the evening performance, were
very often on what the future might have in store for him. Several
times in the midst of attiring himself in his white, glittering suit he
found himself dreaming of some stately English home, and wondering if
he would have a share in some vast estate.
"If it comes true," murmured Joe, "I can build that machine."
But, with all his day-dreaming, Joe did not forget what he was in
the circus for, and when the time to ride the high wire came he
concentrated all his attention on that.
"It won't do to have an accident now, and cheat myself out of my
inheritance," the lad reflected.
He decided to divide his riding act into two parts at the evening
performances. This was because he wanted to ride across with his
illuminated wheel, and also shoot at the glass balls, and he could not
do both at the same time.
He might possibly have arranged it, but it was risky trying to steer
with his knees, throw on the switch controlling the storage battery and
shoot at the ascending balls.
"Besides," reasoned Joe, "it's giving the crowd too much at once. They
can't digest it."
In the afternoon, of course, his wheel was not illuminated, as the
lights would not show; so Joe merely rode across the high wire then,
and shot at the balls as he reached the center of the span.
"It will be better to add to the act at night because we have bigger
crowds out then," said Jim Tracy, when Joe told the ring-master of the
new plan.
The high-wire rider put his plan into effect the night of the day on
which he had seen Mr. Strailey again. There was a yell of delight,
especially from the boys in the circus audience, when Joe flashed on
the lights that outlined his swiftly moving machine on the high wire.
But there was more in store for the crowd.
Joe had made another change. Instead of using glass balls at night he
provided Ryan and Jeroleman with inflated toy balloons. To each one was
attached a lighted taper, so arranged that the heat of it would not
burst the little rubber bag.
The balloons floated up, one on each side, the lights glowing, and as
they came within range Joe broke first one and then the other, as he
rode swiftly along.
That "brought down the house" to use a theatrical term, and the
applause was loud and long. The circus crowd appreciated a thrilling
act, and Joe's feat fulfilled every expectation.
Again the show was on the road. Matters ran along in their usual
routine, and the performers began to make their plans for the coming
winter, though there were still several weeks when they would yet be on
the Western circuit before the show would settle down to winter in one
of the Southern States.
Joe looked eagerly for a letter from Mr. Craige, and at last one was
received.
It was not very satisfactory, however, except that it seemed to hold a
promise of a better epistle to follow. Mr. Craige stated that he was
glad to hear of Joe again, adding that in a few days he would write at
length. Just then he was too busy with a mining proposition. The letter
concluded with the words:
"If you can prove your identity, which I have no doubt you can do, I
think there is money coming to you."
"That'll be fine!" reflected Joe.
One day Helen saw Joe reading a book while waiting for his cue to go
into the tent for his wire act.
"I didn't know you cared for novels," she said playfully.
"Novels?" repeated Joe, rather taken by surprise. He tried to conceal
the title of the volume, but Helen had already had a glance at it. The
book was a work dealing with dirigible balloons and aeroplanes.
"What in the world are you trying to do, Joe?" she asked. "Was Mr.
Strailey right? Are you really going to become a 'birdman,' as they
call them?"
Joe looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he said:
"Look here, Helen! I haven't said anything about this, because it's
such a wild idea that I guess nearly every one would laugh at me. It's
nothing more than a dream at present."
"Tell me your dreams," she suggested.
Joe shook his head.
"I wish I could, for I'd like to talk it over with some one," he
went on. "But it isn't in any shape yet. I'm merely getting all the
information I can on the subject."
"Well, there's one thing sure," Helen said, "you can hardly give an
aeroplane exhibition in a circus tent."
"It isn't exactly an aeroplane that I'm thinking of," said Joe. "I
don't know what you would call it. But I might be able to use it in a
circus tent if it works right."
"Well," murmured Helen with a sigh, "I'm not very good at guessing."
"I'll tell you all about it when the time comes," promised Joe, as he
heard the signal summoning him to the big tent.
Two days later Joe received another letter from Mr. Craige. This was a
long epistle and went into detail concerning Joe's mother, with whom
the writer had been somewhat closely associated as a boy in England.
The epistle stated that the Willoughby estate was a large one and
on the death of Jason Willoughby, Joe's grandfather, it had been
partitioned among the heirs.
"Your mother's share, as I understand it, is still held in trust
for her heirs," the letter read. "And, I also understand, you are
the only one entitled to the money she would have received from
her father had she lived. However, there was a clause in your
grandfather's will, cutting your mother off. This he partially
revoked just before his death. So you may be able to get the money.
"If you will come to see me at Waterville, where I shall be until
the end of the week, I will talk the matter over with you, and
tell you how best to proceed. I can also give you letters of
introduction to two or three men in England who can help you, I
think."
Joe quickly looked up the route of the circus. In another day it would
be at Claredale, which was within a comparatively short distance of
Waterville.
"We get in Saturday, too," mused the lad. "I can ride over Sunday, and
have all day to talk with Mr. Craige. That's what I'll do."
This plan Joe carried out. That is, early Sunday morning he made ready
to ride over to Waterville on his road motor-cycle.
"Want to come along, Helen?" he asked.
"No, thank you," she said. "I have promised Mrs. Watson to go for a
walk with her, though I'd love to go with you."
"Some other time then," the boy replied.
The day seemed a fateful one for Joe. Half way to Waterville he got
a puncture and had to walk three miles to a garage to have the tire
repaired. Then, he had not ridden on more than two miles before the
sprocket chain, which seemed always to give more or less trouble,
broke, and he had to go back to the same garage to have that repaired.
It was then noon, and he decided to have dinner before proceeding. It
was three o'clock before the youth reached Waterville, the final delay
being due to the fact that some one misdirected him as to the road.
When Joe finally called at the address given by Mr. Craige, it was to
meet with another disappointment For the Englishman had left word that
business had called him to Burton, a town seven miles farther on.
"Well, this surely is not my lucky day!" exclaimed Joe. "But I'm going
to keep on. I must see Mr. Craige."
One would have thought that Fate had played Joe enough tricks, but she
still had one up her sleeve, so to speak--the worst one of all, for the
former ones were easily enough overcome.
"Mr. Craige?" repeated the man, of whom Joe inquired in Burton. "Why,
yes, he _was_ here."
"Was!" exclaimed Joe. "Isn't he here _now_?"
The man shook his head.
"He received a telegram a while ago," he said, "calling him to England,
and he has just left."
"How could he leave for England from here?"
"Well, I didn't exactly mean that," the man went on, "but he left here
in order to catch the express that will take him to New York, where he
can get a boat for England."
"I see," said Joe, rather gloomily. "Well, I guess I've missed him--at
least until he comes back."
"Yes, he's coming back in a few months," the man said, "but you might
catch him now before he takes the train."
"How?" asked Joe, stimulated to sudden interest.
"He left in an auto just a few minutes ago to get the train at Borden.
That's the only place the express stops. He has just about time to make
it, though."
"Which way did he go, and where's Borden?" cried Joe.
The man informed him. Joe darted toward his motor-cycle, which he had
left standing in the road.
"Where you going?" asked the man.
"I'm going to catch that auto!" cried Joe, and he started off on a wild
ride.