IN THE TANK
“So you had to come back to us after all, Joe?”
“Well, we’re glad to see you again.”
“And we hope you won’t have to go away any more.”
Thus Joe Strong’s circus friends greeted him when he rejoined the
tented show. They crowded around him, shaking hands and clapping him
on the back, some good-naturedly chaffing him because of his failure
to become a “birdman.”
“Oh, well, I haven’t given up yet,” said Joe, accepting the
criticisms in the spirit in which they were offered. “I’ve merely
come down for a rest. I’ll fly yet.”
“The best flying you can do will be on your motor-cycle,” said Bill
Watson. “Or, if you like, you can team it with me in a clown act,
Joe.”
“Thanks, I’ll think about it. But I’m afraid I can’t be as funny as
you are.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” and the veteran clown went to his
dressing room to get ready to make the circus audience, young and
old, laugh and be merry.
“No, but, seriously, Joe, what are you going to do?” asked Helen, as
she paused on her way to prepare for the afternoon performance, for
Joe had arrived just prior to that event.
“I haven’t given it much thought,” he said. “I want to talk it over
with Jim Tracy. Of course my motor-cycle act would go well, but the
paraphernalia for that is rather bulky to carry about, you know.”
“Not so bulky as the elephants.”
“No,” he laughed. “Well, I’m going to be a spectator to-night, and
think it over. I may see some of the acts that need improving, and if
I do I’ll offer my valuable services.”
“I’m sorry Rosebud doesn’t carry double,” said Helen, also laughing.
“Else we might team it.”
“Say, that _would_ be great!” Joe exclaimed. “I wonder if I couldn’t
plan out something like that?”
“Think it over,” Helen advised.
But as Joe watched the performance that afternoon he could not call
to mind any part he could play in Helen’s act. It was perfect as it
was, and, as she had said, Rosebud would not carry double, as do some
of the ring horses in the circus--a man and a woman riding around
and doing all manner of exploits and tricks on the bare back of the
animal.
“No, I’ve got to think of something else,” decided the lad. “I guess
for the present I’ll go back to rope, ring and trapeze work. That
will keep my muscles in good shape until the time comes when I can
fly on my wings of steel. For I am going to make them work!” he told
himself vigorously. “I’m going to find out what’s wrong and correct
it. And if I can’t fly across the country, as I hope, I can perhaps
make flights in the big tent, and build up a reputation that way.”
When Joe mentioned the matter to his friend, the ring-master, Jim
Tracy decided that perhaps it would be best for the lad to resume his
trapeze work, which had been his first work with the circus.
“Our trapeze part of the show needs strengthening,” said Jim Tracy,
“and you’re the boy that can put a little ginger into it, Joe.
The Lascallas are rather falling down lately. I don’t mean that
literally, but they work sort of listlessly. See what you can do.”
And Joe did. He at once began to practise on the flying rings and
the trapeze, also doing some turns on the long rope. The boy had
made a specialty of this before, doing some novel tricks, such as
sliding down a rope head first without using his hands on the strands
and coming to a sudden stop with his head but a few inches from the
ground. This always made the spectators gasp.
Joe’s trapeze act and similar feats have already been fully
described in the second volume of this series. Suffice it to say
now that he repeated his former triumphs and brought new laurels to
himself by thrilling the crowds.
Joe worked alone on his second advent to the circus, preferring to do
so rather than to do team work with the Lascallas.
Perhaps, though, if he had asked them to let him work with them, they
might have refused, for there was not a little professional jealousy
of Joe on the part of the other trapeze performers. The boy received
so much applause that this was natural, though it does not follow
that the rival actors did not do well. They did, but Joe brought to
his feats such vim, dash and daring that he fairly compelled applause.
Through it all, however, he was always thinking of his wings of
steel, and wondering how they could be made to work, to lift him high
up in the clouds so he could soar down like a bird.
“There’s something wrong with them,” decided Joe, “and it’s going to
take money to find out what it is and to get them right. And to earn
money I’ve got to stay in the circus a while.”
The youth received a good salary, and, as his board and lodging cost
him nothing, he was able to save a considerable portion of it, for he
was not a spendthrift.
The show moved on from city to city, and Joe went with it. Business
was fairly good, though not what it had been during the previous
season, and Jim Tracy was constantly trying to devise new ways for
bettering his attractions. There were no new animals he could secure,
for he already had a good supply, and, moreover, they are not the
main part of the show except in the country districts. In cities the
audiences demanded acts, and thrilling acts at that.
“So it’s our acts we’ve got to brush up,” the ring-master said, in
talking matters over with the other owners of the show.
“How are you going to do it?” some one asked.
Jim Tracy shook his head.
“I guess we’ll get Joe Strong to put back his motor-cycle act,” he
said. “That will do for one thing.”
“The strong man can’t lift any more, that’s sure,” said Mr. Ward, one
of the partners, “and the fat lady can’t get any fatter.”
“It wouldn’t do much good if she could,” declared Jim, “as they are
only freak acts. We want thrillers.”
Joe Strong, coming out of his dressing tent one day at the conclusion
of the afternoon performance, saw the ring-master pacing up and down
in a thoughtful manner.
“What’s wrong now, Jim?” our hero asked. “Has the baby elephant
bitten the boxing kangaroo?”
“No, it’s only that we’ve got to put some more ginger into this show.
Have you noticed how dull the audiences seem to be lately? Nothing
seems to wake ’em up. Even Bill Watson’s new clown act isn’t going as
well as it deserves.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” said Joe.
“No, because you get good hands, and then you’re out of the tent when
the frost settles down. But we’ve got to do something, and I guess
you’d better bring back your motor-cycle act. We’ll pay you more
money for doing that than for the trapeze work.”
“Well, if you really want it I guess I can arrange it,” Joe said.
“I’ll telegraph to have the apparatus sent on. Meanwhile, maybe I
can work up a little enthusiasm for you in a new way--or rather by
varying something you have at present.”
“How do you mean, Joe?”
“I’ll show you to-night. Let it come as a surprise.”
Jim Tracy looked thoughtfully at Joe for a moment. Then the
ring-master said:
“All right. I’ll leave it to you. You’ve pulled off quite a few good
stunts in the past, and maybe you can again. You have full leeway. Do
just as you please, Joe.”
And Joe did.
That night there was a large crowd in the big tent, but, as the
ring-master had said, it did not show much enthusiasm. The people
watched the trick ponies, the lumbering elephants and the racing
horses. They smiled, some even laughed aloud, at the antics of the
clowns; but there were few gasps at some of the really good work of
the trapeze performers, including Joe’s.
When Benny Turton came on to do his tank act more interest was shown.
This tank, where Joe had formerly acted the part of the boy fish, has
been described in the third book of this series; so all that need
be said here about it is that Benny did some tricks under water.
The tank had double walls, and between them goldfish swam on all
four sides, so that it looked as though the “human fish,” as Benny
was billed, was really swimming among the fish. It was an optical
illusion, though when Joe, who had introduced the goldfish, first did
the trick the fish were actually in the water with him.
However, when Joe added a trained seal to this act the fish had to be
isolated, or Lizzie, the seal, would have eaten them, for fish were
her favorite food. So the double glass sides enabled Ben, who had
again taken up the act when Joe left it, to have both the seal and
the fish, making the turn quite spectacular.
Benny began his act. In his shimmering, rubber suit, covered with
glittering scales, he looked not unlike a big fish. He dived into
the water and did some posing, showing how long he could hold his
breath. Then he gave the signal for the seal to be loosed from her
crate on the ground near the tank, which stood on a raised platform.
As the seal flapped her way toward the flight of steps, up which
she wiggled herself to get into the tank, an uncouth looking fellow
darted from his seat near the ring and rushed toward Lizzie.
“Here, come back, you!” cried one of the uniformed ushers. “What do
you want?”
“Why, Mister Officer, I want to catch that there animal!” the fellow
exclaimed in a nasal drawl. “She’s loose; can’t you see? She’ll bite
somebody. What sort of a critter is it, anyhow?”
“Come back here and let it alone!” yelled the usher. “It’s all right!”
“But, Mister Officer, the critter’s loose!”
“I know. It’s meant to be that way. It’s part of the show, don’t you
understand?”
But the outlandish looking individual did not heed. He rushed after
Lizzie, the seal, who was now barking loudly in her peculiar way
and lumbering up the steps. Right after her ran the man, the usher
pursuing him. Many were now watching what was going on, and Ben, in
his tank, looked curiously at the little unexpected happening.
Up the steps went the seal, the queer fellow close after her. At
the edge of the tank Lizzie hesitated a moment, and then plunged
gracefully in. The man made a grab for her, seemingly lost his
balance, and then, amid a roar of laughter from the audience, in he
too plunged, splashing the water over the usher.