Joe Strong and his wings of steel or, A young acrobat in the clouds
of necessity, to do. Accordingly, with the help of Benny Turton,
he unboxed the wings of steel and put them together. This was a
comparatively simple matter, for the wings had only to be attached
to the framework, and the gear wheels and torsion rods connected.
The storage battery was still charged, but to make sure of plenty
of current Joe had the electrodes attached to a small dynamo which
was carried with the circus, the dynamo being operated by a gasoline
engine. Joe had a transformer, so that the battery would receive
only the proper sort of current, it being possible to change an
alternation into a direct current.
The youth said nothing to Jim Tracy about the plan for a surprise. As
a matter of fact, he saw little of the ring-master that day. There
seemed to be some financial trouble, and that had taken him out of
town for the greater part of the day.
“And are those the wings of steel, in which you fly?” asked Helen,
when Joe brought her in to give her a view of the machine.
“That’s what they are, Helen. What do you think of them?”
“Joe, I think they’re very dangerous,” she answered earnestly, “and I
do hope you will never get hurt in them.”
“I hope so myself, Helen, but they’re not as dangerous as you think.
I’ll give you a chance to judge to-morrow.”
“Are you going to make a flight?”
“Hush!” he exclaimed, looking around to make sure no one heard. “It’s
a secret!”
Helen shook her head.
“I don’t like such dangerous secrets,” she murmured.
After Joe had charged the storage battery to its capacity he gave the
wings a partial trial in the privacy of the tent, when only a few of
the circus folk were about. He turned on the power slightly--enough
to be sure that the wings would vibrate, and he was certain that when
the full strength was sent into the motors that the _Bat_ would rise
with him in it, as it had done before.
There was a worried look on the face of Jim Tracy the next day. Joe,
who approached to talk over some circus matters with him, noted this,
and asked:
“What’s the trouble?”
“All sorts,” answered the ring-master gloomily. “It looks as if we
were going to have a frost.”
“Not this hot weather,” protested Joe, for it was the middle of the
summer.
“I mean a financial frost,” Jim explained. “There has been only a
small advance sale of tickets, and always before, in this town,
we have drawn well. But I guess the public is getting tired of
circuses--and we’ve got one of the best.”
“I know what financial troubles are,” said Joe, as he thought of
his own tangled affairs in England, which were no nearer to being
straightened out than before. “But why don’t you give ’em a bang-up
parade, Jim, and awaken enthusiasm?”
“We’re going to have a parade, but I don’t see how I can make it any
different, or make it draw a crowd to fill the tents.”
“Maybe I can think of a way, Jim. May I borrow Rajah?”
“What! Our biggest elephant?”
“I want the biggest you’ve got, and a man to steer him--or whatever
it is you do to elephants. May I have him?”
“Why, yes, I suppose so. Are you going to ride in the parade?”
“Sort of. It will be my first offense.”
“Well, don’t try anything rash,” advised Jim. “Rajah won’t stand for
being ridden over by a motor-cycle.”
“I won’t do that,” Joe promised, laughing.
Jim seemed strangely indifferent to what Joe proposed to do, but our
hero knew it was because the ring-master was thinking of the troubles
which the circus had to meet.
Monday dawned bright and clear, a fine circus day if ever there was
one. Preparations for the parade started soon after breakfast, and
every one had orders to look his best--to make as good a showing as
possible.
Joe told Tom Layton, the mahout of Rajah, of the permission accorded
by the ring-master.
“Want to ride on Rajah; eh?” repeated Tom. “Why sure, I’ve no
objection. Rajah is as steady as a church and as gentle as a baby. I
can do anything with him.”
“That’s why I decided on him,” said Joe. “He won’t run away if
something happens, will he?”
“If something happens? What do you mean?”
Joe looked around to be sure no one was listening, and then he
explained something to Tom in a low voice. The elephant man seemed
surprised, and then amused. Finally he remarked:
“Well, yes, it can be done. And, as you say, we can carry up the
sides of the howdah higher so no one can see what is in it.”
“That’s what I want. I think we’ll give ’em a surprise all right.”
CHAPTER XII
THE RUNAWAY BALLOON
With a blare of trumpets, with stirring music from the circus band
on top of the big gilded wagon, with the crazy medley supplied by
the clown band, with the booming of drums and the shrill tones of
the calliope, or “steam piano,” as it used to be called, the parade
started for the main street of the town, followed by the usual crowd
of boys who had been waiting on the circus lots since early morning.
“Well, it makes a pretty good showing,” said Mr. Sampson to Jim
Tracy, as they sat in their carriage at the head of the cavalcade,
for the owners made it a point to do this.
“Yes, the parade is all right,” conceded the ring-master, but there
was no enthusiasm in his voice. “If only we can get the crowds we’ll
be all right. I don’t see anything of Joe Strong, though,” he added.
“He never goes in the parade,” commented Mr. Sampson.
“He said he wanted to this time--asked to be allowed to ride on
Rajah. But I don’t see him. I wonder what Tom has made the sides of
the howdah so high for?” and Jim looked at the small “house” which is
carried on an elephant’s back. This howdah had been made taller, with
cloth of gay colors.
Jim did not pursue the subject further, for he and Mr. Sampson began
to talk of business matters. The parade was soon in the main street
of the town, and certainly the crowds seemed large enough.
“They’ll come out for the free show, but they don’t seem to want to
crowd the tents when they have to pay half a dollar a head,” said the
ring-master gloomily.
Suddenly there appeared to be some commotion in the throng back of
the carriage. Jim and Mr. Sampson turned around to see what was going
on. They heard cries of wonder from the crowd.
“Look!” cried Mr. Sampson. “What is that in the howdah on Rajah’s
back?”
“It’s Joe Strong and his wings of steel!” cried the ring-master.
“That’s his game. He’s taken his flying machine up on the elephant’s
back to give the crowd something to stare at. I wondered what he was
up to, but I didn’t think of this.”
“Well, he’s making ’em sit up and take notice all right,” said Mr.
Sampson eagerly.
The added cloth sides of the howdah had been dropped down, revealing
Joe in his queer cage of leather and steel. The big wings, which had
been folded down, were now outspread.
Then, suddenly, the wings began to vibrate up and down, slowly at
first, but with increasing speed.
“Will Rajah bolt?” called Joe to the mahout on the elephant’s head.
“Not he,” answered Tom Layton. “Let her go, Joe. Start your flight
whenever you’re ready, and take care of yourself.”
“Well, here I go!” cried the lad. Inside the cage of the _Bat_ he
turned the power full on, and an instant later he had risen from
the elephant’s back and was soaring out of the roofless howdah, and
through the air over the heads of the crowd.
Then such a roar as went up! Even the circus folk applauded, as did
those in the crowd who looked on with widely opened eyes at the
strange flight of the human bat.
Around and around circled Joe, eventually returning to the back of
Rajah, where he landed gently. Then he made another flight, repeating
this several times, and attracting more attention than anything else
in the parade all along the route.
Back and forth, sometimes to the head of the procession and again to
the rear, flew Joe in his wings of steel. And there was no denying
the hit he had made. He kept up his flights all during the parade.
When the circus had circled back to the lots again, Jim Tracy hurried
over to where Joe stood, having descended from the elephant’s back by
means of a small rope ladder. The wings of steel were being lowered
to the ground.
“Joe, you turned another trick for us!” exclaimed the ring-master.
“That’s one of the best stunts yet. I take back all I ever said
against the wings of steel. You’re going to fly in the tent, aren’t
you?”
“Well, I hadn’t quite made up my mind,” said the lad.
“Then we’ll make it up for you!” cried Mr. Sampson with a laugh. “Jim
and I were just wondering what we could do to make our show draw
bigger crowds, and you’ve done it for us. It was great, Joe! You’ll
have to give flights in the tent sure. The people will expect it.”
“Do you think they will?”
“I’m sure of it. You _can_ fly in the tent, can’t you?”
“Oh, yes, only I can’t go up as high as the wings will take me.”
“Well, do the best you can. We’ll have crowds now all right! They’ll
expect to see you do your flying stunt.”
This was proved a little later, for inquiries began to come in
over the temporary telephone that had been installed on the circus
grounds. Those calling up wanted to be sure they would see the young
aviator in the wings of steel if they came to the circus, and they
were assured that they would, for Joe decided to fly in the tent.
To do this act Joe had to omit some of his other turns, but he kept
the comedy tank act, for that always “got a hand.”
“We’ll bill you as the ‘boy-bird-fish,’” said Jim Tracy. “That ought
to make a hit.”
“Well, I hope, for the sake of the show, that it does,” commented Joe.
It need hardly be told what a success Joe made of his first flight
in the tent. As Jim Tracy had predicted, there was a big crowd at
the afternoon performance, and a larger one in the evening. Joe flew
perfectly. He made his ascent from that part of the enclosed space
where the chariot and other races were held, and he flew around in
a circle. He did not go very high, of course, but it was flying
nevertheless, and the crowd appreciated it. Joe circled back and
forth over the heads of the audience, and dropped down little paper
flags, which were eagerly grabbed up as souvenirs.
There was no doubt of the sensation that Joe made.
“Well, Helen, what did you think of it?” asked Joe, when the
performance was over, and he had a chance to talk to his friend.
“It was perfectly marvelous, Joe!” she exclaimed. “But, oh, I just
couldn’t bear to look at you! I was so afraid you’d fall!”
“Nonsense!” he laughed, “there was no danger. If the wings stopped
flapping I’d just hold them out stiff and come down as easily as if
I were in a parachute. Besides, I didn’t go up very high.”
“No, you couldn’t in the tent. But you may fly high some day, and
then if you fall----”
She did not finish the sentence, but Joe understood.
“I’m not going to fall,” he said, and he seemed quite sure of himself.
Big new show bills were soon gotten out, showing Joe in the _Bat_
flying through the air, while on another portion of the picture
he was depicted in the tank of water with Benny. It was a novel
attraction.
As has been said, it was decided to retain the tank act, for it made
such a hit, and it formed a great contrast to the flying turn. Joe
was, in a sense, master of two elements--the air and the water.
Once more the show was on the road, and for a time business was
better, for the news of the queer flying machine, so unlike an
aeroplane, had spread over the country.
Joe had no difficulty in transporting his apparatus, and the fact
that the circus had a dynamo made it easy to recharge the storage
battery. The young experimenter found his wings of steel worked even
better than he had hoped. The newness wore off and they became more