Joe Strong and his wings of steel or, A young acrobat in the clouds
as the wooden buildings are called which house the biplanes and
monoplanes.
“If they crowd over there now just on the chance of having a glimpse
at an aviator, what will they do when the real show starts?” mused
Joe. “Why, we’re almost deserted!”
This was true. The usual crowd that always came to see the circus
tents put up was but poorly represented, and if this was a forecast
of what would happen in the afternoon and evening, when the show
would be under way, it meant something like financial disaster.
One big feature in favor of the aviation meet was that it was open
and free to every one. Of course, an admission fee was charged to the
grounds, which was the only place where a close view could be had of
the machines and the aviators. But once the birdmen arose in the air,
they were visible for a long distance the country round. And what
small boy, especially, would pay fifty cents, or even a quarter, to
go to a circus, when he could see the aeroplanes for nothing? Very
few, thought Joe.
But there was, as the ring-master said, only one thing to do, and
that was to go on with the circus and trust to luck to draw part of
the crowd away from the aviation meet. The latter show was first on
the ground, but the circus had been billed long in advance, and it
was fair enough to both sides.
So while the tents were being put up, and the animal exhibit being
put into readiness, Joe and Helen strolled over toward the aviation
grounds.
“Be back in time for the parade, Joe!” called the ring-master after
him. “If ever we needed you to fly from the back of Rajah, we need
you to-day. We’ve got to do all we can to arouse interest in our
show.”
“Oh, I’ll be on hand!” Joe promised.
He wanted very much to look at some of the aeroplanes, for he had
some new ideas regarding the _Bat_, and he wanted to see if they were
feasible. He thought he could get additional ideas by seeing the
monoplanes and biplanes.
“And do men actually fly in them?” asked Helen, when she and Joe had
gone in through the gate, Joe buying the tickets.
“Yes,” he answered. “They really glide through the air, but on a
different principle from that on which my machine works. They get
their power from wooden propellers, revolved by a gasoline engine.
The propellers in the air act just as do the propellers of a boat in
the water, only the air propellers must move much faster, as water
is denser than air. In my machine I rise just as a bird does, by
successive flappings of the wings of steel against the air. Once I am
up I can glide like a bird, and drift, as the aeroplanes sometimes
drift, on a downward slant. Volplaning, they call it.”
“How interesting!” exclaimed Helen.
“Do you like it?” asked Joe. “If you do, I may build an aeroplane
some day and take you for a ride above the clouds.”
“Thank you, no!” exclaimed Helen quickly. “I mean it is interesting
to look at and hear about, but I don’t want to go up. Seeing that
balloon get loose was enough for me!”
“Oh, that was nothing!” laughed Joe.
It was too early for the regular exhibition of the aeroplane meet,
but mechanics were busy over machines, and, in some cases, the
aviators themselves were on hand, looking after their apparatus,
getting ready for the afternoon flight. The flights would take
place about the time the circus started, and would be a big counter
attraction.
Joe pointed out to Helen the difference between the biplanes and
monoplanes. The latter have but one expanse of surface, composed of
specially prepared cloth stretched over a light framework. Biplanes,
as the name indicates, have two surfaces, one above the other.
The biplanes are more powerful and safer, but the monoplanes, or
“one-planes,” are swifter and more easily managed, though rather
dangerous.
Joe wanted a chance to talk to some of the aviators, but he did not
get it, as the time of the parade was drawing near and he had to
do his part, rising in his wings of steel from the back of the big
elephant, Rajah. That was counted on to attract attention and draw
crowds out to the tents.
If the throngs in the streets that watched the circus procession and
applauded Joe’s flight were any indication, the circus might hope to
do a good business. For Rockport was a large city, and all about it
were thriving towns which seemed to have poured out much of their
population to witness one or the other of the shows.
There was a big, cheering and apparently eager crowd in the streets
to witness the parade, and the hopes of the circus folk rose somewhat
on the return to the grounds. But when the afternoon came, and the
ticket sellers and ticket takers were ready and waiting, they were
not overwhelmed with a rush. Of course, many persons came to the
circus, but more went to the aviation meet, or stood outside the
enclosure, ready to watch the aviators fly.
“I was afraid of this,” said Jim Tracy, with a gesture of despair,
as he looked in the half-filled tent. “We can’t pull against the
aeroplanes.”
“Well, we can all do our best!” exclaimed Helen. “We’ll show the
crowd we have in here what a fine show we can give!”
“That’s the way to talk!” exclaimed Bill Watson, the veteran clown.
“Helen, you’ve struck the right idea. We’ll give a bang-up, smashing
good show, and it will be talked about. Not that we don’t always do
our best, but this time we must do our bestest!” and he smiled at his
new word.
“Well, that will help some,” conceded Jim Tracy, “and I’m sure
obliged to you all for the spirit you show. Do the best you can, and
if we fail, we’ll go down with flying colors anyhow. Start the music!”
With a blare of trumpets the grand entry was under way, and then
began a game fight against odds on the part of the circus folk. For
the aviation meet was in full progress, and during the pauses in
the performance in the main tent there could be heard the staccato
explosions of the engines of the aircraft, for some of them flew over
the circus grounds.
As Helen had proposed, they all did their best. The clowns worked
hard to get laughs, and the acrobats did their most dangerous tricks
to win applause.
In his flying exhibition Joe went around the tent more times than
usual, to give the people their money’s worth, as he said afterward.
And when the time came for him and Benny to go into the tank (Joe
doing the countryman turn as before) he proposed to the human fish
that they try for a record on holding their breath under water.
Benny agreed, and Jim Tracy made the announcement. This aroused much
interest, and there were eager watchers as Benny and Joe deflated
their lungs, to fill them to their capacity with fresh air.
They made a good record, too, better than usual, though Joe, on
certain occasions, had beaten it. The crowd applauded, and then came
some of Joe’s sleight-of-hand tricks under water, while Lizzie, the
trained seal, added to the interest of the tank act.
“Well, they can’t say but that we gave them a good show,” said Jim
Tracy, as the crowd filed out. “Now if they’ll only spread the report
around town, it may bring a big crowd out to-night. There’s one
consolation, moreover, the aviation meet will be closed at night.”
“Oh, no, it won’t,” said Mr. Sampson gloomily. “I’ve been making
inquiries, and they’re going to give a night show too. The machines
are to fly in the air, illuminated with electric lights, and there
will probably be as big a crowd over there as there was this
afternoon. We’ve got to get the people here on the merits of our
show, or else quit the game.”
Jim Tracy shrugged his shoulders. He did not know what to say.
Joe and Helen, after the afternoon performance, had gone over to the
aviation grounds again, and the lad met one of the aviators, with
whom he had a long talk, learning some things he did not know before.
The aviator also told Joe what the programme for the next day was
going to be.
What Mr. Sampson feared happened that night. Or rather, it did not
happen. There was even a smaller crowd in the circus tents than in
the afternoon, but the performers did not relax their efforts to
amuse and thrill the audience.
“We’ve just _got_ to do something!” the ring-master exclaimed, when a
report came in that a big crowd was over at the aviation grounds.
“What can we do?” asked Mr. Sampson.
“Who has an idea?” asked the ring-master. “Don’t all speak at once,”
he added, with a grim smile.
“I have a plan,” said Joe. “It may work, and again it may not. But
I’m willing to try it.”
“Good for you!” cried Jim Tracy. “Let’s hear your plan, Joe.”
CHAPTER XVI
THE PRIZE RACE
Joe Strong looked into the faces of those gathered about him. There
were the ring-master; Bill Watson, the veteran clown, who owned
a small interest in the show; and Mr. Sampson; besides the other
partners. On each face was anxiety, for they well knew what failure
meant. And if the tents were not filled failure might result, on
account of so long a run of bad luck.
“Well, this is what I thought of,” began Joe. “There is to be a
free-for-all race to-morrow--a sort of handicap affair, and I was
thinking I could enter myself and the _Bat_. We could let it be known
that I was from the circus, and, even if I didn’t win the prize,
it would advertise the show so that we might get a big crowd in.
The race takes place in the morning, so it won’t interfere with my
performance.”
“But do you know anything about running an aeroplane, Joe?” asked Mr.
Sampson.
“I don’t intend to run one of them. I’ll use my _Bat_.”
“Is it fast enough?” asked Jim Tracy. “Some of those aeroplanes are
pretty speedy, I understand.”
“I can make the _Bat_ go fast when I want to,” Joe replied. “I don’t
dare let it out in the tent or I might burst through the side. But of
course I can’t compete with their speediest machines. However, this
is to be a handicap affair--that is, the fast machines will have to
let the slower ones get off first on a time allowance. I ought to get
a pretty big allowance as I don’t rate very high in power as compared
to the others. So I think I have a good chance for a prize.”
“Well, maybe you have,” conceded Jim Tracy. “It’s very good of you to
offer, anyhow.”
“Well, why shouldn’t I? I want to see the circus make money as much
as the rest of you. My living depends on it, especially since I don’t
seem to be getting any more money from England.”
“Is the game up over there?” asked the veteran clown.
“So it seems,” answered Joe. “Well, what do you say? Shall I try in
the prize race?”
“By all means!” exclaimed Mr. Sampson. “Get your entry in early, and
do the best you can. I’ll have some dodgers printed advertising the
fact that one of our circus performers is going to race in the oddest
air machine ever invented. Even if you don’t win the race you may
create enough interest to bring bigger crowds in here to see you. Go
to it, Joe, as the boys say!”
“I will!” promised the young performer. “I’ll give my _Bat_ a good
overhauling to-night to have it ready for to-morrow morning, and I’ll
go over now and make my entry.”
Joe had no difficulty in getting himself and his machine entered
in the handicap prize race, which was for a gold cup and a sum of
money, there being no amateur rules to govern air-flying. When the
lad described and named his machine the official making out the entry
blank looked up in surprise.
“You don’t expect to stand any chance in that, do you?” he asked,
smiling good-naturedly.
“Well, yes,” said Joe. “It is a peculiar machine, but I think I can
make good if I get the right kind of handicap.”
“We will be perfectly fair, of course, and from what you tell me of
the power of your storage battery you will get a good time allowance.
I shall have to see your machine, first, however.”