Joe Strong and his wings of steel or, A young acrobat in the clouds
have him drop his trapeze work, and ride the motor-cycle on the high
wire as soon as his special apparatus should be received from the
place where he had stored it.
But, for the present, as soon as Joe had finished his act on the
bars, rings and ropes, he hurried to his dressing room, and attired
himself in the rig of a farmer. Then he would stroll into the big
tent, just as if he were a spectator who had arrived late. A seat
would be saved for him, and near it would be an usher who was drilled
in the part he had to play.
As soon as Lizzie was loosed from her cage, up Joe would jump, to run
after the flapping animal, pretending to think it had escaped. Then
would follow his fall into the tank. It never failed to “bring down
the house,” especially when Jim Tracy would himself act as though he,
too, had been deceived by the trick.
For Jim’s part in the odd act was as before. He would rush over to
the tank and pretend to be vastly angry at the countryman. Then Joe
would reveal himself in his true character, and word would circulate
that he was one of the regular circus folk.
The crowds laughed at the clever way they had been deceived, but it
was good-natured laughing, and they rather liked it than otherwise.
And so Joe had injected the necessary “ginger” into the show, at
least for the time being.
“And when you put back the high-wire riding act, that will add to
it,” said Jim Tracy.
In due time Joe’s apparatus arrived, and was got ready to be set up
in the tent. It has been recorded elsewhere that Joe had a thin wire
cable anchored at each end in the ground, and raised up by two pairs
of “shears” set about three hundred feet apart. The lad rode up the
slanted wire at one end on a motor-cycle with grooved rims on the
wheels to fit the wire. On reaching the level stretch he shot across
that at good speed, and rode down the other side. And, while doing
this, the youth, with a revolver in each hand, would shoot glass
balls or toy balloons, shattering them with the two shots, for Joe
was an expert marksman.
This act, as it had done elsewhere when put on, thrilled the large
audiences, so that Joe really did more than his share in providing
the “ginger.”
“Everything’s going splendidly!” said Jim Tracy, about a week after
Joe had again put on his motor-cycle turn. “With that and with your
fall into the tank we’re drawing big crowds, Joe, my boy; so I’m
going to give you more money.”
“That’s good! I need it.”
“Still harping on your wings of steel?”
“Oh, yes, I’m going to have them sooner or later. I know my idea is
all right, and I’ve got a new man working on the machine now. He may
solve the difficulty.”
As Jim Tracy left Joe, Helen, who had heard part of what was said,
approached.
“Are you really still working on your queer flying machine, Joe?” she
asked.
“Yes, Helen, and I’m going to fly, too!”
“Oh, Joe, I wish you wouldn’t!” she exclaimed impulsively.
“Why not?” he asked, with a smile.
“Oh, suppose you should fall and be hurt--maybe killed--what would I
ever do, Joe?” and Helen blushed as she asked this.
“Would you care?” he asked softly.
“You--you know I would,” she whispered, and there was no doubt as to
her fondness for Joe Strong.
“I’m glad,” was the youth’s answer. “And I will be careful, Helen;
for I like you more than any girl I ever met.”
“Maybe you won’t say that when you meet Miss Tyndall,” returned Helen.
“Miss Tyndall! Who is she?” asked Joe.
“Oh, she’s a new performer who is coming to us. Mr. Sampson has
engaged her. He was telling me about her. It’s going to be another
new act.”
“What is it? Is it like yours? Is Miss Tyndall a bareback rider?”
“No, she has what is called a ‘happy family.’ You know--a dog, a cat,
a monkey, a kangaroo, and, I believe, some other animals. She has
them all in one cage, and she makes them do tricks. It’s quite novel,
I believe.”
“Sounds good,” Joe admitted. “But what makes you think I may be so
taken with Miss Tyndall, whom I have never seen?”
“She is very pretty, as one can tell by her picture, which Mr.
Sampson showed me.”
“I know somebody else who is pretty,” commented Joe.
“Don’t be silly,” Helen advised him, but, obviously, she was not
ill-pleased. “And she is said to be very attractive,” the girl went
on. “So I’m just warning you, Joe. Don’t look at her when you ought
to be steering your motor-cycle, or you may take a tumble from the
high wire.”
“Oh, I’ll look out!” Joe promised. “Anyway, my heart isn’t in my own
keeping any more, so there’s no further danger of my losing it. I’ve
lost it already.”
Helen blushed again.
CHAPTER VII
JEALOUSY
“Say! she is pretty, all right, and that’s a dandy little act she
has.”
“There! What did I tell you?” exclaimed Helen.
It was Joe who had made the first remark, on seeing, for the first
time, Miss Tyndall with her “happy family.” The new performer had
arrived and joined the circus, having been engaged personally by Mr.
Sampson, the only remaining “brother” of the family which had given
the show its name.
“Oh, I don’t mean anything except that she is nice looking and that
her act is a novel one,” protested Joe, rather taken aback. “Can’t I
say that much?”
“Oh, I’ll forgive you,” laughed Helen. “And she certainly is pretty!”
Miss Tyndall was really beautiful, and she created a favorable
impression not only on the circus folk, but on the public in general.
Though some of the rival performers said that the new arrival made
herself appear younger than she really was.
Joe, though he heard that said, paid little attention to such
jealous comments. He talked to Miss Tyndall, as did many others in
the circus, but he had no special liking for her, though several of
the men joked him about the matter, and hinted that Miss Tyndall was
making sheep’s eyes at him.
“And you want to look out, Helen, or you’ll have a rival,” they
warned the owner of Rosebud.
Helen tossed her head, and pretended not to care.
As for Joe, he was really too busy to give more than a passing
thought to what was said. He had two things to worry him. One was
the tangle into which his English money affairs was getting, and the
other was the unsatisfactory progress made on his wings of steel.
In regard to Joe’s inheritance, the lawyer who had first represented
him was away, and could not take further charge of the affair. As has
been explained, the matter was in the hands of a Mr. Bolling, and Joe
did not altogether like the way Mr. Bolling was doing.
Not that there was anything unprofessional in the solicitor’s
conduct, and Joe could not find any flaws in his legal action. But to
our hero it seemed that Mr. Bolling was not energetic enough.
“It needs some of our American lawyers to handle a case like that,”
thought Joe. Mr. Bolling had written that not only was there a slim
chance of Joe’s getting any more money, but that he might even be
sued for what had already been paid to him.
“Well, let ’em sue!” said Joe. “They can’t get what I haven’t got.
I’ve spent all of that money on my wings of steel. I had a right to
it; so why shouldn’t I use it on my invention? And I’m doing my best
to earn more; for I know my wings will succeed if they are properly
made. I wonder how that fellow is coming on with them. I must write
and find out. But first I’ve got to touch Mr. Bolling up a bit, and
let him know I think I have a right to the rest of my mother’s money,
and that he ought to ‘hump’ himself, as the boys say, and get it for
me.”
Several letters had passed back and forth between Joe and the English
solicitor, and with the writing of them, and the correspondence about
the _Bat_, Joe was kept so busy that it is no wonder he had no time
to pay much attention to Miss Tyndall, pretty and engaging as she was.
After his failure with the wings of steel the young experimenter had
given the question of their construction serious thought. The thing
was plain. The machine, with him in it, was too heavy to raise itself
from the ground as it was then constructed.
“It is clear,” said Joe, “that I’ll have to use more powerful motors
and bigger storage batteries. And how to do that is a question.”
It was at this rather discouraging point that Joe had heard of an
inventor who specialized in electric motors and batteries. The young
circus performer communicated with him, and engaged him to work on
the problem of the wings of steel. The man, a Mr. Ryden, was much
impressed with Joe’s idea, and grew enthusiastic about it. He went
to the Brader factory, and there he was, at present, engaged on the
reconstruction of the _Bat_.
Joe still kept up his two chief acts in the circus. He gave his
thrilling ride across the high wire on his motor-cycle, and then
created gales of laughter by falling into the tank.
Occasionally the lad did some of his sleight-of-hand tricks, at which
he had been so successful when on the road with Professor Rosello.
Joe wanted to keep his fingers nimble against the day when he might
be soaring in his wings of steel.
“There’ll be plenty for my hands and feet to do when I get up in the
air, with the different switches, rudders and things to control,”
reflected the boy, “so I want to be in good practice.”
At odd times, too, Joe worked in private on the trapeze, for he
wanted to keep in general good physical condition, and nothing is
better for this than work on the bars or rings.
The latest reports from Mr. Ryden about the _Bat_ were rather
encouraging, and Joe was planning, when the circus should be within
traveling distance of the Brader factory, to ride over on his
motor-cycle to see how matters were progressing.
Joe Strong had two motor machines. One was a specially made, light
one for use on the high wire, and the other was an ordinary road
machine.
One day Joe was busy overhauling his road motor-cycle in preparation
for a run about the country. He carried the two machines with him and
often went off on little pleasure trips, sometimes taking Helen with
him. He was thinking, on this occasion, of asking her to go for a
ride, as there was plenty of time between the afternoon and the night
performances.
However, he was not able to carry out his intentions, for, just as he
had his machine in readiness and was starting to look for Helen, he
saw Miss Tyndall coming toward him, with a little dog in her arms.
“Oh, Mr. Strong, I am in _such_ trouble!” exclaimed the girl who
exhibited the “happy family.”
“Trouble! What kind?” asked Joe pleasantly.
“It’s Pinky, my best little dog. He’s got a bone in his throat, and
I’ve got to get him to a veterinarian right away or my pet may die.
That would spoil my act! What shall I do?”
“Can’t one of the animal men get it out for you?”
“They’ve tried, but Pinky is so little they haven’t an instrument
small enough. Oh! there must be a good veterinarian in the town. If
I could only get Pinky to him in time! But--look!”
She held out the little dog, which seemed to be in his last stages,
for he was gasping and choking.
“It’s too bad!” said Joe. “I wonder what we can do? I have it!” he
cried. “Jump on my motor-cycle--it’s built for two--and I’ll run you
into town in a jiffy. Then we’ll look up an animal doctor and see
what can be done. I’d take Pinky in myself, only I can’t very well
carry him and manage the machine.”
“Oh, I’d rather come with you myself!” exclaimed Miss Tyndall. “Pinky
won’t let any one touch him if I’m not with him. It’s awfully good of
you, Mr. Strong. Do I just sit on the rear seat?”
“Yes, just sit steady. I’ll have you in town in no time.”
They were off a moment later, Joe directing the machine off the
circus grounds into the city on the outskirts of which the show was
being given.