Joe Strong and his wings of steel or, A young acrobat in the clouds
“That creek, river, or whatever you call it,” the human fish replied.
“Joe knows all there is to know about swimming and diving, and if he
can fall into the water it will be a whole lot better than landing on
the ground.”
“I should say so!” exclaimed Mr. Ryden. “That is if the machine
doesn’t hold him under.”
“We’ll be there to pull him out,” said the old clown grimly.
As Benny had said, Joe was now headed directly for a stream of water
that flowed through the big meadow just beyond Mr. Brader’s factory;
and, as the human fish had also remarked, Joe knew all there was to
know about taking care of himself in water; the only danger lay in
the fact that he might be held down by his machine.
Straight for the creek, as though he had intentionally steered for
it, flew Joe in the _Bat_. A moment later in he splashed.
“Come on!” cried Ben. “We’ve got to get him out.”
They raced on toward the stream, but there was no need to aid Joe,
for as the three reached the bank they saw him swimming toward shore,
while the big _Bat_, supported on the outstretched wings of steel,
floated on the surface. The spread of the wings was so big that they
easily held up the weight of the storage batteries and motors.
“Are you hurt, Joe?” cried Ben.
“No--just--shaken up--a bit,” was the panting answer.
He reached the bank, and was quickly pulled up on shore, for it was
seen that he was well-nigh exhausted, even though he might not be
hurt.
“I--I’m all right,” said Joe, as he wiped the water from his face.
“Is there a boat about here so we can rescue the wings? I don’t want
to lose them.”
“What happened?” asked Mr. Brader.
“Something wrong with the steering gear,” Joe answered. “I’ll talk
about that later. Just now I want to save my machine.”
“I see a boat!” cried Ben, who had been looking up and down the
stream. “We’ll get it out for you!”
“Oh, I can help,” said Joe, coolly enough. “I’ll be all right--as
soon as I get my--my wind,” and he smiled.
It was no easy matter to get the wings of steel ashore, for they
were awkward to handle in the water. But at last they were towed to
a shallow place and then lifted out on the bank, Joe giving valuable
help, for he was very strong. “Strong by name and strong by nature,”
as he often remarked laughingly.
“Well, I suppose your machine is ruined now,” said Benny, as he
looked at the wet and dripping _Bat_.
“Not necessarily. Why?” asked Joe.
“Why, I understood that an electric motor, once it got wet, was no
good.”
“Not these,” said Mr. Ryden with a laugh of relief. “On Joe’s advice
I made these motors water-proof, and, not only that, but I enclosed
them in water-tight compartments in the interior of the _Bat_. The
storage battery, too, is water-proof, and you can turn it upside down
without any danger.
“No, if water were our only trouble it wouldn’t be much. But I am
afraid something is broken.”
“I know one of the steering rudders is,” said Joe. “That was why I
could not control the machine, and came so near to alighting on the
factory roof.”
“It was a narrow escape,” observed the old clown.
“Oh, I’ve had closer,” said Joe. “And now let’s get to work and see
what the trouble is. I may be able to make another flight before
dark.”
“Are you going up again?” asked Benny Turton in surprise.
“Why, of course, if I can get it to work!” said Joe. “A little thing
like this won’t stop me.”
With the help of the watchman from the Brader factory, the _Bat_ was
carried back to the testing yard. And then, after Joe had taken off
his wet clothes, and had them drying in the boiler room (meanwhile
donning a pair of overalls and a jumper belonging to one of the
workmen) he and Mr. Ryden went over the whole machine carefully.
The defect was soon discovered. It was in one of the controls of the
rudders, a small wire cable having slipped from the clamp.
The fall into the water had done a little damage, but not much, and
this was soon repaired, Joe and Mr. Ryden working together over the
machine.
There was still an hour or two of daylight left when the _Bat_ was
got in shape for another test.
“Then you are really going up again?” asked Bill Watson, as Joe made
ready.
“Why not?” Joe asked. “I didn’t get so much as a scratch! Falling
into water is easier than landing in a life-net, and we’ve got the
cage of the _Bat_ so fixed that I can easily get out of it in a hurry
if I have to. You see the wings were so broad that it was impossible
to pull them under water. Of course I’m going up again!”
The rudder controls were repaired in such a way that there was no
possible chance of another break, unless the whole machine fell
apart. And then Joe, not waiting for his own clothes to dry, again
took his place in the cage, wearing the overalls and jumper, but not
forgetting the football helmet.
“That saved me from a bad bang on the head before,” he said, “and I’m
not going to leave it off.”
The _Bat_ was scarcely dry from its bath when Joe was ready to soar
up in it again. Again the motors hummed and throbbed, and as the
wings vibrated more and more rapidly up rose the machine, taking Joe
with it.
Once more he went up above the high fence, and beyond it, flying over
the green meadow. And now a crowd, attracted by the strange, weird
sight in the air, had gathered in the roadway to watch the test being
made.
This time the flight was a success. Joe went up even higher than he
had at first, and moved about, from side to side, up and down, around
in a circle and back to the place whence he had started.
He had risen up like a bird, elevating himself and the machine by
the beating of the wings against the air. But when he came down he
stopped the motors, and gracefully glided, even as an eagle or a
condor swoops down from his watching place, miles high in the air, to
secure its quarry.
As lightly as a feather Joe descended to the earth, the springs in
the bottom of his machine allowing him to alight with scarcely a jar.
“Success!” cried Joe, as he came out of the cage. “It works!”
“A big success!” cried Ben.
“Better than I ever thought it would be,” remarked the clown. “Joe,
you’re a wonder!”
“No, Mr. Ryden is the wonder,” said Joe. “If he hadn’t solved the
problems I’d never have been able to go up.”
“But if you hadn’t evolved the idea, I’d never have thought of it,”
said the inventor.
“I move that the mutual admiration society adjourn,” returned Joe
with a laugh. “Now we must think of getting back to the circus, and
my machine must go with me.”
CHAPTER XI
JOE’S SURPRISE
When Joe’s second, and successful, flight was concluded he found his
clothes were dry enough to put on.
“Though they need a visit to the tailor’s before I shall look the way
I want to,” he said with a smile. “But we’ll be traveling back after
dark, so no one will see me.”
“And I’ll have the machine crated and shipped to you,” said Mr.
Ryden. “Are you going to use it in the circus?”
“I haven’t quite decided,” was Joe’s reply. “Jim Tracy, our
ring-master and one of the owners, doesn’t seem to think much of it.
But I may cause him to change his mind. I think the wings of steel,
aside from everything else, are quite a novelty.”
“They’re more than a novelty,” said Bill Watson. “They’re a dangerous
toy,” and he smiled grimly.
“But they’ll attract a lot of attention,” said Benny Turton, “and
that’s what one wants in a circus.”
“Well, we’ll see what can be done with them,” concluded Joe. “At
least I have proved that I can fly with them.”
The journey back to the town in which the circus was to stay over
Sunday was safely made. A few days later, on their arrival in another
town, Joe received word from the express company that there was a big
box for him.
“It’s my wings of steel,” said the young performer. “I suppose I can
carry them with the rest of my baggage, Jim Tracy?” he asked the
ring-master.
“Oh, yes,” was the answer. “Bring ’em along. Ben and Bill were
telling me what you have been doing, but I’d rather you wouldn’t use
your new machine, Joe.”
“Why not?” asked our hero in some surprise. For instead of finding
the ring-master enthusiastic, as he had thought he would be, Joe
found the circus owner rather indifferent toward what the boy felt
was a decided triumph. “Why don’t you want me to use the wings?” he
repeated.
“Because, from what Bill Watson tells me, they’re dangerous, Joe, and
I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Why, I didn’t get hurt! I had one little accident, but I got out of
it all right. My wings are as safe as----”
“They’re not any safer than your high wire, and that isn’t safe,”
said the ring-master. “Understand, Joe, I’m speaking from a selfish
motive. I don’t want you to get hurt, because your place would be
hard to fill as a drawing attraction, and goodness knows we need that
in this circus of late.”
“Oh, well, I’m not going to get hurt,” Joe declared, “and I intend to
use the wings some time.”
“Well, put it off until the end of the season,” was the ring-master’s
advice. “You are one of our most valuable assets, Joe, like a baby
elephant----”
“Oh, don’t compare me with one of the animals,” interrupted Joe with
a laugh.
“No, but you know what I mean. You’re as big a drawing card as a baby
elephant would be, and you know how the crowds come to the show just
to see that. So I don’t want to lose you by having you break your
neck in your wings of steel--and Bill Watson declares that’s what you
will do.”
“Oh, Bill! Well, Bill _means_ all right,” said Joe with a smile, “but
he’s as nervous as a woman about some things.”
“Well, just leave off the wings,” concluded the ring-master, as he
passed on.
“And continue to be the baby elephant,” added Joe, who seemed amused
at the idea.
“Elephant--elephant,” he repeated to himself, as he went to his
dressing tent. “I wonder if I could work that trick. It would give
Jim Tracy the surprise of his life--and some others, too. I’ve a good
notion to try it.”
But what he was going to try Joe confided to no one--not even to
Helen. She asked him about his wings of steel, but the lad had no
chance to show them to her or to make another flight, for the circus
was constantly on the road now, playing only two performances in each
stopping place; consequently, there was not time to unbox the wings
and make a flight. Not that their owner was anxious to do so, for he
planned to make money out of his wings by giving exhibitions, and he
did not see how he could do this by going up on the circus grounds in
plain sight of every one.
“If I can’t make a contract to fly in the circus tent, which I could
do, for it’s high enough, then I must make contracts with fairs and
expositions, as I did when I first rode the high wire,” said Joe.
“But first I’m going to carry out my surprise.”
The show played in a large city one Saturday, but the attendance was
not good, and Joe saw Jim Tracy, Mr. Sampson and some of the other
partners in conference later on. He heard that they were discussing
ways and means of cutting down expenses, and, at the same time,
making the circus a better drawing card.
“I guess it’s about time to spring my surprise,” reasoned Joe. “We
will lay up over Sunday in Millburn, and that will give me a chance
to get out the wings and set them up.”
Joe did not, as a rule, believe in working on Sunday, and Sunday
performances were never given. But in a circus, as in many other
industries and businesses, there are certain things that must be done
on Sunday as well as on week days. Sometimes the show traveled on
Sunday, and if it did not, there were the animals to feed and look
after, and many routine tasks to perform.
So Joe felt that he had a certain right to do on Sunday what he had,