## The Project Gutenberg eBook of Joe Strong on the high wire

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Title: Joe Strong on the high wire

or, Motor-cycle perils of the air

Author: Vance Barnum

Release date: May 6, 2025 [eBook #76025]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: Hearst's International Library Co, 1916

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/76025

Credits: Aaron Adrignola, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOE STRONG ON THE HIGH WIRE ***

# JOE STRONG ON THE HIGH WIRE

OR

MOTOR-CYCLE PERILS OF THE AIR

By VANCE BARNUM

Author of "Joe Strong, the Boy Wizard,"
"Joe Strong on the Trapeze," etc.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
HEARST'S INTERNATIONAL LIBRARY CO.
PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1916, by
Hearst's International Library Company

## CONTENTS

I. | "Good-bye!"
II. | The Shaky Bridge
III. | Turned Turtle
IV. | A Strange Interest
V. | Rather Dubious
VI. | Making the Apparatus
VII. | Failure
VIII. | A New Idea
IX. | The First Exhibition
X. | A Chance Remark
XI. | Joe Wonders
XII. | Days of Daring
XIII. | A Bad Fall
XIV. | The New Machine
XV. | A Big Climb
XVI. | Across a Chasm
XVII. | Back in the Circus
XVIII. | In Madison Square Garden
XIX. | Joe's Marksmanship
XX. | Out West
XXI. | Recognition
XXII. | Good News
XXIII. | A Wild Ride
XXIV. | The Cablegram
XXV. | Joe's Inheritance

## ILLUSTRATIONS

"I'm coming!" shouted Joe. "Be with you in a second!"
Then Joe felt himself falling toward the net.
Then the lad found himself whizzing across the dizzy heights.
This car was moving much faster than the other had been.

## JOE STRONG ON THE HIGH WIRE

## CHAPTER I

### "GOOD-BYE!"

"Come on, Ben, I want to introduce you to Lizzie."

"Lizzie? I thought you said her name was Helen."

"Oh, this is a different sort of lady. Of course there's a Helen too. Come on, right over this way."

Two boys, or, rather, two youths, walked arm in arm across a lot whereon stood several tents, one large and the others smaller. From one came the loud trumpetings of elephants and an occasional roar of a lion. In another tent scores of horses could be seen under the raised sides, eating hay from canvas mangers. From still a third tent came appetizing odors of food.

The scene was a circus, and it was as lively and animated a scene as such always are, with men hurrying to and fro getting the animals and wagons ready for the street parade and arranging for the two performances that were to follow.

"Well, Ben, do you feel like coming back?" asked Joe Strong, the taller of the two lads.

"Feel like coming back? I should say I do, Joe! But if it hadn't been for you I never should have been able to come back."

"You might, Ben."

"No, I'm sure I shouldn't. I'd never have had the money to pay for the operation, and that's what saved me from becoming deaf and dumb, Joe."

"Well, I'm glad I was able to have it done for you, Ben. Are you sure you'll be able to take up the tank work again, and stay under water as long as you used to?"

"The doctor says he doesn't see any reason why I can't."

As the two lads walked on toward the dressing tent, where the men and women performers attired themselves in the gay suits they appeared in at the public performances, peculiar sounds came from the canvas house. The noise was, as nearly as it can be shown in print, like a series of hoarse barkings, expressed by:

Hook! Hook! Hook! Ook! Ook!

"What in the world is that?" asked Benny Turton, who, as he walked beside Joe Strong, showed somewhat the effects of a recent illness and operation.

"That's Lizzie, saying good-morning," explained Joe.

"Well, I can't say that she has a very cheerful voice," returned Ben with a smile.

"Still you'll find Lizzie a very cheerful and companionable young lady," went on Joe, laughing.

"But I can't get over thinking it was a Helen I was to meet," said Ben. "You know the Helen I mean—the one billed as Mademoiselle Mortonti—she was with the show when I was, and I used to think you were quite gone on her. She hasn't left, has she?"

"Oh, no," Joe answered. "Miss Morton is still with Sampson Brothers' Show. But it's Lizzie I want you to meet now. You'll have to perform with her in the tank, you know, if you take up the work I'm going to leave."

"Is she a good swimmer?" asked Ben.

"One of the best in the world. She can beat you and me all to pieces."

"I'll have to practise up," said Ben, who was quite curious.

"You can never equal Lizzie," retorted Joe. "Come on now, and you'll meet her in proper style. You might give her this, for it will be a sure way of getting in her good graces."

As he spoke Joe Strong, who had entered the dressing tent, picked up from a pail near the entrance a dead fish, and slipped it into Ben's hand.

"Here! What—what in the world do you mean?" exclaimed Ben, looking at the fish he had unwittingly taken.

"It's for Lizzie," explained Joe.

"But—but it isn't cooked."

"I know. Lizzie likes her fish raw!" Joe had hard work not to laugh at the queer look on Ben's face.

"You've sure got me going," laughed Ben. "I give up. What's it all about?"

"This," answered Joe, moving over toward a heavy wooden box. "Ben Turton, allow me to present you to Lizzie, one of the best trained sea-lions in captivity," and as Joe turned back the cover of the crate a sea-lion wiggled her way out, and, flopping to a position in front of Joe, raised up her sleek head and "Hooked!" in loud tones.

"Yes, Lizzie, you shall have it," Joe went on. "Give her the fish, Ben. That's what she is begging for."

Hardly knowing what he was doing, Ben Turton held out the fish, which the sea-lion gently took from his hand. There was a flash of small, white and very sharp teeth and—the fish disappeared.

"Whew!" whistled Ben. "So your Lizzie is a seal, is she? And that's how she eats fish! I shouldn't like to have her take a bite out of me."

"No danger," said Joe. "She's as gentle as a baby. Look," and he fearlessly placed his hand in the mouth of the sea-lion, or seal, as most persons wrongly call the sea-lion. "Lizzie and I have been working together in the tank for some time now," he added.

"Do you mean that you actually swim in the tank with her?" asked Ben, somewhat incredulously.

"That's what I do. And that's what has made the act so popular. I have made a lot of changes since I temporarily took your place, Ben, and I didn't tell you about all of them, for I wanted to surprise you. The seal is one of the surprises."

"I should say it is!" cried Ben. "A big surprise!"

"Well, I must get ready for my farewell appearance," Joe went on. "Come on in while I dress, and you can be planning for something new yourself. You're going to take the work up where I leave off, you know."

"Yes, I suppose so, but I didn't figure on acting with a seal, Joe."

"Oh, you'll soon get used to that. Lizzie's a great tank actress. She just loves to do tricks. I'll show you, and later on when the afternoon performance is over you can put on the rubber suit yourself and get in the tank with her. You'll like Lizzie."

"Well, perhaps I shall," said Ben, but he was rather dubious.

In the dressing tent Joe Strong donned a queer rubber suit, red in color, and made to resemble the scales of a fish. In fact Joe was known as the "boy fish" just as Ben, before he had been taken ill, was billed as the "human fish."

"It seems like old times to be here again," remarked Ben, as several of the circus men and women came in to see him, while Joe was getting ready for his act.

"I'm glad it does," remarked the boy fish. "And I'm glad you can take your old place back. It's a good act, and I did hate to leave the circus without it. But I'm going to say good-bye to-day, and you can fill my place."

"What are you going to do, Joe?"

"Well, you know I told you I had become quite an expert on the motor-cycle."

"Yes, you mentioned it. But so much has happened lately, and in such a short time, that I had almost forgotten it."

"I don't blame you. Well, I have an idea I can work up an act of my own on the gasoline bicycle that will beat anything I ever did in the tank. So I'm going to try."

"Are you going to leave the circus?"

"Yes. I have an idea I can make more money starring by myself. It will be easier for me, too, as I can map out my own route, and if there comes a day when I don't feel like showing I won't have to. I don't mind hard work, but with a circus the show has to go on, and one has to go on with it whether one wants to or not. So I'm going to cut loose."

"Well, I wish you all success, Joe. I'm glad to have my old act back in the circus."

By this time the parade was over and the afternoon performance would soon begin. Joe took Ben into the "main top," or the big tent where the main show would be given.

"Hello!" exclaimed Ben, as he saw a big glass tank filled with water, in which goldfish were swimming about. "You've made a change here, too!"

"Yes, it's a little showier, I think. Do you like it?"

"I sure do. Now I'm going to watch you act. I'll have to do as nearly like you as I can."

With a blare of trumpets the grand entry started and then, when the camels, the elephants and the horses with their gaily dressed riders had filed out of the big tent, the individual and team acts began.

Joe Strong, the boy fish, went into the big tank of water and swam about, doing fancy strokes and also going through a number of sleight-of-hand tricks, including some with a pack of celluloid cards. All the tricks were performed under water, Joe, of course, holding his breath.

As a climax Joe performed with the trained seal, Lizzie, who was released from her crate by an attendant when Joe gave the signal. Lizzie flapped her way up a flight of steps leading to the top of the tank, and dived in with scarcely a ripple.

"Say! won't she eat up those goldfish?" asked Ben of Helen Morton, who stood near him watching Joe. Helen had finished some trick and fancy riding on her trained horse, Rosebud.

"No, Lizzie can't get the fish," Helen explained. "The tank has double sides, you see, and the fish swim in between the inner and outer sheets of glass, so the seal can't get at them. That was my idea, Ben."

"It's a good one, all right."

Joe ate bananas under water, while Lizzie consumed fish. Then the two went through several other tricks, the act ending when Joe had remained under water, without coming up to breathe, for four minutes and a half. This was not his record, but it was a long time, and the big crowd applauded vigorously when Jim Tracy, the ring-master, announced the time.

"I don't believe I'll be able to do that," said Ben, with a dubious shake of his head.

"Oh, yes you will, in time," said Helen. "You'll get back to your old form after a little practice. We're all glad to have you back with us."

"And I guess you'll be sorry to see Joe leave," suggested Ben.

"Indeed we shall!" cried Helen, and she spoke with such warmth that Ben looked at her curiously, while Helen blushed and turned away her head.

"Well, what do you think of the act, Ben?" asked Joe, when the main performance was over.

"It's great! You've improved it a hundred per cent. over my tank act. I only hope I can keep it up to the mark."

"Oh, you can, Ben. Do you want to try it now?"

"I think I'd better have a little practice, yes. Then I'll sort of get used to Lizzie."

"Oh, the seal isn't hard to act with. Come on."

A little later Ben Turton was again practising his former act as the "human fish," and, to his delight, he found that his recent illness and operation had not incapacitated him from doing underwater work.

He could not remain under as long as Joe had, though, but this would come with practice. Lizzie, the trained seal, performed equally well with either Joe or Ben, so that part of the problem was solved.

"And there's no reason why Ben can't go on with the performance to-night," said Joe to Jim Tracy, the ring-master and one of the owners of the Sampson Brothers' Circus. "That will let me get an early start."

"Just as you say, Joe," replied Jim Tracy. "You seem glad to leave us."

"Not at all. It's only that as long as I'm going to start out on my own hook, the sooner I begin the better. No, I'm sorry to go, for I have a lot of friends here."

Joe gave Benny instructions about caring for the seal and the goldfish when the circus moved on, and also left with the "human fish" some of the simpler tricks which Benny, in time, could learn to do. Then Joe got ready his motor-cycle. He had a new idea in regard to using that machine in some daring trick work, and he wanted to put his plans into execution. He intended to ride over to see a certain man in Hertford, a town about twenty-five miles from the place where the circus was then showing, and he planned to reach his destination that evening, and stay all night.

"And now are you really going to say good-bye, Joe?" asked Ben, as the former boy fish came up with his motor-cycle.

"Yes, I'll be getting along now. You've got everything down as fine as I can tell you, and you'll be able to start right in to-night. But I sort of hate to go, now the time has come," and there was a suspicion of tears in the lad's eyes.

"Come and see me once in a while," urged Ben. "I never can thank you enough for all you have done for me. I shan't forget it."

"Oh, yes, I'll see you some time," Joe promised. "Perhaps I'll be showing in the same town some day where the circus is billed."

He bade farewell to his many friends and acquaintances in the show, and, last of all, he shook hands with Helen Morton.

"Good-bye, Joe," she said, and her eyes were not altogether dry. "Let us hear from you now and then."

"I surely will!" Joe said with energy. "I'll write often."

"So will I," returned the girl in a low voice. "And, Joe, don't—don't take too many risks, will you?"

"No," he answered.

He walked slowly away from her, mounted the machine, and, waving his cap to the little crowd of circus folk gathered near the big tent, rode off down the road.

"Good-bye!" called his friends after him. "Good luck and good-bye!"

"Good-bye!" answered Joe.

## CHAPTER II

### THE SHAKY BRIDGE

Down the highway rode Joe Strong on his powerful motor-cycle. He did not look back after that final glance at the group of his circus friends, for, truth to tell, the parting had affected the lad more than he cared to admit.

He had started the spring season with the circus with the intention of leaving to take up a new line of daring work as soon as Benny Turton could resume his place. Still, Joe had not thought much of his departure—that is, he had not imagined he would feel it so.

But one can not part from one's friends without a few heart-aches, and Joe found this out, somewhat to his sorrow.

"They sure are a good bunch of folks," he mused, "even if some of them did think I got more than my share of applause.

"And there was Helen Morton. Well——"

But Joe did not like to think of parting from her. He told himself it would not be a parting for very long, for Helen had said something about giving up her trick riding at the end of the present season, as she was quite well off. She had inherited some money and property from her grandfather's estate, and this, of late, had increased in value.

"I don't know whether my new scheme is going to work or not," mused Joe, as he rode on; "but there's nothing like trying. If it does I'll give the public more thrills than I've ever been able to on the trapeze or in the fish tank."

As he came to a turn in the country road, along which he was speeding, Joe flashed a look back. Over the trees he could see the gay flags and banners of the circus, and part of the white top of the main tent was visible.

"Good-bye, old show," said Joe softly. "Good-bye!"

His voice was a bit husky, and there was moisture in his eyes. Perhaps it was caused by the wind. Joe brushed it away and then, as he passed on out of sight of the show, he tried to smile.

"Never mind. Maybe I'll see 'em again soon," he told himself. Though he spoke in the plural, it was in the singular that Joe thought.

"Twenty-two miles to Hertford," read Joe, as he passed a sign-post. "I ought to make it easily before supper. Then I can call and see Mr. Brader, and we can talk over what's best to be done. He may be able to use these same wheels, or I may have to have a new set made. That's got to be considered."

Joe came to a place where the road forked, and as he saw a farm wagon at the spot he slowed down long enough to call to the driver:

"Which is the best road to Hertford?"

"The one to the left is shorter," was the answer. "But if you take that you want to look out——"

"That's all right—thanks," Joe replied, and he flashed on before he heard the end of the farmer's reply. Thus he did not learn until afterward what it was he was to look out for.

"The shortest road is the one I want, every time," Joe thought. He was on a level stretch now, and turned on more power so that the speedy machine fairly "burned up the dust," as he expressed it. Joe was a skillful driver, and knew how to get the best out of his steed of steel, rubber and gasoline.

"Fifteen miles to Hertford," read Joe a little later. "I'm making good time, all right—better than I thought. I'm glad I took this shorter road."

Ahead of him he saw a white bridge, and in another minute he had reached it. As he rode across it the whole structure trembled and shook so that Joe was in alarm lest it go down with him.

The bridge fairly swayed from side to side, and Joe turned on more power to cross it as quickly as he could, on the same theory that a skater uses when he finds the thin ice giving way beneath him.

"Say, this bridge is dangerous!" Joe exclaimed to himself. "It's likely to go down with a heavy load on it. Wow! Mind that, would you!" he cried, as a plank slipped loose and went splashing into the stream beneath, just as the rear wheel of his machine passed over the place where the gap appeared.

The bridge trembled and the timbers groaned, as if in protest at being ridden on, and it was with great relief that Joe found himself safe on the other side.

"I've got to go back and see if I can't put that plank in place," the youth said, stopping his motor-cycle.

He leaned the machine against the roadside fence and walked back to the bridge. Near the middle was a gap where the plank had jarred out as Joe rode over it. The boy stepped gingerly upon the structure. Even his weight without the machine made the bridge tremble, though he knew it could hardly go down with him.

"There ought to be something done about this," said Joe. "It's a shame to have a bridge like this across a stream. It ought to be fixed, and at least there ought to be a warning about crossing it with anything heavier than a wheelbarrow. Maybe this is what that farmer was trying to warn me about—the shaky bridge.

"I wonder if I can't put up some sort of warning sign. And I've got to get that plank if I can. It's floating down stream, but maybe it will lodge against the bank. This is going to delay me."

Joe was looking about for something with which to make a warning sign, when, looking back over the road he had come, he saw a large automobile approaching at full speed.

"If they ever hit the bridge it will go down with them sure!" cried Joe. "I've got to warn them!"

He ran back across the tottering bridge toward the on-coming automobile as fast as he could, crying, as he waved his hands in warning:

"Stop! Stop! Don't cross the bridge! It isn't safe!"

While Joe is thus on his way to perform his duty, it will be a good opportunity for new readers to acquire a more intimate acquaintance with the hero, and to learn something about the previous books in this series.

The initial volume was "Joe Strong, the Boy Wizard; Or, The Mysteries of Magic Exposed." In that Joe first appears discussing with some of his country chums the performance given the previous night by Professor Rosello, a prestidigitator. Joe, whose father had been a magician, knew how to do some sleight-of-hand tricks, and he was showing his boy chums some of his work when they heard the sound of an explosion.

A fireworks factory in the vicinity had blown up, and Joe managed to save the life of Professor Rosello, who was in the place on business. In doing so Joe ruined his suit of clothes and this so incensed his foster-father, Amos Blackford, that the latter threatened to whip Joe. The lad felt he was too big for this childish punishment, and ran away from home.

Eventually he became associated with Professor Rosello, and learned to do some mystifying tricks, all of which are explained in the book mentioned.

From his mother, who before her marriage had been Janet Willoughby, an English girl who became a noted circus rider, Joe had inherited great nerve and daring. He was especially fitted for doing tricks in the air at great heights.

The second volume of the series was called "Joe Strong on the Trapeze; Or, the Daring Feats of a Young Circus Performer." In that we found Joe had had an offer to join the Sampson Brothers' Circus as a trapeze performer.

He did so and was at once wonderfully successful. As a boy he had often practised circus acts, and now his practice was of use. Joe made many friends in the circus, and a few enemies.

Among his friends was Bill Watson, a veteran clown who had known Joe's mother. It was Bill's idea that Joe had money coming to him from his mother's estate in England, her people having disowned her when she married "Professor Morretti," or Mr. Strong, Joe's father. But Joe's inquiries as to any inheritance due him had, so far, resulted in nothing.

Other circus friends were Benny Turton, "The Human Fish," and Helen Morton, who, with her trick horse, Rosebud, was one of the leading attractions of the circus.

The third book of the series was entitled "Joe Strong, the Boy Fish; Or, Marvelous Doings in a Big Tank." That story opens with the circus in full blast, for it was the beginning of the summer season.

Joe noticed Benny in distress in the tank, and rescued him just in time to save the boy from drowning. It developed that Benny had been staying under water too long and the pressure had affected his hearing and speech.

He went to a hospital for treatment and the circus folk were going to give up the tank act, when Joe offered to take Benny's place, for our hero was a natural swimmer, and in private he had stayed under water in the tank almost as long as had Benny Turton. Joe's offer was accepted, first temporarily and then permanently, and he became the "Boy Fish," and was so featured on the circus posters.

Joe changed Benny's act and added to it, introducing live goldfish into the tank, and later on a trained seal. He also did his trapeze work and thus received double money.

Joe was not as liberal with his money as some of the circus men thought he ought to be. For this reason he was called hard names. But he was saving his money to pay for an operation so Benny would not become deaf and dumb, and this dire possibility was prevented through Joe's act, and Benny Turton was able to rejoin the circus at the opening of the following season.

The "boy fish" had bought a motor-cycle and in his spare moments Joe had become an expert rider. Now, as this story opens, we find him riding away from the circus; for Joe had certain ideas he wished to carry out, and to do so he gave up his tank act, letting Benny resume his old work.

"I've got to stop them from getting on the bridge!" thought Joe, as he rushed on toward the automobile.

At first the automobile party paid no attention to him. But at last, when they were opposite Joe, who had leaped to one side of the road, the two men in the car seemed to comprehend that something was wrong.

"What is it?" asked the driver, bringing the machine to a sudden stop with a screech of the brakes.

"The bridge!" panted Joe. "It's too shaky to ride over! It nearly went down with me and my motor-cycle, and it surely will collapse with your big car! Don't risk it!"

## CHAPTER III

### TURNED TURTLE

Joe Strong had run at top speed, and had traveled a goodly distance from the bridge in a comparatively short time, for he realized that the big automobile was going fast and would require space in which to stop. And now the former circus performer leaned up against the mud-guard of the car to rest and recover his breath.

"What's the trouble?" asked the man on the seat with the driver. He did not appear to have heard what our hero had said. The driver had opened the side door of the car, for the automobile was one of the enclosed type.

"Bridge is shaky," said Joe again, breathing less laboredly now. He had wonderful lung capacity, as one must who could stay under water for nearly five minutes at a time.

"Dangerous bridge, eh?" repeated the driver. "Much obliged to you for warning us, young fellow. We'd have been on it in another minute or two. There ought to be a warning sign up."

"That's what I thought after I nearly went through it," Joe said. "I knocked off a plank, and I was looking for that to replace it, and also trying to figure out how I could put up a sign, when I saw you coming and started down the road toward you."

"Yes, we saw you," observed the driver with a grim smile. "At first my friend here thought you were a constable trying to arrest us for speeding, but we weren't exceeding the limit, though we are in a great hurry."

"It is most annoying just when we are in a rush to have to turn back because of a dangerous bridge," put in the other man. "Don't you think we could make it if we went over it slowly?" he asked of Joe.

The former circus performer shook his head.

"I wouldn't chance it," he said. "It almost shook to pieces when I went over on my motor-cycle. Why, it even vibrated dangerously as I walked over it to warn you."

"Then we can't think of taking this car across," put in the driver. "It weighs nearly two tons, and it would crash through at once. Is there another bridge around here?"

"I don't know," was Joe's reply. "I'm a stranger in these parts, and I had to inquire my own way. I'm going to Hertford."

"Well, we're going farther than that," the driver said. "That is, we are if we can make it. But I don't know," he added doubtfully. "I guess we'd better turn back and inquire for the nearest road to the next bridge."

He looked questioningly at his companion, who asked Joe:

"Can't we cross the stream? What sort is it—very deep?"

"It seems to be only a shallow brook," was the answer, "but I don't know anything about it. I never saw it before. It looks as if you might ford it, but don't take my word for it."

"We won't, thank you," the driver said. "It was mighty good of you to warn us. Let's have a look at this stream and see what it's like," he proposed to his fellow-traveler.

"Yes, that's our best plan. We must keep on, and we're late as it is. Ford the stream even if we do get a bit wet. There's nothing in the car that can spoil. I shan't mind wet feet nor will you, and the car has been out in the rain enough not to be damaged by a little more water."

The machine was a fine one, but it bore evidences of having been driven far and hard.

"Well, you might try it," said Joe. "The bridge certainly won't hold you. It's hardly safe to walk across. I'm going to look for the plank I jarred out, and see if I can't rig up a warning sign. It would be too bad if an accident happened."

"Jump in and ride back to the bridge with us," said the driver. "We'll help you put up a sign, though we really oughtn't to delay."

"Oh, I can manage the sign, I guess," Joe said. "My business isn't very pressing, and I've got a speedy motor-cycle."

"We'd take you and your machine with us, only we're not going your way," said the other man. "That is, we might if we can get across the stream. That's the first question to be settled."

Joe got into the car. It was luxuriously fitted up, and the men in it seemed to be wealthy. Joe wondered what their business was, and why they were in such a rush to get on. It could hardly be that they were traveling for pleasure, or they would not have minded going some other way to look for a safe bridge.

"Yes, I think we can easily ford that stream," the driver of the automobile said, as he brought the car to a stop not far from the bridge. There was a gradual slope from the highway down to the stream on either side of the road, and there were marks that showed where wagons had been driven across.

Farmers will often ford a stream near a bridge to give their horses a drink, or to soak the wheels of the vehicles which become dried out in long spells of drought.

"Yes, we can ford that," was the opinion of the other man, as he and the driver got out to take a close look. "How about the other side, though? Can we get up there?" and he pointed across to the opposite bank.

"I'll go take a look if you like," offered Joe.

"I wish you would," the man said. "Meanwhile I'll back up to a place where I see it's a little easier to get down."

Joe crossed the bridge, which again trembled from even the slight vibration of his steps, and found that the other slope of the ford was even better than the one on the opposite side.

"It's all right!" he cried. "You can make it as far as this shore is concerned. But I don't know what sort of a bed that stream has. Maybe you'd better test it with a long pole."

"Oh, we'll take a chance!" cried the driver. "We haven't time to experiment. I've got lots of power. Anyhow, it isn't likely we'll get bogged, as it looks to be a gravel bottom."

The car was by this time ready to go down the slope to ford the stream. Joe crossed the bridge again and saw the plank he had jarred out caught on the shore a little distance below.

"I'll get that and put it in place," he said. "I don't know about making a sign though. I could put fence rails across the road at either end of the bridge, and that ought to be warning enough except at night. They need red lanterns then. I may have to tell some farmer along the road."

Joe was walking toward the plank when the automobile started down the slope. The man drove carefully, and was soon at the edge of the brook.

"Give her a little more gas," Joe heard the driver's companion say. "Take it on high gear too."

"Yes, that's what I'm going to do," was the answer.

Joe heard the thunderous roar when the man opened the throttle and cut out his muffler. There was a dash of spray as the front wheels struck the water. The car fairly shot half way across the brook.

"I guess they'll make it all right," thought Joe.

And then, as he looked, he saw the big automobile hesitate and sway. It seemed to turn partly around. Then one side went down suddenly.

"Look out!" cried the driver's companion. "She's going over!"

But his warning came too late. The next instant the big machine lurched farther to one side and then suddenly turned turtle in the mud and water, sinking, upside down, into a deep hole near the bridge, the big-tired wheels spinning around in the air.

## CHAPTER IV

### A STRANGE INTEREST

With an involuntary cry of alarm, Joe started to run toward the scene of the accident. All thought of trying to recover the plank was now gone. That could wait. The men in the automobile were in desperate straits, if indeed they had not been killed when the big car overturned.

"I wonder if they are alive," mused Joe, as he sped on. "I've got to get them out or they'll be drowned."

The water was about up to Joe's waist at the point where the automobile rested in it, and without stopping to think of his clothes, Joe waded out. The engine of the car, which had been chugging away even after the upset, had now stopped, and from the interior of the car came cries for help.

"I'm coming!" shouted Joe. "Be with you in a second!"

"I'm coming!" shouted Joe. "Be with you in a second!"

He noted that the car did not seem to be smashed. This, he thought, gave the men a better chance for their lives.

"At least they're not dead yet," thought Joe, for he could hear their muffled cries.

Reaching the side of the car, Joe tried to pull open one of the side doors. But he could not, for the reason that the top of it was jammed down deep in the mud and the stones on the bottom of the stream. He looked in through the glass and he saw the two men standing together on the roof, which had now become the floor of the overturned automobile. One of the men—he who had been steering—seemed to be hurt.

"Probably he got jammed against the wheel," Joe thought.

"Try the other door!" the second man called to Joe, when the former circus performer had tugged in vain at the one he had reached. "Try the other door. Maybe you can open that."

Joe waded around through the mud and water to the opposite side of the car. But that door was as firmly wedged shut as the other.

"Shall I break the glass?" asked Joe.

"No," the man answered, with a shake of his head. "It wouldn't do any good if you did. The opening wouldn't be big enough for us to crawl out of—we're both pretty large, and my friend is hurt. We can't get out unless the car is righted or pulled over on one side."

"Well, I can't do that without help," Joe called back. "I'll ride down the road and get some men to come with ropes. Then we'll pull the car back if we can. Anyhow we'll tilt it enough to get you out through the door."

"Please do that!" urged the man. The one who had been steering the car seemed too much hurt to give any orders.

"I'll be as quick as I can," Joe said, and he was glad he had his motor-cycle with him. On that he could speedily summon help. He gave another look at the glass panels of the side doors. As the man had said, the opening, if all the glass were taken out, would not be large enough to permit the egress of himself and his friend, for they were both of large build. And though the front of the car was partly of glass, it, too, was of small panels set in a wooden frame, and that would have to be chopped away. Joe had no axe for such work. The car seemed of foreign make, which, Joe thought, accounted for the rather peculiar construction.

"Don't be any longer than you can help," urged the man who had been doing the talking. "It's beastly uncomfortable in here."

"He speaks like an Englishman," mused Joe.

He waded up out of the stream and, hurrying to his motor-cycle, rode off down the road, intending to stop at the first house he saw and get help for the imprisoned men.

"I sure am a sight!" the youth reflected as he sped on. He glanced down at his muddy feet and legs. His trousers were much in need of a cleaning. "It's lucky I brought along a change of clothes," he said half aloud, feeling around to make sure his valise was strapped to the rear seat. It was safe. "If I didn't have them I'd have to lay up here over night until a tailor could make me presentable," he reflected. "As it is, I don't believe I'll make Hertford to-night. But I can't refuse to help those men. It's lucky they weren't both killed when the car went over."

It was a rather startled farmer's wife whom Joe greeted a little later as he rode up to the side door of a big white house—the first he saw along the highway.

"Are any of the men around?" cried Joe, jumping off quickly.

"Men? Mercy-sakes! What's the matter?" the woman demanded.

"There's an automobile upside down in the creek back there!" said Joe, motioning back toward the stream. "There are two men caught in the car and——"

"Caught under the car? Then they must be killed!"

"No, they're inside, but they can't get out. Are there any of the men around—your husband and some others? It will take three or four of us to pull the car to one side so the men can get out. One's hurt, but not badly, I hope."

"My husband is out in the barn with the two farm hands," the woman said. "I'll call him!"

She took down a tin horn that hung on the back porch, and blew several quick blasts.

"They'll know that isn't the supper call," she told Joe, "and they'll come a-running. How did it happen? Who are the men? Did the bridge fall down?"

"No, but it's almost ready to," said Joe. "That was the cause of the whole trouble. The bridge ought to be fixed, or a warning posted."

"Yes, the commissioners have been talking of it for some time now," she said.

"Well, it's time they did more than talk!" Joe exclaimed indignantly.

Three men, at this moment, appeared in the barn door and looked inquiringly toward the house.

"Come on, Pa!" cried the woman. "There's been an auto accident down at the bridge over Muddy Creek. Two men hurt. Hurry!"

The men dropped some farm implements, and came racing toward the house. One was the farmer, and the other two his helpers. Joe quickly explained what had happened.

"It was a risky piece of business fording Muddy Creek," said the farmer. "It's full of holes, and some are filled with quicksand. It's all right if you know how to keep out of 'em."

"Which these men didn't know," put in Joe. "But I think we'd better hurry to them. They may be in great distress—at least one of them may be. We'll need some ropes and tackle to get the auto right side up again. Have you any?"

"Yes," said the farmer. "Jack, get out the block and fall!" he ordered. "Pete, you hitch up the light wagon. We can carry the tackle better that way," he explained to Joe. "You ride back and tell the men we'll be right along. Do you think you'd better go for a doctor? One lives down the road about a quarter of a mile, though he may not be in."

"I think Dr. Brown would be home," said the farmer's wife. "I saw him ride past a little while ago."

"Maybe I had better go and ask him to come to the bridge," said Joe. "There's no telling how badly that man may be hurt. It won't take me long on my machine."

"Then go," suggested the farmer.

Joe found Dr. Brown in, and the physician at once said he would go to the scene of the accident. As Joe rode past the farmhouse on his way back to the bridge he saw the farmer and his two men just driving out with the tackle in the wagon.

"Tell 'em we'll be there as fast as the horse can bring us," the farmer called to Joe as the latter sped past.

Joe found the condition of the imprisoned men little changed when he reached them. A passing farmer had stopped, but he was unable to render any aid, though he agreed to stay and help haul on the ropes when the men Joe had summoned reached the place.

"How do you feel?" Joe called through the glass door, having waded out to the car again.

The steersman shook his head dolefully.

"The steering wheel knocked the wind out of him," explained the other. "He may be hurt inside."

"A doctor will soon be here," Joe said. "We'll have you out in a little while."

"It can't be any too soon for me," replied the injured man. "Never again will I try to ford a stream I don't know."

"This is a treacherous one, from what they say," commented Joe.

By this time the farmer and his men had arrived. They made an examination of the place, to decide as to the best way to go to work, then they fastened the ropes to the automobile. They had a regular block and fall, with one simple and one compound pulley, and could thus get great power from a comparatively light pull.

When the ropes were in place the farmer, his two men, the other farmer, who had arrived in Joe's absence, and our hero took hold of the cable and began hauling.

"Take it easy," Joe advised. "We don't want to pull it over too suddenly, or it will smash and they may be hurt in the wreckage."

They were tilting the car up-stream, as that was the best way. And it took only a short time to so tilt the big gasoline vehicle that one of the doors could be opened. The uninjured man crawled out and helped the rescuers lift out his companion.

Dr. Brown had arrived by that time, and when the steersman was carried ashore he was ready to attend him. There were no bones broken, though a severe blow in the stomach, when he was flung against the wheel, had well-nigh made the man senseless.

"You'd better not try to go on," urged the physician. "I can offer one of you accommodations in my home."

"And I can take care of the other," said Mr. Wain, the farmer whom Joe had summoned.

"Then I guess we'd better remain here, Floyd," said the uninjured man. "It will take a force of men to right the car, and we can't go on to-night, anyhow. We'd better stay here."

"Yes, I think so," agreed the other. "Excuse us," he went on, speaking to Joe, more than to any of the others. "We haven't had a chance to thank you properly, or to introduce ourselves."

"That's so!" exclaimed his companion. "This is Mr. Floyd Strailey," he said, nodding toward his companion. "I'm Forrest Craige. We're in the mining business, and we've some important matters to attend to. But they will have to wait, I suppose."

"My name is Strong," said our hero. "Joe Strong. I was performing in a circus, but I left to-day."

"What did you say your name was?" asked Mr. Craige.

"Joe Strong."

"Strong—Strong," mused the man. "I used to know a person of that name. I wonder if you could be any relation. I am quite interested since you told me that. I must——"

But he did not finish the sentence, for at that moment Mr. Strailey, who had been sitting on the grass at the side of the road, fell over in a faint.

## CHAPTER V

### RATHER DUBIOUS

"Hello! What's wrong?" cried Mr. Craige, hurrying over to his friend. "Is he——"

He looked in alarm at the physician.

"Merely a faint from the shock, I think," pronounced Dr. Brown. "I had better get him to my house as soon as I can, though."

"Take him in the wagon," suggested the farmer whom Joe had summoned.

Mr. Strailey opened his eyes, after some ammonia stimulant had been given him, and he tried to assure his companion that there was really nothing the matter.

"Just keep quiet, please," advised the physician. "We'll look after you."

The injured man was placed in the wagon on some blankets, and driven slowly to the farmhouse.

"I'll have to get help in righting this car," said Mr. Craige. "I wonder where there's a garage around here?"

"I passed one about two miles back," Joe said. "If you like I'll go there and tell them to send some men."

"Well, I don't like to put you to so much trouble," said Mr. Craige. "You've done us a lot of favors already."

"I'm only too glad to do more," Joe said. "I can make a quick trip on my motor-cycle. It's too late for me to get to where I was going to-night in time to attend to my business."

"Well, I'm awfully sorry for that!" exclaimed Mr. Craige. "If we hadn't been in such a hurry to get on, this wouldn't have happened."

"Oh, it doesn't make much difference to me," Joe explained. "I can just as well attend to my matters to-morrow. I'll go to the garage for you."

"Well, I'm a thousand times obliged to you, my dear young fellow—I should say Mr. Strong. When you come back I'll have a word or two with you. Just now I'm so upset over what has happened that I hardly know which end I am standing on. We went into that beastly hole so suddenly. It's awfully good of you. I'll see you when you come back," and, with a wave of his hand, he hurried after the wagon containing his injured friend.

"Too much upset, he said he was," mused Joe. "If he hadn't been an Englishman he'd have seen the pun he made. The automobile was upset as well as he. I wonder why he seemed to take such a strange interest in me. Could he have known my father? I'll ask him when I come back."

Joe found the garage without any trouble, and the proprietor at once agreed to send some men to get the automobile out of the creek. And then the series of accidents that started when Joe knocked the plank from the bridge involved our hero himself.

For as Joe started to ride back to the scene of the overturning of the automobile, intending to dismount when he reached the shaky bridge and wheel his machine over as he had done before, something snapped on his machine and, looking down, he discovered a broken sprocket wheel.

"Well, if this isn't the limit!" Joe cried. "Now I am laid up for fair!"

The garage man came out to see what the trouble was.

"Can you mend it?" Joe asked.

"Not to-day," was the reply. "I'll have to send for a new wheel, as I don't carry them in stock. I can telegraph for it, though, and have it here on the first train in the morning. It won't take long to put it on, once I get it."

"Then I wish you'd do it," said Joe. "I'll have to lay over here all night, I suppose. Is there a hotel about?"

"Yes, a good one in the village, about half a mile away. You can leave your motor-cycle here."

This Joe did, walking the distance to the hotel while the garage man and his helpers went in a car to the scene of the accident. The men invited Joe to ride with them, but he was tired, and there was nothing novel in seeing an automobile hauled out of a stream. Joe had seen elephants pull mired circus wagons out too often to be interested in what was now about to be done.

"But some one ought to put up a danger sign at the bridge," said Joe to the automobile men.

"I'll look after that," the garage owner promised.

"I suppose I might have gone back with them," mused Joe, "and asked Mr. Craige why he was so interested in my name. But I'll see him in the morning, so it will do as well."

But destiny, fate, luck, or whatever one calls it, had other plans in store for Joe Strong.

He passed a comfortable night at the country hotel, and early the next morning went to the garage to see about the repairs to his motor-cycle.

The new sprocket wheel had not yet arrived, but the train would soon be in. While waiting, Joe asked the garage man about the overturned car.

"Oh, we got it out all right, just before dark," was the answer. "It wasn't really damaged to speak of, though it was pretty well muddied up inside, and the men went off in it."

"Went off in it!" cried Joe in surprise. "Why, I thought that Mr. Strailey was too badly hurt to travel."

"He wasn't as badly off as it seemed, according to what they tell me, and when Dr. Brown fixed him up, and when we got the car out and across the creek and found she would run, the men insisted on going on."

"Where did they go?" Joe inquired.

"That I couldn't tell you," answered the garage man.

"Did they leave any address?"

"And I can't tell you that, either, I'm sorry to say. I was so busy getting the car out that I didn't ask them. They paid me well for my trouble, and I came back with my men. We put some red lanterns up at the bridge, and left warning signs. I also notified the chairman of the township committee, and he's going to have the bridge strengthened right away."

"I should think he would!" declared Joe. "Humph," he mused, "I guess I won't have a chance to question Mr. Craige after all. But he may have left his address with Dr. Brown. I'll ask him, and if I get it I'll write."

One of the assistants at the garage who had gone to the express office to meet the early morning train, now came in with the sprocket wheel for Joe's motor-cycle. The broken one had a flaw in it, it developed on examination. The new one was soon adjusted, and Joe was ready to ride off again.

"Well, I'm a day late," he mused, "but it doesn't make an awful lot of difference. I'll see Mr. Brader to-day and find out what he thinks of my scheme. I'll also stop and see Dr. Brown. I'd like to get Mr. Craige's address. It sure was queer how interested he seemed when he heard my name. I wonder what sort of mining business they are in. I hope it isn't the kind of fake oil mining that Helen nearly lost her money in," for the trick rider had nearly come to grief in investing some of her money and, only for Joe, would have suffered a serious loss.

The youth approached the shaky bridge cautiously. Already men were at work strengthening it temporarily, and Joe walked across it, pushing his machine, and found that it did not vibrate so much as before. The plank he had accidentally knocked out had been replaced.

But Joe was disappointed about getting the address of Mr. Craige and his companion from Dr. Brown.

"No," said the physician, "they didn't tell me where they were going, and if they mentioned it casually I did not hear it."

"Was Mr. Strailey able to travel?" asked the former circus actor.

"Oh, yes, in a measure. It was the blow in the stomach that knocked him out, and a rest was what he needed. He wasn't able to drive the car though. The other man took the wheel. They had a very narrow escape."

"That's what they did," agreed Joe. "Well, I'll go see that farmer. Maybe he has their address."

But a second disappointment awaited the lad. Mr. Wain knew nothing as to the destination or address of the two Englishmen, as he called them.

"All I know is that they went off after paying me," he said. "My wife got supper for them when they found that the injured man wouldn't have to stay at Dr. Brown's. They paid Doc well, too. They seemed to have plenty of money."

"Yes," agreed Joe. "Their car was an expensive one."

There was nothing more he could do. True, he might ride on after the men, and make inquiries about them. But he hardly liked to do this. Then, too, the destination they had mentioned when he had warned them about the bridge, was not in the direction Joe wished to travel—toward Hertford.

"I'd have to go a long distance out of my way," Joe reflected. "And, after all, probably that Mr. Craige might only have known my father casually. It wouldn't look well for me to be trailing after them when I haven't any better excuse than I have. Maybe he will write to me if it's anything important. He could send the letter in care of Sampson Brothers' Circus and they'd forward it to me."

Joe had mentioned to Mr. Craige that he had lately left the Sampson Brothers' Circus, and he had of course left his address with Jim Tracy, the ring-master, for he intended to remain in Hertford for some little time.

So Joe rode on, and in due time he reached his destination and sought out Mr. Brader, with whom he wanted to talk concerning a matter, important to Joe at least.

Mr. Henry Brader was a manufacturer of circus apparatus, and owned one of the largest concerns of the kind in the country. Many of the performers with the Sampson show bought their trapezes and other paraphernalia from him, and Joe himself was a customer. On one occasion, when he had wanted a special bit of work done between seasons, he had paid a visit to Mr. Brader's factory.

So when our hero had his "big idea" as he termed it, he at once thought of Mr. Brader as the one to go to, not only to have the idea tried to see if it were feasible, but also to have the special apparatus needed made.

Joe found the manufacturer busy in his office, but he nodded kindly to Joe, who had sent in his name, and said:

"Sit down. I'll be with you in a moment. Just have to dictate a few letters."

Joe waited, his mind busy with many thoughts, and finally the manufacturer turned to him, and asked:

"What can I do for you? Do you want a new kind of a fish tank, or a pocket trapeze?"

"Neither one," answered Joe. "In fact I've left the circus."

"Left the circus? Why, I thought you——"

"Oh, I may go back when I get my new act perfected," the lad interposed. "You know a circus is no place to try out new acts. One wants to be perfect when one joins the show."

"That's right," agreed Mr. Brader. "Well, what's your idea?"

"I'm going to ride a motor-cycle on a high wire," said Joe.

Mr. Brader looked at him in astonishment.

"Ride a motor-cycle on a high wire?" he repeated. "It can't be done!"

"Yes, I think it can," said Joe quietly. "Now this is my idea. I'll draw a rough sketch of the apparatus I need."

He used pencil and paper a few minutes, Mr. Brader looking on with interest.

"Here's my scheme," said Joe. "I'm going to take the tires off the motor-cycle wheels, and if the rims won't fit the wire I'll have them moulded to the right shape. You can do that, can't you?"

"Maybe," conceded the manufacturer.

"Then I want two high supports made," Joe went on. "They are like the things the life-savers use for the breeches buoy—shears, I believe they call them."

"That's right," said Mr. Brader.

"I'll stretch my wire over the shears," Joe went on, "and pull it tight with pulleys at either end, as we do now in the circus for the tight-rope and wire-walkers."

The manufacturer nodded comprehendingly.

"There'll be a platform at either end of the high wire," went on Joe, "big enough for me to get a start on with my machine. And when I get started I'll ride across space on the high wire. What do you think of that?"

"I think," said Mr. Brader, "that it's a rather dubious proceeding, Joe Strong. And I think, if you try it, you'll fall and kill yourself! It can't be done!"

## CHAPTER VI

### MAKING THE APPARATUS

Joe smiled as he leaned back in his chair. He seemed very confident. Mr. Brader looked at the young fellow with a puzzled air, and shook his head.

"Of course we can make almost any kind of apparatus, Joe," he said, "and I know you circus fellows take mighty big risks. But I wouldn't like to make for you, or for any one else, a piece of apparatus that would result in sure death. You can't ride a motor-cycle on a high wire. It can't be done!"

"Would you say a person could ride a motor-cycle over a high trestle, on a single rail of a railroad track?" asked Joe, still smiling.

"Of course that can't be done either!" exclaimed Mr. Brader. "Ride on a single rail? Never!"

Joe pulled from his pocket a folded newspaper clipping and silently handed it to the manufacturer. It was an account of the feat Joe had performed—that of riding across a high railroad trestle just as he had described it. The details will be found in the volume prior to this.

"Is this true, Joe?" asked Mr. Brader when he had read the article. "I mean, does it refer to you? It isn't a press-agent's yarn, gotten up for the benefit of the circus, is it?"

"Not at all," Joe assured him. "It's the real goods. I was in a hurry to get back to the show, and that was the only way. I didn't know it was going in the papers. But I did ride across on the single rail, and if I can hold my machine on such a narrow path as that, isn't it going to be easier to do it on a wire, with the wheel rims grooved to fit?"

Mr. Brader was shaken in his unbelief, that was easy to see.

"But if you did ride the rail once, you probably couldn't do it again," he said. "Besides, you were down on the ground. But if you have the apparatus built as you have sketched it—why, your wire will be fifty feet up in the air!"

"I know," admitted Joe. "But height doesn't bother me in the least."

"You certainly have nerve when it comes to high acts," conceded the manufacturer. "But, Joe, I don't believe it can be done."

"Will you make the apparatus for me?"

"Well, of course if you're bound to have it made, I s'pose we might as well get the business as any one else. But I surely would hate to be the innocent means of injury to you, Joe, or—death."

"Don't worry. I think I can do it without getting hurt. Now let's go into details."

Mr. Brader was still dubious, but Joe's story of riding the rail had showed the manufacturer that the young fellow knew his own capabilities.

And though he regarded the whole affair as rather foolhardy, he had not been in the business of manufacturing circus apparatus for many years without realizing that most of the acts in the tent were more or less risky. Even the simplest trapeze act is likely to result in the death of the performer if he or she is not careful. But with all his nerve and daring, Joe Strong was careful. He usually had at least a small margin of safety on his side.

"Give me a little more detailed sketch, Joe, and tell me how you want the rims of your cycle wheels made, and I'll see what can be done," promised Mr. Brader. "But I won't take any of the responsibility. And I'd advise you to practise on a wire hung rather low at first. Don't try the high wire until you get some idea of how the act will go."

"I'll not, Mr. Brader," the lad promised.

"I don't see why you quit the show," the manufacturer went on. "You had a nice act—that tank one—by all accounts. Why didn't you stick at it?"

"Oh, I wanted something new," replied Joe. "It was a pretty act, I'll admit that, but it wasn't dangerous enough to make the people gasp."

The manufacturer shook his head.

"That's the trouble with you circus folk," he said. "You want to put in too many thrills. Well, I suppose it's the fault of the public as much as it is yours."

"Besides," went on Joe, "I couldn't very well stay with the show and do the tank act, and I didn't want to do trapeze work only.

"You see, Benny Turton, the fellow who had the act before I took it up after he collapsed, got well and came back to work, and of course I had to give him back the tank. I was willing to, anyhow, as I wanted to give this high-wire idea of mine a trial."

"All right, we'll make the apparatus for you," said Mr. Brader. "I'll send one of the men out to have a look at your machine. It may be that we'll have to make new wheels for it."

"That's what I was thinking," Joe said. "Or else new rims to fit the wire."

"How large a wire do you think of using, Joe?"

"About half an inch in diameter. You see I must have a pretty long stretch, and I don't want too much weight to carry about the country with me."

"Is that your idea—traveling around giving exhibitions?"

"Yes, for a while. You know there are lots of fairs, expositions and things of that sort in the summer that like to book balloon ascensions, parachute drops and other thrilling exhibitions to attract a crowd. There is money in it, I hear, and I'm going into business on my own account, as it were. I intend to go wherever they want me to give an exhibition of riding a motor-cycle on a high wire, and I don't want to have too much baggage to transport. A half-inch wire rope will be heavy enough, won't it?"

"Oh, yes, plenty. But you'll have to have new wheels, with smaller rims. I can tell that without looking. Your tires are nearly two inches now, aren't they?"

"Yes," answered Joe.

An examination of his motor-cycle disclosed the rims to be fitted with two-and-a-quarter-inch tires, and there was nothing to do but to make new grooves to fit a half-inch rope.

To ride a swiftly moving motor-cycle with two-inch rims on a half-inch wire would allow so much side play that it would result in an accident. Therefore changing the rims was on the side of safety.

Joe engaged board in Hertford, as he expected to stay there not only while his apparatus was being made, but afterward, to practise his new act. Mr. Brader's factory was equipped with a testing room, fitted with various safety appliances where circus folk who ordered new apparatus could give practical tests to their new devices.

"But you'll have to have your trial outdoors, in a vacant lot, Joe," the manufacturer said. "There isn't room in the factory."

"I realize that. Well, as I'm going to perform out in the open, at least until I go back to the circus, I may as well get used to it."

"Then you think you may rejoin the circus?"

"I may," and Joe's mind went back to Helen. "If my act goes well, and they are willing to pay enough, I'll consider an offer. I may be wrong in thinking I can do better by booking myself on an independent circuit, but I can't be sure about it until I try. So I'm going to make the effort."

Joe's original idea for the apparatus he wanted was but little changed when the experts at Mr. Brader's factory began working on it. The making of the new motor-cycle wheels was done in one department, while the building of the shears and the platforms went on in another. On second thought Joe saved the old wheels of his machine, so he could use it for road-riding by taking off the new special wheels and putting back the rubber-tired ones temporarily.

"If this is a success, and I make money enough at it, I'll have a special motor-cycle made purposely for wire-riding," he decided.

"It would be best," agreed Mr. Brader. "This machine is a little too heavy for you. You could use a lighter wire with a lighter machine."

The shears Joe was having made were shaped like the implement after which they are named except that they were not in the same proportion. There were two very long and two very short "legs." The long legs, spread apart, rested on the ground. Through the crotch, or opening between the two short, upper legs, ran the wire rope, the ends being fastened to heavy iron anchors, which must be buried deep and well covered with tamped earth at each performance.

There was an anchor at either end, and pulleys were provided for putting a great strain on the rope, making it as tight as possible. Even then it would sag considerably in the center when Joe rode over it on his motor-cycle.

The shears were made of light but strong steel, built in triangular open beam, or lattice, construction, and to them was fastened a long, narrow platform. Joe needed a platform at each end of the wire, one to enable him to gain a start, and the other to slow down on at the end of his perilous journey. He planned to ride three hundred feet on the high wire, though this distance could be shortened or lengthened as occasion required.

The wire to be used was specially made for circus work. It was light in weight, but very strong, and would stand a heavy strain. It was tested to over twice the weight Joe would put upon it.

And finally, after about two weeks of work, Mr. Brader said to Joe one day:

"Well, your apparatus is finished. You can try it to-morrow if you like."

"Good!" cried Joe. "I only hope it works!"

"And I only hope you're not hurt—or killed," said Mr. Brader in a low voice.

## CHAPTER VII

### FAILURE

Outside the circus-apparatus factory a big field had been made ready for Joe's motor-cycle experiment. The place belonged to Mr. Brader, and there was a high wooden fence all about it, which insured a certain amount of privacy. The lad did not want a crowd to witness his first attempt, for it might be a failure. Then, too, there was a certain element of risk, and Joe did not wish to risk injury to any one but himself.

"It's just as well to keep the crowd out," he told Mr. Brader, "and I suppose there would be a crowd if word got out of what was going on."

"Oh, yes. The boys are always ready for a free show. But there'll be no one on hand but my own men, and not many of them, as we're pretty busy. Are you going to take any precautions?"

"Precautions? What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you going to wear a padded suit or a helmet or anything like that? You might tumble, you know, and though I haven't put the wire up very high for this first ride, if you fall, going at any speed, you may be badly hurt."

"I hadn't thought of a padded suit, though I am going to wear a football helmet," said Joe, and he produced a heavy leather head-guard, such as warriors of the gridiron use in the pigskin battles. "I suppose I could pad the suit I wear."

"I would, if I were you," said Mr. Brader. "And I've done something else, too."

"What is it?" asked Joe, curious to hear.

"Come on out to the field and you'll see."

The apparatus had been ordered set up by Joe, but he had not yet seen it completely assembled. He intended to go over it thoroughly before trusting himself to it, however.

Out in the field he saw two steel uprights, much lower than the ones he contemplated using eventually if his act should prove successful. Both he and Mr. Brader had agreed that it would be best to start the first ride on a wire about five feet from the ground.

"And if I can keep on the wire at all, I can ride on it fifty feet in the air as well as five," Joe reasoned.

Between the two short uprights stretched the taut wire cable, ropes and pulleys at either end enabling Joe to make it tighter or looser as he desired.

The wire was four hundred feet long, but the open space over which Joe would ride was about three hundred feet. Fifty feet at each end was taken up by two platforms. On one of these Joe expected to get his start, and on the other he would finish, bringing his speedy machine to a halt by a quick application of the brakes.

Carefully now, the young acrobat went over every part of the apparatus. His first test was to go out to the middle of the span of wire and hang by it, vibrating himself up and down.

"She sags hardly any," he called to Mr. Brader.

"No. We used a pretty strong wire, and it's under very heavy tension. Of course it will go down more when the weight of your machine, as well as yourself, is brought to bear. But it will stand up pretty well at that."

"I'm sure it will. But you spoke of some precautions you had taken. I don't see anything special."

"The men haven't set them up yet. Here they come with them now." As he spoke some men came out of a door of the factory which opened into the lot. They carried two big nets, and Joe recognized them as life-nets, such as are spread under the trapeze performers in a circus.

"Oh, those!" Joe exclaimed. "Yes, I'm glad you thought of them. It's like old times to see them."

"I thought you'd appreciate them," said Mr. Brader. "This is a new style we're making. They're very light but strong, and can easily be set up. It wouldn't burden you much to carry a set with you, Joe, and if you're going into this thing, traveling about the country giving this daring exhibition, I wish you'd take some of these nets with you. I'll make you a special price on them—just what it costs us to manufacture them."

"Of course I'll take them!" agreed Joe. "I didn't see how I could use them or I'd have mentioned nets before."

"These come in two parts," explained Mr. Brader, "and can be separated to go on either side of your platform. I realize that there is where the greatest danger will be. Once you get started on the wire, you are almost certain to ride over the clear space—that is, if what you tell me you did on the rail can be duplicated on the wire.

"But in making a start, and again in stopping on the platform, you are likely to topple off. So I'll have the nets set up, one at each end of the wire under the platforms."

"Thank you," said Joe. "Well, I suppose I may as well start in and have it over with," and he laughed, for he was not half as nervous over the coming trial as Mr. Brader and some of his men were.

The platforms were long and narrow, made of skeleton steel frames which came apart in sections, and could be quickly fitted together again. They were supported by guy wires from the two end supports, in a simple but ingenious fashion.

Joe went carefully over the anchorages of his wire, he inspected the tackle by which the cable was tightened, and then looked carefully over every inch of the wire itself.

"I don't want any loose strands sticking up to catch in the spokes of my wheels," he said.

"We don't make wire that has strands coming loose, Joe, you rascal!" exclaimed Mr. Brader with a laugh. "Our wire has a reputation for dependability."

"I'm sure of that," Joe replied. "But it may fray after I use it, and I want to get in the habit of inspecting it."

"Oh, that's right," conceded the manufacturer. "Well, are you about ready?"

"Pretty nearly. I want to run the machine a bit. It wouldn't be any fun to get up there on the wire and have my power give out in the middle of the stretch."

"I should say not!"

After Joe had gone carefully over every part of the apparatus, and had put just a little more tension on the wire, he looked over the motor-cycle. In addition to putting on the new wheels, Mr. Brader's men had made some slight repairs in the mechanism and given the cycle a thorough cleaning, so that it looked almost like a new wheel. Joe let down the rear support and, getting into the saddle, he pushed the starting lever. This was a new model machine, and it was unnecessary to spin the rear wheel with pedals to set the motor going. A single thrust with the foot was all that was needed, and then, when the motor was thrown into clutch, all the rider had to do was to rest his feet on the supports provided and steer.

With a hum, a throb and a roar the motor-cycle engine showed what power it possessed. The machine vibrated as Joe turned on more gasoline, but, of course, it did not move, as the rear wheel was raised from the ground by means of the support.

"Now this is my plan," said the youth to Mr. Brader and some of the men who had gathered about after fixing the life-nets in place: "I'll go up on the platform and haul the machine up by a rope."

"I'll have some of the men help you," offered the manufacturer. "You don't want to strain your arms. And if I were you, Joe, I'd arrange to have a little block and fall attached to one of the platforms, so you can haul your machine up from the ground without the use of so much muscle. A motor-cycle, such as you're using, isn't the lightest weight in the world."

"I know, and I'll do as you say. I hadn't thought of that."

Joe ascended to the west platform, to ride toward the east, as it was afternoon and he wanted the sun at his back. It was easy enough to raise the motor-cycle to the low platform; but it would be more difficult when the platforms fifty feet high were used. Joe had an idea of getting a rope ladder for his own use, and the tackle for the machine.

Everything was now in readiness for the first trial. Joe got on his machine as it stood upright on the platform, held by the rear support. He looked over to the other platform, where he hoped to land after riding across the intervening three hundred feet on the wire. Each platform was so arranged that the wire gradually merged into and became a part of it. This was to enable Joe to steer easily the grooved wheels of his machine on or off, just as he had used the boards the day he had ridden the railroad rail.

"Well, here goes!" said Joe, mentally. Again he started the motor. It responded instantly to the thrust of the foot lever, and the explosions in the two cylinders came fast and true.

"No misses there," thought Joe, satisfied.

Once more he looked to the other platform. It was a tense moment, and Mr. Brader and his men, watching, felt it perhaps more than Joe did. For the young fellow's nerves were as steady as steel.

Joe set the engine to run at a moderate rate and then, with his hand on the lever that threw in the gear, he reached back with one foot and kicked up into the holding catch the rear support. Slowly, but with gathering speed, the machine started off along the platform.

"Well, he's off!" cried Mr. Brader.

Faster and faster rode Joe. He held his front wheel as near to the middle of the platform as he could, aiming to get it on the wire as soon as the cable offered itself, rising from the surface of the platform.

But something seemed to be wrong. Try as he would Joe could not get the grooved wheel to take the wire. He saw failure ahead of him, but he would not give up. Desperately he tried to get on the wire but it was harder than he had supposed. Though in trials, when a wire was laid straight out on the ground Joe had ridden from end to end without swerving a fraction of an inch either way.

"Look out!" shouted Mr. Brader. "You'll be off the platform in a second, Joe!"

"I know it!" Joe shouted back. "I can't make the wheels take the wire. I've got to——"

He did not finish, for just then he reached the edge of the platform and plunged off, motor-cycle and all.

## CHAPTER VIII

### A NEW IDEA

Lucky it was for Joe Strong that Mr. Brader had taken the precaution to spread the life-nets under the platforms, for when the young wire-rider plunged off he landed safely, if not altogether comfortably, in the meshes below him. The motor-cycle also fell into the net, some distance away from Joe, so that he was not injured by it. And as the lad had shut off the power the moment he felt himself falling, no damage was done by the spinning wheels.

Mr. Brader and his men ran forward, but Joe was in need of no assistance. He leaped out of the net, as he had often done in the circus after a fall or a jump from a great height, and stood looking ruefully at the apparatus and at his motor-cycle, which some workmen were lifting to the ground.

"What happened, Joe?" asked the manufacturer.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," was the answer. "It's more like what didn't happen. I couldn't get on the wire."

"What was the trouble?"

"I think I didn't get up speed enough," Joe replied. "You know the faster a motor-cycle or a bicycle goes the easier it is to keep it in a straight line. I've found that out by experiments. That was what enabled me to ride the rail that time—I got up speed in a hurry and my front wheel hit the steel true and stayed there.

"But now I couldn't get the front wheel to stay on the wire. I'm sure it was because I didn't get up speed enough. It's the platforms. I haven't the room to get enough speed in fifty feet."

"I don't very well see how you can have the platforms made any longer, Joe," observed Mr. Brader. "If you add twenty-five feet to each one—and adding less wouldn't be of much use—that will take fifty feet off your length of open wire. Besides, making the platforms bigger will make it necessary for you to carry a lot of weight. The platforms would have to be made heavier if we made them longer."

"That's right," admitted Joe. He was at a loss how to solve the problem. He had calculated that fifty feet would be room enough in which to get a flying start, but now it seemed that the calculation was wrong.

"The machine isn't damaged any," said one of the men, wheeling it up to Joe and supporting it by the rear wheel arrangement.

"That's good. And I'm not hurt either. I'm glad you had the nets in place, Mr. Brader."

"Safety first!" exclaimed the manufacturer with a smile.

Joe might have taken the fall on the ground without injury, for he was almost like a cat in his ability to land on his feet. Still it was best to have the nets in place.

"Well, we'll try it again," said Joe, after another inspection of his apparatus to make sure nothing had come loose when he had fallen.

"Try it again!" exclaimed Mr. Brader. "Surely you're not going to take another risk, Joe!"

"I've got to take risks in this business. And at that, with the nets, it isn't such a chance. I must find out where the error is. It may not be in the length of the platforms after all. I've got to keep on experimenting until I get it right, for I'm going to make this act a success. It can be done and I know it!" and Joe looked very determined as he said this.

Again he mounted to the platform and had his machine hoisted up to him. Before starting the engine this time Joe looked to make sure the wire was in the exact middle of the opening in the platform. He could find nothing wrong there, and he came to the conclusion that it was his speed wherein lay the trouble.

"I'll get her going good this time," thought Joe. "I'll hit the wire at my best speed and if I don't stay on—well, we'll see what happens."

Joe took his place in the saddle and started the motor. It hummed and throbbed with the power of the gas, and then Joe kicked up the rear support and started off, throwing the clutch in quickly.

He got off well and was steering straight for the wire where it emerged on a slant through a slot in the platform. But again the same thing happened. Joe could not get the grooved front wheel to take the wire strands and once more he saw himself approaching the edge of the platform.

"Another fall coming to me!" thought Joe grimly. "I'm glad the nets are there, for I'm going faster and I'll fall harder this time."

He proved a true prophet, for he went off the edge of the platform with considerable force. And this time he was not so lucky. He tried to kick the motor-cycle away from him, but failed, and when he fell into the net one of the long handles struck him in the side, making a painful bruise.

Joe did not jump out of the net this time. In fact, the breath was knocked out of him, and he had to lie still to recover himself. Mr. Brader ran up, and with some of his men lifted Joe to the ground.

"Are you badly hurt, Joe?" the manufacturer asked.

"No—no, I guess not," was the panting reply. "I—I'll be all right in a few minutes. Just let me get my breath."

They brought him some water, and Mr. Brader insisted on his lying down on a pile of excelsior in the factory yard to rest.

"Well, it seems to be the same trouble," Joe said, when he had almost recovered. "I can't get going right somehow or other up on the platform. I know I can ride that wire if I once get on it, but the trouble is to get on. I can't get off except with a flying start, as the motor-cycle won't remain upright unless it's in motion."

"Better give it up and go back to the circus," suggested Mr. Brader. "You can fix up some motor-cycle act there, Joe, that won't be as hard as riding the wire."

"No, sir!" was the vigorous reply. "I started out to perform on the high wire with my motor-cycle and I'm going to do it."

"Well, I like your grit," said the manufacturer, "but it's a good thing you weren't on a high wire just now. If this happened at five feet from the ground, what would have happened at fifty feet?"

"That's a problem in arithmetic I don't want to try to solve," Joe said with a smile. "I'm glad I started low down. I'll keep it at this height until I've perfected it."

"Then you're not going to give up?"

"No indeed! But I've got to study this thing out a bit more. There's something wrong, that's evident."

"Suppose you try it with a bicycle," suggested Mr. Brader. "Take a light wheel and remove the tires. That will give you grooved wheels just as you have now. And a bicycle will be much lighter to experiment with—and fall with, if you have to."

"I believe I will," decided Joe. "I'll quit for to-day and take up the bicycle to-morrow."

The apparatus was left standing, except that the tension was taken off the wire rope, for it had a tendency to stretch, and the young acrobat did not wish this to happen, as it would if left tight all night.

Joe found himself so lame and stiff the next day that riding the bicycle was out of the question. However, he bought a light wheel and had the tires removed in readiness. Two days later he made the simpler experiment.

He found that it was easier to work with the bicycle, but the same trouble developed, and Joe fell off the platform as before, though without getting in the least hurt. He could not get up speed enough to hit the wire in the right way with the front wheel, and when he reached the edge of the platform there was nothing to do but to go over. Had he been able to get on the wire, of course, he could have ridden across the open stretch to the other platform.

"There's something wrong, and I've got to find out where it is," the boy mused as he did some hard thinking over the matter. "I'm not going to give up, that's one sure thing."

For three or four days Joe experimented, trying out different arrangements of the wire and the platform. Sometimes he used the motor-cycle, managing to avoid injury by skillfully getting out of the machine's way in his falls. The lad did not mind simple falls, for they were part of the game in circus trapeze work. Sometimes he would use the bicycle, but every time, either with the light or heavy machine, he came a cropper.

"It's the platforms," Joe decided. "That's where all the trouble lies, and yet, as Mr. Brader says, I can't very well make them any longer. I wonder how I'm going to manage it?"

Joe drew different sketches on paper, showing new arrangements of his apparatus. Some of these sketches he showed to Mr. Brader, and the manufacturer at once decided against them as impracticable, either from a mechanical or a safety standpoint.

Joe Strong was almost in despair, but he kept his grit and nerve and did not give up.

"The platforms! The platforms!" he kept saying over and over to himself. "If I could only make them longer, and at the same time keep them short enough to take about with me. I'd need a sort of collapsible platform for that. Collapsible! I wonder if that would solve the problem. I must ask Mr. Brader."

This he did, suggesting a sort of sliding platform, that could be made in several parts; telescopic, the mechanical term would be.

"It can't be done, Joe," said the manufacturer. "It would be altogether too heavy."

And again Joe was almost in despair.

Then, suddenly, a new idea came to him one day. He was rather idly making a pencil sketch of his wire apparatus when he seemed to see in his mind a picture of it as he wanted it.

"Do away with the platforms altogether!" exclaimed Joe aloud. "That would solve the puzzle. Slant the wire from the anchorages up over the shears, but have them so arranged that I could ride up the slanting wire on one side, along the level stretch and down the slant on the other end. The slants can be made long and gradual, and I can get as long a flying start as I want, right on the ground. The wire will rise out of the ground at the anchorages, and I can get the required tautness by slanting the shears back.

"By Jimminity! I believe I've got it!"

## CHAPTER IX

### THE FIRST EXHIBITION

Joe made a hasty sketch of his new idea, and hurried with it to Mr. Brader's office. The manufacturer was interested at once.

"I believe you have struck it, Joe," he said. "To eliminate the platforms would be the very thing needed. The only difficulty I see is in riding over the wire rope at the point where the shears come under it to support it and make it tight."

"I can get over that place all right," the youth asserted. "The shears can be made a little differently. If a wire can be supported to allow a grooved trolley wheel to pass along it, I can do the same thing on my grooved motor-cycle wheels, only, of course, I'll ride along the upper side of the wire, whereas a trolley wheel runs along the underside. The supports are there all the while."

"Good!" cried the manufacturer. "That does away with my only objection. Now we'll get busy on the new apparatus."

This was much simpler to construct than had been the one in which the starting and stopping platforms were used.

The two ends of the wire were firmly fastened to two heavy anchors made to be buried in the ground, and to resist a strong pull. When this had been done the shears were put in place and raised, the shears being placed sufficiently far from the spot where the ends of the wire were buried in the ground. Thus there was a gradual slant up which Joe could ride on his machine and reach the level stretch of wire, across which he could then speed, riding down the slant on the other side.

As Joe's motor-cycle had no tires on it, it was necessary to have the ground approach and the end as smooth as possible, for he would ride along it on bare rims. But he counted on this.

"Yes, Joe, I think you have solved your problem," the manufacturer told him. "I'll put the life-nets in place, though, around each of the shears, for you might take a tumble after all."

"Thank you, but I don't think I shall. I believe we've got it now."

The day of the trial of the new idea came. Joe was sure of success. Mr. Brader and his men came out to watch.

The wire rope had been attached and the anchors covered with earth, well tamped down. The specially constructed shears, the supporting points of which did not project above the wire, so that no obstruction was offered the wheels of the motor-cycle, were put in place and slanted so as to exert a powerful upward push on the cable, making it as taut as a drum head.

The ground at either end had been made smooth and level, and a white chalk line extended outward and away from the points where the wire emerged from the ground.

"All I'll have to do," said Joe, "will be to ride along the ground on the chalk line, and when I get to the wire I'll just ride up it. I wonder why I didn't think of this at first, instead of trying to do it from platforms."

But that is one of the mysteries of inventions. Often complicated ways are tried until finally the simplest solution presents itself.

On account of the necessity of riding up the wire slope Joe had a slight change made in the grooved wheels of his machine. He had them roughened to a file-like surface on the inside, so they would grip, or bite, the twisted wire, and thus prevent him from slipping back.

Everything was in readiness. Joe took his machine to the far end of the starting ground. He jumped to the saddle, pressed the starting pedal, and when the engine was pounding away he kicked up the rear support, let the clutch in, and was off.

"This is the time I do it!" he cried.

In another instant he was riding along the white chalk mark on the ground. To within the fraction of an inch Joe held his front wheel true, and as he gathered speed this was easier to do.

Foot after foot he rode along, gaining in momentum with every revolution of the wheels. He did not swerve from the chalk mark.

"I'm going to do it! I'm going to do it!" Joe exulted in his heart. "I'm going to do it this time, sure!"

Now he was ten feet away from the up-slanting wire. Now five—now one. Then, in an instant the grooved front wheel struck the wire with a vibration of metal.

"Will the rear wheel take it?" was Joe's quick thought, for he realized what would happen if one wheel went spinning up the slanting wire, and the other did not follow.

But this accident did not happen. Up the gradual slant rode Joe, now really, and for the first time, on a stretched and suspended wire. He was sure he could mount to the level place—easily.

And he did. Amid the cheers of Mr. Brader and his men the courageous youth shot out on the straight stretch of cable, the motor-cycle wheels passing above, and safely across, the point where the shears below supported it.

"I've done it!" cried Joe.

He was now speeding across the wire. Faster and faster Joe rode. He was doing for the first time that which he had long dreamed of, and though the wire was not as high as the one he intended to use later, he had proved his theory. A motor-cycle could be ridden across a wire.

The shouts of the men continued. They were thus congratulating Joe.

The aerial motor-cyclist was now close to the end of his course. He would then ride down the slanting hill of wire and his ambition, in part, would have been realized.

It was comparatively easy, after all, Joe thought, once he got the grooved wheels of his machine on the wire. After that it really would take an effort to make them leave it.

Of course Joe discounted the danger involved. He felt sure of himself. And while it was comparatively easy, that does not mean that any one could have done what Joe did. It took nerve and daring, a sure eye and muscles under perfect control. But Joe had these qualities in plenty.

The young acrobat reached the other end of the wire, and shot down the slope and along the cleared ground. Then he brought his machine to a stop, and stood it up, walking back to see what Mr. Brader and the others had to say.

"Well, Joe, you did it!" cried the manufacturer, shaking hands with him. "You did it! I congratulate you!"

"Thanks," was the youth's reply.

"Do you think you'll have the nerve to ride across the wire when it's strung fifty feet in the air?" asked one of the men.

"Why, I think so," Joe replied. "I'm going to try it in a day or so. I want to raise the wire gradually, in order to find out just the proper slant to make at each end."

"A good idea," said Mr. Brader. "Well, Joe, you did it, but at first I didn't think you would. It's a rather risky proceeding, though, at best."

"Yes, it is," admitted the young performer. "But I like risky acts."

Which was true enough; Joe had proved that in his circus work. But then he seemed born with a gift for that sort of thing. His mother was a daring horsewoman, and even before she had taken up circus work she was known to take so many chances in riding to hounds in England, and in jumping ditches and hedges that she had quite a local fame.

Joe rode over the low wire several times more that first day of his success. He wanted to get used to steering from the white guide line up on to the cable, and not once did he fail.

"Though it will be different when he goes up on the real high wire," predicted one man.

"I don't believe so," disagreed a companion. "That lad has nerve enough to ride across Niagara Falls on a wire, if one could be stretched and the authorities would let him do it. He's all nerve, is Joe Strong. And he's plucky, too!"

"Yes, he is that," the other was forced to admit.

It was about a week later that Joe finally raised the wire to the limit of the shears—fifty feet. Meanwhile he had ridden across it at gradually increasing heights from the ground, and he had met with success each time. He was not at all troubled with dizziness, but he did not look down, which makes some persons dizzy, though, of course, not Joe. He had another reason for not wanting to gaze earthward. He must keep his eyes fixed on the wire, to so control his motor-cycle as to be able to have it well in hand when he reached the downward slant.

The day when Joe was to ride across the three hundred feet of wire, raised fifty feet from the ground, saw every man in Mr. Brader's factory out in the adjoining lot. Of course Joe was now visible to a big crowd that stood outside the fence.

"It's your first exhibition, Joe," said Mr. Brader, as the youth got ready to ride.

"Yes, they're having a free show," Joe remarked with a smile, as he had a glimpse of the crowd outside the fence. "I won't make any money at this rate, but I'll get a reputation and some advertising, and that's what I want. Then I can book myself with some fair."

Joe looked over every foot of the wire rope, to make sure it was all right Then he took his place at the end of the buried cable, with its two slanting sections and the long, straight stretch.

Joe started his machine, and quickly had it going at almost full speed. Straight and true to the chalk mark on the ground he held it, and then, with a hum, the front and rear wheels slid up the wire.

As Joe came in sight above the fence, the big crowd gathered outside set up a cheer, for word of what Joe was going to attempt had somehow gotten around.

Up and up he rode, until he was fifty feet from the ground. The motor-cycle was humming and throbbing. Out on the straight stretch of wire he spun, and then across the intervening space. Fifty feet up in the air was Joe Strong, riding along the tight wire, giving his first impromptu exhibition.

Cheer after cheer came to the intrepid rider from the throng outside, and Mr. Brader and his men mingled their shouts with those of the others. It was a daring act.

## CHAPTER X

### A CHANCE REMARK

Joe Strong had succeeded. He had demonstrated that he could ride his motor-cycle across a high wire, and that was what he had set out to do. And it had proved to be a thrilling exploit. Joe could tell that by the wave of excitement which swept over the big crowd outside. Mr. Brader and his men were excited too, but in a milder manner, for they had seen the preliminaries of Joe's performance, and knew what to expect.

But the crowd outside fairly went wild, shouting, cheering and applauding. Some of the crowd even pushed past the watchman at the gate and swarmed into the lot.

"They're going to make a hero of you, Joe," said Mr. Brader as he looked at the onrushing throng.

"Not if I know it!" Joe exclaimed, and he started for the side door of the factory. But he was too late. The crowd pressed around him, men and boys trying to shake him by the hand, that they might be able to say they had met the daring motor-cycle rider of the high wire.

Some boys were examining Joe's machine so closely that they were in danger of wrecking it, and he had to beg them good-naturedly to let it alone.

Others swarmed about the wire, looking at the supporting shears and trying their weight on the inclined approaches. As they were likely to displace the arrangement, the men from the factory had to make them move away.

Altogether it was a great ovation for Joe, and he appreciated it very much, even as modest as he was.

"If the crowds at the county fairs or other exhibitions where I show will only make as much fuss as this, the management will think I am at least earning my money," said Joe to Mr. Brader, when the excitement had quieted down and the crowd had been driven out of the factory lot.

"So you are fully determined that that's what you're going to do—go about giving exhibitions?"

"For a while, yes, if I can get some engagements."

"Oh, I guess you can do that easily enough. The act is sure to be a thriller. I think it will draw better than an aeroplane exhibition. And if I were you I'd have some photographs made, so as to give folks an idea what it is like."

"I could do that," agreed Joe. "And if I could induce some moving picture concern to put me on a film, I'd get pretty well known over the country."

"A fine idea, Joe! I know some moving picture people and I'll speak to them about it. I think it would make a good scene for them. It could be released for one of the weeklies or features."

Mr. Brader was as good as his word, and a few days later Joe received word that a camera man would visit him on a certain day to "film" him.

"Maybe, for all you know, you'll be acting for the movies yet," said Mr. Brader, with a smile. "You surely could give them some thrills."

"Well, if they'll pay enough I'll do it," said Joe. He was not mercenary, but he realized that this was his way to make a living, and he decided that the time to earn money was when he was young, and while he had such good strength and nerves.

Every day, for a week or more, Joe practised riding his motor-cycle on the high wire, and each day crowds gathered outside the fence to watch him. Of course this was in the nature of a free exhibition, but Joe did not care.

He realized that it would be very difficult to do his act in a tent if he had the wire as high and as long as he had it now. But he knew both dimensions could be made less, and still the thrill would be retained.

"So if I want to go back to the circus, or join some show where I'll have to be inside, I know I can do it," the youth reflected. Just at present his idea was to offer to do the act for the management of county fairs and large expositions, and to have it take place in the open to draw a crowd. Joe would be paid, not by the people watching him, but by the fair management.

"I've got to book myself just as Professor Rosello used to book his show," Joe said.

The moving picture man came and took Joe and his motor-cycle on several hundred feet of film, showing him getting ready to ascend the slanting approach, after his spin across the level ground, his speedy flight across the straight course, and his startling descent. Pictures were also taken, showing Joe close up to the camera as he bowed and smiled to an imaginary audience, and views were made of the crowd outside the fence.

Later on the film was released to a chain of theatres throughout the country, and as Joe's name appeared on the film he received what was practically a free advertisement.

Joe also advertised in some theatrical and circus papers, announcing what sort of an act he had, and offering to bring himself and his paraphernalia to any fair or open-air exhibition, and to do his "death-defying ride," as the moving picture film described it.

He asked a large sum for each performance, and he had to do this to make up for the heavy expense he would be under. He had to take with him considerable apparatus, and he also needed men to aid him. He decided to take two of Mr. Brader's helpers as he traveled about the country, for they knew best about the apparatus, and how to set it up.

Particularly must the wire be anchored well at each end. If it should break, or pull loose when Joe was in mid-air, he would get a fall that would almost certainly kill him. On the solicitation of Mr. Brader, Joe decided to use a life-net stretched under the whole length of the wire. If he fell he would fall into this, but even then there was risk, for the heavy motor-cycle might tear through the meshes at the very point where Joe might fall with it, and let him fall to the ground.

The youth began to get letters almost at once, asking as to his terms and other details. These he answered. His correspondence he attended to in the morning, then he would practise a little on the wire and in the afternoon perhaps go off for a ride on his machine, after having changed the wheels.

Joe received a letter from Professor Rosello, his first employer. The magician said he had fully recovered now, and was going to take his show out on the road again. He inquired if Joe did not want to join him, instead of doing the dangerous wire act, which the professor had seen advertised in one of the theatrical papers.

And, for a moment, the boy was almost tempted to go back to his sleight-of-hand work, at least while waiting for an engagement to do his wire act, having as yet received no definite offers. But he had faith in himself and his attraction and he decided he would stick to it.

"They'll want me—some fair or exhibition will—sooner or later," Joe told himself, "and I want to be ready to jump right in. I'll hang on a bit longer."

Meanwhile he kept on with his practice until he could do the act at night, with powerful electric lamps placed near the spot where the wire emerged from the ground.

"I don't want to miss the wire with my front wheel or it will give me a bad upset," Joe reflected. "But as I may have to do the trick at night I must be ready for it."

So the lad practised night and day while waiting. And at last his chance came, as he had thought it would.

The management of a big county fair in Clayton, a city about two hundred miles from Hertford, wrote to him, asking for his terms and for other details. Joe's reply was quickly answered with a note to the effect that his price was satisfactory, asking him to come on and give an exhibition for two days, and sending him a contract to sign.

"There's my chance!" exulted Joe, as he showed the letter to Mr. Brader.

"I'm glad of it, Joe," the manufacturer said. "Good luck to you!"

The anchors were taken up, the wire coiled and the shears taken apart for transportation. Joe was glad he did not have the cumbersome platforms to move, as his transportation bill and the railroad fare for himself and his two helpers were heavy enough. So far he had been living and paying his expenses from the money he had saved while with the circus. And, though he still had a sum to his credit, Joe was anxious to be earning something. Now his chance had come.

"If I can't get any money from my mother's English estate I'll have to earn the cash myself," thought Joe.

He looked up the route of Sampson Brothers' Circus when he had completed the arrangements for going to the Clayton fair, and found that the show with which he had been formerly connected would be playing in a town about ten miles distant.

"I'll ride over and see the boys," decided Joe.

And, though he did not say so aloud, he included the "girls" with the "boys"—at least one girl.

Jeroleman and Ryan, Joe's two helpers, very quickly packed the apparatus for transportation. Then, one day, having bidden good-bye to Mr. Brader, Joe set forth to give his first public exhibition with his motor-cycle on the high wire.

His journey to Clayton was without incident, and he found the fair in full progress when he arrived. He learned that a certain daring aviator had disappointed the management by failing to appear, and they had engaged Joe instead.

There was ample space to set up the wire in the middle of the oval race-track, and from there a good view of Joe's daring feat could be had from all over the grounds.

There was no trouble in setting up the wire, and at last the time came when Joe was to give his exhibition. A record-breaking crowd was in attendance, for the attraction had been well advertised, and, Joe learned later, his moving pictures had been shown in town a few days before. So he had an audience all ready and waiting for him.

"Well, is everything all right?" asked the daring motor-cyclist, as he came out of his dressing tent, wearing a suit of white tights which would make him very conspicuous as he flashed along the high wire on his motor-cycle.

"Everything as tight as a drum," reported Jeroleman.

"And the life-nets are there too," said Ryan.

"Well, I hope I'll not need them," Joe said, with a smile, as he put on his head-guard. He wore this, but he had decided against the padded suit since he had the life-net to depend on in case of a fall.

He had looked over the anchors, the shears, the wire and his motor-cycle, and he was now ready to start. The ground had been carefully smoothed for him.

The aerial wire-rider, which is as good a name as can be invented for Joe, mounted his machine at the end of the stretch. There was a little wait, as Jeroleman and Ryan took their places, one at either end of the wire, to help Joe if he should meet with an accident. The crowd waited in anxious suspense.

"Is everything ready?" cried Joe dramatically. He had learned that while in the circus.

"Ready!" answered Jeroleman.

"Ready!" echoed Ryan.

"Here I come!" Joe cried.

He started the motor, kicked up the rear support and a second later was rushing across the ground toward the wire.

The grooved front wheel took the wire easily, and the rear wheel followed.

"There he goes!" shouted some one in the crowd, as Joe, conspicuous in his white tights, shot up the wire incline.

Up and up he went. Then out on the straight stretch.

"There he is! He's riding the high wire!" cried hundreds.

And Joe was. Just as he had done in private, he did now in public. On and on he rode, fifty feet up in the air, with nothing but a slender wire between him and the nets below. On and on he went, a flashing figure in the sunlight, until he reached the other support and then down to the ground he rushed, bringing up with a squeaking of brakes at the fringe of spectators, kept back a safe distance by means of a rope.

Ryan ran up and helped Joe off the motor-cycle. There was really no need of this, as the lad was not in the least exhausted. But it made the trick look more spectacular and dangerous, though it was dangerous enough, as one may easily guess.

"Great! That was great!"

"Most thrilling thing I ever witnessed!"

"I wouldn't take that ride for a million dollars!"

These were some of the excited comments Joe heard made in the crowds that watched him. But as our hero walked back to his little dressing tent, having bowed his acknowledgments to the applause, he heard a chance remark that set his blood to tingling as neither the applause nor the ride had done.

"By Jove! that was cleverly done," some man in the crowd exclaimed. "My! that boy has as much nerve as a girl I knew in England. Janet Willoughby was a daring rider!"

Joe started. Janet Willoughby was the maiden name of his mother.

## CHAPTER XI

### JOE WONDERS

Rather exhausted, not so much physically as mentally, by the nervous strain of performing so thrilling an act before a big crowd for the first time, Joe Strong did not at first realize just what he ought to do on hearing his mother's name mentioned by some one in the throng. Then, as he thought of how important it might be for him to see who had spoken, and, perhaps, question him, Joe looked eagerly among the persons in front of him to see who the man might be.

He saw no one he knew, which was not to be wondered at. At first he had an idea it might be some former circus acquaintance of Mrs. Strong's.

"But he must have known her in England, to speak of her as a girl, and of her riding and by her maiden name," reflected Joe. "And if he knew her——"

He paused a moment, almost overwhelmed by the idea that suddenly came to him.

"Why," he thought, "that person might know something of mother's family, whether she had inherited any property or not, and if any was due me. I must find out who it was."

Joe started toward the crowd held back by the rope. The people were still cheering and applauding, for the thrilling ride of the young lad in white tights had made a great impression on them. But Joe saw no one he knew.

"How can I find out who it was?" he asked himself.

"Come on to your tent," Ryan was urging him. "You're in a perspiration and you'll take cold."

"Wait a minute," said Joe, but his assistant threw a blanket over the shoulders of the young motor-cycle rider.

Then an idea came to Joe.

"That was an Englishman who spoke," he reflected. "I could tell that by his accent. And if he knew my mother he must have lived in England near her. It's queer, too, but I've heard that same voice somewhere before. I wonder where it was. I'll see what this will bring about."

Stepping close to the rope that held back the crowd, Joe asked in a loud voice:

"Are there any Englishmen here?"

It was rather a strange question, and the throng must have felt as much, for they stared curiously at Joe. But he took what was perhaps the only method open to him of discovering who had made the remark about Janet Willoughby.

"Englishmen?" repeated a man in the crowd.

"Yes," went on Joe. "I just heard a remark made by a man with an English accent, and I want to find out who it was."

"I guess we're all pretty much English here," said another man with a laugh. Indeed there were very few foreigners at the fair.

"You mean you're all Americans," said Joe, with a smile. "But I mean an Englishman from England. Are there any such here—any one who knew a Miss Janet Willoughby, of Surrey," for Joe had learned that his mother's people lived in that part of England. He decided that he might as well ask boldly the question he wanted to know.

But no one answered, though one man said:

"There was an Englishman standing near me a minute ago, just as you rode down the wire."

"Are you sure he was English?" Joe asked.

"Sure! He had the accent all right. But he went off through the crowd that way."

"Would you know him if you saw him again?" Joe eagerly inquired. "I'd like to find him to ask about a lady he knew in England, for I heard him mention her name a minute ago," Joe went on, not thinking it necessary to say that the lady was his mother.

"I might know him if I saw him," said the man. "Though I didn't take much notice of him."

"Just take a look around, and if you see him while I'm dressing, bring him to my tent," said Joe, for he did not want to go about in the crowd in his rather scanty suit. "I'll pay you for your trouble," he added.

"Oh, it's no trouble," said the speaker, a young lad about Joe's age. "I'm glad to do it for you, but I'm not sure I can find him."

"Try, anyhow," urged Joe. It was a slender clue but worth following.

Joe went to his tent to dress, while the young searcher began to circulate in the throng. Joe's questions had caused a little stir, and there was much curiosity as to what his object could be, but he did not mind the attention he had attracted.

"I wonder if that man who made the chance remark could have really meant my mother," mused the boy on his way to his dressing tent. "Of course there might be more than one Janet Willoughby, but when he spoke of her as a girl in England, and what a daring horsewoman she was, it makes a combination that would be hard to duplicate unless my mother was meant. It would be strange if I should meet some of her former English friends after all these years."

Bill Watson, the veteran clown, had known Joe's mother as Mrs. Strong, and our hero, during his stay with the circus, had met several other persons who had known his father and his mother during their professional careers, but he had yet to meet one who had known Mrs. Strong as a girl in England.

"If I could only find him," thought Joe, "he might put me on the track of my inheritance, provided there is one. I wish I had acted more quickly—as soon as I heard his remark. But it struck me all so suddenly that I didn't know what to do. Yet I ought to know that voice. I wonder where I have heard it before?"

Joe racked his brains in an effort to remember, but he could not. He had met so many persons, and he had been so busy of late, perfecting himself for his thrilling act, that events, faces, voices and happenings overlapped each other.

"It went great!" said Jeroleman, coming in with the motor-cycle.

"Yes, it went off all right," agreed Joe.

"You're not going to work it to-night, are you?" asked Ryan.

"No, the fair closes at night. We don't have to do anything until to-morrow, when we give two performances, one in the morning and another in the afternoon. You two can do as you please with yourselves, as long as you're on hand in the morning."

His helpers thanked him. As for Joe, he knew what he was going to do—ride over to the circus, and see—but there, you can guess who it was he wanted most to see.

Joe had donned his street attire when the man who had spoken about the Englishman came to the tent.

"Did you find him?" asked Joe eagerly.

"Not a sign of him, I'm sorry to say. I went all through the crowd, too. But he must have slipped away just after I noticed him. He was standing right close to me."

Joe's hope vanished.

"Thanks," he said to the young fellow. "Are you going to be here to-morrow?"

"That's what I am! I wouldn't miss your act for a whole lot! It's great!"

"I'm glad you think so. Well, if you're in the crowd, and you hear any one speak who you are sure is an Englishman, I wish you would tell him I'd like to see him in my tent after my act is over."

"I sure will do that, Mr. Strong."

"And here's something for your trouble," said Joe, handing him a bill.

The young fellow did not want to take it, but Joe knew that service paid for is the best rendered, and insisted. Then, as he could do nothing more, he had Ryan change the wheels of the motor-cycle and he rode over to the town where the circus was showing.

The afternoon performance was over when Joe reached the lots, but he saw Helen making her way to the tent where her horse, Rosebud, was kept, and he walked across to her.

"Well, well!" she exclaimed, blushing prettily as she shook hands with him, "I am so glad to see you!"

"Not half as glad as I am to meet you again!" cried Joe, and he did not let go of her hand, though Helen tried gently to withdraw it from his clasp. "How are you, and how is Rosebud?"

"Fine! And how about yourself? Is your motor-cycle act going?"

"I've just come from my first public appearance, and, to judge by the applause, I did well. I'll tell you all about it. I'm going to stay for the night performance here. There's something I want to ask Bill Watson."

## CHAPTER XII

### DAYS OF DARING

Helen and Joe related their experiences since the former boy fish had left the circus, and Helen was as interested in Joe's new success as he was in her continued one with her trick horse.

"But your act is more risky than the one in the tank or on the trapeze, isn't it, Joe?" asked Helen.

"Well, yes, I suppose so, in a way," he admitted. "But the more risky a thing is the better the public likes it."

"Yes, I know," she sighed. "But you will be careful, won't you, Joe?"

"Oh, yes," he answered. "By the way, how is Benny making out in the tank? Does Lizzie behave herself?"

"Oh, yes indeed. The little seal is a dear (which isn't a joke), and while Benny doesn't do as many tricks as you did, still his act goes well, and he can stay under water quite a while, which, after all, is what makes it go big."

"Glad to hear it. Then he's like himself again?"

"Better than ever. You did a wonderful thing, Joe, when you provided for his operation. But what was it you wanted to see Bill Watson about?"

Joe told Helen of the chance remark made by the Englishman, and explained that he wanted to ask the veteran clown if the latter knew of any Englishmen in this country whom Joe's mother might have known as a girl in her home country.

"Oh, Joe, do you think you will ever get an inheritance?" Helen asked.

Joe shook his head.

"It's pretty doubtful," he answered. "But I'm going to keep on trying. I want to find that Englishman."

But Bill Watson could give Joe no clue to the man in the crowd.

"I only knew your mother after she joined a show I was with," the clown explained. "And though I often heard her speak of people in England, she did not mention any names that I recall now. I'm sure, though, that she came of a wealthy family, and she used to laugh when she told how they cast her off because she married your father, Joe. Your mother was what I call 'game,' and she had as much nerve as you're showing. She didn't care because she was disowned by her people, for she loved your father. I never saw a couple fonder of one another, excepting me and my wife," and he smiled at his remark.

"But as for that Englishman, Joe, I can't help you out any, I'm sorry to say. It seems queer, though, that all your inquiries made of the folks you wrote to in England amounted to nothing. I felt sure there was property over in that country coming to you through your mother."

"Well, there doesn't seem to be," said Joe. "I only wish there was, for I've been spending a lot lately on my new act. And I have another idea I'd like to carry out if I could get a few thousand dollars together."

"What is it, Joe; something else risky?" asked Helen.

"Well, perhaps you'd call it that," he answered. "However, there isn't much chance of my doing it, for I'll never get that English money."

"Maybe some one is interested in keeping it from you," suggested the pretty little trick rider.

"Well, if there are any such persons they're having their own way all right," Joe said. "However, there's no use dreaming about it. I'll be making good money soon—as soon as my high-wire act gets better known."

Joe enjoyed his night at the circus, renewing old friendships, and watching Bill Watson, the other clowns, Helen, and Benny Turton amuse the big crowd. Of course Joe was a privileged character and had the free entry to all the tents, side shows and everything else. He was most interested, however, in watching Benny Turton, the "human fish," in the glass tank, which Joe himself had so improved. And he saw that Benny was doing well—much better than he had ever done before.

"It's the goldfish and the seal that are the making of the act," said Benny, when the show was over. "They've improved it a hundred per cent., Joe, and I can't thank you enough. Lizzie is a great find. There never was another seal like her, I believe, and she and I are great friends."

"Glad to hear it," Joe remarked.

The show moved on that night, and Joe was to stay at a hotel, going back to the fair grounds at Clayton in the morning.

"Don't you wish you were going on with us?" asked Helen, as she parted from Joe.

"Well, yes, in a way I do," he said, looking at her in a manner that made her blush. "And perhaps I may be back with you soon."

"Oh, Joe! Really?" she asked. "Tell me about it!"

"Oh, it's all up in the air yet," he parried. "I haven't my plans made."

"Oh, I do wish you'd come back," Helen said.

"I will!" promised Joe, as he said good-bye.

There was a big crowd at the fair grounds the next morning to watch the aerial wire-rider again ride his machine across the tightly stretched wire, and Joe performed the daring act successfully. He was surer of himself now, as he started his motor-cycle across the ground, following the chalk line until he began to climb the inclined wire. And he felt an exhilaration as he spun across the level stretch, with the shouting and wildly enthusiastic crowds beneath him.

Again Joe received an ovation as he reached the ground, and again he had to bow his thanks. He looked eagerly for a sign of the mysterious Englishman, but did not see him. The young investigator was on hand, but he had only failure to report.

"I didn't see him, though I circulated all through the crowd," he told Joe. "I guess he didn't come to the fair to-day."

"I guess not. Well, I'm much obliged to you, just the same."

"Why don't you advertise for him if he's a missing person you want to find?" suggested the youth.

"I might do that," Joe agreed. "But I don't know just whom to advertise for. However, I'll think about it."

Joe did consider the matter, with the result that he inserted in several papers in the largest cities an advertisement asking for information about any one now in America who had known Janet Willoughby, formerly of England. Then he waited for answers.

Following the successful afternoon performance in Clayton, Joe and his helpers packed the apparatus and shipped it on to the next place where they were to give a performance, for while in Clayton Joe had received a telegram from another county fair about a hundred miles away. The boy put in three days there, thrilling big crowds twice each day, and he received his regular price for his act.

Then came some several days of idleness, but these had been counted on. However, the next week was completely filled with engagements, and as Joe booked an extended route, he said:

"I guess I'm on the road to success, all right."

There followed many days of daring on Joe's part, for his act was certainly a daring one if it was anything. But the youth was getting used to riding his motor-cycle on the high wire, and each time he did it he added to his experience. Ryan and Jeroleman acquired the knack of putting up and taking down the apparatus quickly, and they worked "almost like circus men," Joe informed them, and from his standpoint there was no higher praise.

From city to town Joe went on his circuit, doing his act. He was his own "boss," in that he did not depend on theatrical agencies or booking offices to place him. He could make his own terms, and the money he received was all his own, except the salaries he paid the two men, and what he expended for railroad charges and cartage. Performers who receive engagements through agents, or booking offices, have to divide their salaries with those who secure engagements for them.

From time to time Joe had his mail forwarded to him, picking out for receiving stations the cities where he would remain two or three days. He received letters from Helen and from Benny and, occasionally, one from Bill Watson, but there was no response to his advertisement.

"I guess I'll never hear anything," reasoned Joe. "Well, I've done all I can."

## CHAPTER XIII

### A BAD FALL

On opening his letters one day Joe found one from the management of a county fair that was to open in the town of Livingston the next week. The writer offered Joe an engagement for an entire week, but at a price considerably less than Joe had been getting from other places.

"I don't believe I'll accept," Joe half decided. "If I start to cutting prices it will get known all over the country, and I'll have to do it all along the line."

He was about to send back a rejection when he reflected.

"Maybe I'd better look over my engagements and see how I can make this week fit in. A solid week in one place, even at less money, may be better than jumping from one one-night stand to another. I guess I'll think twice about this."

Joe found that the week for which the Livingston people wanted to engage him was not occupied by a single engagement so far, though, as inquiries were constantly coming in, Joe would probably soon fill it with single-day contracts.

"I guess I'll accept, after all," he said to himself. "I can jump to Livingston from Portville, and it won't cost much for railroad transportation. Then a week solid will give me a chance to rest, and Ryan and Jeroleman also."

They had been quite busy of late, going from place to place, putting up and taking down the apparatus, and the strain was beginning to tell on all of them.

So Joe sent an acceptance to the Livingston fair management, and made his plans accordingly. Following the week there he was to show for three days at one fair and three at another, necessitating only three shifts in two weeks, which was considerably less than the average.

"And now for Livingston!" exclaimed our hero one afternoon when he had made his last ride at one of the largest exhibitions in that part of the country. It was a celebration of the hundredth anniversary of the founding of the city, and Joe's act was one of many features.

"It will seem good to be a week in the same place," observed Ryan, as he and his partner began dismounting the apparatus.

"That's right," agreed Joe.

But if Joe thought it was going to be a week unmarked by incident he was mistaken. There was bad mingled with the good, and the bad cropped out early the next day when our hero and his helpers reached the fair grounds to look them over, decide on the best place to stretch the wire and set up the supports.

As he had done in many other places, Joe picked out the grassy center of the oval race-track as the best place for him, as from there he could be seen by the largest crowds. Ryan and Jeroleman began to unpack the apparatus and motor-cycle, which, as well as the sectional supports, ground anchors, and other heavy devices, was in a crate.

"Hello! Something wrong here," exclaimed Ryan, as he took out the gasoline machine.

"Not broken, is it?" asked Joe in anxiety.

"That's what it is. Sprocket chain of the starter is parted in two places."

"That's queer," said Joe. "It can be easily fixed, of course, but how did it happen?"

They discovered that when they examined the case. One end had been smashed in the express car, and through a hole thus made something had jammed into the chain, breaking two links.

"Well, it might be worse," said Joe, as he looked it over. "I'll take the chain to a garage in town, while you boys set up the rest of the stuff."

"How do you want it faced?" asked Ryan.

Joe looked up to get the directions east and west, for he always ran the high wire that way. Thus, in the morning he would ride over it from east to west, and so have the sun at his back, and not glaring in his eyes. And in the afternoon he reversed his riding, going from west to east.

"Set it up so," he said to Ryan, indicating the direction desired. "I'll walk into town and get the chain fixed."

With the fractured sprocket chain Joe was soon on his way to a garage, while his helpers busied themselves on the work of setting up the high supports and stretching the wire between them.

It was still early in the morning, but there was much work to be done, for Joe was to give his first exhibition of daring riding at 10:30 o'clock.

Ryan and Jeroleman buried the heavy steel anchors and attached to the hooks on them the "eyes" in the ends of the wire on which Joe would soon ride fifty feet high in the air. A crowd of fair exhibitors and some early arrivals, mostly farmers, watched the work, though the space around the spot where the apparatus was being set up was roped off to keep curious ones at a comfortable distance.

In a comparatively short time, so expert had Ryan and Jeroleman become, they had the wire in place, and stretched about as tightly as it would be when Joe used it. He always tightened it just before the act, as it had a tendency to sag if left up too long. Then, too, the earth anchors would give a little, though the ground above and around them was always wet and tamped down to make it firm.

"Now we'll put up the net and I guess we'll have finished," said Ryan. "That is, all but putting up the dressing tent for the young boss," he added.

"Yes, we're ready for the net now," agreed Jeroleman. "Why——Hello! This is queer!" he exclaimed, looking about "The net box isn't here!"

"It isn't?" cried Ryan. "Then the truckman must have left it at the express office. I'm sure I saw it there with the rest of the stuff."

"We'd better call 'em on the 'phone and find out about it. We've only got about an hour before the first performance, and the boss will be back any minute with the repaired chain. There's a temporary telephone office on the grounds here. I'll call up the express agent."

"Go head," said Ryan, and Jeroleman hastened off.

There was a queer look on Jeroleman's face when he came back from telephoning.

"The net didn't come with the rest of the stuff," he said. "The agent has wired back about it, but it can't get here in time for the morning show, no matter if they send it at once. There isn't a train."

"Whew!" whistled Ryan. "What's to be done?"

"I don't know. It isn't our fault. I'm positive the box with the life-net in it was at the depot last night with the rest of the stuff."

"So am I. It must be the fault of the expressman at the other end. What will the boss do?"

Joe was not a minute making up his mind what he would do when he returned with the repaired sprocket chain.

"No net, eh?" he asked coolly, when the difficulty had been explained to him. "Well, I'll ride without one, that's all."

"Ride without a net?" cried Ryan.

"You mustn't do it!" expostulated Jeroleman.

"Why not, I'd like to know?" asked our hero. "I've never had a fall since those first few times, and I'm not going to begin now. I wouldn't bother with the net, only I promised Mr. Brader. It's a nuisance carting it about and spreading it each time. I'll ride without it. I'm not going to fall."

The two helpers gazed almost spellbound at Joe.

"Well, you sure have your nerve with you!" said Ryan admiringly.

"That's what," agreed his companion.

"I need nerve in this business," laughed Joe. "I'll ride without the net. I never think of it anyhow. I don't believe it would save me much. The best way is not to fall."

Joe put the chain back on his motor-cycle and got ready to perform his hair-raising act, while his men erected the dressing tent. By this time quite a crowd had begun to filter into the fair grounds, for it was the opening day and Joe's thrilling performance had been well advertised. He himself supplied those engaging him with big posters, showing him riding the high wire, and often he had seen crowds of admiring small boys standing in front of the bill-boards.

The absence of the net did not seem to cause any comment until some of the fair managers came to Joe's tent to find out if he was all ready to go ahead with his share of the show. And then one man, looking at the high and tightly stretched wire, asked:

"What happens if you fall, Mr. Strong?"

"I'm not in the habit of taking tumbles," Joe answered, with a cool laugh.

"No, but don't you use a net in case of accident?"

"Usually, yes. But my net has gone astray, and, rather than wait for it and delay the exhibition, I'm going to ride without the life-net this morning."

"Oh, no, you're not!" exclaimed the objector. "We're not going to have you killed, and then stand a law-suit for damages. You'll use a net!"

"How can I, when I haven't one?" Joe asked, a bit tartly. "And as for damages, you seem to forget that my contract with you releases the management from all liability for damage in case of accident. I assume all the risks."

But it required quite a little explaining and talk before the fussy member of the fair commission withdrew his objections.

"Well, go ahead and ride without a net, if you want to," he said, "but if you get hurt, don't come crying to us."

"I'm not very likely to do much crying—not if I fall," said Joe grimly, as he looked up at the high wire. "But I'm not going to fall—don't worry."

As a matter of fact, the net did not absolutely assure Joe of safety when he did use it. It was one of the best life-nets made—Mr. Brader had seen to that. And had Joe fallen into it alone from a fifty-foot height, he would probably not have been in the least injured. The trouble was the heavy motor-cycle falling with him—in that lay the danger, for he could not expect to fall far enough away from it to escape injury altogether. But, as the plucky lad had said, he did not intend to tumble.

Word soon got around that the daring young performer was going to ride without a life-net below him, and this added to the expectant thrills with which the crowd was imbued.

"Say, that sure will be a thriller!" said more than one to his neighbor, as he took his seat to watch Joe.

As for our hero, he went on with his preparations as though nothing out of the ordinary was under way. Attired in his white suit, to which he had lately added silver spangles that sparkled like diamonds in the sun, he stepped from his tent and took his place at the end of the starting ground. There was a shout of welcome as Joe made his bow, taking his helmet of leather from Ryan, and then looking over the motor-cycle which Jeroleman stood holding for him.

There was a preliminary pause—a pause made for dramatic effect—when Joe examined the machine, and also the wire and the supports, having the wire made a little tighter.

"All right?" asked Ryan, as Joe came back from the farthest pair of shears.

"All ready, yes. I'll start now."

Joe took his place in the saddle of the motor-cycle and looked about him. There was a great silence all over the vast assemblage of persons, for all realized that this was the most daring act they had ever witnessed.

With a throb and a roar the engine seemed to leap into action. Then Joe was seen speeding across the smooth ground. A moment more and he had reached the end of the guiding chalk line. Then he began the slanting ascent.

"There he goes! There he goes!" came the cries, from all sides.

Up and up went Joe.

Now he shot out on the straight stretch of wire. And, though it may seem strange, Joe gave hardly a thought to the fact that there was no protecting net beneath him. His nerves were as cool and steady as though he were riding but a few feet from the ground.

On and on he went, with never a swerve or tremor, and almost before he knew it he had shot across the three hundred feet and was going down the other slope.

Joe had ridden across without a life-net.

"He did it! He did it!" yelled the crowd.

"Of course I did," said Joe to himself, smiling. "Why shouldn't I?"

But the throng seemed to marvel at the absence of the net. Long and loudly they applauded Joe, who bowed again and again to the tribute to his nerve.

The net arrived that afternoon, and Joe was not going to have it stretched. But he had to change his mind when the police refused to let him ride unless he used the net as a precaution.

"It's suicidal to ride that high wire without a net below you," said the chief of police, to whom some one had made a complaint.

"I don't think so," Joe answered.

"Well, I do. I don't want to seem harsh, young man, but you'll ride over a net, or you won't ride at all."

So Joe gave in. But he could not understand the objection. It was his great nerve that made him thus callous to possible danger.

All week long the aerial wire-rider gave his two exhibitions each day at the Livingston fair, and crowds came at each performance to watch him. There was not a hitch in the proceedings, and Joe felt he had earned his money. He appreciated, though, the fact of staying a week in one place, and wished he had more engagements like this.

And it was on the last day, late in the afternoon, when the biggest crowd of all was present that Joe's other bad luck came to him.

He was half way across the high wire, and had a sort of feeling of relief that his week's work was about over, when suddenly a bird flashed past so close to Joe's face as almost to touch him. The advent of the feathered creature was so quick that Joe started, and the start imparted itself to his handle bars.

The front wheel swerved, and Joe knew in an instant that he must act quickly or have a bad fall. The wheel had moved more than he had supposed, and the next instant the groove slipped off the wire.

The motor-cycle started to swing to one side, and Joe knew it was useless to try to hold it on the wire. His one thought now was to save himself as best he could, and he thought with relief of the net below him.

"Look! Look! He's falling!" came the horror-stricken cry from the watching throng.

The fire-spitting motor-cycle was now pitching forward. The front wheel was completely off the wire, and the rear one was following.

For a fraction of a second the machine was almost crosswise of the steel cable and then it turned over, spilling Joe from the saddle.

But before this Joe had swung himself free and was leaping out as best he could to get away from the mass of steel. Instinctively, as he fell, he shut off the power.

Then Joe felt himself falling toward the net, and at once his head was as cool as it had been in the circus, where he had made hundreds of such falls or leaps on purpose. Down and down he went.

Then Joe felt himself falling toward the net.

"If I can only keep clear of the machine!" Joe thought in a flash.

## CHAPTER XIV

### THE NEW MACHINE

Amid a riot of frightened cries—hoarse ones from the men and shrill screams from the women in the audience—Joe Strong fell into the net. He fell straight and true, as he had fallen in the circus many times, and he knew that he was safe—if only the motor-cycle would land far enough away.

But that was just what did not happen, and as Joe settled back into the net again after a rebound, he felt a sharp pain in one leg and a blow on his head that caused everything to become black before him, and then with a roaring in his ears that sounded like a cataract he lost consciousness.

Joe had to rely on what his helpers and others told him as to the events that followed. For when he recovered his senses he was lying on a clean, white bed in what he realized must be a hospital.

"This is my second time in the 'sick-bay,'" mused Joe, before he ventured to address the white-capped nurse whom he saw moving silently about the room. "Three times and out, they say. I've still got another chance left," he reflected grimly. Then he spoke.

"Well, it happened, didn't it?" he asked the nurse. She had her back to him, arranging some bottles on a white enameled and glass-topped table, and she turned around quickly.

"Oh, you must be——"

"Quiet! I know what you're going to say," interrupted Joe, with a smile. "But I don't feel half bad, except for a headache, and I want to know what happened."

"I—I think I'll have to wait until the doctor sees you," said the nurse hesitatingly. "He said you must be kept quiet if you recovered consciousness."

"That's all right," Joe said. "I'll be quiet if you tell me just what happened. The net didn't break, did it?"

"No, from what they tell me, you were struck by the machine you were riding. It fell on top of you. Now please be quiet, and take this." She came toward Joe with a glass of dark-colored liquid, which did not smell very appetizing. But he drank it, made a wry face and spoke again.

"One more question, and I'll go to sleep like a good boy, for I do feel sleepy. There was no one else hurt, was there? No panic or anything like that?"

"No, not that I heard of. You were the only one hurt, and I hope it isn't bad."

"I've felt worse," Joe said, "and at the same time I've felt a whole lot better. Now I'll be quiet."

He tried to turn over, but the movement sent such a sharp pain to his head that he desisted and, closing his eyes, he dozed off. The doctor was in the room when he awoke again, and it must have been some time later, for the lights were turned on, though shaded to keep the light out of Joe's eyes.

The physician noted a movement on the part of his patient and at once came over to the bed. He felt Joe's pulse, looked at the temperature chart which the nurse held out to him, and nodded as if in a satisfied way.

"Doing pretty well," he said. "I guess it isn't a fracture after all."

"What fractured?" Joe asked.

"Your skull. You took a pretty hard knock, but it was the leather helmet that saved you."

"Good old helmet," murmured Joe. "Did my machine break?"

"I don't know about that. But it nearly broke you. You'll do that trick on the high wire once too often, Mr. Strong, I'm thinking."

"Oh, I'm not worrying about that," Joe said. "But I can't see what made the wheel leave the wire, even though the bird did startle me. I'll have to look at the rims."

"You ought to have a lighter machine if you're going to keep on with the trick," said the doctor. "Then if it falls on you again the results may not be so bad."

"I've been thinking of getting a new machine," Joe said, "and I guess it's about time I did."

"Now quiet down," advised the doctor. "Rest and quiet are about all you need."

"My leg feels as though it needed something," Joe said. "I hope it isn't broken."

"Just a bad bruise," the doctor informed him. "You'll be able to get around in a few days, though you may limp."

"It means some canceled engagements, even at the best," said the motorist. "Well, it can't be helped, and I guess I'm lucky to get off as easily as I did."

"Indeed you are!" the doctor exclaimed. "I understand you did your first riding at our fair without a life-net."

"It hadn't come and I didn't want to disappoint the crowd," Joe answered.

"Well, it's a good thing you had it to-day," went on the medical man.

Joe nodded. No need to tell him that. And he made up his mind never again to ride without a net, no matter what the emergency. For this accident had showed him that the grooved wheels of the motor-cycle were not always so sure of clinging to the wire as Joe had supposed they would be. But he was certain the front one must have developed a defect. He would examine it as soon as he could.

More medicine was given the patient, and again he fell into a doze. Whether he awoke again during the night he did not remember, but he felt much refreshed when he saw the sun streaming in his window, and the white-capped nurse—a different one this time—brought him his breakfast on a tray.

"Is that all I get?" asked Joe, with a smile, as he noted the rather small allowance.

"That's all we allow patients who have been injured as you were," she said, and she seemed rather afraid Joe would make a scene and perhaps demand more.

"Oh, I'm not blaming you," said Joe, with a smile, rightly guessing that the nurse was a new one, rather unused to the vagaries of her patients.

"I'll ask the doctor if you can have more," she said.

"No, please don't bother. I was only joking. This will do very well," and he proceeded to eat.

Joe was much better that day, except for a very painful leg, and he was allowed to see Ryan and Jeroleman, who, it seemed, had made several visits to the hospital to inquire after "the young boss."

The two helpers explained to Joe that they had rushed forward on seeing him fall, in the hope of deflecting the motor-cycle out of its course. But they had been unable to do so, and the heavy machine had struck Joe.

"Which has taught me a lesson," he said; and he spoke of his intention of getting a lighter one, made to order purposely for his act.

"And a good idea, too," said Ryan.

The men told Joe they had taken down the apparatus and had it packed for transportation to the next town where he was to show at a fair. Joe's money was ready for him, from the treasury of the fair which had just closed, so Jeroleman said.

"I'll have to lay over here a week, I'm afraid," decided the performer. "I won't dare take any chances with this leg. It might make me unsteady on the high wire. But I'll write some letters, and see if I can't get the motor-cycle firm started on making my new machine."

"I could go to the factory and explain just what you want," said Ryan. "I might hurry it along, too."

"That would be a good idea," Joe said. "I guess I'll send you on, and Jeroleman can go to the Ryetown fair people and explain why I can't fill my engagement, though I may be able to ride the last day or two."

"Better not take any chances," advised Jeroleman, and Joe decided this was good advice. So he canceled his engagements for the following week.

Joe sent Ryan to the factory where his motor-cycle had been made, with instructions to have a specially light machine manufactured just for high-wire work. Ryan had hardly arrived before he telegraphed back that work on the new machine would be rushed, and that Joe could have it in about a week.

Afterward Joe learned that the firm carried in stock several grades and weights of gasoline motors, and one of the lightest of these could be built into one of their heavier bicycles, thus making a motor-cycle that would answer admirably for high-wire work, but which would not stand driving over rough roads.

"But I'll use my old machine for road work," Joe decided. "And I won't be in so much danger in case of a fall."

He progressed rapidly at the hospital, and was soon able to go about, though he limped and had to use a cane. His first act after he left the hospital was to examine the motor-cycle, and his suspicions were confirmed when he found a split in the metal rim. He decided that he must have hit a stone when riding it on the earthen approach, and was more than pleased that he could, in the future, eliminate such accidents by having a machine just for wire-work.

"I'll have to have the approach more carefully looked over, too," decided Joe. "For my new machine won't be as strong as this one."

It was the split in the rim that had caused the grooved wheel to leave the wire, though Joe's start when the bird flew so close to him had been the initial cause of the accident.

However, he was well out of it, as it was, and would soon be able to resume his engagements. There was plenty of work ahead for him, since his fame was spreading, and the ability of the high-wire act to draw crowds to fairs and expositions was just what the managers of such outdoor exhibitions wanted. Joe could name his own price, and his figures were not low, for he had heavy expenses, and he wanted to make all the money he could while he had the opportunity.

Joe's natural good health, aided by the skillful treatment of the hospital doctor, put him well on the road to recovery, and at the end of the week he was able to travel. He and his men went on to the place where they had an engagement at the fair, and Joe stopped off at the motor-cycle factory to see about his new machine.

It was almost finished, and Joe saw that it was a great improvement over his regular road motor-cycle for his high-wire act. The new motor-cycle was nickel-plated, and Joe knew that would show off well with his white suit.

"The act will be much dressier," he reflected. "And I have a plan to make it more effective still, if I can get some night engagements."

## CHAPTER XV

### A BIG CLIMB

The apparatus had been set up at the fair grounds in Lancaster, where Joe had his first engagement following his accident. He had received his new machine, and had given it a thorough test at the factory, that he might have any possible defects remedied. None of any moment developed, however, and Joe took the shiny machine away with him.

"But I need to try it on the wire before I ride in public in front of the crowd," he had said to his helpers, "so we'll have to get up early to-morrow morning, before the crowd arrives, and have a test."

Ryan and Jeroleman had decided this was a wise plan, consequently when it was still dark the three left their hotel and made their way to the fair grounds.

Joe still had a slight limp, but as he did not have to use the injured leg, the left, in starting his machine, he knew he could ride all right.

It was damp and rather misty that early morning when they reached the place where the high wire rose on its steel supports in the middle of the race-track oval.

"You'll have to wait until it's a bit lighter," suggested Ryan, as he and Jeroleman went carefully over the smoothed approach. Joe did not want to ride over any more stones, and this time the ground extending to and away from the place where the wire slanted into the ground, had been made as nearly like a table as possible.

"Yes, I'll need a little more light to see the chalk line plainly," Joe agreed. "But I'll start the motor and see how it works."

He brought his new machine out from the dressing tent where it had been over night in charge of a watchman. Steadying it on the rear supporting frame, the boy pushed over the starting lever. With a roar the motor-cycle was in action, though not moving.

"It works a whole lot easier than my big one," said Joe. "I only hope it doesn't prove too light for the act. It is possible there may not be weight enough to give the proper traction."

In anticipation of this possible difficulty, the young wire-rider had had the grooved wheels of his new machine made much rougher than those of his former one. He hoped this would offset any lack of weight in the small motor-cycle, which was many pounds lighter than the big roadster.

The noise of the motor attracted a few early arrivals at the fair grounds—men in charge of the live stock and exhibits—and they gathered about in a curious group to watch Joe's trial. But such a small audience as this did not annoy him.

"Does she go all right?" asked Ryan, coming back with Jeroleman after an inspection of the ground.

"Seems to be as true as a fiddle," Joe answered, shutting off the gasoline.

It was getting lighter now, and the young wire-performer went carefully over every bit of his apparatus, even though his two helpers had seen that it was in proper shape. Then, satisfied that all was right, and having seen that the life net was in place, Joe took his new motor-cycle to the end of the starting ground, and again set it in action.

Slowly the mists gave way before the rising sun. The chalk mark that was to be the guiding line for Joe stood out in bold relief on the brown earth.

"Well, here I go," he called to his helpers.

Joe pressed a spring on the frame in front of him, and this pulled up out of the way the support of the rear wheel. This spring was an improvement on the new motor-cycle, and made it unnecessary for Joe to kick up the support.

Then, as the clutch lever was pushed into place, the machine began to move. Faster and faster it went as the lad turned on more gasoline, until it was fairly flying over the ground.

Straight and true to the chalk mark the daring driver held his steed of steel, and then up the inclined wire it shot, and out upon the level stretch.

"Good!" exulted Joe to himself. "She works like a charm."

There was not the least slip, which might have been the case if the wheel had been too light.

"It goes even faster than my old one," the boy said to himself.

Almost before he knew it, Joe had reached the end and was going down. He rode nearly to the end of the far slope and then brought his machine to a stop.

"How about it?" called Ryan, running toward him.

"Couldn't be better! It's all right! We'll do the trick on schedule time!"

Joe went to his breakfast, secure in the knowledge that he could give such an exhibition as he desired.

There was a big crowd at the fair when the time came for Joe's high-wire act that morning. But the youth was used to big crowds, for he was a drawing card.

And, as usual, there came loud and long applause when he was high in the air, the sun flashing on his nickel-plated motor-cycle and on the shimmering spangles of his white suit. Below him the boy could hear the murmurs and yells of the startled audience.

Not a hitch occurred in the act, which went off as smoothly as it always did. More smoothly, in fact, for Joe had the lighter machine under better control, and it was speedier.

"I wish I could add a little more to the act," remarked Joe, as he was donning his street clothes in the dressing tent a little later. "If I could juggle three balls while riding across the wire it would make 'em sit up and take notice."

"Oh, you make 'em sit up enough as it is," said Ryan. "And I believe it would be risky taking your hands off the handle bars to do any juggling."

"I guess so," acquiesced Joe. "But never mind. I've something else in mind."

"The act is thrilling enough in itself," Jeroleman said. "You should hear the comments in the crowd."

"Well, I'm glad they like it," commented Joe. "It seems to me it's over too quickly. But I can't very well make the wire any longer."

"Nobody finds any fault," Ryan told him. "It's so thrilling that it seems longer than it really is. Don't get to worrying."

"I'll not," promised the lad.

Joe finished out the week at Lancaster without any accident to mar it. His leg was completely healed now, and he felt in fine fettle. His nerves were not in the least shattered as the result of his fall, and he found himself better advertised than ever because of the accident, which had been written up in the papers of that part of the country.

Joe's inquiries as to the identity of the man who had spoken the name of Janet Willoughby were fruitless. There were no answers to his advertisements, and the high-wire rider had about given up hope of ever finding the unknown Englishman.

"And perhaps if I did it would amount to nothing," Joe reflected. "But, all the same, I would like to know just how much he knew of my mother."

Joe had written to Helen as soon as possible after the accident, making as light of it as he could, for he knew she would read of it in the papers, and he did not want her to worry. In reply he received a letter from her, begging him to be more careful. Then Joe told of his new wheel, which would, in a measure, make it safer for him. And Helen expressed her pleasure at this.

As the season wore on Joe fulfilled engagement after engagement, until a certain week found him on the outskirts of Jersey City, New Jersey, engaged for a week at a big fair.

Joe rode well there, and before larger crowds than had before greeted him, many coming over from New York City, just across the Hudson river, for Joe's fame was constantly spreading.

As the youth had plenty of time to himself, one day after his morning act he took a trip to the metropolis. It was not his first visit, for when in partnership with Professor Rosello he had gone to New York to see about having some trick apparatus made. Since then, too, when at times the circus had been laid up for the winter, Joe had visited the big city.

There was a fascination about the place for Joe, as for nearly every one else, and, having had his lunch, Joe strolled up Broadway marveling at the never ceasing throng that flowed in both directions.

Coming to the junction of Broadway and Fifth Avenue, where stands that peculiar structure known as the Flatiron Building, Joe saw a big crowd gathered on the Fifth Avenue side. A quick glance showed him some men with moving picture cameras, and as this always interested Joe he drew closer.

"Maybe they're staging a movie drama here," Joe reflected. "I may see the heroine tossed out of the nineteenth story window. Maybe I can catch her," he thought, with a little laugh.

Joe managed to work his way through the press of people to where the moving picture camera men stood. It was evident that something had gone wrong.

"Well, are you going to do it or not?" asked one of the men of a young fellow who was leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette. "We can't wait all day."

"Yes, I'll do it—in a few minutes," was the reply from the youth.

"No, you won't!" angrily exclaimed another camera operator. "You're stalling, that's what you're doing! You've lost your nerve! You're afraid to make the climb and there's no use in our wasting our time on you. You're afraid, and you might as well say so first as last!"

"Afraid? Afraid?" muttered the youth.

"Yes, afraid! I don't know that I blame you much," the camera man went on. "You said you'd make the climb, and now you're afraid to do it. Own up—you've lost your nerve, haven't you?"

The youth flicked the cigarette away, and it seemed for a moment as though he would denounce the speaker. Then his face paled as he glanced up the sides of the high building, and in a husky voice he said:

"Yes, I am afraid. I—I dare not make the climb."

"Was he going to climb up the Flatiron Building?" asked Joe of a camera man who had, as yet, said nothing.

"Yes. That's what he agreed to do. It's a movie stunt, but he backed down at the last minute. I can't blame him, but it knocks us out."

Joe looked at the tall building. It was of such a construction, with deep grooves in the stone work, that to climb it would not be difficult to one not afraid of dizzy heights. Firm fingers, and feet shod in rubber-soled shoes, would make the act possible if one's muscle and nerve held out.

"Come on, boys, there's no use in wasting any more time," said the angry camera man, who seemed to be in charge of the others. "He won't climb the Flatiron Building and he knows he won't."

The youth smiled in a sickly sort of way.

"I guess I have lost my nerve," he admitted.

"Come on," and the camera man started away with his machine.

"Wait a minute," said Joe. "What sort of a stunt is this, anyhow?"

"What do you want to know for—are you a reporter?" the man with the camera asked.

"No," answered Joe, with a smile, "I'm not a newspaper man. I'm a circus performer, a high-wire rider. If you want some one to climb up the side of that building, and you'll make it worth my while, rather than see you and the crowd disappointed, I'll do the trick for you."

"Will you?" eagerly cried the man. "Have you ever done it?"

"Well, I've done some stunts like it," said Joe. "I think I can manage it all right, if the police don't interfere."

"Oh, we've arranged for that. But it's a big climb."

"I know it. But get me a pair of rubber-soled shoes and I'll do it."

"Here, take mine," said the youth who had balked at the last minute. "I wish I had your nerve," he said admiringly.

Joe took the shoes and began removing his own.

"Get ready, boys," advised the head camera operator. "I don't know who he is, but I guess he'll make good."

## CHAPTER XVI

### ACROSS A CHASM

"What's it for?" asked Joe of the leading camera man, when our hero had donned the rubber-soled shoes. "Is it a drama?"

"No, it's just a collection of freak stunts to make thrilling reels. We had this fellow jump off the Brooklyn bridge, and he did it without turning a hair. But you saw what happened when it came to the Flatiron climb. Not that I blame him. I wouldn't do it for a million dollars, and there's only two hundred in it for you. Is that enough?"

"Plenty," answered Joe. "I'm looking for advertisement out of it."

"Oh, you'll get that, all right. Your name will be featured on the pictures. But what's your game?"

Joe told him.

"Oh, you're that fellow!" exclaimed the moving picture man. "I've heard about you. Yes indeed! On the high wire! Well, no wonder you're not afraid to undertake this, though it's some little climb, believe me, friend Strong."

"I realize it," Joe said. "But the only danger is in slipping, and I'm not going to do that. The climb in itself isn't hard, as the stones are easy to grip and there are no long reaches."

"Yes, I suppose that's so. But it takes nerve, or rather, lack of nerves, and a cool head."

"Well, I seem lucky enough to be built that way," replied Joe, with a smile.

The crowd had increased until it almost blocked Fifth Avenue, and the traffic policemen were at their wits' ends. But a permit had been secured for the climb to be made, on condition that a life-net be spread below, and Joe noticed this had been done. He looked at the net to make sure it was properly stretched. Though not as good as his, it would answer the purpose. Without it the police would have forbidden the attempt.

"Well, I wish you luck," said the youth who had backed out of the feat. "You sure have me beaten."

"Oh, don't feel badly about it," said Joe kindly. "I may lose my nerve myself, some day, though I don't want to."

"No, it isn't any fun," agreed the other soberly.

The camera men had been making ready, and three of them had their machines focused on Joe, taking pictures of him even as he was preparing for the climb.

"We're going to take the pictures in triplicate," said the leader, "so there won't be any risk of a mistake. I don't believe you'd stand for a re-take."

"What's that?" asked Joe, who was not any too well versed in moving picture nomenclature.

"It means taking the picture over again, which also means that the actor has to do the same thing twice. None of them like it, especially when there's any danger attached to the act, as there is here. I guess you wouldn't like to do it twice."

"Oh, I don't know," said Joe calmly.

"So when there's not much chance for a re-take we use three or even more cameras," the man went on. "Then, if the film breaks, or something goes wrong with one machine, we still have the others to rely on. Well, are you ready?"

"Yes," nodded Joe.

Then he began his climb—a climb that was to thrill thousands gathered in the street below him, and hundreds of thousands who afterwards saw it in the moving pictures.

The stones of the Flatiron Building are laid in such a way as to leave grooves running horizontally. These are, in reality, stone niches, in which Joe could insert his fingers and toes. The rubber soles of the shoes would give a good grip, and Joe had thought to put on a pair of gloves to save his fingers from abrasion by the rough stone.

At first it was easy enough to ascend, though a murmur broke from the crowd as the daring youth began the ascent. But almost any one could have climbed up the first few feet. It was going higher that made the difficulty.

Up and up went Joe Strong. Higher and higher he mounted. As he glanced upward he could see heads peering from the many office windows, for word of what was going on had permeated the building.

"It isn't going to be as easy as I thought," Joe said, for the strain was already beginning to tell on him. "I've a long way to go to the top," he mused, after a quick upward glance.

But Joe had no thought of giving up. It was not so much for the money, but, as he had said, for the advertisement he would get out of it. Let it be heralded in the papers, as it was sure to be, that Joe Strong, the daring rider of a motor-cycle across a high wire, had climbed to the top of the Flatiron Building, and his fame as a performer of daring feats would spread. More persons would come to see him ride, and he could ask higher prices from the managers of the fairs and expositions.

So on and on the lad went. Below him the cameras were clicking away, grinding out the film which would afterward show, at the rate of sixteen pictures to a second, just what Joe had done.

Past story after story he went, sometimes so close to the open windows, thronged with curious persons, that he could have shaken hands with them, had he dared let go his grip long enough. But Joe took no chances.

He stopped for a rest at the tenth story, and then went on. It was now that his vigorous and well-trained muscles stood him in good stead. And his nerves were never in better trim.

"I guess I'll make it," mused Joe. "I feel pretty good."

Once, when at the thirteenth story, his foot slipped on what seemed to be a piece of fat. Joe recovered himself with an effort, and he heard a faint sound, almost like a groan, from the throng below.

"Thirteen seems to be unlucky," thought Joe grimly, as he went on. "At least it might have been. I wonder how that fat got on the ledge."

Then as he saw birds flying about him he knew some feathered songster must have dropped part of his lunch there in the stone niche.

"A bird caused me to fall once," Joe mused, "and I don't want it to happen again, even if there is a life-net below me."

It was with a feeling of relief, muscularly, not mentally, that Joe ended his climb, and crawled into an open office window near him. A man, looking out, grasped his hand.

"Shake!" he cried. "That was a wonderful climb, and I'm the first to shake hands with you after it."

"Yes, you're the first," admitted Joe, with a smile.

He turned to wave his hand to the crowd below, which at once began to cheer, men waving their hats and women their handkerchiefs. Joe saw the cameras pointed at him, and one of the machine men was making films of the demonstration of the crowd for future use.

Joe rested a few minutes and came down in the elevator. He was almost overwhelmed with the rush of the crowd to greet him, and he saw scores of hands stretched out for him to shake. He did shake as many as he could, and then he saw his friend of the camera making his way toward him.

"Come on, Mr. Strong!" the man called. "I've got my auto out here, and we'll take you wherever you want to go."

"I've got to go back to Jersey City soon," Joe said. "I'm to ride there this afternoon."

"Great Scott! After this climb?"

"Why not?" asked Joe coolly. "It's got to be done to keep the contract. Besides, I'm all right."

They fought their way through the admiring crowd to the machine, and Joe was induced to go to the moving picture concern, so they could get some close-up views of Joe in the studio, to use with the outdoor film.

Joe received his money, and was assured that his name would be featured on the film for advertising purposes. That was what he wanted.

The news of his climb up the tall building spread, and a record-breaking crowd attended the Jersey City fair to see the daring youth take his thrilling ride. He rode, too, most satisfactorily.

That night Joe received a visit at his hotel from Mr. Potter, the head camera man. Joe was rather surprised at the call.

"I've come to see if you have any open dates," stated Mr. Potter.

"Open dates?" repeated Joe. "Do you want me to climb some more buildings?"

"Well, not exactly, but I have a sort of building stunt for you, if you'll undertake it."

"Let's hear it," suggested Joe. "I have some open time after I close in Jersey City. Is this for the movies?"

"Yes. I am commissioned to ask if you will ride your motor-cycle on the wire across a chasm."

"Across a chasm?" cried Joe. "How big a chasm, and where is it?"

"Right in New York City. If you're interested, I'll explain."

"Go ahead!" urged Joe. "I'm interested, all right."

"I thought you'd be," said Mr. Potter, with a smile.

## CHAPTER XVII

### BACK IN THE CIRCUS

Mr. Potter took out pencil and paper and drew a rough sketch. Joe, who expected to see depicted some rocky gorge, perhaps in the Bronx section of New York, was surprised to note that the moving picture man drew what seemed to be two tall buildings on either side of a street.

"That's a queer sort of chasm," Joe said.

"It's about the only kind we have in the lower part of New York," Mr. Potter answered, with a smile. "The chasm, or canyon, I refer to is a street in the financial section of the city. There are tall office buildings on either side of it, but the particular two I have picked out and sketched here have flat roofs."

He looked at Joe expectantly.

"Go on," suggested the motor-cycle rider.

"I thought you'd need to have a flat roof on which to make a start with your machine, and another flat roof for a stopping place," proceeded the moving picture operator. "Now if we stretch a wire from the roof of one of these buildings to the other, do you think you could ride across on your machine?"

Joe took the sketch and studied it for a few seconds. The location of the street was marked, and Joe, who had once or twice been down where the New York millionaires operate in stocks and bonds, made a mental picture of the section.

"Will you do it?" asked Mr. Potter. "Wait, though; before you answer I'd like to state one difficulty. The buildings are over twice as high as you say you stretch your wire. You'd have to ride across the street at a height of over one hundred feet in the air."

"Height doesn't bother me," said Joe.

"No, I judged that from your climb up the Flatiron Building. But I thought I'd mention it so you couldn't say we took advantage of you. Then you'll ride for us? There'll be five hundred dollars in it for you, and a good advertisement."

Joe considered for a moment. The money was an inducement, and so was the advertising. And if a life-net were spread across the street below him, he was in no more danger than in doing his regular ride. The flat roofs as an approach and at the end of his wire would make it a comparatively easy feat.

"Why, yes, if you can arrange it, I'll do it," he said. "That is, after I finish my Jersey City engagement."

"Oh, yes, that's understood. Besides, we've got to make a little change in the scenario."

"Scenario?" repeated Joe, in some surprise.

"Yes. You're to have a part in a moving picture story. I didn't mention it at first, for I knew if you agreed to the main part you wouldn't balk at the easier end. This is the way it is.

"We have a moving picture story, based on a big robbery in the financial district of New York. That's why I picked out two office buildings down near Wall Street. In the story, the hero is supposed to aid the police after the robbery and help catch the robbers by working his way hand over hand along a telegraph wire which stretches across the street. Of course we planned to have a wire of our own, heavier than a telegraph cable.

"But at the last minute, and when some of the inside stuff of the pictures had already been made, the actor who played that part refused to cross on the wire. He said it was too dangerous, and maybe he was right. Anyhow, he wouldn't do it. We didn't know what to do until to-day, when I saw you climb the building, and when I heard of your wire-riding stunt, it occurred to me that you could do the trick for us."

"But I never acted in the movies, except riding my motor-cycle," objected Joe.

"That's all we want you to do here," said Mr. Potter.

"And I don't in the least know how to behave like a hero."

"We'll coach you all right. Hero stuff is the easiest kind there is."

"But if you have some of the pictures made with one man in them, how are you going to make me fit in—unless I look like the hero you have been using?"

"You look enough like him for our purposes," said Mr. Potter. "We can dress you as he was dressed, and as the action will be quick, the substitution will not be noticed. It is often done in the movies. A trick rider on a horse, for instance, will double with the hero or heroine who is not able to make a good fall. Substitution is done every day. It will be easy in your case. All you'll have to do will be a little preliminary acting just before you ride across the street chasm on your machine. Then will come a little bit more at the other building, and your part is done. It will be a good advertisement for you, I think."

"I think so, too," agreed Joe. "That's one reason why I'm doing it. Advertising is money for me. Well, when do I begin?"

"Oh, in about a week. As I said, the scenario, or the plot of the play, will have to be changed to make it fit. Instead of crossing a wire by hand, we'll have you cross on the machine. You'll probably play the part of an inventor of a new kind of motor-cycle. You will be discovered up on the roof of the building, testing the machine when the robbery occurs. You are appealed to to ride across on the telegraph wire (in reality your own wire, strung by yourself) and you do it. It will make a big hit in the movies."

"Maybe," laughed Joe. "Well, go ahead. I'll do my part."

"Of course there'll be a net below you," said Mr. Potter, "and anything else in the way of safety you may need. And your own men can stretch the wire so as to be sure it's all right. So, now that's settled, I'll go ahead with my part. I'll send one of our assistant directors to coach you as to the acting in a few days."

Joe was rather pleased, than otherwise, at the opportunity afforded him for this new publicity. For to a circus performer or an actor publicity is his means of livelihood. He must be well and favorably known to draw a good salary.

"And I guess there'll be a good crowd on hand to see me ride," Joe mused. "The movie people will see to that."

Joe continued riding on the high wire at the Jersey City fair, and during his spare time he was coached by one of the moving picture men in the rôle he was to play. The rôle was easy, and the lad soon mastered it. Then he went down to look at the two buildings, one on either side of the street across which he was to ride. It was not more than a hundred and fifty feet—half the distance Joe was accustomed to ride along the wire on his motor-cycle, but it was over twice as high. However, as Joe said, that did not trouble him.

The engagement in Jersey City came to an end, and the high-wire motor-cyclist moved his apparatus over to New York. Of course he would not need the shears in this case, the wire extending straight out from each flat roof, being held taut by an ingenious mechanical arrangement that Joe designed, and which a machinist made for him, the moving picture people paying the bill.

The roofs were of a smooth concrete mixture, and Joe knew he would have no trouble riding his machine across them, and on to the wire as well as off it.

There were some rehearsals up on the roof of the action called for in the rewritten scenario, and Joe did his part very well.

"We'd make a regular movie actor of you if you'd like that sort of life," said Mr. Potter, who was much pleased.

"No, I guess I'll stick to my own line," Joe answered.

The day of the thrilling ride came. It had been well advertised, and big crowds were expected to be on hand in the streets near the scene of Joe's trip across the municipal chasm. Of course there would be no money made by the exhibition itself, but the moving picture people counted on enough interest being aroused in the film to fill the houses where it should be displayed later.

Several camera men were on hand, for it was one of those acts where a "re-take" was practically out of the question. Though Joe himself felt that if he succeeded in riding across the street once, he could do it a second time, and oftener if necessary.

The wire had been stretched, and Joe had tested it. The cable seemed all right. Far down in the street below was the life-net, made doubly secure, for if Joe fell he would fall with more than twice the force gathered from a fifty-foot drop. Boys who are studying physics can figure out the difference for themselves.

But the brave youth had no thought of falling. Theoretically, if he could ride on a wire across a space fifty feet up in the air, he could do it at more than twice that distance.

Joe had been "made up" to resemble, as nearly as possible, the man who had acted in the earlier scenes in the moving picture story, and he felt rather odd with grease paint and a moustache on.

"Are you ready?" asked Mr. Potter of our hero.

"As ready as I ever shall be," Joe coolly answered.

"Go on, then," said the moving picture man. "Action!" he called to his helpers, for he was not grinding the crank of a camera that day.

The preliminary scenes having been acted in the studio, on this day the story began in the middle and Joe was discovered on the roof of the building with his motor-cycle. He pretended to be getting it ready for an experiment, when a girl (one of the moving picture actresses) rushed up to him through a scuttle in the roof, and informed him of the big robbery in one of the banks. The police were after them, but the robbers had imprisoned the officers in a little room in the top story of a building across the street. If Joe could ride across on the telegraph wire, he could open the fastened-down scuttle hatch-cover, free the police, and so enable them to catch the robbers.

This was enacted to the satisfaction of the director.

"And now for the ride!" cried Mr. Potter. "Action, there, you with the cameras!"

There was a big and expectant crowd in the streets below. They had seen nothing of what went on upon the roof, nor were they much interested in that. What they wanted to see was Joe's ride across the chasm.

The youth jumped to the saddle of his machine and started the motor. A chalk line had been marked on the roof, and in another instant Joe was riding along it and toward the wire which stretched out from the roof of the building where he was to the other across the street.

"Well, here I go!" mused the boy.

The front wheel took the wire. The rear wheel followed. Then the lad found himself whizzing across the dizzy height, while down below was the yelling, shouting and cheering throng—an enthusiastic multitude.

Then the lad found himself whizzing across the dizzy height.

Joe permitted himself one downward glance; then he fixed his eyes on the opposite building, where he was to free the officers.

Almost before he knew it he had ridden across the street chasm. He was on the other roof. The yelling down below continued, but Joe paid no attention to it—he had some acting still to do.

Quickly shutting off the power of his motor-cycle as he reached the other roof, Joe alighted from the saddle. Running to the cover of the inside stairway, he pried it off, thus releasing the policemen. They at once scattered to pursue the escaping robbers.

That ended Joe's part in the moving picture play, though in response to the yells and calls from the street below he appeared at the edge of the roof and waved his hand. A multitude of hands, hats and handkerchiefs were waved back to him.

"Congratulations, my boy!" said Mr. Potter, when he had rejoined Joe, the other camera men continuing to take the following scenes in what afterward proved to be a thrilling picture. "You did it magnificently."

"Oh, it wasn't so hard after I got started," said Joe. "Now I'd like to get some of this grease paint off my face."

"Yes. You're not used to it," assented Mr. Potter.

That evening and the next day the papers contained accounts of Joe's ride, and he received a lot of good advertising out of it, as well as the five hundred dollars. This last was very welcome, as Joe had no bookings for the next week.

He determined to remain in New York until he had to go to a distant county fair, for he had been told he might have a preliminary view of himself in the moving pictures, and he was anxious to see them.

It was toward the close of the week that Joe received another visit. He was in his hotel room when a card was brought to him by a bell-boy. The card bore the name of Mr. James Tracy.

"James Tracy!" exclaimed Joe. "I hope it's Jim Tracy, the ring-master in Sampson Brothers' Circus."

He found it was, a little later, when his visitor came up in response to Joe's invitation.

"Jim Tracy!" cried Joe, shaking hands. "I'm glad to see you!"

"Same here, my boy! You look the same as ever."

"And how's the circus?"

"Oh, she's fine, Joe. Notice how I said 'she'?"

Joe blushed but did not reply.

"I've been reading about you, Joe," went on the ring-master. "You certainly have 'em all sitting up and taking notice around New York. I never saw better press notices."

"Yes, they are pretty good."

"Now say, Joe, you haven't signed any contracts, have you?" asked Mr. Tracy earnestly.

"Contracts? No. That is, only for a week ahead. I'm due in Akron next week."

"That's good!" exclaimed the other. "Then don't sign anything more, Joe. Don't make any more engagements."

"Why not?"

"Because we want you, Joe. Sampson Brothers' Circus wants you. We want you back in the circus. We've got to have a thrilling act, and yours is the best in the country. Will you join us again, Joe?"

## CHAPTER XVIII

### IN MADISON SQUARE GARDEN

Joe Strong was rather taken by surprise. To be sure he had thought of some day rejoining some circus, if not the one he had formerly been with as the daring trapeze performer and boy fish. But he had expected to finish out the season under his own management. As he hesitated about answering, Jim Tracy said:

"You can practically name your own price, Joe. We've reached the point where we've got to have a thriller, and as soon as we heard about you we owners got together and made up our minds you would fill the bill. We're prepared to meet your own price and give you every accommodation you want."

"Doesn't Benny's tank act and Helen's horse draw any more?" asked Joe.

"Oh, sure! They go as well as ever, if not better. Helen is certainly a little wonder with that Rosebud horse of hers, and Ben has added one or two little stunts to his work. But what we want is something new and big, and your act seems to be the thing. In fact I know it's what we want. Will you come?"

"Let me think it over a bit," suggested Joe. "You know I'd like to come back and join my old friends if I could make as much money under canvas as I can outside. Only there are certain mechanical difficulties in the way. Mine's a pretty big act, you know, and it takes lots of room."

"I know it, Joe. But we're going to buy a new main-top tent, and if you come with us we can afford to get one so big that you can set your act almost as you do now. You may have to shorten the wire a little and not have it quite so high, but the act will be just as good. There's another thing too, Joe; you can show at night with us, and in wet weather as well as in dry. Think it over."

"I will, and I'll let you have my answer by night. Now come on out to lunch with me. How'd you manage to get away from the show?"

"Oh, I just had to come to see you. The circus needs you, Joe."

After talking it over at lunch with the ring-master, Joe came to his decision.

"Well, Jim Tracy, I'll come back to the show," he announced.

"Good!" was the enthusiastic response. "That's what I want to hear. Now we'll get down to brass tacks."

This they did. In other words, they set about settling the terms of the contract and numerous other details, with the result that Joe received a contract that was very favorable to him financially. He was also pleased at the prospect of getting back among his friends. He would take Ryan and Jeroleman with him, as they understood the setting up of the high-wire apparatus.

"Yes, it will seem good to get back under canvas again," mused Joe, when he had affixed his signature to the contract.

"And I know a certain little lady who will be glad to hear you are coming," said the ring-master. "She's been lonesome."

"Has she?" asked Joe.

"How'd you know whom I meant?" inquired Jim Tracy, clapping Joe on the back.

"Oh, I—er—I sort of guessed," and Joe blushed under his tan, for he was as brown as an Indian from being in the open air so much.

Jim Tracy went back to the circus, and Joe promised to join them at Columbus, when he had finished his week's act in Akron.

"We work eastward after that," said Jim Tracy. "And you'll probably be back in New York before long."

"That's good," said Joe, for he liked Manhattan Island.

"And then we're going to make a big jump to the West," went on the ring-master. "We're going to make a trial out there. It may be a risk, but we've decided to try it. The East is getting pretty well crowded with shows now."

Joe's work in Akron was a success, though it was marred by a slight accident. One day, toward the close of his engagement, he did not hit the slanting wire properly, and as a result he narrowly missed colliding with the base of one of the supports. But he pulled his wheel over in time, and went shooting past.

The management feared he would give up the act for that day, but Joe had no thought of that. He tried it again, and amid cheers from the crowd he shot up the incline, and out on to the level wire, completing the ride successfully.

When his week was up, Joe made ready to rejoin the circus. Some mechanical rearrangements would be necessary in his apparatus, but he wanted to see the new big tent before he made any changes. And when he saw the main-top which the Sampson Brothers had purchased, Joe found that it was larger than he had expected.

"I can do my act almost exactly as I have been doing it," he told Jim Tracy. "And that makes it better for me, as I won't have to rejudge my distances."

Acrobats, circus performers of all sorts, and others who do physical turns, or acts, become mechanical after long practice. They know, instinctively, just when to make certain jumps, just where to "take off," and if distances are changed it confuses them. So Joe was glad he did not have to make any great alterations. The big new tent would be so arranged that he could ride nearly his three hundred feet, and while the height was slightly reduced, that did not make so much difference.

It was the first day of Joe's performance with the circus he had rejoined. All over the lot there were busy scenes. Men were putting up the canvas shelters, others were feeding the animals or arranging meals for the circus folk themselves. Here and there the acrobats were looking after their apparatus, and Joe had a glimpse of Helen walking across to see about her horse, Rosebud.

"I'm so glad you're back with us, Joe," she said.

"And so am I. It seems like old times."

"Have you heard anything more about your mother's people?" the girl asked. "Any news of the man you overheard speak of her?"

"No, not a thing, and I don't believe I ever shall."

"Oh, you mustn't give up so soon. You may get your inheritance yet. Look how long I had to wait for my little one."

"Oh, I'll take it if it comes," Joe remarked, with a laugh. "But as things are going now I can get along without it. How are matters going with you, Helen?"

"Oh, fine! Rosebud is a darling."

Joe thought he knew of some one else of whom that could be said, but he did not make the remark aloud.

He went over to where his apparatus was put, and with Ryan and Jeroleman began getting it in order to set up. It was about ten o'clock, and the parade would start soon. Then would come the afternoon's performance.

"What are you doing now, boss?" asked Ryan, as he saw Joe busily at work over his shining motor-cycle.

"Oh, it's just a little experiment. If it goes well I'll have a little surprise for the crowd to-night."

"Well, don't take any chances. Remember it's your first ride at night."

"Yes, I know that. Oh, this isn't any risk."

In fact, it was Joe's first night ride. Special lights had been arranged that were to be placed on the ground near the spot where the wires slanted out of the earth. These lights would enable Joe to see properly to guide his grooved front wheel to the cable.

With a blare of trumpets and booming of drums the afternoon performance opened. There was a big crowd, and Jim Tracy ascribed it to the advent of Joe, whose performances on the high wire had been well advertised the week before.

Joe's act came about the middle of the show, after Benny's tank act and Helen's performance with Rosebud.

Our hero noted that Benny was doing well in the tank with the goldfish and the seal, and that the "human fish" could stay under water much longer than formerly.

"I guess the operation did him good in more ways than one," thought Joe.

Helen's act with Rosebud was a dainty and pretty one, and the circus audience, especially the children, liked it very much.

"And now, Joe, we're ready for you," said the ring-master.

"All right," was the answer.

Jim Tracy made an unusually elaborate announcement concerning Joe. He spoke of the youth's having formerly been with the circus in the tank act, which many in the audience remembered, as the show had played the same town the previous season. Then Joe's exploits in New York—climbing the Flatiron Building, and riding his machine across the street—were mentioned, until the throng was on tiptoe with expectancy.

Everything was in readiness, and when Joe, having examined his apparatus to make sure it was all right, sent his machine across the approach space and up the slanting wire, there was a gasp of surprise from the crowd.

There was silence when the boy shot out across the high wire, but it was a greater tribute than a great shout would have been. The shouting and cheers came when Joe rode safely down the other side of the wire.

"Did you like it, Helen?" asked Joe, after he had bowed to the applause.

"I—I didn't dare look at you, Joe," she said.

"Why not?"

"I was afraid you'd fall."

"But I didn't fall!" laughed Joe. "And, really, I'd like to have you see my act."

"I'll look at it some day, maybe," she answered, softly.

Joe had a little surprise for the audience that night. As he shot out on the straight wire his motor-cycle suddenly became ablaze with little twinkling lights. He had secured a storage battery and made it fast to his machine, connecting to it scores of tiny electric incandescent bulbs of the smallest size. These were of various colors, and, flashing on and off as Joe worked the switch with his finger, they made a pretty and novel effect with his white, shimmering, spangled suit.

"Great, Joe! Great!" cried the ring-master, as our hero finished the act. "That's the best yet! Keep it up!"

"I—I looked at you that time," confessed Helen, as he went over toward her.

"And how did you like it?"

"It was wonderful, Joe. I don't see how you think of all those things."

"Oh, they come naturally."

The show moved on, and it did better and better business all along the route, for Joe proved to be a great attraction. Then one day the ring-master said:

"Well, we'll be in New York City next week. We'll show there for a month."

"Where?" asked Joe.

"In Madison Square Garden."

"That's great!" exclaimed the young performer. "Now I can really show New Yorkers what I can do."

It is the ambition of every actor to be seen in a production on Broadway, and it naturally follows that it is the ambition of every circus performer to appear in Madison Square Garden, that big amphitheatre, the Mecca of all circuses, reached by but few.

In the course of time the Sampson Brothers' Show arrived in the metropolis, and the animals, the actors and the mass of paraphernalia were taken to the big building.

"In Madison Square Garden!" thought Joe exultingly. "That's the place for my stunt!"

## CHAPTER XIX

### JOE'S MARKSMANSHIP

There was a different atmosphere about the circus in Madison Square Garden than there had been on the road while showing under canvas. The performers seemed keyed up to a higher pitch, for they realized, or most of them did, that the most critical audience in the world was looking at them.

"You have to make good in New York—or—quit," said Jim Tracy, and Joe felt this to be true. Still he did not worry, as his act had already, in a measure, been on trial in the big city. Some of the other performers, though, were a bit nervous as to how their turns would go. Benny Turton was among them.

"I've never gone into the tank before such a crowd as we'll soon have to face," he said. "I'm afraid I may not do well."

"Oh, of course you will!" Helen exclaimed. "Don't get nervous."

Helen herself did not seem to be the least bit nervous, though she had never faced a New York audience, either. But Helen Morton had the knack, which so many girls and women seem to have, or are able to acquire, of appearing at ease whether she was so or not. It's a matter of nerve possibly; nerve of a different sort, it may be, from that required to perform some hazardous feat.

Madison Square Garden is a big building on Madison Avenue. If one has ever been in New York one will remember that the building has a gold statue of Diana, the huntress, atop the tower. It is the scene of many exhibitions—athletic exhibitions, bicycle riding, automobile and motor-boat shows, as well as a Mecca for the big circuses. It is all under one roof and the animals are exhibited in the basement.

There were busy days spent in getting the show ready for presentation to the public, for things had to be done in a manner different from that when the circus was showing under canvas. At last everything was accomplished by means of the wonderful system showmen have evolved for themselves, and the opening night came. The show opened at night instead of in the afternoon in order to have a bigger throng at the initial performance.

Joe and his two helpers had set up his high-wire apparatus, and he had thoroughly tested it. It did not take the boy long to get used to the difference, and he felt that he could ride as well as he had in the open or under the main-top.

Trumpets blared, the drums boomed and the musicians played lively airs as the crowds filed in. It was a brilliant scene, and many society folk made up parties to take in the wonders of the circus. It was a fashionable fad, which the circus people fostered.

Benny Turton grew more and more nervous as the time for the opening approached, until Joe took him off in a corner and said:

"Look here now. If you don't stop, I'll put you down with the elephants and make you feed them peanuts, while I do your act myself and take all the credit!"

That startled Benny, and he calmed down. And when the time came for him to go into the tank he was as cool as he always had been. He made a big hit, too, for the applause was generous, as it was for Helen and most of the other performers.

The clowns, of course, gave enjoyment, not only to the little folk, many of whom were present, but to their elders as well. Bill Watson had added some new material to his act, which was much enjoyed; and the other clowns, spurred by the magnetism of a New York audience, created gales of laughter.

Joe was given a rousing reception when he came out of the dressing room in his shimmering white suit. He began to think he was better known than he had suspected; which was a fact, for a moving picture concern, in view of Joe's reappearance in New York, had made a specialty of showing in many houses the films taken of him climbing the Flatiron Building, and riding across the street chasm.

The lad rode the wire successfully, though for one tense moment, as he sped across the approaching space, he thought he was riding toward a fall. A rope, loosed from some trapeze apparatus overhead, fell right across the white chalk mark. Joe was on the point of shutting off power, preferring to start over again, but Ryan, who was near the first pair of shears, saw what had happened.

With a leap he reached the rope and pulled it out of the way, at the same time crying to Joe:

"Come on!"

Joe turned the power on full, and a second later he was climbing up the slanted wire and speeding across it. The audience began to applaud, and this increased to a roar of appreciation when the lights were suddenly turned out, and Joe flashed on those decorating his motor-cycle. He made a strange picture up above in the darkness, flashing across the high wire. Then, as he reached the end of the straight course, the Garden was brightly illuminated again, and the lad rode down the other slope of wire.

Our hero had to bow again and again to the applause. His first night in Madison Square Garden was a complete success.

And Joe was glad, not only for his own sake, but for the sake of the show. It needed to draw big crowds to make it pay, and everything that made for popularity counted.

Helen, too, had her share of applause. Dainty horse acts are always well received, even with the growing popularity of the automobile, and Rosebud was certainly a beautiful animal. Helen had a new costume for the New York engagement, and Joe thought he had never seen her look so pretty.

"Yet I wonder if the circus is the best place for her," he mused. "Sometimes I wish she was out of it. While there are plenty of good people in the business, and while my mother was in it, still the atmosphere isn't always of the best. Well, maybe some day when I get rich, and have my inheritance from England, I can take her away."

After the opening night the circus in Madison Square Garden settled down into the regular routine. It was much pleasanter than being on the road, for after the performers had finished their acts in the afternoon their time was their own for enjoyment until night. And there was much to see and enjoy in New York.

At night, too, when they had finished, instead of taking a night trip in a train, the men and women could go to their boarding places and enjoy a comfortable sleep. Though, in truth, by force of habit few of the performers had any trouble in sleeping on the train.

"I must get something new," said Joe to Helen one day, when they came back from a trip down the bay on a sight-seeing yacht.

"Something new? What do you mean?" she asked.

"For my act," was the answer. "I think it needs something else besides the lighting effect, and I'm going to try a new stunt."

"What is it?" asked Helen. "I think your act is all right as it is now."

"No, it needs freshening up," said Joe, "and I'm going to do it."

The next day, as soon as he had finished his act, Joe dressed in his street garments and sought out the nearest public shooting gallery. He took up a rifle and made so many bull's-eyes, and broke so many clay pipes, that the proprietor looked at him in astonishment.

"Are you a professional?" he asked.

"Not a professional shot," said Joe, "though I used to be pretty good at it. But I'm out of practice. I want to work with revolvers, but I thought I'd start with the rifle."

"Well, if you're half as good with the revolver as you are with a rifle, you needn't worry," said the man. "I've another gallery, on purpose for revolver shooting, where the New York police practise."

"I think I should like to try that," said Joe, as he paid his bill for the cartridges. Then he arranged to come on certain days of the week and practise marksmanship.

Target practise with revolvers is vastly different from shooting with a rifle, and Joe was not disappointed when he made low scores at first. But gradually his skill improved, and one day he invited Helen to accompany him, and she saw him do some really remarkable shooting.

"But what's it all for?" she asked. "I know the circus is going out West soon. You're not afraid of bandits or train robbers, are you?"

"No, I've something else in mind," said Joe with a laugh. "I'll let you into the secret soon."

## CHAPTER XX

### OUT WEST

The Sampson Brothers' Show in Madison Square Garden was drawing big crowds, and everything seemed to be going along satisfactorily. Joe's act on the high wire continued to thrill, and at each afternoon and evening performance he received an ovation in the way of applause.

It would not be fair to say that Joe received more applause than any other performer, for there were many who divided honors with him. But the fact that his act was such a novelty counted much in his favor. Then, too, he had been well advertised in the moving pictures and by his climbing of the Flatiron Building.

One night one of the big elephants somehow slipped his leg chains, walked up out of the basement, and wandered into Madison Avenue, there to startle the crowds on the New York streets.

But he was a good-natured elephant, and when, having been missed, a squad of men went after him and found him, he allowed himself to be led back to his place of captivity. For a time he furnished unexpected amusement to the Manhattanites, who are always ready for that sort of thing.

Then, too, there was a fight between two big tigers. That occurred in the early morning hours, and for a time pandemonium reigned in the basement. But the animals were separated without injuring each other very much, though if one had heard the press agent of the show relate the story of the combat to the newspaper men later, one would have imagined that the striped animals were only prevented from devouring each other by the application of elephant ankuses and red-hot irons.

But that's how press agents earn their money, and, after all, the fight was sufficiently fierce. It made a "good story," and bigger crowds than ever came to the show to see the advertised beasts.

It was one afternoon, following a performance that had not been as well attended as usual, that Joe passed Jim Tracy while the latter was sitting on one of the big half-barrels used in an elephant act. The ring-master seemed to be troubled about something.

"What's wrong?" asked Joe. "Are the elephants eating too many peanuts, or have you the tooth-ache?"

"Neither one," the ring-master said.

"Well, something is the matter," Joe insisted.

"Yes, there is," agreed Jim Tracy. "The truth of the matter is that I want a novelty and I don't know where to get it. I've been around to all the booking offices, and they haven't anything on their lists but what is as old as the hills. I want something new—something that will put a little ginger into our show. We've got to attract the crowds during the time we have left here. When we are out on the road I'm not so much worried—we'll get the crowds then. But in New York it's different. They expect something new all the while and we've got to give it to 'em."

"Well, maybe we can," observed Joe, and there was a twinkle in his eyes which the ring-master did not see.

"Give it to 'em? That's the trouble!" exclaimed Jim Tracy. "I don't see how we can. I've tried to work up a new animal act, but it doesn't seem to go. I've spoken to a number of the performers, asking them if they didn't have something up their sleeves, but they said they were doing all they could, and I guess that's right."

"You didn't ask me," said Joe quietly.

"You!" exclaimed the ring-master. "Why, I guess you're doing your share, Joe. I don't expect you to add anything new. Yours is the biggest novelty in the circus now. I don't see that you can add to it."

"Oh, but I can, though," said Joe. "I've been preparing a little something, and I guess it's about time to pull it off now."

"For the love of sawdust! what is it?" cried Jim. "Tell me quick. Is there a chance?"

"Well, of course, I don't know how it will go," admitted the motor-cycle wire-rider. "But I've been practising on the quiet, and now I'm ready to try a dress rehearsal, as you might say."

"Good!" cried the ring-master. "Do you want any help?"

"Only what Ryan and Jeroleman can give me. They're in the game with me. Now, if you like, I'll show you what I can do."

"You're not going to cut out the wire act, are you?" asked Jim Tracy anxiously.

"No, indeed! This is just an addition to it. Just wait a few minutes."

"All right. Hurry though."

Joe summoned his two helpers, and while one of them brought out the motor-cycle, the other brought a box from the place where Joe kept his paraphernalia in the big ring. There were only a few of the circus attendants in the Garden at that hour, for most of them were at supper or getting ready for the night performance.

After Joe had given his "dress rehearsal" as he called it, though he rode in ordinary clothes, not putting on his fancy suit, there was a shout of approval from Jim Tracy and from some of the other ring-masters and managers of the big show.

"Great! Fine!" cried Jim enthusiastically. "That will make 'em stand up and yell all right, Joe. It's just the novelty I've been looking for, but I didn't think you'd spring it. Is that what you have been doing every afternoon when you went off with Ryan and Jeroleman?"

"Yes," admitted our hero. "I needed some practice, and I got it on the road. I knew if I could do it over an uneven road I could do it on the smooth wire."

"And will you put it on to-night?"

"I sure will."

"Then I'll tip off the newspaper boys that there'll be something doing. They haven't been giving us good write-ups lately. This is great, Joe!"

There was an air of subdued excitement among the circus folk at the performance that night. For though Joe had tried to keep his little novelty a secret, it had leaked out and his fellow performers were on the alert for what would happen during his act.

The usual preparations were made, but Joe was more than usually careful to look to every part of his apparatus. He went over the life-net twice, though Ryan and Jeroleman assured him that they had tested it thoroughly.

Then he looked to the wire, and made sure that it was properly taut, while at the places where it emerged from the buried anchors, he had the surface of the ground smoothed down just before he started to ride, though already it was as level as a billiard table.

"But I'm going to take no chances," said Joe, grimly.

He went carefully over every inch of the approach, and at last he announced himself satisfied. The motor-cycle was wheeled into place and Joe took his position in the saddle. Then Ryan handed to him what seemed to be a bundle wrapped in a flag.

"Oh, he's going to pull the old stunt," said one of the Lascalla Brothers, with whom Joe had formerly been associated. "He's going to wave the United States flag when he's in the middle of the wire. That'll get him a hand, sure, but it is as old as the hills."

"Maybe he'll do it differently," suggested Señor Bogardi, the lion tamer.

"You wait and see," returned Tonzo Lascalla, sneeringly.

Having seen that Joe was all ready, Ryan and Jeroleman took their positions on the ground, off to the sides but at the middle of the high wire.

"All ready?" called Joe.

"Ready!" answered his helpers in chorus.

There was a sputter as the gasoline motor started, and Joe shot forward on his machine. Up the incline he went, and then he rode out on the level, high wire.

There was an expectant hush as he neared the middle of the stretch, for it seemed as if the audience had half felt that something unusual was to occur. And then, in the center of the span of wire, something did happen.

Joe took his hands from the guiding bars of his machine, and a close observer could have seen that he was steering with his legs, cords running from the end of each handle bar to his knees.

There was a flutter of flags. Tonzo Lascalla had guessed partly right, for in each of Joe's hands fluttered the stars and stripes. But this was not all.

From down on the ground where Ryan stood there was a motion, and a big red glass ball went whirling up into the air toward Joe's right hand. He extended that arm. There was a flash of flame, a puff of smoke, a sharp report, and the red ball was shattered to bits.

Then, on the other side, tossed up by Jeroleman, came a blue ball. Again the fire, the smoke, and the report, and that ball was shattered. And then, dropping the two pistols into the net below him, Joe grasped the handle bars of his machine, which had been going at full speed when he shot, and down the incline he steered it.

There was a moment's hush before the crowd realized what had happened, and then there broke out a tumult of cheers, yells, applause and whistling—this last from the top gallery.

While riding across the high wire Joe had broken two glass balls with two pistol shots.

"Great, Joe! Great!" cried Jim, rushing up to him. "It went even better than I thought it would. That puts the ginger in all right! Listen to 'em!"

The crowd was still applauding.

"So this is what your target practice meant," said Helen, as she went up to shake hands with Joe.

"Yes," he said. "I knew it wouldn't do to make any misses, and so I practised. Then when I got so I was pretty fair in the gallery I went out in the most secluded roads I could find, riding my old machine, and I broke balls as Ryan and Jeroleman tossed them up. It took a little while to get into form, but——"

"You did it!" cried the ring-master. "This will make a hit all right!"

And it did. There were good press notices, and the attendance that had begun to fall off was increased.

"It couldn't have happened at a better time," said Jim Tracy. "For we go West in three weeks, and we'll have some dandy advance notices, thanks to you, Joe."

While the show remained in Madison Square Garden Joe continued to do his shooting trick, creating a sensation twice a day.

The final performance had been given in the big Garden, the animals had been led out to the cars to which they had been strangers for some time, the performers had packed their trunks, and once more the circus was on the road, heading for the West.

## CHAPTER XXI

### RECOGNITION

There were a creaking of wheels, a shrill screeching of brakes, footings of whistles, and shouts of men. Then the long, heavy trains came to a halt.

"Where are we?" asked sleepy voices.

"I guess we've arrived," came an answer from no one in particular.

"Well, we don't have to get up yet," was announced from one of the berths, where the sound of a shade being pulled up could be heard, indicating that the occupant of the bed had looked out to see how near daylight it was.

Then followed a confused jumble of sounds, amid which the performers tried to get a little more slumber.

The circus train was in.

Big rumbling wagons were eased down off the flat cars on heavy runways. From some of the wagons came frightened whimperings or saucy chatterings—the monkeys. From others came snarls and deep-throated roars—the cats, as lions and tigers are called. Then, from other wagons came more queer noises, a sort of combined bellowing and rumbling as if in protest. That was the "hippo" and the "rhino," the short names the circus men used for the hippopotamus and the rhinoceros.

Seemingly there was a riot of confusion, but in reality everything moved along like clockwork. Each man knew what he had to do, and did it. With the exception of the cooks and their assistants, whose duty it was to get ready the meals for the performers and the hands, the canvasmen were busiest of all, for the animal tent must be put up ready to receive the denizens of forest, field or jungle, and there must be shelter for the hundreds of horses.

The putting up of the main-top could be attended to later.

The elephants came shuffling on their padded feet from their cars where they had been swaying to and fro all night, and for several nights, for the circus had been four days on the road. Once the elephants had descended, first gingerly trying the runway with their feet to see if it would hold their enormous weight, they were put to work pushing the heavy wagons into position so that the big teams of horses could be attached to haul them to the circus lot.

Through all the noise and confusion the men and women performers slept, for they were used to the racket, and would probably have apprehended something queer had it been missing.

"Well, now the work begins," murmured Tonzo Lascalla, stretching lazily and thrusting his head out between the curtains of his berth.

"Work! You mean the fun!" exclaimed Joe Strong, who was across the aisle. "I'm tired of this railroad traveling. I want to get under the main-top again, and see the crowds, hear the music and——"

"It's easy to see you're young at the business," commented Tonzo. "You will lose your enthusiasm."

"I hope not!" returned Joe. "I don't want to get old."

The gray dawn slowly broke. Already much of the circus paraphernalia was unloaded, and hundreds of men were on the lot arranging the tents. From the cook wagons and from the big soup caldrons on the ground, came the appetizing odors of breakfast. In their tents many horses were already munching hay and oats from canvas mangers.

The performers, in their sleeping cars, began to rouse, to stretch, to wash and make ready to get their morning meal. Some were cross—"temperamental," it might be called. Others were jolly, calling and laughing one to another.

"Are you glad to be on the road again?" asked Helen of Joe, as they walked together to the breakfast tent.

"Indeed, I am," he said. "I've never been West, and I know I'm going to like it. Fine air you have out here."

"Yes," admitted Helen, with a laugh that showed her white teeth, "it is nice. I've always liked the West, though I haven't seen much of it since I was a child."

"And I'm glad to be able to get at my act again," said Joe. "The days on the road have made me a bit rusty, I'm afraid."

"Oh, no!" protested Helen.

The circus had made an unusually long jump from New York, and now it would finish the season out West. It was the intention to winter in one of the Southern states, and work back East again with the advent of spring.

After Joe and Helen had eaten with some of their friends, they separated, Helen to get ready for the parade, for she now took part in that as a princess. She had to see to Rosebud. As for Joe, he wanted to see that all of his high-wire apparatus was on hand and ready for setting up.

He strolled over toward the spot where the big tent would be erected, and found his helpers already on hand.

"Everything here?" asked Joe.

"Seems so," answered Ryan. "We've just been checking up, and nothing seems to be missing. Feel all right?"

"Fit as a fiddle. I'm anxious for a little practice though, so I think I'll go off for a spin, if you can manage things here."

"Oh, sure, we'll be all right," said Jeroleman.

Joe got his road motor-cycle out from his baggage and was soon spinning down a pleasant country road. He was one of the more privileged performers, and there was little for him to do except to ride in his thrilling act. His men did all the hard work, though many persons thought Joe's act was hard enough work in itself.

"This is great!" exclaimed Joe, as he spun along at high speed. He breathed in deep of the crisp air, filling his lungs as he had done when performing in the tank.

As he rode along the highway on his return, he saw many farm wagons with laughing crowds of young and old folk on their way to the show. He felt in fine form when he returned to the circus lot, and quite ready to do his act.

"I hope we have a good audience," mused Joe, as he went to look over his apparatus, which had been put up in the big tent.

His hope was confirmed, for the canvas shelter was crowded when the band blared out the opening notes for the grand entry. Around the circle went the elephants, the camels, the horses and the performers. The show was playing its first date in the West.

"Now, Joe, ready for you!" called the ring-master, for a slight change had been made in the time of some of the acts, and Joe's came on a little earlier.

Joe had made certain that everything was in good order. With a rattle and bang of his machine he started across the ground toward the inclined wire. Another instant he was up on it and was getting ready to break the colored glass balls, a feature which had made such a sensation. Then, with practiced aim, Joe shattered them both, while the crowd applauded. He then shot down the other inclined wire. But he was going faster than he realized, or perhaps he did not have as good control of his machine as he thought, for he rode past his usual stopping place, on toward the crowded seats of the grand stand, before which his wire was stretched.

"Look out!" shouted some apprehensive ones.

"Oh, there's no danger," answered Joe with a laugh, as he put on the brake extra hard and stopped a safe distance away. Some of the men and women in the lower seats had jumped out of the way, fearing Joe would run into them, but they now laughed and made ready to resume their places.

"Don't be alarmed," went on Joe. As he spoke he saw a man looking intently at him; and something in the man's face attracted his attention.

"Where have I seen him before?" he asked himself, as he dismounted from the machine so Ryan could take it.

The man himself seemed strangely affected. He advanced toward Joe with his hand half extended.

"I'm not quite sure," he began, "but I think I have seen you before."

"And I'm sure I've seen you," Joe said. "But I can't place you."

"Aren't you the young man who so kindly aided us when our automobile turned turtle in a stream in some little country town back East?" asked the man.

Then, in a flash recognition came to Joe.

"Of course!" he cried. "You're Mr. Floyd Strailey, and your friend Mr. Forrest Craige was with you." And then Joe's memory served him another turn. He recalled a certain voice in a crowd.

"Where is Mr. Craige?" he asked eagerly. "I want very much to meet him!"

"I can tell you where he is," answered Mr. Strailey. "We both tried to find you, afterward, but could not."

"And I tried to find you," returned Joe, while to himself he said: "I believe I'm on the track of solving the mystery."

## CHAPTER XXII

### GOOD NEWS

Joe's recognition of the man had created a little commotion in the audience near Mr. Strailey's seat. Joe realized this, and, not wishing to disturb others, he said:

"If you don't mind, and will come to my dressing room, I shall be very glad to have a talk with you. That is, unless you want to stay and see the rest of the performance."

"Oh, I'm not particular. I came to see you, anyhow."

"To see me?" asked Joe, as he walked beside Mr. Strailey toward the performer's exit.

"Well, yes. I'd heard about you, and had seen you in the moving pictures, and I wanted to see you in reality. So I came."

"Was it up to expectations?" Joe asked, with a smile.

"Much more so. I never saw anything as nervy as that."

"Glad you like it!" Joe exclaimed. "Was it as nervy as the riding my mother, Janet Willoughby, used to do in England?" he asked, with a sudden desire to put his ideas to the test.

"Janet Willoughby!" exclaimed Mr. Strailey. "Was she really your mother?"

"She was," answered Joe. "And she married Alexander Strong, who was known on the stage as Professor Morretti."

"Then it is just as Craige fancied," the other said. "He was not sure, but he will be now. I must communicate with him."

"Look here!" exclaimed Joe earnestly, "I don't know whether I am on the right road or not, but for some time I have been trying to get on the track of my mother's relatives in England. And I need not keep back the reason. It is because I think there may be an inheritance due me from her estate."

"I will answer you as to that in a little while," was Mr. Strailey's answer. "Tell me all you know."

By this time they had reached Joe's dressing room. He had one to himself now, and, giving a camp-chair to his visitor and sitting on a trunk himself, Joe began the conversation.

"There is no need of going into details about the automobile accident," he said.

"No," agreed his companion. "It was most unfortunate, in a way, but we got out of it very luckily, thanks to you."

"I may be wrong," Joe resumed, "but I have an idea that Mr. Craige showed a strange interest in me when he heard my name."

"He did," was Mr. Strailey's answer. "For he knew your mother in England, and he knew she had been disowned when she married your father.

"Still the name 'Strong' is not uncommon and Craige was not sure you were the son of Janet Willoughby. But at the time of the motor accident there was no opportunity to make sure."

"And you went away in such a hurry that I had no chance to talk to you," said Joe.

"Yes, there was an important business deal in which Mr. Craige and I were involved, and a delay meant a serious loss to us," explained Mr. Strailey. "So when we found that neither of us was seriously hurt, and that the car could be made to run, we went on."

"You did not leave any address," suggested Joe.

"No, we forgot that, and it was a source of regret to us afterward, for my friend wanted to get in communication with you for your own good. He even went to the length of coming back to the doctor's office some weeks later, but neither the physician nor the farmer could tell us anything about you."

"I suppose not," said Joe. "I don't recall, now, whether I left my address or not. Probably I did not, for I couldn't tell where I was going to be. And so we missed one another."

"Yes," assented Mr. Strailey. "You mentioned something about being with a circus, but Craige forgot the name, or possibly you did not mention it, and it was not until recently that, seeing your name on the advance posters of this circus that was to come here, Craige and I had an idea you might be the same youth that rescued us. It was a strange coincidence. As soon as you rode toward me a little while ago, I recognized you at once."

"I have seen Mr. Craige, or rather heard his voice, once since the auto accident," stated Joe.

"Is that so? Where?"

"It was when I was giving an open-air exhibition before I rejoined the circus. I had completed my ride over the high wire when I heard some one in the crowd say:

"'By Jove! that was clever! My! that boy has as much nerve as a girl I knew in England. Janet Willoughby was a daring rider!' That was what I heard," stated Joe. "And it at once set me to thinking, for that was my mother's name. I tried to get in communication with that man, who, I feel sure now, was Mr. Craige."

"It was," admitted Mr. Strailey. "He told me about it afterward, but he did not recognize you as the youth who had helped us, and I suppose he did not take note of the name that was on the posters."

"Very likely," Joe agreed. "I wore a different sort of suit from the one he had seen me in, and he did not stay after he made the remark that set me thinking. I tried to find him in the crowd, and even engaged a sort of amateur private detective. But it was useless.

"And I even advertised in the papers," went on Joe, "hoping to get some trace of Mr. Craige that way, though at the time I did not know it was he. It is only to-day that I connect him with the strange man in the crowd who spoke of my mother."

"Yes, it is a strange coincidence all around," agreed the Englishman. "Craige and I, with some friends, have been out here some time, looking after mining interests, and I guess we did not pay much attention to the papers. However, we have found you at last."

"And where is Mr. Craige?" asked Joe.

"He is in Boltville, looking after some of our interests there. But I am sure he will be glad to come on and tell you what he knows of your affairs."

"Has he anything to do with my mother's estate?" asked Joe.

"I think not," was the answer. "It is only that he knows something about it. He knows more than I do, for he came from the shire of Surrey, where your mother's people lived, while I am a Yorkshire man."

"Then you can't tell me anything definite?" asked Joe, a little less hopeful.

"Yes, I think I can tell you good news," was the smiling answer.

"Good news!" cried Joe. "Then I have an inheritance?"

"Well, now, I'll not be positive," replied Mr. Strailey, "but this is how the matter stands. What I tell you, I have from Mr. Craige, and not of my own knowledge.

"Your mother, as you probably know, came from a wealthy and aristocratic family. When she married Mr. Strong, who was, I believe, a stage magician, she—er—she was——"

He seemed to hesitate for fear of wounding Joe's feelings.

"Oh, go on!" exclaimed the young circus actor. "I know all about that. Others have told me. My mother's people cast her off because she married a public performer and became one herself. But she loved my father, I'm sure of that, and I think more of him and her—their memories—than I do of all the wealth and aristocrats of England!"

"That's right, my boy. Though I am an Englishman, I think some of our standards are wrong. It's worth that tells every time. But I suppose you know why your mother preferred to marry your father, even at the risk of being disowned by her family?"

He looked questioningly at Joe.

"I presume it was because she loved him," he said.

"Yes, and because her relatives were trying to force her into marrying a good-for-nothing nobleman, who had a title and not much else. But your mother was not that kind of girl."

"Good for her!" cried Joe softly, and there were tears in his eyes.

"Now I don't know all the ins and outs of English law," went on Mr. Strailey, "but from what Craige has told me I think your mother was entitled to a share in a large estate, and you, being her heir, would naturally get it now. But Craige can tell you more about it than can I. You must see him."

"That's just what I want to do!" cried Joe.

## CHAPTER XXIII

### A WILD RIDE

Strange indeed had been the coincidence of Joe's meeting once again with one of the men he had helped at the time of their automobile accident, and he and Mr. Strailey talked about it at some length.

"And now," said Joe in conclusion, "where can I get hold of Mr. Craige?"

"I was just going to speak about that," said his companion. "At present he is closing up a mining deal in Allaire," naming a city about a hundred miles away. "We can write to him there, or, rather, I will, and explain about you. Then we can find out whether Craige is coming this way, which will make it easier for you to see him, or if he is going farther West. In that case perhaps you'll not be able to get away from the circus to go to him."

"It would be a little hard to get away in the height of the season," confessed Joe. "I suppose I could correspond with him."

"It would be much better to see him," suggested the other. "For there are things he would like to talk over with you, I'm sure. Is there any way you could get into personal communication with him?"

"How long is he likely to be in Allaire?" asked Joe.

"I couldn't say."

"I was going to say that the circus route will take us within ten miles of Allaire in about a week," went on Joe, "and I could easily ride over to see him between performances. But a hundred miles and return is a little too much to cover between the afternoon and evening performances. I couldn't do it even if I had the flying machine I'm thinking of getting."

"Are you going in for aeronautics?" asked Mr. Strailey.

"Well, not exactly the way it's done now," answered Joe. "I have an idea of my own that I'd like to carry out, but it would take more money than I have at present. I just mentioned it casually."

"I see. Well, I think the best thing to do is to write to my friend Craige at once, and tell him everything. Then we can find out what is the best thing to do. I'll write for you."

"Thanks," returned Joe, gratefully. "Are you going to be in this vicinity long?"

"No, I leave to-day. But you won't need my services after you get in touch with Craige. He can do all that is necessary, as he knows the facts and the situation in England, while I don't. He'll help you all he can, I'm sure. And both he and I will never forget your help at the time of the motor accident."

"Oh, that wasn't anything," said Joe.

At the same time he could not help thanking his lucky stars that he had had that opportunity of making the acquaintance of the two men.

"For it may lead to something after all," mused Joe.

He and Mr. Strailey talked over the matter at some length, and decided upon the form of letter to be sent to Mr. Craige. That was all that could be done at the time.

As Mr. Strailey was leaving Helen passed the dressing tent and nodded and smiled at Joe, who introduced her to his companion.

"This is one of the two gentlemen who are going to help me get my English fortune," said Joe. "You notice how sure I am that I have one coming to me," and he laughed.

"Well, stranger things have happened," said Mr. Strailey. "And I am sure you deserve some good luck, Joe, for all the risks you take."

"Doesn't he!" exclaimed Helen. "I wish he'd get rich enough to give it all up—this terribly risky motor-cycle riding."

"Well, if he gives that up he may go in for something more risky—aeroplaning," said the Englishman.

"Aeroplaning!" exclaimed Helen. "That's the first I've heard of that, Joe."

"Oh, it isn't exactly aeroplaning," Joe replied. "And I haven't given it more than a passing thought. If I go in for it, though, it will be in a safe way, so you needn't worry, Helen."

"Mr. Strong has no one else to worry about him, so I take that responsibility upon myself," she remarked, blushing prettily as she nodded to Mr. Strailey.

"I see," he remarked, with a quick glance toward Joe, who grew red in his turn.

Joe had new food for thought now, in anticipating what would be the outcome of the correspondence with Mr. Craige.

In writing to his friend, Mr. Strailey had given the dates on which the circus would show in several different Western cities, so Mr. Craige could mail letters to Joe.

"Well, good luck to you!" called the Englishman as he parted from Joe, "and don't give that pretty little girl too much to worry about."

"I won't," promised Joe, shaking hands. And then to himself he added: "I wonder what he means."

Just as if he did not know!

Joe's thoughts, as he made ready for the evening performance, were very often on what the future might have in store for him. Several times in the midst of attiring himself in his white, glittering suit he found himself dreaming of some stately English home, and wondering if he would have a share in some vast estate.

"If it comes true," murmured Joe, "I can build that machine."

But, with all his day-dreaming, Joe did not forget what he was in the circus for, and when the time to ride the high wire came he concentrated all his attention on that.

"It won't do to have an accident now, and cheat myself out of my inheritance," the lad reflected.

He decided to divide his riding act into two parts at the evening performances. This was because he wanted to ride across with his illuminated wheel, and also shoot at the glass balls, and he could not do both at the same time.

He might possibly have arranged it, but it was risky trying to steer with his knees, throw on the switch controlling the storage battery and shoot at the ascending balls.

"Besides," reasoned Joe, "it's giving the crowd too much at once. They can't digest it."

In the afternoon, of course, his wheel was not illuminated, as the lights would not show; so Joe merely rode across the high wire then, and shot at the balls as he reached the center of the span.

"It will be better to add to the act at night because we have bigger crowds out then," said Jim Tracy, when Joe told the ring-master of the new plan.

The high-wire rider put his plan into effect the night of the day on which he had seen Mr. Strailey again. There was a yell of delight, especially from the boys in the circus audience, when Joe flashed on the lights that outlined his swiftly moving machine on the high wire. But there was more in store for the crowd.

Joe had made another change. Instead of using glass balls at night he provided Ryan and Jeroleman with inflated toy balloons. To each one was attached a lighted taper, so arranged that the heat of it would not burst the little rubber bag.

The balloons floated up, one on each side, the lights glowing, and as they came within range Joe broke first one and then the other, as he rode swiftly along.

That "brought down the house" to use a theatrical term, and the applause was loud and long. The circus crowd appreciated a thrilling act, and Joe's feat fulfilled every expectation.

Again the show was on the road. Matters ran along in their usual routine, and the performers began to make their plans for the coming winter, though there were still several weeks when they would yet be on the Western circuit before the show would settle down to winter in one of the Southern States.

Joe looked eagerly for a letter from Mr. Craige, and at last one was received.

It was not very satisfactory, however, except that it seemed to hold a promise of a better epistle to follow. Mr. Craige stated that he was glad to hear of Joe again, adding that in a few days he would write at length. Just then he was too busy with a mining proposition. The letter concluded with the words:

"If you can prove your identity, which I have no doubt you can do, I think there is money coming to you."

"That'll be fine!" reflected Joe.

One day Helen saw Joe reading a book while waiting for his cue to go into the tent for his wire act.

"I didn't know you cared for novels," she said playfully.

"Novels?" repeated Joe, rather taken by surprise. He tried to conceal the title of the volume, but Helen had already had a glance at it. The book was a work dealing with dirigible balloons and aeroplanes.

"What in the world are you trying to do, Joe?" she asked. "Was Mr. Strailey right? Are you really going to become a 'birdman,' as they call them?"

Joe looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he said:

"Look here, Helen! I haven't said anything about this, because it's such a wild idea that I guess nearly every one would laugh at me. It's nothing more than a dream at present."

"Tell me your dreams," she suggested.

Joe shook his head.

"I wish I could, for I'd like to talk it over with some one," he went on. "But it isn't in any shape yet. I'm merely getting all the information I can on the subject."

"Well, there's one thing sure," Helen said, "you can hardly give an aeroplane exhibition in a circus tent."

"It isn't exactly an aeroplane that I'm thinking of," said Joe. "I don't know what you would call it. But I might be able to use it in a circus tent if it works right."

"Well," murmured Helen with a sigh, "I'm not very good at guessing."

"I'll tell you all about it when the time comes," promised Joe, as he heard the signal summoning him to the big tent.

Two days later Joe received another letter from Mr. Craige. This was a long epistle and went into detail concerning Joe's mother, with whom the writer had been somewhat closely associated as a boy in England.

The epistle stated that the Willoughby estate was a large one and on the death of Jason Willoughby, Joe's grandfather, it had been partitioned among the heirs.

"Your mother's share, as I understand it, is still held in trust for her heirs," the letter read. "And, I also understand, you are the only one entitled to the money she would have received from her father had she lived. However, there was a clause in your grandfather's will, cutting your mother off. This he partially revoked just before his death. So you may be able to get the money.

"If you will come to see me at Waterville, where I shall be until the end of the week, I will talk the matter over with you, and tell you how best to proceed. I can also give you letters of introduction to two or three men in England who can help you, I think."

Joe quickly looked up the route of the circus. In another day it would be at Claredale, which was within a comparatively short distance of Waterville.

"We get in Saturday, too," mused the lad. "I can ride over Sunday, and have all day to talk with Mr. Craige. That's what I'll do."

This plan Joe carried out. That is, early Sunday morning he made ready to ride over to Waterville on his road motor-cycle.

"Want to come along, Helen?" he asked.

"No, thank you," she said. "I have promised Mrs. Watson to go for a walk with her, though I'd love to go with you."

"Some other time then," the boy replied.

The day seemed a fateful one for Joe. Half way to Waterville he got a puncture and had to walk three miles to a garage to have the tire repaired. Then, he had not ridden on more than two miles before the sprocket chain, which seemed always to give more or less trouble, broke, and he had to go back to the same garage to have that repaired.

It was then noon, and he decided to have dinner before proceeding. It was three o'clock before the youth reached Waterville, the final delay being due to the fact that some one misdirected him as to the road.

When Joe finally called at the address given by Mr. Craige, it was to meet with another disappointment For the Englishman had left word that business had called him to Burton, a town seven miles farther on.

"Well, this surely is not my lucky day!" exclaimed Joe. "But I'm going to keep on. I must see Mr. Craige."

One would have thought that Fate had played Joe enough tricks, but she still had one up her sleeve, so to speak—the worst one of all, for the former ones were easily enough overcome.

"Mr. Craige?" repeated the man, of whom Joe inquired in Burton. "Why, yes, he was here."

"Was!" exclaimed Joe. "Isn't he here now?"

The man shook his head.

"He received a telegram a while ago," he said, "calling him to England, and he has just left."

"How could he leave for England from here?"

"Well, I didn't exactly mean that," the man went on, "but he left here in order to catch the express that will take him to New York, where he can get a boat for England."

"I see," said Joe, rather gloomily. "Well, I guess I've missed him—at least until he comes back."

"Yes, he's coming back in a few months," the man said, "but you might catch him now before he takes the train."

"How?" asked Joe, stimulated to sudden interest.

"He left in an auto just a few minutes ago to get the train at Borden. That's the only place the express stops. He has just about time to make it, though."

"Which way did he go, and where's Borden?" cried Joe.

The man informed him. Joe darted toward his motor-cycle, which he had left standing in the road.

"Where you going?" asked the man.

"I'm going to catch that auto!" cried Joe, and he started off on a wild ride.

## CHAPTER XXIV

### THE CABLEGRAM

Joe Strong hardly stopped to consider what he was doing. He had but one thought in mind, and that was to get in communication with Mr. Craige, and that as soon as possible.

"For if he goes to England," mused Joe, "there is no telling when he may come back, and I'll have no end of bother writing back and forth about mother's property—or mine," he added, and tears came into his eyes as he thought of her. "Then, too, if I can see him before he takes the New York express, I may be able to induce him to act for me, or get a lawyer, or whatever they call the law-folk in England. Yes, I've just got to get him."

So Joe started on his wild ride, leaving a rather surprised man watching him.

"That lad will certainly make things hum!" said the man who had told Joe how to reach Mr. Craige.

And if Joe himself was not humming, his motor-cycle was. The machine had served him many a good turn in spite of the fact that now and then it went back on him, getting punctures or breaking its chain.

"If it hadn't been for this I'd never have met Mr. Craige and his friend," reflected Joe, as he rode along, "and I never would have been able to work up the circus act which is bringing me in such a good salary. And if I didn't have it now I'd never be able to take after the elusive Mr. Craige, as I'm doing."

Joe was on the only road that led to the town of Borden, and he knew that with speed enough he would overtake the automobile in which the Englishman was traveling. Joe had obtained a description of the car from the man in Burton who had told him about Mr. Craige.

"And there are not so many autos out in this part of the country to-day that I'll mistake it," reasoned the youth.

However, that only goes to show how one can be mistaken.

As Joe topped a hill in the road he saw descending the slope a big car which answered the description of the one he had in mind.

"There he is!" Joe cried, and he turned on more power, so that he rushed down the hill at really dangerous speed. But he did not want to miss his man, and the time for the arrival of the train was dangerously close.

"Hi there! Stop! Wait a minute!" cried Joe, but of course his voice was drowned in the noise of his own machine and in that made by the automobile ahead of him, which was traveling away at a good rate of speed.

"I've just got to get ahead of them!" thought Joe.

He put on all the power he dared used, and, aided by the down grade, he was quickly overtaking the car. Just ahead, and at the point where Joe thought he could pass and get in front to bring the automobile to a stop, was a narrow bridge.

"It's going to be a tight squeeze to get through," thought Joe, "and I hope it isn't as rickety as the other bridge in which Mr. Craige and I figured."

The bridge was safe enough as regarded its weight-sustaining qualities, but it was so narrow, and the automobile was so wide, that Joe had barely room to pass. As it was he had to take one hand from the steering bar to avoid having his knuckles scraped against the guard rail.

But Joe's practice in riding the wire stood him in good stead now, and he was able to ride straight through the narrow passage.

Out in front of the automobile he shot, to the no small surprise of the chauffeur, who had no idea any one was behind him.

Putting on all his power, Joe got ahead and then, coming to a quick stop, he dismounted and held up a hand.

With a screeching of the brake bands the car halted, and an elderly gentleman, putting his head out of the window, cried:

"What do you mean by stopping me? I am not exceeding the speed limit. I'm sure, for I was watching the meter myself."

Joe was taken by surprise. The man was not Mr. Craige at all!

"I beg your pardon," was all Joe could say. "I have made a mistake. I thought a friend of mine was in the car."

"Humph!" grunted the occupant, while the colored chauffeur grinned, showing an expanse of white teeth.

"Have you seen another auto like yours along this road?" asked Joe. "It's very important that I should find it."

The elderly gentleman seemed mollified by Joe's evident sincerity, and said he had seen no other car.

"Then he must still be ahead of me," said Joe. "I'll ride on. Thank you."

His motor was still running and he quickly threw in the clutch, and speeded off ahead of the automobile, which came on more slowly.

"I must reach him soon now," mused our hero, "or he'll get the train, and that means a long delay for me. I've got to get him."

He rode on, and about a mile from Borden, as he noted by a cross-road sign-post, he saw ahead of him an automobile very similar to the one he had so uselessly pursued.

"If he isn't in that I'll give up!" thought Joe. "At least for the time being."

This car was moving much faster than the other had been, and Joe was hard put to overtake it. He hung near the rear wheels for some time, vainly endeavoring to get up speed enough to pass, but the chauffeur of the automobile was evidently bent on making time himself, and he needed to, for, as he went on, there sounded through the clear air the note of a locomotive whistle.

This car was moving much faster than the other had been.

"There's the train!" cried Joe. "It's going to be touch and go."

He tried to shout, thinking if the automobile would stop long enough he could get in it, and ride along with Mr. Craige, explaining matters and asking his advice as they rode to the depot.

"Then I could walk back and get my motor-cycle," reflected Joe.

But his shouts were not heard, and it was not until he had followed the machine to the very depot platform that he had actually overtaken it.

A man whom Joe recognized at once as Mr. Craige got out and ran into the station.

"Hey! Wait a minute!" begged Joe.

"No time to stop now. No time to stop now!" came floating back the answer. "I've got to get my ticket for the express. She's coming now."

This was true enough, for the train was even then slowing up to make the stop.

Joe was determined not to give up. He followed Mr. Craige into the station and waited while the ticket was purchased. Mr. Craige had his back to Joe, and when he turned around our hero exclaimed:

"Don't you know me, Mr. Craige? I'm Joe Strong, who helped you and Mr. Strailey the time of your auto accident last spring."

No sign of recognition showed on the Englishman's face.

"I have very little time to converse with you," he said, "but though I do know, or, rather, I have heard of a Joe Strong, you do not in the least resemble him. Pardon me, but I must take the train."

Joe was taken aback, and then a hasty glance in a mirror showed him what was wrong. It was the goggles he wore to protect his eyes from dust. In a trice he snatched them off and cried:

"Do you know me now?"

"By Jove! It is the youth who did us such a good turn—Joe Strong!" cried Mr. Craige. "Pardon me. I am so sorry I did not recognize you."

"That's all right," said Joe. "I've been following you up all day. What about my inheritance? Is there anything due me?"

"It is most unfortunate that I have to leave at once for England, or I could talk to you about it," said Mr. Craige. "I will go into the matter when I return. I feel sure there is something due you."

"We can talk now," said Joe. "If you go to England I was in hope that you might act for me—of course for a compensation."

"But we can't talk now, my dear chap. The train is coming. Here it is now!"

At that moment the express drew into the station.

"Yes, we can talk!" exclaimed Joe. "I'll ride to the next station with you, and we can go over the matter that way. I'll come back here by train, pick up my machine, and ride on back to the circus!"

"By Jove! You Americans certainly do things!" cried Mr. Craige. "Well, come along. I'm in a tremendous hurry. Things are rather tangled up in our mining syndicate, and I have to go to London to straighten them out. It's lucky you caught me, for, as you say, if there is anything due you I might be able to start things moving for you on the other side. Come on; we've no time to lose."

Joe quickly bought a ticket for the next station at which the express stopped and followed Mr. Craige into the car. He left his motor-cycle in charge of the Borden baggageman.

"And now to business," said Mr. Craige. "We haven't any too much time as it is. This is a fast train, and it won't be long before we're at Mill Junction, where you'll have to get off or be carried a hundred miles east, and then you'll not be able to get back in time for your next performance."

Joe realized this, and at once plunged into the subject. He told of the meeting with Mr. Strailey and all that followed, and ended by producing certain documents, proving his birth and his right to the name Joe Strong.

On his part Mr. Craige spoke of his early acquaintance with Janet Willoughby, Joe's mother, and with her people in Surrey.

"And that there is something due you, I'm sure," said Mr. Craige, "for the estate was a large one. I was interested in you and that phase of the matter the day of our motor accident, when I heard your name. And I intended to follow up the matter, but you know what happened."

He then went into further details, confirming what Mr. Strailey had hinted at.

"And now what's to be done?" asked Joe.

"This, I think," replied his companion. "You let me take these papers proving your identity, and I will submit them to one of our syndicate solicitors. He'll take up the case for you as reasonably as any one, and if he finds out there is money coming to you he'll get it if any one can. I never saw such a chap for collecting money—never, by Jove!"

"And if there is some due me?" asked Joe.

"Then I'll have him send it to you, or bring it myself if I come back in a reasonable time."

"Will it be necessary for me to go to England?" asked Joe.

"I think not, with the proofs I have here. Still I can not say for certain."

This was about all that could be done, and when the express stopped at Mill Junction Joe bade Mr. Craige good-bye and got off.

"Wish me good-luck on your mission!" cried the Englishman, and Joe did most heartily.

Joe Strong had to wait some little time for a train back to Borden, and when he reached there, and found his motor-cycle safe, he decided it would be best to remain over night, rather than travel a strange road after dark.

But early the next morning he was on his way back to where the circus was playing.

"What kept you?" asked Helen. "I was quite worried about you."

"I was after my inheritance."

"Did you get it?"

"Well, I've got things started," said the youth, as he told of his rather momentous day's experiences.

"Oh, I hope he gets it for you! I hope he does!" Helen murmured, and Joe certainly shared in her hope.

Three weeks passed with no word from Mr. Craige and Joe was getting a bit anxious. The show, meanwhile, moved on from city to city, and in each place they visited Joe left careful instructions with the postmaster to have his mail forwarded. He had also given Mr. Craige a full route of the circus, so that, barring accidents, the Englishman would know where Joe was each day.

And then one day, when Joe had finished his wire act, he found a telegraph messenger boy waiting for him in the dressing tent.

"A cablegram for you," he informed Joe.

"Cablegram?" Joe's heart was beating fast.

"Yep."

With trembling fingers Joe tore open the envelope. The message read:

"Inheritance safe. Am coming back with part of it. Rest will follow. Craige."

## CHAPTER XXV

### JOE'S INHERITANCE

The tip which Joe bestowed on that messenger boy was the largest that youth had received in some time. The messenger boy looked at the smiling lad who gave it to him, and then, as if afraid the recipient of the cablegram might change his mind, or find out he had made a mistake, the lad hurried off, forgetting to have Joe sign the book. He had to come back later for that.

Joe read the message over again. Then he perused it for the third time.

"It's too good to be true!" he exclaimed.

"What is?" asked Helen, for, hardly knowing what he was doing, Joe had spoken aloud.

For answer he held out the message to her.

She comprehended it in an instant, and her eyes sparkled as she held her hand out to Joe, saying:

"The best of congratulations!"

"Thanks. I began almost to despair of getting it. But it seems to be coming right along."

"It certainly does, Joe. How long do you think it will be before Mr. Craige will get here?"

"Oh, about two weeks, I imagine. He evidently is returning right away, or he would send the money instead of bringing it."

"Oh, Joe! I'm so glad! How much do you suppose it is?"

"I haven't an idea."

"I hope it is more than mine, though I'm not finding any fault."

Joe slowly refolded the message and put it in his pocket.

"Don't say anything to the others about it," he requested of Helen. "It will be time enough to tell them when I have the actual cash. There may be a slip-up at the last minute."

"Oh, I hope not, Joe!"

Helen seemed unusually thoughtful after that, so much so that Joe asked her:

"What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing," she said, blushing slightly and turning away.

"It must be something," he insisted.

"Oh, well, I was thinking, Joe, that, now you are to become rich, you'll be saying good-bye—leaving the circus again, and this time for good."

Joe considered a moment.

"Well, I may leave the circus," he said, "for I have a new plan I want to try. But if I do say good-bye to the show, there is some one to whom I will not say good-bye."

"Who?" asked Helen quickly, and then she wished she could recall the question.

"You," answered Joe in a low voice, "I'll never say good-bye to you."

Helen turned away, her cheeks reddening, and Joe took her hand.

"You wouldn't want me to say good-bye, would you?" he asked softly.

"No," she replied, and, though it was said very faintly, Joe heard it and was happy.

Whether Joe's good fortune made him nervous, or whether there was some slight defect in his apparatus that night did not disclose itself, but Joe had another accident, though, fortunately, it did him no harm.

He was riding his motor-cycle across the wire for the second time, and had just made the two shots, bursting the lighted toy balloons, when he felt himself swerving to one side.

Joe was guiding his machine, or, rather, holding it to the straight course of the wire, by means of thongs fastened to his knees and attached to either handle bar. The thongs were fastened to Joe's knees by means of clips, something like those cyclists use when they wish to prevent their trousers from catching in the pedals.

"I'm in for another fall," thought Joe in a flash.

It was the work of but an instant to drop the two pistols and make a grab for the handle bars, but Joe was too late. Over went the motor-cycle, but it fell in such a way that one wheel went on one side of the wire and the other on the opposite side, so that as Joe was thrown out of the saddle the machine remained suspended in mid-air.

And Joe fell toward the life-net, his knees pulling free from the steering clips.

There was a shout of alarm at Joe's tumble, but as he felt himself hurtling through the air he reflected:

"I must make this seem part of the act, or there may be a panic!" And a panic is the bugbear of a circus.

Calling to his aid some of his old trapeze tricks, Joe turned a series of somersaults in the air, and when he was a short distance from the life-net he straightened out to land feet first. The flags, which were fastened to his shoulders, fluttered in the breeze his fall created, and, had he but known it, Joe made a pretty picture, in his shimmering white suit, with the stars and stripes fluttering above his head.

He landed safely in the net, and glancing up saw his machine safely suspended on the wire. The accident had turned on the electric lights, probably snapping on the switch, and the motor-cycle was illuminated as it hung suspended.

Then such a roar of applause broke out that Joe knew the audience had taken his fall as part of the act. Even Ryan and Jeroleman were deceived. And when Jim Tracy came bustling up to Joe he said:

"That was great! Going to work that in every performance?"

"Most decidedly not!" exclaimed Joe. "It's too risky! It was an accident."

But so well had he covered it, that for a moment the ring-master believed the lad was joking, and had really planned the feat in advance.

"Well, it was the best-worked accident I ever saw," said Jim. Once more the show moved on. The time was drawing near when the last performance would be given, and then the circus would go into winter quarters.

Already some of the less prominent performers were leaving, for they had engagements elsewhere and must take them at once or lose them. But in the main the circus held together.

"What are your plans for the winter, Helen?" asked Joe, as they were talking on this subject one day.

"I have an offer to go on the same circuit I played last year," she said. "But I don't know that I'll accept. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to try out the new plan of mine."

"Build an airship?"

"Not exactly. I——"

Joe was interrupted by an usher who came to tell him a gentleman was outside asking for him.

"Bring him in," instructed Joe. He frequently received visitors, most of whom merely wanted to shake hands, so they could boast of it afterward. But this was no curiosity-seeker, for Joe saw Mr. Craige advancing toward him.

"Well!" cried our hero. "I didn't expect to see you."

"No, I got out sooner than I expected, and, having some business of my own in this neighborhood, I thought I'd call instead of writing."

"I'm glad to see you," said Joe.

"I rather thought you'd be," said the Englishman. "Now in regard to your inheritance."

"I'll see you some other time, Joe," said Helen, getting up to leave.

"Please stay," Joe urged. "I want you to hear all about it."

"There was a lot of red tape about it, as there is about all law matters in England," said Mr. Craige, "but there was no real difficulty, once our solicitor got to work on the case."

"Then there was no trouble about proving my identity?" asked Joe.

"Not at all. One old fogy of a judge wanted our solicitor to produce you in court to show that you were actually living. But I happened to have one of your pictures doing your act, and I showed it to his lordship."

"What did he say?" asked Helen.

"Well, he said Joe might be alive long enough to claim his inheritance, but that he wouldn't live long if he kept on doing tricks like that, and the solicitors laughed at the judge's joke, which pleased him very much, and he gave us a quick decision."

"Then I have real money coming to me?" asked Joe.

"You certainly have. Here is a part of it, in the form of a certified draft. I insisted on bringing some of it with me, and as soon as you sign certain papers there will be more due you."

"I can't thank you enough, Mr. Craige," Joe said. "It is due to your efforts that I have my fortune."

Mr. Craige then went into details. In brief, when Joe's grandfather died he left a large estate. He had cut off his daughter Janet in his will because of her marriage to the magician. But just before he died the old Englishman seemed to repent, and he wanted to change his will, but had no time. He did express a verbal wish, however, to have his daughter, or her heirs, share in his wealth, and left an almost illegible scrawl to this effect, and when the relatives tried to enforce the actual written will there was testimony that offset it.

So a certain sum was set aside for Mrs. Strong, but all trace of her seemed to be lost, and the money remained in the care of the court.

But Fate had acted kindly toward Joe after having given him some hard knocks, and it has been seen how it came about that he was able to claim his inheritance.

"And now how much is your bill?" asked Joe of Mr. Craige. "I feel that I can't pay you enough, but I'll do the best I can."

"You don't owe me a cent," was the answer. "I had to go to England anyhow, and I just turned the matter over to our solicitor. He did all the work, and I think you will get a bill from him in time. But it will not be high."

The tale of Joe's inheritance was made public, and this time he did give a celebration to his wide circle of acquaintances.

"Well, I suppose we'll lose you now," said Jim Tracy mournfully to Joe. "I never heard of a millionaire circus actor."

"I'm not a millionaire by a long shot," said Joe with a smile, "though I think I will leave the circus for a while. But I'll finish out the season with you, and maybe join again in the spring."

"Really?" cried the delighted ring-master. "And will you do your wire act?"

"I hope to have a better turn," said Joe.

He would not tell Jim Tracy or the others what his act was to be, but to Helen Joe said:

"I have an idea for a new kind of flying machine."

And those of you who wish to learn what sort it was, and how our hero utilized it, are referred to the next volume of this series, which will be entitled: "Joe Strong and His Wings of Steel; Or, A Young Acrobat in the Clouds."

Gaily the trumpets sounded. The band blared and the drums boomed. Into the tent swung the elephants, camels, and horses, bearing on their backs the gaily attired men and women.

It was the grand entry, and once more the circus was in full blast. The clowns cracked their merry jokes and went through their mirth-provoking antics.

"There's your call, Joe," said Helen.

"Yes," he answered, "and perhaps for the last time."

In his shimmering white suit the youth was soon flashing across on the high wire, and as he comes down on the other side, amid the applause of the crowd, we will take leave of the circus and of Joe Strong.

THE END

BOOKS FOR BOYS

BY VANCE BARNUM

THE JOE STRONG SERIES

12mo. Cloth Illustrated. Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid.

JOE STRONG, THE BOY WIZARD
Or, The Mysteries of Magic Exposed

JOE STRONG ON THE TRAPEZE
Or, The Daring Feats of a Young Circus Performer

JOE STRONG, THE BOY FISH
Or, Marvelous Doings in a Big Tank

JOE STRONG ON THE HIGH WIRE
Or, Motor-Cycle Perils of the Air

JOE STRONG AND HIS WINGS OF STEEL
Or, A Young Acrobat in the Clouds

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