Part 18 (1/2)

”And I'll help,” said Benny Turton, who had finished his tank act.

”Come on!” cried Joe, as he led the way.

Meanwhile Jim Tracy had requested the audience to file out as quickly and in as orderly a manner as possible. The crowd was not large, as the weather had been threatening in the morning and many had stayed at home. But it was no easy matter to dismiss even a small throng in such a storm.

However, it was accomplished, the band meanwhile playing its best, and under hard conditions, as part of the tent over them split and let the rain in on them.

But the music served a good turn, and while the people were hurrying out the canvasmen, aided by the performers, Joe among them, drove in extra pegs, tightening those that had become loose, put on additional ropes, so that, by hard work, the big tent was prevented from blowing down.

Once outside, the audience, though most of them were soon drenched, took it good-naturedly. They were given emergency tickets as they pa.s.sed out, good for another admission.

And then the storm, which seemed to have reached its height, settled down into a heavy rain. The wind died out somewhat, and there was no danger from the collapse of the tent.

”Good work, boys!” said the ring-master, as the performers, all of them wet through, and in their performing suits too, came in. ”Good work!

If it hadn't been for you I don't know what we would have done. I'll not forget it.”

There had been some trouble in the animal tent during the storm; the beasts, especially the elephants, evincing a desire to break loose.

But their trainers quieted them, and soon the circus was almost normal again.

Of course the afternoon had been lost, but there was hope of a good attendance at night if the storm were not too bad. And by remaining over another afternoon the deficiency could be made up. Word was telegraphed ahead to the next town announcing a postponement in the date. The broken pole was replaced with another, and then the performers enjoyed an unexpected vacation.

”I want to thank you, Joe, for what you did,” said Helen, coming up to him in the dining tent, where an early supper was served. ”I saw what you did--stopping that runaway horse.”

”Oh, it wasn't anything,” Joe said, modestly enough.

”Wasn't it?” asked Helen, with a smile. ”Well, I consider myself and Rosebud something worth saving.”

”Oh, I didn't mean it that way,” Joe said quickly. ”But the runaway might not have gone near you.”

”Yes, I'm afraid he would. But you saved me.”

”Well, if you feel that way about it,” laughed Joe, for he did not want Helen to take the matter too seriously, ”why then we're even. You saved me from a bad fall on the trapeze.”

The storm subsided somewhat by night, and there was a good attendance.

And the receipts the next day were very large in the afternoon, for the story of what the circus men had done was widely spread, and served as a good advertis.e.m.e.nt. Joe was applauded louder than ever when he did his acts.

The two wily Lascalla Brothers never referred to the incident of the rotted trapeze rope, and Joe did not know whether to believe them guilty or not. At most, he thought, they only wanted to give him a tumble that might make him look ridiculous, and so discourage him from continuing the work. In that case their deposed partner might get a chance. But Joe did not give up, and he kept a sharp lookout. He redoubled his vigilance regarding his ropes, bars and rings, inspecting all of them just before each performance.

On arriving at the next town Helen received a note in her mail asking her to call at the princ.i.p.al hotel in the place. It was signed by one of the members of the law firm.

”You come with me, Joe,” she begged. ”I don't want to go alone.”

”All right,” agreed the young performer. ”We'll go and get your inheritance.”

”If there's any to get,” laughed Helen. ”Oh, Joe, I'm so nervous!”

”Nervous!” he answered. ”I wish I could be afflicted with nervousness like that--money-nervousness, I'd call it!”