That was all that could be done at present, and Joe gave his attention to perfecting his new fire-eating act.

He did not give up his mystery box trick, and he still presented the vanishing lady illusion, Helen assisting in both of these. Joe also did the big swing, which always caused a thrill on account of the danger involved. Careful watch was kept over the trapeze and other apparatus so that no more dangerous tampering could he attempted, and Joe always looked over everything with sharp eyes before trusting himself high in the air.

"Some one evidently has a grudge against me as well as against the circus in general," he said to Jim Tracy.

"Maybe it's the same person," suggested the ringmaster.

"Perhaps. Well, as soon as we get some word from the detectives we can start on the trail."

The circus had arrived at a large city, where it was to show three days and nights, and preparations were made for big crowds, as the city was the center of a large number of industries, where many thousands of men were employed at good wages.

"We'll play to 'Straw Room Only' at every performance," said Mr. Moyne, rubbing his hands with glee as he thought of the dollars that would be taken in. "And I'm glad we discovered the bogus tickets in time. We'd be out a lot of money if the counterfeits were to be used here."

"Yes," agreed Joe. "But we aren't out of the woods yet. The same man who imitated the light green tickets may have the bright blue ones which we now use for general admission duplicated and sell them."

"We'll have to take that chance," said the treasurer. "But I'll instruct the ticket takers to be unusually careful."

That was all that could be done. The detective had reported that he was making an examination, starting at the paper mill, and was endeavoring to learn where the bogus tickets had been made.

The circus parade had been held and witnessed by enthusiastic crowds lining the streets. Then was every prospect of big business, and it was borne out.

Joe wished he had prepared his fire act earlier but it could not be helped.

"I'll have it ready for to-morrow, though," he said to Jim Tracy, at the conclusion of the first afternoon in the big city where they were to stay three days.

"Then I'm going to have it advertised," said the ringmaster, who also sometimes acted as assistant general manager. "We'll bill it big. You're sure of yourself, are you?"

"Oh, yes," answered Joe with a laugh. "I'll give 'em their money's worth all right, but it won't be the big sensation I'm planning for later on. That will take time."

"Well, as long as it's a fire act it will be new and novel, and it will draw," declared Jim Tracy.

It was later in the afternoon, when the circus performance was over, that Joe and Helen strolled downtown, as was their custom. Some convention was being held in the city, and across one of the principal streets was stretched a big banner of the kind used in political campaigns.

It was hung from a heavy, slack wire from the brick walls of two opposite buildings, and the banner attracted considerable attention because of a novel picture on it.

Joe and Helen were standing in the street, looking up at the swaying creation of canvas and netting, when a woman's cry came to their ears.

"Look! Look! The cat! The cat is walking the wire!" she exclaimed.

Joe and Helen turned first to see who it was that had cried out. It was a woman in the street, and with her parasol she pointed upward.

There, surely enough, half way out on the thick, slack wire, and high above the middle of the street was a large white cat. It was walking the wire as one's pet might walk the back fence. But this cat seemed to have lost its nerve. It had got half way across, but was afraid to go farther and could not turn around and go back.

As Joe and Helen looked, a woman appeared at the window of one of the buildings from the front walls of which the banner was suspended, and, pointing at the cat, cried:

"A hundred dollars to whoever saves my cat! A hundred dollars reward!"



CHAPTER XI

THE RESCUE

The tumult which had arisen in the street beneath the banner when the crowd caught sight of the cat was hushed for a moment after the woman's frantic cry. Before that there had been some laughter, and not a few cat-calls and exaggerated "miaows" from boys in the street. But now every one, even the mischievous urchins, seemed to sense that something unusual was about to take place.

"Come back, Peter! Come back!" cried the woman, stretching out her arms to the cat from the window out of which she leaned. "Come back to me!"

The white cat on the wire heard the voice of the woman and seemed to want to return to its mistress. But either the cat was not an adept at turning on such a narrow support, or it was afraid to try.

And, likewise, it was afraid to go forward. There it stood, about in the middle of the wire, high above the street, and it clung to its perch by its claws.

The banner was hung from the cross wire by means of several loops of rope, and it was in some of these loops that the cat had stuck its claws, and so hung on.

As the cat remained there, suspended, the crowd in the street below increased in size. But from the time the woman had so frantically called there had been no more of the cries from the crowd that might be expected to frighten the animal.

"Will some one get my cat?" cried the woman in a shrill voice, which could easily be heard by Joe, Helen, and nearly every one else. "I'll give one hundred dollars in cash to whoever saves him!" she went on. "Come back, Peter! Come back!" she appealed.

There was a thoughtless laugh from some one at the woman's anxiety, and some one cried:

"There's lots of cats! Let Peter go!"

"The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals ought to get after whoever that was," said Helen indignantly, and there was an approving murmur from some of those near her.

"Does any one know that lady?" asked Joe, pointing at the figure in the window. A pathetic figure it was, too, of an old woman clad in black, as though she had lost all her friends.

"Yes, she's a queer character," said some one who seemed to know. "Lives up there all alone in the old house that, except for the upper part where she is now, has been turned into offices.

"She's rich, they say. Owns that building and a lot of others on this street. But she lives all alone in a few rooms, and has a lot of pet cats. I guess that's one which got away."

"It got away all right," said another man. "And I don't believe she'll ever get it back. The cat's scared to death."

"Why doesn't it jump?" asked some one. "I heard that cats always land on their feet, no matter how far they fall."

"A fall from there would kill any cat," said Joe, as he handed Helen a small package he had been carrying—a purchase he had made at one of the stores.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, sensing that Joe Strong had some object in mind.

"I'm going to get that cat," he said in a low voice. "I can't bear to see it harmed, and it can't cling there much longer. Night's coming on, too, and if it isn't rescued soon it won't be until morning. I know what it is to have a pet suffer. I'm going to get that cat!"

"Oh, mister, you can't!" cried a small girl who was standing near by and overheard this remark.

"I should say not!" exclaimed the man who had given a little personal sketch of the woman in black. "The longest ladder in the fire department won't reach up to that wire, and they can't use extension ones, or scaling ones as they could on a building. You can't get that cat, sir, though I wish some one could. I don't like to see dumb brutes suffer. But you can't get it!"

"Perhaps I can!" said Joe modestly.

He started toward the street entrance of the old building, from the upper window of which leaned the pathetic figure of the woman calling to her cat out on the swaying wire.

"Oh, Joe," Helen began, "are you really going to—" and then she stopped.

"I am!" he answered, for he knew she understood. "Wait here for me. I won't be long."

Only a few in the crowd had heard what Joe said, or understood his intentions as he made his way through the press of people. The woman at the window was unaware of the fact that some one had heard her and was about to heed her appeal.

"A hundred dollars to whoever saves my cat!" she cried again.

This time no one laughed.

Joe Strong, acrobat, athlete, magician, and possessed of many other muscular accomplishments started up the stairs. The lower part of the office building was deserted at this hour, but he made his way to the place where he judged the woman lived alone. He was confirmed in this belief by hearing from behind a closed door the barking and whining of dogs.

"She must keep a regular menagerie," mused Joe. "Probably these are all the friends she has, poor old lady!"

He knocked on a door that seemed to be the entrance to the living apartments. There was a cessation of the barking and whining, and a moment later a querulous voice asked:

"Who is there? What do you want?"

"Is that your cat out on the wire?" asked Joe.

"Yes! Oh, yes! That's Peter! My favorite cat! Oh, have you saved him? Have you got him down? No, you can't have! He's out on that wire yet!" she cried. And then she opened the door.

Joe was confronted by the same woman he had observed leaning from the window. Her face was pale, and she was quite elderly. But there was a kind and pathetic look about her eyes. Once, she must have been beautiful.

Joe had no time to speculate on what might have been the romantic history of the woman. She looked eagerly at him.

"What do you want?" she demanded. "I never see any one. I live here alone. I must beg you to excuse me. I have to see if some one will not, save my cat."

"That is just what I came up for," said Joe, smiling. "I am a lover of animals myself. I'd like to save your pet."

"Oh, if you will, I'll pay you the hundred dollars!" cried the woman. "I have it!" she went on eagerly. "It's in here," and she motioned to the rooms. They were tastefully, but not lavishly, furnished.

"We'll talk about that later," said Joe, with a smile. "The point is let me get the cat first."

"But you can't get him from here—from these rooms!" the woman in black exclaimed. "He's out on the wire! You'll have to climb up in some way! Oh, I don't know how you can do it!" There were tears in her eyes and she clasped her hands imploringly.

"I can't get your cat from the street," said Joe. "That's why I came up here. I must walk out on the wire from your window. Have you a pair of slippers? The older and softer the better—slippers with thin, worn soles."

"Why, yes, I have. But you—you can't walk out on the wire! It is too small, almost, for my cat! You can't do it! It is impossible!"

"Oh, no," answered Joe gently, "it isn't impossible. I have done it before. If you'll let me get to a window near which the wire is stretched, and if you will let me take a pair of old slippers."

"Come in!" interrupted the eccentric old woman, opening wide the door. "I don't in the least know what you intend to do, but something seems to tell me I can trust you. And if only you can save Peter—"

"I'll try," said Joe simply.

The woman began to search frantically in a closet, throwing out shoes, dresses, and other feminine wearing apparel. As she delved among the things, a shout arose from the street, the noise of the voices floating in through the open window. Joe looked out.

"Oh, has Peter fallen?" cried the woman.

That, too, had been Joe's thought.

"No," he answered, as he took an observation. "Your cat has only changed his position a little. I suppose the crowd thought it was going to fall, but it's all right. I'll soon have it back to you. Is it a vicious cat?"

"Oh, no indeed. He's as gentle as can be. But perhaps he might be so scared now that he wouldn't know what he was doing. I see what you mean. Here, I'll give you an old pair of gloves for your hands."

"That's what I want," said Joe. "I can't afford to have my hands scratched, as I do some legerdemain tricks. But I need some soft-soled slippers more than I need gloves."

"Here is a pair," said the woman. "They're mine. I wear large ones, for I like to be comfortable."

"They'll fit me," decided Joe, after an inspection. "Just what I want, too!"

He began to take off his shoes.

"Do you really mean you are going to walk out on that wire and get my cat?" asked the woman, comprehending his intention as she saw Joe putting on the slippers and drawing on the old gloves she had given him. They were a man's size, and he judged she must have used them in rough work about the house.

"I'm going out on the wire to get your cat," he said.

"Oh, but I ought not to let you! You may fall and be killed! When I said I'd give a hundred dollars to whoever would save Peter, I did not mean that any one should risk his life. Much as I love my cat, I couldn't allow that."

"I'll be all right," said Joe easily. "Walking wires is part of my business. Now don't worry. And please don't scream if you are going to watch me."

She looked at him curiously.

"I am not in the habit of screaming," she said quietly.

"Well, I thought it best to mention it," said Joe.

He was now ready for his most novel form of walking the wire. He moved toward the window from which the woman had leaned. It was the same casement whence the cat had started on its perilous journey. Joe felt sure of himself. The slippers were just what he needed, with soft, pliable soles, worn thin. They were the best substitute he could have found for his circus shoes.

The wire from which the banner was suspended was fast to an eye-bolt set in the brick wall of the building a little below the sill of the window. It had been easy for the cat to step out and get on the cable.

Joe appeared at the window. He had taken off his coat and, in his white shirt, blue tie, and black trousers, he made a striking figure in the brilliant sunset light.

Instantly the crowd in the street saw him and divined his intention. Joe doubted not that Helen was looking up at him.

It was an easy step for him from the window sill to the wire from which was suspended the banner. He knew it would support his weight in addition to the big net affair. The size of the cable and the manner in which it was fastened told him that. Still he cautiously tried it with one foot before trusting all his weight to it. The spring of the wire told him all he needed to know.

Pausing a moment to make sure of himself, Joe Strong started to walk across the wire toward the clinging cat. The crowd gave one roar of welcome and approval, and then became hushed. This was what Joe wanted.

Now it was just as if he were doing the act in the circus. Only there was this difference—there was no safety net below him. But it was not the first time Joe had taken this risk. True, beneath him were the hard stones of the street, but a fall from the height at which he now was would be fatal, no matter what the character of ground under him. He dismissed all such thoughts from his mind.

Slowly, and with the caution he always used, Joe started on his journey across the wire. The cat felt his coming, and turned its head, as it crouched down, and looked at him. But it did not move. The creature was literally "scared stiff."

Foot by foot Joe progressed. Below him the crowd watched breathlessly. Joe knew Helen was there, praying for him, though he could not see her. In the window stood the figure in black, a silent, hopeful but much worried woman. She kept her promise not to scream, but Joe realized that the crucial moment was yet to come.

On and on he went nearer and nearer to the crouching cat. If only the animal would have sense enough to lie still and not make a fuss when he picked it up, Joe felt that all would be well.

But would Peter behave? That was the question.

Joe was now almost over the middle of the street. Far below him was the crowd—a sea of upturned faces, reddened by the reflected rays of the setting sun. The throng was silent. Joe was glad of that.

"Keep still now, Peter, I'm coming for you!" said Joe in a low voice.

"That's right, Peter!" added the woman. "Be a good cat now. You are going to be saved! Keep still and don't scratch!"

Whether the cat heard and understood it is hard to say. But it uttered a pitiful:

"Mew!"

Inch by inch, foot by foot Joe advanced. He was quite sure of himself now. He felt that he could easily have walked across the wire from building to building, with the street chasm below him, and even could have made the return trip. But picking up the cat and carrying it back was another thing. It would have been easier for Joe to have carried a man across on his back. He could direct the motions of the man. Could he those of the cat?

Still he was going to try.

On and on he went. The woman in black was leaning from the window, holding out her arms as though to catch Joe should he fall.

But he did not think of falling.

In another few seconds he was standing right over the cat. He could see the animal's claws tensely clinging to the rope strands that held the banner. Now came ticklish work.

"Easy, Peter! Go easy now!" said Joe soothingly.

He slowly and carefully stooped down. It was a trick he had often performed in the circus on the high wire. But never under circumstances like this.

Joe's hands came in contact with the fur of the cat's back. He gently stroked the animal, murmuring:

"Come on now, Peter! Let go! Loosen your claws! I'm not going to hurt you. Let me pick you up!"

Again it is hard to say that the cat knew what Joe was saying, but it certainly made its body less tense. The claws were loosed. Joe straightened up, holding the cat in his arms. He could feel its heart beating like some overworked motor.

A roar arose from the crowd, but it was instantly hushed. The throng seemed to realize that the return journey was infinitely more perilous than the outward one had been.

Joe could not turn. He must walk backward to the window, carrying the cat, which at any moment might become wild and scramble from his arms, upsetting his balance.

Yet Joe Strong never faltered.



CHAPTER XII

THE FIRE ACT

Realizing that he must use every caution, Joe Strong had two things to think of. One was himself, and the other the cat. He could not carry the creature in his arms, as he needed to extend them to balance himself. He had walked short distances along slack wires without doing this, but in those cases he had been able to run, and his speed made up for the lack of balancing power of the extended arms. Now, however, he needed to observe this precaution.

What could he do with the cat?

In that moment of peril a boyhood scene arose to Joe's mind. He recalled that on the farm where he had lived there was a pet cat which liked to crawl up his back and curl on his shoulders, stretching out completely across them and snuggling against the back of his head.

"If I can get this cat to do that I'll be all right," thought Joe. "I'll try it."

Balancing himself, he changed the cat's position and put it up on his shoulder. Even if it rested on only one it would leave his hands free and he could extend his arms and balance himself. But Peter seemed to know just what was wanted of him. With a little "mew," the animal took the very position Joe wanted it to—extended along his back, close to his head.

And not until then did Joe begin to step backward. Breathlessly the crowd watched him. Step by step he went, feeling for the wire on which he placed his feet. And each step made him more confident.

The crowd was silently watching. It was reserving its wild applause.

Step by step Joe walked backward until he heard the low voice of the woman at the open window.

"Shall I take Peter now?" she asked.

"Can you reach him?" asked Joe. He knew he was close to the building.

"Yes," she answered.

"Then do," said Joe. "He may try to spring off when he sees himself so close to you. Take him. I'll stand still a moment."

He felt the cat stirring. The next instant he was relieved of Peter's weight, and then, with a quick turning motion, Joe himself was half way within the window and sitting on the sill.

He had walked out on the wire, stretched a hundred feet above the street, and rescued the cat. The pet was now in the arms of the woman in black.

And then such a roar as went up in the crowd! Men thumped one another on the back, and then shook hands, wondering at their foolishness and why there was such a queer lump in their throats.

"Oh! Oh!" gasped the woman, as she hugged Peter to her. "I can never thank you enough—not in all my life. It may be foolish to care so much for a cat. But I can't help it. It isn't all that. I couldn't have borne it to have seen him fall and be killed."

"He's all right now—after he gets over being scared," said Joe, as he stroked the cat in the arms of the woman in black.

"And now will you let me know to whom I am indebted?" she asked. "Please come in, and I'll pay you the reward."

"Well, I'll come in and put on my shoes," said Joe, with a smile. "I didn't need the gloves," he added. "Peter was very gentle."

"Oh, he's a good cat!" said his mistress. "And now," she added, when Joe had resumed his shoes and coat, "will you please tell me your name and how you learned to walk wires and rescue cats?"

"I never rescued cats before," Joe returned, smiling. "It's something new. But walking wires is my trade—or one of 'em. I'm with the circus. I do some tricks and—"

"Oh, are you the man who gets out of the box?" she cried. "I have read about that trick."

"It is one of mine," said Joe modestly.

"I'm so glad to know you!" exclaimed the woman. She seemed less of a recluse than at first. "I haven't been to a circus for years—not since I was a child," she continued, half sadly, Joe thought. "But I'm coming to-night!" she exclaimed. "I'll have the janitor look after my cats and dogs, and I'll go to the circus. I want to see you act. It will bring back my lost youth—or part of it," she murmured.

"Allow me to make sure that you will be there," said Joe. "Here is a reserved ticket. I will look for you."

"And now let me give you the reward I promised," begged the woman, as Joe was about to leave. "I have the money here—in cash," she added quickly. She went to a bureau, putting Peter down on a cushion. The cat observed Joe intently. The woman came back with a roll of bills.

"No, really, I couldn't take it!" protested Joe. "I didn't save your cat for money. I was glad enough to do it for the animal's sake."

"Please take it!" she urged. "I—I am well off, even if I live here," she said hesitatingly. "I shall feel better if you take it."

"And I shall feel better if you give it to the Red Cross," said Joe. "That needs it, to help the stricken, more than I do. I make pretty good money myself," he added. "And I didn't do this for a reward."

"But I promised it!"

"Well, then consider that I took it, and you, in my name, may pass it on to the Red Cross," said Joe. "And now, may I ask your name?"

The woman told him. It was Miss Susan Crawford. The name meant nothing to Joe, though he afterward learned she was a member of an old, wealthy and aristocratic family. She had had an unfortunate love affair, and, her family having all died, she made for herself a little apartment in one of her many buildings and lived there with her pets—a recluse in the midst of a big city. It was a pathetic story.

"I wish you would let me reward you in some way," said Miss Crawford wistfully, as Joe left. "You did so much, and you get nothing out of it."

"Oh, yes I do," returned the young acrobat. "I'll get a lot of advertising out of this, and it will be the best thing in the world for the circus."

And Joe was right. The next day the papers all carried big stories of his wire-walking feat to save the cat that had ventured out over the street and was afraid to go back. Bigger crowds than ever came to the circus.

As she had promised, Miss Crawford was at the evening performance, and Joe introduced a little novelty in one of his "magic stunts," producing a cat instead of a rabbit from a man's pocket. As he held it up he looked over and smiled at the old lady in black, for he had given her a seat near his stage. She smiled back.

Joe never saw her again. She was found dead a few months later in her lonely rooms, with her cats and dogs around her. But Joe always remembered her.

The street wire-walking feat was the talk of the city, and when, the following day, Joe announced that he was ready to put on his fire act, which had been well advertised, every one was on figurative tiptoes to see what it would be.

Joe had made all his preparations, and he had taken care to provide against danger and accidents. He realized the risk he was running in handling fire in a circus tent before crowds of people. But extinguishers were provided, and one of the fire-fighting force of the circus was constantly on hand.

After the preliminary whistle of the ringmaster which ended the other acts and prepared for Joe's new one, the young magician advanced to the platform and gave a little "patter."

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "in introducing my new act I wish, first of all, to assure you that there is no danger. Even though I seem to be in the midst of fire, do not be alarmed. I shall be safe, and no harm will come to you."

Joe did this to forestall a possible panic.

"You have all heard of the ancient salamanders," he went on. "It is reputed that this animal was able to live in the midst of fire. As to the truth of that I can not say. I never saw a salamander, that I know of. But that fire may safely be handled by human beings, and not at the risk of being burned, I am about to demonstrate to you. I shall first show you how to carry fire about in your hands, so that if you run short of matches at any time you will not lack means of igniting the gas, starting your kitchen range, or enjoying your smoke. While the stage is being made ready for my main act, I will show you how to carry fire in your hands."



CHAPTER XIII

A SENSATIONAL DIVE

Striking a match, Joe ignited two candles that stood on a little table at one side of his stage. On the other side his assistants were setting up the apparatus he intended to use in his more elaborate experiments.

"You observe that the trick has not yet begun," said Joe, with a laugh, as he blew out the match. "In other words, I am lighting these candles in the ordinary way—just as any one of you would do it, if he needed to. In a moment I will show you how to light the candles in case one is accidentally blown out and you have no match."

Allowing both candles to burn up well, with clear, bright flames, Joe suddenly blew out one.

"Now," he said, "I will show you how to carry fire in your hands from the lighted to the unlighted candle. Watch me closely!"

Joe cupped his hands around the lighted candle, seeming to take the flame up in his fingers. When he removed his hands, which he still held in cup, or globular, shape, the second candle had been extinguished. Both were now out.

"You will notice that I am carrying the flame in my hands from one candle to the other," said Joe, in a loud voice, as he walked across the stage.

For an instant he spread his hands, cup fashion, around the candle he had first blown out. Suddenly he withdrew his hands, holding them wide apart and in full view of the audience, and, lo! the unlighted candle was glowing brightly.

There was a moment of silence, and then the applause broke forth. Joe bowed and said:

"That is how to carry fire in your hands. But please don't any of you try it unless you get the directions from me."

"Tell us how to do it!" piped up a small boy.

"Come and see me after the show!" laughed Joe.

And, while on this subject, it might be well to explain how Joe did the trick. It is very simple, but it takes practice, and an amateur may easily be fatally burned in the attempt, simple as it is.

Joe lighted the candles in the usual way, with a match, as already explained. There was no trick about this, nor about blowing out one. But immediately after that the trick started. Joe placed a little piece of waxed paper between the first and second fingers of his left hand as soon as he had blown out the first candle. This paper was a slender strip, and could not be seen by the audience.

When he cupped his hands around the remaining lighted candle Joe ignited this waxed strip, taking care to work it away from his palms and fingers. It burned with a tiny flame and with scarcely any heat in the middle of the hollow cup formed by his hands.

As soon as he had ignited the paper Joe, by pressing the lower edges of his palms against the blazing wick of the candle, extinguished it. This had the same effect as though he had "pinched" out the flame with finger and thumb, as many country persons put out, or "snuff," candles to-day—for candles are still much used in some places.

Now we have Joe with a little blazing taper concealed in his cupped hands, advancing to the candle he first blew out. He placed his hands around this, lighted the wick from the taper, which he at once crushed between his fingers, and the trick was done.

The candle was lighted, the remains of the little taper were concealed between Joe's fingers, and it looked as though he had really carried fire in his hands. The quickness with which he pinched out the candle flame, and also smothered the taper after he had used it, prevented him from being burned in the slightest. But it is best for a boy unpracticed and without the dexterity of a professional prestidigitator not to undertake to play with fire.

Joe Strong believed in doing his tricks and acts artistically and elaborately. He had watched other performers "dress their act," and he had often improved on what even stage veterans had done. His apprenticeship had been a stern but good one.

And now he was going to introduce something novel in his fire-eating tricks, but he was also going to add to that. He had read considerable of late about the fire-eating tricks of the old "magicians" and had delved into many curious old books. Now he was going to give his audience some of this information.

"There is a trick in everything," said Joe, as he faced his audience in readiness for the fire-eating act. "If I told you that I actually swallowed blazing fire, any physician would know that I was not telling the truth. I do not really eat the fire. I only seem to do so. But if in doing so I can deceive you into thinking I do, and you are thrilled and amused, you get your money's worth, I earn mine, and we are all satisfied. So don't be alarmed by what you see.

"The resistance of the human body to heat is greater than many persons suppose," said Joe. "And there is a vast difference between wet heat and dry heat. Water, above one hundred and fifty degrees, would be unbearable. It would really burn you badly. Water, as you know, boils at two hundred and twelve degrees Fahrenheit. But before this point is reached it is capable of ending life.

"Dry heat, however, is different. Men have frequently borne without permanent discomfort dry heat up to three hundred degrees. This heat is often reached in the drying rooms of oilcloth and oiled silk factories.

"Now the fire I handle is dry heat. I would no more think of pouring boiling water over my hands than I would of taking poison. And yet I will show you that I can thrust my hand into a blazing fire and suffer no harm.

"In an old book I read that to enable one to thrust one's hands into the fire all you had to do was to anoint them with a mixture of bol armenian, quicksilver, camphor and spirits of wine. I should prefer to leave that mixture alone, though in the book it is said that if one puts that mixture on his hands he may handle boiling lead.

"Perhaps some ancient magician did this, but I think he depended more on water than on anything else. If your hands are wet there is formed on them a film of moisture which, for a moment, will enable you to withstand high degrees of dry heat.

"In another old book I read that if one prepared himself with 'liquid stortax,' which is juice from a certain tree growing in Italy, he could enter fire, bathe in fire, put a burning coal on his tongue, and even swallow fire.

"Now I am not going to let you into all my secrets. You shall see—what you shall see!" concluded Joe.

As intimated before, the method Joe Strong used is not going to be printed here. You have been given some genuine ancient formulae, safe in the knowledge that some of the ingredients can not be obtained. And the modern substitutes are not going to be told. Enough to say that Joe had "prepared himself."

The young magician looked to see that all was in readiness. Perceiving that it was, he retired for a moment to a cabinet set up on the stage, and when he came out he was ready for his tricks.

Joe advanced to what seemed to be an elaborate candelabra in which seven tapers were set. He stood in front of this a moment, and then he announced:

"Having lived on a fire diet so long I have a bit to spare. I will light these candles without using a match."

He waved his hand over the candelabra. Sparks were seen to shoot from his finger tips, and in an instant the seven lights were glowing. That was an electrical trick. In reality the candles were gas jets, made to look like wax tapers, and Joe lighted them from an electric current produced by a dry battery he carried on his person.

He then proceeded to his main trick. He picked up a plate. It seemed to contain pieces of bread. Joe touched the edge of the plate to a flame of one of the candles. In an instant the plate was ablaze, and Joe calmly began putting the blazing stuff on it into his mouth.

Cube after cube of the blazing "bread" he lifted up on a fork and thrust between his lips. And he seemed to enjoy the "eating" of it.

The audience was spellbound. Every one's eyes were on Joe Strong doing his fire-eating trick.

The plate was empty. Joe looked about as though for something else hot to eat. He caught up an article from a table. Holding it to the flame of a candle, it was at once ablaze.

And then, with a thrilling cry, Joe Strong leaped from the stage, his two hands, held high above his head, seeming to be enveloped in a mass of fire. And with this fire held over him, he ran toward the tank in which Benny Turton did his "human fish" act.

The next instant Joe Strong, apparently ablaze all over, dived into the tank.



CHAPTER XIV

HEAD FIRST

Which was the more surprised—Benny Turton, who had just finished his fish act in his tank, the spellbound audience, or Jim Tracy, who was, in a way, directing Joe's performance—it would be hard to say. All three were thrilled by the unexpected outcome of the fire-eating act. Joe Strong alone seemed perfectly at his ease, and, it might be mentioned incidentally, perfectly at home in the water. He had, as told in a previous volume, entitled "Joe Strong, the Boy Fish," perfected himself in this sort of work, and could remain submerged for an unusually long time.

Of course the fire which seemed to envelop the young magician was instantly put out when he leaped into the tank. He was wearing a rather fancy suit, and as he came up, wet and bedraggled, Jim Tracy could not help wondering what Joe meant by his performance.

"Joe! Joe! was that part of the act or an accident?" asked Jim in a low voice, as he ran over to where Joe was now climbing out of the tank. For one instant Joe hesitated. The audience was wildly applauding now. Clearly there was but one thought in their minds. The whole thing was a trick—Joe had only pretended to be on fire and had taken that sensational means of appearing to extinguish the blaze.

But the ringmaster noted a queer look on his friend's face. It was not the look it usually wore when Joe had completed some hazardous or sensational trick.

"Are you hurt, Joe—burned?" asked Jim Tracy anxiously.

"No," was the answer. "It was all part of the act!"

The ringmaster looked satisfied, and it was not until some time afterward that he learned what a narrow escape Joe had had.

"This will be part of the fire-eating stunt at every show," said Joe to the ringmaster. "You might make the announcement so the people won't be scared."

"I will! Say, it's some stunt all right!" And then Jim began with his sonorous "Ladies and gentlemen!" He stated that the young fire-eater would show his familiarity with, and mastery over, fire by setting himself ablaze and leaping into the tank to extinguish the flames. The ringmaster added that there would be no danger to either the audience or the performer in this feature.

Joe bowed to the applause that followed, and then hurried to his dressing room to don dry clothes for his mystery box trick.

"I should think, if you were going to do tank work, you'd wear a suit better adapted to it—like mine," said Benny Turton, whose apartment was next to Joe's in the dressing tent.

"I'm going to," Joe announced, looking around to make sure no one overheard. "The fact of the matter is, Benny, I didn't count on pulling off this stunt. It was an accident. Some of the alcohol I use on the tow was spilled on my sleeves and caught fire. Then more flames burst out. Luckily they were at my back, so when I ran the flames were fanned away from me. But I knew the tank was the safest place to go, and in I jumped."

"But I heard you tell Jim it was all arranged."

"I did that so the crowd wouldn't get into a panic. However I am going to work the trick at each performance after this, only I'm going to wear a different suit."

And Joe did. He had a garment partly made of asbestos, though outwardly it did not resemble that fire-resisting material any more than do the asbestos curtains in theaters. And at the conclusion of his fire-eating act Joe would seemingly burst into fire and run blazing across the stage to leap into the tank of water.

This finish to the act never failed to win great applause. And once in the tank Joe did some of the under-water tricks that had brought him fame. He was careful, however, not to duplicate anything that Benny Turton did, for he did not want to "crab" the act of his friend.

But Joe's fire and water act was one of the big features on the circus bill.

"Is this the sensation you were speaking of?" asked Helen one day, when they had concluded an afternoon's performance.

"No," answered Joe. "This only came about by accident. I'm working on something more sensational yet, and I am going to ask you to help me."

"I'm sure I'll do anything I can," said she.

"You won't be in any danger," the young magician went on. "I'm beginning to understand fire better the more I study it. I'm not getting too familiar, either, let me tell you. Even a little scorch is very painful."

"I glanced through one of your books the other day," remarked Helen. "Do you really suppose some of those old magicians actually handled fire in the way it is stated?"

"Well, at least they pretended to," said her friend. "There are tricks in all trades, you know."

As the circus went on its way business kept up well, and it was seen that the season was going to be an excellent one from a financial standpoint.

"Any more bogus tickets coming in?" asked Joe one day of the treasurer.

"Not since we adopted the new style," was the answer.

"Have the detectives gotten on the trail of the man, or the men, who cheated us?" asked Helen.

"Not yet," reported Mr. Moyne. "The last report I had from them was that they were getting nearer and nearer to a certain person whom they suspected. They promise an arrest soon."

"That's the usual story," remarked Joe. "However, we don't so much care about an arrest now if we have stopped the counterfeit tickets from being worked off on us."

"Well, there's always a chance that the same thing will happen again," returned Mr. Moyne. "It's too easy money for the criminals to give up, I'm afraid. I'm on the lookout every day for more counterfeits."

"Well, I'll leave it to you," remarked Joe. "Whenever anything happens let me know and we'll take some action."

Joe Strong was now kept very busy in the circus. In fact he was what would be called a "star." He did his mystery box trick, and, with Helen, worked the "vanishing lady" trick so neatly that no one guessed how it was done. The ten thousand dollars was not claimed, successfully, though several tried it, with the result that several local Red Cross organizations were enriched by the hundred dollar forfeit.

In addition to these mystery acts, and some more ordinary sleight-of-hand tricks which he used to fill in with, Joe did his fire-eating trick, ending that act with the plunge into the tank. This never failed to create a sensation.

"But it isn't the big sensation I'm after!" said Joe, when his friends congratulated him. "Wait until you see that!"

Another feature of Joe's performance was his wire-walking. Since he had rescued the lady's cat he had added this to his share of the program, and it was a thriller enjoyed by many audiences.

"But it's a little tame," said Joe one day to Jim Tracy. "I want to put a little more pep into it."

"How are you going to do it?" asked the ringmaster.

"I think I know a way," was the answer.

And a few days later Joe gave a demonstration.

The wire on which he performed was a high one, stretched between two well-braced poles. On each pole was fastened a small platform, somewhat like those high up in the tent where the big swing was fastened.

Joe walked across the wire from one platform to the other, doing various "stunts" on the slender support. One day Jim Tracy noticed that a long to the ground between one of the rings and a wooden platform.

"What's that, Joe?" asked the ringmaster, "Looks like an extra guy wire for the pole."

"No, that's for my new stunt," said Joe. "I'll show you at this show."

The audience watched him performing on the high wire. Jim Tracy was watching, too, for he remembered what Joe had said. Suddenly, at the conclusion of the usual wire-walking feats, Joe stooped, placed his head on the slanting wire, raised himself until he was standing with his legs up and spread apart. Then he quickly flung wide his hands and slid on his head down the slanting win to the ground, stopping himself just before he reached it by grasping the wire in his gloved hands.

Jim Tracy, who was sitting on a box, leaped to his feat.

"Head first!" he cried. "That's some stunt!"

And the audience seemed to think so, too, from the way it applauded.



CHAPTER XV

THE SWINDLERS AGAIN

Joe Strong, having checked his rapid, head-first and head-on slide down the slanting wire by grasping it in his gloved hands, gave a "flip-flop" and stood up, bowing to the loud applause. Jim Tracy and some of the other circus employees surrounded the young man.

"Why didn't you tell us you were going to pull off something like this?" demanded the ringmaster.

"Because I wasn't sure until the last minute that I would do it," answered Joe. "I hadn't practiced it as much as I should have liked, but when I got up there on the platform I felt pretty sure I could do it. I wasn't running much risk anyhow, except that of failure. I knew I wouldn't fall, for I could have grabbed the wire in my hands if I had started to topple over."

"But how did you do it?" asked some one, who came up to join the wondering throng after Joe's feat had been performed. "I've seen you stand on your head before, but to slide down a wire—say, what sort of scalp have you, anyhow?"

Joe laughed and held out a close-fitting skull-cap of leather. Fastened to the leather was a small steel framework, and in this frame were two small grooved wheels, like the wheels of a trolley by means of which street cars receive the electric current from the wire. Joe put the cap on his head to show how it enabled him to do the trick. The big races were on now, as the close of the performance was close at hand, and the crowd was paying attention to the contests and not to the group of performers surrounding the young magician.

Once they had seen the cap with the grooved wheels on top placed on Joe's head, his friends understood how the trick was done. He had simply to balance himself on his head on the wire, a feat he had often performed before. The natural attraction of gravitation did the rest. He simply slid down on the wheels, his extended arms and legs steadying him.

"It's just as if you had a roller skate on your head," said Senorita Tanlozo, the snake charmer, who had strolled into the main tent after her act in the side show was over.

"Exactly," said Joe, with a smile. "Would you like to try it?"

"Not while my snakes are alive!" she assured him.

"Well, it's another drawing card for the Sampson Brothers' Show," said Jim Tracy that night when the receipts were being counted and preparations being made for moving on to the next city. "How long are you going to keep it up, Joe?"

"As to that, I can't say," was the answer. "But I like the game, and I want to see the circus a success."

"It's a big one now, thanks in a large part to you," observed the ringmaster. "But you'd better take a rest now, Joe, my boy. Don't try to pull off any more spectacular stunts."

"Oh, I haven't pulled off my big one yet," replied the young magician. "I mean the one with the fire. I'm working on that. If it comes out the way I think it will we'll have to give three performances a day instead of two."

"Oh, we can't do that!" protested Mr. Moyne, the treasurer. "It's hard enough keeping account of the money and tickets now, with two shows a day. If we have three—"

He paused, for it was very evident Joe was only joking, and there were smiles on the faces of the other circus folk.

"Don't worry!" said Joe to the treasurer. "I don't want to act three times a day any more than you want to count the tickets and cash. And, I suppose, if we could, by some means, give three performances, it would only give our swindling ticket friends more chance to work their scheme. By the way, there are no further signs of their putting bogus tickets on sale, are there?"

"Not since we started the detectives at work," the treasurer answered. "But I'm always on the watch, and so are the men at the entrances."

"It's about time those detectives got results, I think," declared Jim Tracy. "I wonder what they think we're paying them for?"

"It takes time for a thing like that to be cleaned up," said Joe.

"Well, I know what I'd do if I were detecting," half-growled the ringmaster.

"What?" inquired the treasurer.

"I'd round up and arrest a certain few worthless men I know who used to be in the circus business—some with this show!" declared Jim. "It's queer, but our outfit seems to be the only one that they pick on. That's what makes me think it was some one who used to work for us."

"Who?" the treasurer wanted to know.

"Well, I'm not mentioning any names," declared the ringmaster, as he prepared to divest himself of his dress suit in readiness for the trip to the circus train. "But I have my suspicions."

"What makes you say ours is the only circus to have lost money on bogus tickets?" asked Joe.

"Read it in Paste and Paper," was the answer. That was the name of the trade journal devoted to the interests of circus folk, tent shows, and the like. "The last number had a piece in it about our losing money on fake tickets," went on the ringmaster, "and it said it was the first case of its kind to appear in several years. There have been no complaints of circuses in other parts of the country being cheated that way, this article said. So I know it's some one picking specially on us."

"Well, perhaps you're right," assented Joe. "But as long as we have changed our style of tickets and they haven't tried their tricks again, maybe we've settled them."

"All the same I'm going to be on the watch," declared the treasurer.

The city where the circus showed the following day and night was a large one. A new automobile industry employing many hands had located there within the last six months. It was decided to make a stay of two days in this place, since the advance agent reported that many of the men worked overtime and nights, and otherwise they could not see the performance.

"Well, I'm glad we're to be here two days," remarked Helen, as she passed Joe's private quarters, where he was going over some of his apparatus, costumes, and effects.

"Yes, we'll have a good night's rest," he agreed, though, truth to tell, the circus folk were so used to traveling that the train journey almost every night did not bother them. Still they always welcomed a stay in a city over night.

"You seem busy," remarked Helen, as she sat down on a box and watched Joe.

"Yes, I'm going to introduce a little novelty in the slide down the slanting wire," he answered. "I'm going to work in a fire stunt."

"A fire stunt!" exclaimed Helen. "Surely you aren't going to—"

"Oh, it won't be dangerous!" Joe assured her, guessing her thoughts. Helen had learned that the jump into Benny's tank the first time was due to an accident. "It's just a bit spectacular and will liven things up a bit, I think. If it goes well I have an idea you can work one of the features in your bareback act."

"Oh, Joe, I never could walk a wire, nor slide down on my head, the way you do. And I don't see how Rosebud could, either." And Helen gave a merry little laugh at the vision she raised.

"Oh, I'm not going to have your horse walk the tight rope nor the high wire!" laughed Joe. "It would be a corking good stunt if we could, though. No, this is simpler. I'll tell you about it later."

Mrs. Watson, wife of the veteran clown, called for Helen just then, asking her to go to see one of the women performers who was ill.

"I'll see you later, Joe," Helen called out, as she left him.

Joe was busy mixing up some chemicals in a pail on the ground outside his tent when he was accosted by a rather hoarse voice asking:

"Any chance for a job here, boss?" Joe looked up to see a somewhat disreputable figure of a man observing him. The fellow looked like the typical tramp, perhaps not quite so ragged and dirty, but still in that class. However, there was something about the man that attracted Joe's attention. As he said afterward, his visitor had about him the air of the "profesh."

Joe's first impulse was to say that he knew of no job, or else to refer his accoster to the head canvas man, who hired transient help in putting up the main top and in pulling or driving stakes. But as Joe observed the man curiously watching him, he had another idea. Before he could act on it, however, the man exclaimed:

"You do a fire-eating stunt, don't you?"

"Yes," Joe answered. And then it occurred to him to wonder how the man knew. True he might have observed Joe in some of the many performances, but the man did not look like one who would spend money on circus tickets. He might have crawled under the tent, but it did not seem exactly probable. And, of course, some of the circus employees plight have pointed Joe out to the man as the actor who handled fire. But, again, Joe did not believe this. So he asked:

"How did you know?"

For answer the man pointed to the pail of chemicals into which Joe was about to dip a suit of tights.

"Smelled the dope," was the brief answer. "You're using tungstate of soda, aren't you?"

"Yes," answered Joe, surprised that a man, evidently of such a class, should recognize the not very common chemical.

"We used to use alum in the old days," the man went on. "I guess the new dope's better, though I never tried it."

"Are you in the business?" asked Joe.

"Well, I—er—I used to be," and the man straightened himself up with an air of forgotten pride. "I was with a circus once—used to do a fire-eating act and jump into a fake bonfire. I doped my clothes with alum water though. That's great stuff for preventing the fire taking hold if you don't stay in the blaze too long. But, as I say, they've discovered something new."

"You used to be a fire-eater?" asked Joe curiously.

"Yes. And I was counted a pretty good one. But I lost my nerve."

"How?"

"Well—er—not to put too fine a point on it, I got too fond of the fire-water. Couldn't stay on the water-wagon long enough, got careless in my act, went down and out. Oh, it's the old story. You've probably heard it lots of times. But I would like a job now. I'm actually hungry, and I've seen the time I could blow the bunch to champagne and lobster."

Joe, on impulse, and yet, too, because he had an object, was just going to offer the man help when he saw Mr. Moyne coming across the lot toward him from the ticket wagon. The afternoon performance was about to start.

"They're here again!" cried the treasurer.

"Who?" asked Joe.

"The ticket swindlers!"



CHAPTER XVI

RINGS OF FIRE

Instantly Joe Strong lost interest in the "tramp fire-eater," as he afterward came to call the man. All the attention of the young magician was centered on what the treasurer had said.

"Are you certain of this?" asked Joe.

"Positive!" was the answer. "We've been keeping careful watch, paying special attention to the red serial numbers, and some duplicates have been taken in at the main entrance. The swindlers are at work again."

"But our new tickets!" exclaimed Joe. "The new style of paper and the precautions we have taken! What of that?"

In answer Mr. Moyne held out two tickets, both bearing the same serial number in red ink.

"Which is the bogus and which is the genuine?" he asked.

Joe looked carefully at the two. He examined them for a full minute.

"I can't tell!" he admitted.

"And no one else can, either," declared the treasurer. "We're up against it again! Those fellows are too clever for us. Now we'll lose a lot of money!"

"Well, it won't break us," said Joe easily. "Though, of course, no one likes to be cheated. The only thing to do is to get the detectives busy. Let them know the new turn affairs have taken, and I'll send these two tickets to our chemist friend. He can tell which is printed from our regular stock, and which is the counterfeit.

"Then, too, it ought to be easier to catch the rascals now than it was at first. You see, we didn't know how long the old tickets had been counterfeited. Now we're warned, first shot out of the box, about the new ones. And since the paper mill hasn't been supplying our printer with the new kind of paper very long, it ought to be easy to trace where the new and clever counterfeit supply is coming from."

"Well, I hope they can catch the scoundrels," said Mr. Moyne. "I certainly hate to see money lost."

Mr. Moyne was an ideal treasurer. He always had the interests of the circus at heart, and one would think that the money came out of his own pocket to hear him talk about the counterfeit tickets. In a way he did lose, personally, since he was one of the owners of the show, and the less money that came in the less his stock dividends would amount to.

"I'll write to Mr. Waldon to-night," said Joe, as he took the two tickets. "And we'll notify the detectives. Now I must get ready for my act. That can't be dropped."

"Having trouble, eh?" asked the tramp, who had moved a little to one side.

"Oh, well, just a little," admitted Joe, who was not altogether pleased that this talk should have been overheard by a stranger.

"Did you say there was any chance for a job?" asked the ragged man.

"Well, I don't know," said Joe, rather doubtfully. "Is that straight goods, about your being a fire-eater?"

"I was once. But I'm not looking for that kind of a job now," was the quick answer. "I lost my nerve, I tell you. Handling stakes or driving a wagon would be my limit."

"What sort of an act in the fire line did you have?" asked Joe, for a certain idea was beginning to form in his mind.

"It was a good act!" was the response, and again the spark of pride seemed about to be fanned into a flame. "Got any old-timers in this here circus of yours?"

"Yes," answered Joe. "There's Jim Tracy and Bill Watson and—"

"Bill Watson who used to clown it?" cried the man eagerly.

"He clowns it yet."

"Old Bill!" murmured the tramp. "Him still making good in the business, and me a bum! Well, it's all my own fault. If I'd stuck to the fire-eating and not drinking fire-water I'd be somewhere to-day. Just ask Bill Watson what sort of an act Ham Logan had—'Coal-fire Logan!'" exclaimed the man. "That was my title. Hamilton Logan is my name, but I haven't told any one in—not in a long time," he added, and he looked away. "But ask Bill Watson about me."

"Here he comes now," said Joe, as he observed the veteran clown approaching. "Suppose you ask him yourself."

For an instant Ham Logan hesitated. Then he stepped forward and confronted the old clown. The latter paid no attention at first, evidently thinking the man one of the many hangers-on about a circus ground.

"Joe," began Bill Watson, "Helen sent me to ask you if you have any ammonia in your kit—I mean the kind they give the ladies when their hearts are weak, or something like that. One of the girls has some kind of a little spell, and we can't find the doctor."

"Yes, I have some ammonia," said Joe. "I'll get it."

Ham Logan looked Bill Watson in the face, and asked:

"Don't you remember me?"

"Can't say that I do," was the somewhat cool response of the veteran clown. "Is there any reason why I should?"

"Do you remember Coal-fire Logan?"

Bill Watson started, looked more closely at the man, and then slowly asked:

"Are you Ham Logan?"

"What's left of me—yes."

"Well, I'll be gum swizzled!" exclaimed Bill. "Say, did the elephant step on you or one of the tent wagons roll over you?"

"Neither one. I'm down and out, that's all—and it's enough, too."

"Well, that's enough, I should say," commented the clown, as he took the bottle of stimulant Joe handed him. "Last I heard of you you'd gone on a theater circuit. That was just after you'd quit the Dobling show."

"Yes, I did do a theater circuit," admitted Ham Logan. "But it didn't last. Or rather, I didn't last. I was just asking the young man here for a job. I said you'd remember me."

"Well, I certainly do," returned the old clown, who was not to do his act until later in the day.

"And I'm sorry to see you in this state, Ham. You did me a good turn once, and I haven't forgotten. Stick around a while, and I'll see you as soon as I play first-aid. Joe, if it isn't asking too much, will you look after Ham for a while? He used to be a good sort, and—"

"Better say too much of a 'good sport,'" paraphrased the man.

"I'll take care of him," promised Joe. "Did you say you were hungry?" asked the young magician, as the old clown turned and hurried away with the ammonia.

"You said it! But I'm not altogether a grafter. I can work for what I eat." And again there was a flash of pride.

"We'll talk of that later," said Joe. "Just now I want to get you something to eat. Here, take that over to the dining tent," and he scribbled a few words on one of his cards. "After you've eaten all you want, and after the show this afternoon, look me up."

"Do you think you can give me work?" asked the man eagerly. "I don't mean to act," he hastened to say. "I'm past that—down and out. But I'm strong. I can pull on the ropes or drive stakes."

"We'll talk of that later," replied Joe gently. "Go and eat now."

"Well, I sure can feed my face!" exclaimed the man. "I—I don't know how to thank you. Bill will tell you that I wasn't a bad fellow in my day. I just lost my nerve—that's all. False friends and fire-water—"

"See me later," said Joe, with a friendly wave of his hand. And the man hurried toward the dining tent, next to the cook wagons. Already he seemed imbued with more hope and pride, something that filled Joe with pleasure.

Joe busied himself with mixing the chemicals in the pail. As Ham Logan had guessed, the young fire-eater was mixing up a solution of tungstate of soda. This chemical is a salt, made by roasting wolfram with soda ash, and wolfram is a native tungstate of iron and manganese. This soda preparation is used commercially in making garments fire-proof, and Joe had learned this from Mr. Herbert Waldon, the chemist. He had decided to use this instead of an alum solution, which is credited with great fire-resisting qualities. It has them, too, to a certain extent, but by experimenting Joe had found the tungstate of soda best.

It was the evening of the circus in the city in which the show was to remain two days. Ham Logan had returned to Joe after having eaten a good meal, and later Bill Watson formed the third member of a trio that talked for some time in a corner of Joe's tent.

As already said, it was the evening performance, and as Helen finished her act on Rosebud she looked over toward the place where Joe was preparing to do his slide down the slanting wire.

"I wonder what he had in mind as a new act for me," mused Helen. "I do hope it isn't anything to do with fire. That sort of stunt creates a sensation, but it's dangerous, in spite of what Joe does to himself. I don't like it! Not after what happened to Joe that day!"

She had seen that Rosebud was given in charge of the groom who always looked after the clever steed, and now Helen moved over where she could watch Joe's comparatively new wire act.

As she approached this part of the circus tent Helen was startled to see several men carrying large hoops on long poles, take their positions on either side of the slanting wire down which the daring performer was soon to slide on his head, by means of the wheeled cap.

"That's something new!" exclaimed Helen, as she saw the men with the big hoops. "I wonder if Joe is going to jump through them, as I jump through the paper hoops from Rosebud's back?"

Joe was up on the little platform now, having finished his wire act. He was adjusting to his head the leather cap.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" began Jim Tracy in his sonorous voice, as he pointed to Joe on his high perch, thus calling attention to the performer.

All eyes were turned in his direction. Then, as Joe stooped over and stood on his head, preparatory to sliding down the wire, the hoops, which the men held over the cable by means of long poles, suddenly burst into flame. Held over the wire, down which Joe would in a moment slide, was a row of fiery circles!

Helen held her hand over her lips to stifle a scream.



CHAPTER XVII

THE BROKEN BOTTLE

So still was it in the big circus tent after the band stopped playing, while Joe prepared to do his head slide, that the whirr of the steel wheels in his leather cap could plainly be heard as he slid down the wire.

And as Helen and the others watched, the intention of the daring young performer became evident.

He was going to coast through the blazing hoops of fire which the men held in such a position that Joe could slide through them without touching them. Though they were called "hoops," in reality they were not completely closed, there being a slight opening to enable them to be slipped over the slanting wire. If a gigantic letter "C" with a long pole fastened to the lower curved part, can be imagined, it; will give an exact idea of what is meant.

As to the fire itself, it was caused by blazing bits of tow fastened to the circumference of the big wire hoops. And thus through the blazing circles Joe Strong slid down the slanting wire on his head. At the lower end of the wire, where it was fast to a stake in the ground, he caught hold of the cable in his gloved hands and so slowed his speed. Then he leaped to his feet and bowed in acknowledgment of the applause.

"Oh!" murmured Helen, as she watched. "It was only another of his sensational acts. When I first saw the blazing hoops I half thought that some one was trying to injure Joe, as they did when the acid was used on his high trapeze. Oh, it was only a trick!"

And so it was. Joe had planned it that day after meeting Ham Logan. The latter, talking about the time when he, too, had been a fire-eater, had mentioned an act where a performer leaped through blazing hoops, and Joe determined to use the idea, varying it to suit his purpose. That it was effective was evidenced by the long-continued applause.

"But, Joe," asked Helen, when the performance was over and she and Joe had received another ovation at the conclusion of the box mystery and the vanishing lady trick, "wasn't there danger of setting your clothes on fire when you went through the blazing hoops?"

"None at all," Joe assured her. "I have been planning a stunt like this for some time, and my garments were fire-proofed. Of course I wouldn't have done it otherwise. Look here!"

He took up a fancy jacket he had worn in his wire slide. Taking a match Joe lighted it and held it against the cloth. It did not take fire.

"There was that day—"

"But I have perfected the act since then, Helen. Of course the tungstate of soda that I soaked the clothes in wouldn't keep them from catching fire if I put the suit in a furnace. But the solution will make cloth resist a blaze temporarily, as will alum under some circumstances. I use alum on the suit I wear when I pretend to set myself on fire and then jump into the tank of water," went on Joe. "But after this I'm going to use the soda. It's more certain."

Joe worked the trick of seeming to set himself ablaze in this way. As he said, his suit was made as nearly fireproof as possible. Then on the back of his jacket were placed some bunches of tow saturated with alcohol. When this tow was set on fire it burned quickly, but Joe knew the flame would not last long. And the fact that the garments on which the burning material was fastened were as nearly fireproof as was possible to make them gave him additional safety. He really ran little risk, as the fire was at his back, and, as he ran toward the tank, his speed carried the flames away from him.

Joe, and all others who do a fire-eating act, calculate to a nicety just how long a certain fire will burn. And they do not place the blazing material into the mouth until the flames are almost on the point of going out of themselves. This, added to the fact that a chemical solution protects the tongue and lips, makes the act comparatively safe. But one word of caution. Do not try to fire-proof the mouth with tungstate of soda. This warning cannot be made too strong!

In fact, it is well not to try any fire-eating at all. It is too risky unless one is a professional.

"Well, Joe," remarked Jim Tracy, later that night when most of the circus folk were asleep, "if you want to add this fellow to our show, go ahead. You have the say, you know."

"Well, I don't want to do it in just that way," replied the young fire-eater. "Bill Watson says that Ham Logan was once a good man. He is down and out now, but he knows a lot about circus life and this handling of fire. I believe I can work him up into something useful—use him in a new act I'm thinking of putting on. If we can only keep him away from intoxicants he'll be all right, and I'd like to give him a chance."

"Well, Joe, as I said, it's up to you. Go to it! But remember, while he means all right, he may not have the spunk to keep his promise not to drink."

"I think he'll keep it," said Joe. "Anyhow, I'd like to give him a trial. He helped me with that fire hoop stunt, and it would be an act of charity to give him work."

"All right—you can be the charity," said the ringmaster. "What do you say, Bill Watson?"

"Oh, give him a chance," replied the old clown good-naturedly. "We all have our troubles. He can't do much harm, anyhow."

"I don't know about that," said Jim, with a shake of his head. "This playing with fire by a man who can't keep away from fire-water, is risky."

"Well, I'll take the chance," said Joe. And that was characteristic of him—taking chances.

Ham Logan was deeply grateful to Joe for what the young performer did. That is, he hired the former fire-eater as a sort of handy man in the circus, Ham to be subject to Joe's direction day and night.

"And let the fire-water alone!" demanded Joe. "I will! I really will!" said the old circus performer. He seemed to mean it.

Joe advanced him money enough to get some better clothes, to have a bath and be shaved, and it was quite a different person who appeared at the tent the following day, ready to help Joe. As Ham knew more about fire than any assistant Joe had yet been able to train, the new man was given charge of the various apparatus Joe used in his sensational acts, including the one of sliding down the wire on his head through the blazing hoops.

One matter bothered Joe and his friends, in spite of the great success the circus was having, and this was the bogus tickets. Several hundred of them were presented at the performances in the city where the two-day stay was made—the city already mentioned as being the location of a big automobile industry. And where the tickets came from remained a mystery. They were so nearly like the ones issued from the ticket wagon that not until duplicate numbers had been observed could the fraud be detected.

And as the men at the main entrances had no time in the rush to compare serial numbers, there seemed no way of stopping the cheating. It was impossible to see to it that every one who came to the show purchased admission tickets at the wagon. The surging crowds around prevented this.

Men engaged by the circus circulated through the throngs about the tent, seeking to learn whether any unauthorized persons were selling bogus tickets. But none was seen.

"It is evident," said Mr. Moyne, "that the counterfeiters get a bunch of the fake tickets and sell them in large lots to some men. These men, in turn, dispose of them at reduced prices to others, and perhaps the persons who use the tickets do not know they are counterfeits. I believe the swindlers go to the big factories and stores, and sell the tickets at a slightly lower price than we ask."

"We ought to be able to put a stop to that," said Joe.

"We'll try it!" said the treasurer. "It seems the only way—that and having the detectives stop the fraud at the source. You see, we can't tell which are the counterfeit tickets until after we check up the serial numbers—that's what makes it so hard."

And so, in spite of the success of Joe's acts and The success of the show in general, there was this element of annoyance. Joe wished the mystery could be cleared up. He had received back from the chemist the two tickets sent on last, and the counterfeit was marked. This was sent to the paper mill and the detectives notified. That was all that could be done for the present.

"Well, how's Coal-fire Logan making out?" asked Bill Watson of Joe one day, just before an afternoon performance.

"Very good," was the answer. "He's faithful and steady, and he's good help to me. He certainly knows the fire-eating stunt."

"Well, as long as he doesn't do any fire-drinking maybe he'll be all right," said the old clown.

"I haven't noticed any lapse," said Joe. "I have great hopes of him."

But that very afternoon, during the performance, Joe felt doubt beginning to creep over him. He caught Ham in several mistakes—slight ones—but enough, if not noticed in time, to have spoiled the act.

"I wonder what the matter is with him?" mused Joe. "He doesn't seem to have been drinking, and yet he acts queer. I wonder if he can be using drugs."

It was at the close of the act and the wind-up of the circus for the afternoon that Joe told Ham to put away some of the apparatus until evening. Joe was called away from his dressing room for a moment and when he came back he saw Ham hastily throw away a dark brown bottle which struck on a stone and broke. Immediately a queer odor filled the air.

"I wonder if that was liquor he was taking, and if he threw away the empty bottle," thought Joe quickly. "I'm going to find out, I've got to stop this thing at the start."

He hurried to the place where Ham had tossed the bottle. The fragments lay there, and the queer odor was more pronounced.

"Don't touch that! Let that bottle alone!" suddenly cried Ham Logan, as he became aware of Joe's intention. "Don't touch it!"



CHAPTER XVIII

A NARROW ESCAPE

Joe Strong was in two minds as he heard this warning and observed the face of the man he was befriending. His first thought was that Ham had broken his promise and was indulging in intoxicants. Naturally the man would want to conceal this as long as possible. The other thought was that the tramp fire-eater was up to some trick—perhaps he was jealous of Joe's success and his own failure and wanted to spoil some of Joe's apparatus. Yet Joe did not recognize as any of his property the brown bottle, which when broken emitted such a queer smell.

Joe decided to investigate further, and so, not heeding the warning call of the former circus star, he walked closer to the broken flask.

"Keep away from that!" cried Ham sharply. "Keep away!"

"Why?" asked Joe, with equal insistence.

"Because it's dangerous," was the answer. "Very dangerous."

"Dangerous for you or me?" Joe wanted to know. "Look here, Ham," he said earnestly, "are you up to—any of your old tricks? You know what I mean. Are you?"

The man flushed. Then, looking Joe straight in the face, he said:

"You have a right to ask that, and I'll answer you as straight. I haven't broken my promise—that is, only the times you know about. I haven't broken it this time. I found that bottle in among your things, and I was mighty sure it didn't belong there."

"What's in the bottle?" asked Joe, for, though he had dabbled in chemistry, he did not recognize the queer odor.

"A combination of the strongest acids ever known!" was the answer of Ham Logan. "A drop of it makes a terrible burn, and it will eat through solid steel and iron. I knew that if it broke where it was, among your trick things, a lot of them would be ruined. And I knew you couldn't have left the bottle there by mistake, as it wasn't there the last time I packed away your duds. And I knew if you knew what it was you wouldn't have left it around in that careless way. So, taking no chances, I threw it away, and I meant to break the bottle. That acid is awful stuff. It's best to let it soak into the ground. Come over and see what it does even to earth and stones."

He led the way to where the fluid had escaped from the broken flask, the fragments of which were scattered about. The odor was less strong now, as the acid was soaking into the earth. But there was a fuming and bubbling at the spot, and the very stones and earth seemed to be burning up in a small area.

"Don't step in it!" warned Ham Logan. "It will eat right through your shoes. Glass is the only thing it won't hurt—glass and porcelain. They mix it in porcelain retorts. I'll throw some loose earth over this place. The effects of the acid will soon be lost, but while it's active it's terrible stuff, believe me!"

"And you say you found that bottle in my baggage?" asked Joe.

"Yes," answered Ham Logan. "And am I right in saying you didn't know it was there?"

"I certainly didn't," declared Joe. "Who in the world could have put it there?"

"Have you any enemies?" asked Ham. "I mean some one who would like to see your circus acts spoiled, or even see you laid up for a while?"

"Well, I guess perhaps there are some I've made enemies of by having to discharge them, or something like that," admitted Joe, his thoughts going naturally to Bill Carfax. "There's one man, but he hasn't been seen around for a good while."

"That doesn't count. He may have gotten some one to do his trick for him," asserted Ham. "You'd better look out, Mr. Strong."

"I will!" declared Joe. "And thank you for your watchfulness. As you say, I didn't know that bottle was there, and I might have broken it by accident or have opened it and spilled some out. How did you come to discover it?"

"Just by accident. The smell is something you never forget. It comes up even around the glass stopper. As soon as I began overhauling your things, as you told me to, I smelled the stuff and I went on a still hunt for it.

"I was careful, too. I knew what it meant to get any of that acid on you, or on any of the things about you. I used to work in the chemical plant where they made the stuff—that was after I left the circus. Well, it can't do any harm now," he said as he got a shovel and covered with clean earth the bits of broken glass and the still fuming drops of add.

"Thank you," said Joe fervently.

He went into his private tent. Presently he came out with a bit of wire cable, such as is used in making circus trapezes. One end was blackened and partly fused, as though it had been in the fire. Joe held out this bit of wire rope. It was part of the trapeze he used in his big swing.

"What would you say had eaten through these strands?" he asked.

Ham Logan looked carefully at the cable. He sniffed it cautiously. He held it up to the light and again smelled it.

"It was this same acid that ate those strands," he declared. "I know how it used to eat metal out at the chemical works, and it does so in a queer way. This wire rope is eaten through just like that. There isn't any odor left, though sometimes it lasts a long time. But I'm sure the same kind of acid was used. You don't mean to tell me you have been experimenting with it!" and he looked in surprise at Joe.

"No indeed!" and the young fire-eater shook his head. "I never handle the acid. And the fact that the cable was eaten through nearly caused an accident." He then explained how he had discovered the partly severed wire rope just in time.

"They must have put on a weak solution of the acid," declared Ham. "Otherwise it would have eaten the rope through in jig time. So that's the game, is it? Well, they may have been trying it on a larger scale. Did you find out who doped the rope?"

"There was a man who might have done it," said Joe, thinking of Harry Loper. "But I don't believe he did."

"Is he still with the show?"

"Yes. I'll tell you all the circumstances," which Joe did, mentioning Loper by name.

"Well, we won't say anything," declared Ham Logan; "but I'll just keep my eyes on this Loper. As you say, he may not have done it, but he may know who did. I'll keep my eyes on him. Meanwhile be careful in overhauling your things. Look out for bottles that smell as this one did."

"I will!" promised Joe. "I guess I won't forget that odor. I can't tell you how I thank you, Ham. You've done me a good turn!"

"Well, you did me one," was the answer. "I was down and out when you gave me work, and I won't forget that in a hurry."

Joe pondered over what had happened as he performed his circus acts the remainder of that day and evening. He shuddered at the narrow escape he had had, and, when he had a chance, he carefully noted the conduct of Harry Loper. But that young fellow did not seem at all to act like one who had tried to do a dastardly trick. He was jolly and good-natured, as he always was, albeit somewhat of a weak character.

The circus performances went off well, Joe and the other actors receiving wild applause as they did their specialties. Joe's fire-eating was eagerly watched, and when he slid down the rope on his head, through the blazing hoops, the crowd went wild, as they did when, seemingly all afire, he leaped into the tank.

"When you going to spring that sensation you've been talking of, Joe?" asked Jim Tracy, at the conclusion of one afternoon show.

"Oh, pretty soon now," was the reply. "Ham Logan and I are working on it."

"Ham Logan! Is he going to be in it with you?" asked the ringmaster in some surprise.

"Of course!" answered Joe. "It's partly his idea. He's an old fire-actor, you know, and he's given me some good suggestions. Yes, he's going to help me. I think we'll put the act on next week. We've got to train some new performers first."

"New performers! Say, what are you going to do, Joe, take a troupe of fire-eating actors out on the road?"

"Something like that, yes," answered the young magician, with a laugh. "You'll see."

Joe Strong varied his acts in the circus tent Sometimes he would omit the "vanishing lady" act, as Helen wanted to put through some extra work with Rosebud, and there was not time for both. Again he would leave out some of his acrobatic work, or perhaps not do the trick of seeming to catch fire and extinguishing the flames in Benny Turton's tank. Once in a while he would omit the ten thousand dollar mystery box trick.

But on the day when he had the above conversation with Jim Tracy they were showing in a large factory town. There had been good business in the afternoon, and Joe had not done the box trick. But just before the evening show Jim came to Joe and said:

"There've been several requests, Joe, that you put the box trick on to-night."

"Requests from whom?" Joe asked.

"One of the newspaper men was telling me they received a lot of telephone calls to-day asking if the box trick would be done and the reward paid in case some one discovered the way it was done."

"What did you say?"

"I said I thought you'd put the trick on in that case. Don't you think you'd better? We didn't advertise it specially for to-night, but there might be a lot of sore-heads if we don't pull it off."

"Oh, I'll do it all right!" declared Joe. "I thought it was getting a bit stale. But if the crowd wants to see it I'll do it."

"I guess it will be better," said the ringmaster.

Accordingly, at the proper time, Joe, in his dazzling white suit, took his place in the silk-curtained enclosure. Helen, in her black dress, was ready to help him. The fireman, with his gleaming ax, ready to chop Joe out of the box in case anything should go wrong, was also on the stage.

As has been related in the other book, this last was done only for effect. Joe well knew that he could get out of the box. The manager made the usual offer of ten thousand dollars to be paid to any one who would disclose how the trick was done.

"You will all be given a chance to claim the reward under the usual conditions after the trick has been performed by Professor Strong," was the announcement made.

As the description of the manner in which Joe and Helen did the trick is given in all its details in the volume preceding this, suffice it here to say that Joe got into the box, which was locked and roped, and, at the proper time, he appeared outside.

"Is there any one who can tell how the trick was done, and so earn the ten thousand dollar reward?" asked the manager. He had made this announcement many times. Seldom, of late, had any one come forward. But now, somewhat to the surprise of Joe and his friends, a man's voice called from a location near the platform:

"I can tell how it was done!"

"Will you please come forward," invited Joe, now taking charge of the proceedings.

A fairly well-dressed man stepped across the arena and approached the stage. Joe and Jim Tracy and the others vitally interested looked closely at him. He was not Bill Carfax—that was certain. And Joe did not know the man, nor, as Jim Tracy admitted afterward, did he.

"You say you can tell how I get out of the box?" asked Joe, and the audience listened intently.

"Yes. I know the secret."

"Are you willing to post a hundred dollars to be forfeited to the Red Cross in case you fail?" went on the young magician.

"I am. Here is the money!" was the cool response. This quick compliance with the terms of the offer rather staggered Joe. But he had no fear as to the outcome.

"Very well," went on the originator of the box trick. "The ringmaster will hold your money. If you are successful in telling how I get out of the box the cash will be handed back to you, and you will receive, in addition, a check for ten thousand dollars. Now then, how do I get out of the box? Tell the audience."

There was a moment of suspense, and then the man, with an air of confidence, stepped close to the big, heavy box and, pointing to a certain corner, said:

"Right there is a secret panel. You slip it back and get out that way!"

The man seemed so triumphantly confident and so sure of his statement, that several in the audience cried:

"Is that right? Is that how you do the trick? If it is pay him the ten thousand dollars!"

Joe looked at Jim Tracy. This was the first time any one had ever come so close to the truth. Helen, standing at one side of the stage, began to be fearful that, after all, Joe's secret was discovered. It would mean an end of the box trick.

Then Joe smiled, and stepped forward. And there was something in the smile that reassured Helen.

"Has he guessed it?" she asked in a low voice, as Joe passed her.

"No. But it was a narrow escape," was the answer.



CHAPTER XIX

JUGGLING WITH FIRE

Smilingly the man who had made claim to the ten thousand dollars waited for Joe Strong. The fellow seemed already to have the money in his grasp.

"You say there is a sliding panel in that corner?" asked Joe.

"Positive."

"And that I get out that way?"

"Yes."

"Well, I say you are wrong, and I am going to prove it," returned Joe easily, and also smiling. "Now I'm going to let you, and any one you may select from the audience, paste sheets of paper over that corner. Then I'll do the trick over again. If I get out of the box, and the paper you paste on remains unbroken, you'll have to admit that I didn't come out through the place where you say is a sliding panel, won't you?"

"Well, if you don't break the paper, I guess I'll have to admit you didn't get out that way," said the man, with a grin. "But I want to see you do it first."

"Very well. I'll send for some paste and paper," went on Joe. "Meanwhile call upon any of your friends you like to help."

"Come on up here, Bill!" called out the man.

For an instant Joe, and Helen also, as she admitted later, feared it might be Bill Carfax to whom he referred. But an altogether different individual shuffled up to the stage.

"We'll paste paper over this end where the trick panel is," went on the man who had claimed the reward. "He won't get out then!"

"Sure he won't," agreed his companion. "Do we get the ten thousand then?"

"Naturally, if you have guessed right," said Joe. "But that remains to be seen."

There was no trouble in getting paste and paper. That is part of a circus, for, even though it is old-fashioned, paper hoops are still used for the clowns and some bareback riders to leap through.

A plentiful supply of large, white sheets and a pail of paste with a brush were brought up to the stage. Then the men were invited to begin their work, which was to seal up the corner the man had picked out as the location of the secret panel.

Before pasting on the paper the men looked closely at the joinings of the box. They seemed rather puzzled in spite of the cock-sureness of the first individual.

The pasting was not a work of art, but it was effective. The corner of the box was plastered over with sheets of white paper, in which there was no break.

"If I get out of the box without cracking, tearing, or disturbing the paper you have pasted on, without moving it in any way, you'll admit that you're wrong, won't you?" asked Joe, as he prepared to do the trick again.

"Yes," was the answer. "I will. But I've got you sewed up!"

"Pasted up would be a better word," returned Joe, with a smile. "But that remains to be seen."

The box was placed in position, and Joe took his place in it. The lid was slammed down, locked, and the rope was knotted about it. The two men who had done the pasting assisted in this.

Then the curtains were drawn, and Helen and the firemen took their places. There was a period of waiting. The tense suspense of the audience was manifest. Even Jim Tracy and Bill Watson, veteran circus men though they were, seemed a bit worried. The man who had claimed the ten thousand dollars and his companion seemed a bit ill at ease.

Then, suddenly, the curtains parted and Joe Strong stood in plain view, outside the box, bowing to the applause that greeted him. When it had subsided, he said:

"Will you two gentlemen kindly look at the paper seals you placed on one corner of the box? If they are unbroken and undisturbed I take it you have lost. Kindly look and announce what you find."

The men shuffled to the case and bent down over the corner that was covered with the pasted sheets. Look as they did, they could find no evidences of a break or tear in the paper. And it had not been removed and put back again. The men admitted that.

"Then you have to admit that I didn't get out of the box by means of a secret panel in that corner, don't you?" asked Joe, when the two had asserted that the paper was intact.

"Yes, I guess you win," said the first man. "But there's some trick about it!"

"Oh, I admit that!" laughed Joe. "It is a trick, and if you discover it you get ten thousand dollars. But not to-night. Red Cross is richer by a hundred dollars."

"Um!" grumbled the man, as he walked off, and many in the audience laughed. Joe had won.

The circus performance went on to its usual exciting close in the chariot races, and when preparations were being made to travel on to the next city, Helen had a chance to speak to Joe.

"It was a narrow escape," she said.

"Just what it was!" he replied. "If he had picked the other corner—the left instead of the right—he would have had me. But luck was with us."

"I'm glad," said Helen. "But how did he happen to select any corner? Some one must know more about your trick box than you think."

"I'm afraid so," admitted Joe ruefully. "I wouldn't be a bit surprised but what this was some of the work of Bill Carfax."

"Has he been around again?" asked Helen, and there was a note of annoyance in her voice.

"He hasn't been seen," said Joe. "But this man may have been in communication with him. Bill may have been studying the trick out since his last failure, and I must admit that he's on the right trail—that is, if it was Bill who put this man up to making the claim."

"What makes you think Bill had anything to do with it?" asked Helen.

"Well, for the reason that this is just the kind of town where Bill would be likely to have friends—I mean in a big manufacturing center. Bill may have found a man who is willing to act to help pull down the reward for him. But this time they failed."

"He may succeed next time," remarked Helen.

"No, I'll take care of that," Joe said. "I'm going to make a change in the box."

As the mechanism of the trick box has been explained in the preceding volume, it will not be repeated here. Suffice it to say that Joe's method of getting out of the box could be changed, so that if a person thought he had discovered the secret panel it could be shifted to another part of the case.

It was two or three days after this, and Joe had made a change in his box which satisfied him that the secret would not soon be discovered, that Helen, coming over to where he sat in his private tent, saw him making what seemed to be torches.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "Do you think our electric lights or gasoline flares are going to fail?" she went on jokingly. The Sampson Brothers' Show was a modern one, and carried a portable electric light plant.

"Oh, no, I'm not worrying about that!" answered Joe. "But I have a new idea for my wire act, and I want to see if it will work out."

That night, at the proper time, when Joe was introduced as about to perform his wire act, Helen noticed Ham Logan come out with the young fire-eater, carrying a number of the torches Joe had made.

Joe started across the high, slack wire, and on it performed many of his usual feats. They were not specially sensational, and Helen wondered what he had planned.