But, after a daring run across the slender support, following some risky side swinging, Helen saw Joe lower from the high platform where he stood a flexible wire. Standing on the ground below, Ham Logan received it and fastened on the end several of the metal torches Joe had made. The young magician hauled them up to him by means of the wire.

Then, as Helen and the audience watched, Joe set the torches ablaze. They were made of hollow cones of sheet iron, in which were placed bits of tow, soaked in alcohol.

With four blazing torches, two in either hand, Joe Strong started out to cross the high, slack wire. And then, to the wonder and amazement of the audience, no less than that of his friends in the show, Joe began juggling with fire.



CHAPTER XX

THE BLAZING BANQUET

Across the wire walked the young performer, and as he walked he tossed into the air, catching them as they came down, the flaming torches. When it is remembered that the fire was of the real, blazing sort, and hot at that, also when it is recalled that if Joe happened to catch hold of the wrong end of any of the whirling torches, and when it is evident that he must "watch his step," it will be seen that he was performing no easy feat.

Yet to watch him one would have thought that he had been doing it right along for many performances, instead of this being his first in public, though he and Ham Logan had practiced in private.

Across the wire walked Joe, juggling with fire, and when he reached the other platform he walked backward along the swaying wire.

Then the applause broke out, loud and long. The crowd appreciated the trick, with all its dangers. True, Joe Strong was an expert on the wire, and he was also a good juggler. But juggling with torches while on a swaying cable was not as easy as handling harmless rubber balls or Indian clubs, and the circus throng seemed to appreciate this.

Getting back to the platform whence he had started, Joe dropped the still blazing torches into a tub of water where they went out hissingly. This provided a fitting climax to the act, as showing that the flames were real ones.

And then Joe donned his cap of leather, with the little grooved wheels fastened in the top, and on his head he slid down the slanting wire through the blazing hoops. It was a good end to a good trick; and the crowd went wild.

"Well, Joe, you sure did put another one over for us," said Jim Tracy, at the conclusion of the performance. "That fire juggling was a great trick. That's the sensation you promised us, I suppose."

"No, it isn't," was the answer. "I'm not ready for that yet. But I'm glad you liked the trick. No, what I have up my sleeve is something even better, I think."

"Well, I hope you haven't any blazing torches up your sleeve," remarked Helen, with a laugh. "You'll need a new coat, if you have."

"No danger," laughed Joe. "I think I'll be ready soon. By the way, any news of the bogus tickets—I mean the detectives haven't found out anything positive, have they?"

"Not yet," answered Mr. Moyne, who had joined the little party. "And it's keeping all of us who have to do with the financial end guessing as to where the trouble will break out next."

"It is an unpleasant state of affairs," agreed Joe. "But I don't see what we can do except to wait. You haven't noticed any more of the counterfeit tickets of late, have you?"

"No," answered the treasurer. "It's only when we hit the big mill cities that they are worked in on us. That's why I believe there is some system to it all."

"Well, we'll have to break up the system," declared Joe. "As soon as I get this new act of mine perfected I'm going to take a day or two off, over Sunday say, and visit the detective agency. They may need stirring up."

"I wish something could be done," declared the treasurer.

About a week after this conversation, during which time the circus had moved from place to place, doing good business, Mrs. Watson, meeting Helen on the lot, said:

"Who are Joe's new friends?"

"New friends? I didn't know he had any specially new ones," remarked the young bareback rider. "Has he been befriending some more poor broken-down circus men, like Ham Logan?"

"These aren't men," said the clown's wife. "They are three pretty girls. I saw Joe coming back from downtown with them. They seemed jolly—laughing and talking."

"Three pretty girls!" murmured Helen. And then she quickly added, with an air of indifference: "Oh, I suppose they may be some cousins he hasn't seen for a long while."

"I thought Joe said he had no relatives in this country," went on Mrs. Watson.

"I'm sure I don't know," and Helen's voice was very cool.

"There's something behind all this," mused Mrs. Watson, as Helen walked away. "I hope those two haven't quarreled. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything."

However, it was too late now. The seeds of jealousy seemed to have been sown, though unwittingly, by Mrs. Watson. Helen walked on with her head high in the air, and as the clown's wife passed Joe's official tent a little later she heard, issuing from it, the jolly laughter and talk of several girlish voices.

"I wonder what Joe Strong is up to," thought Mrs. Watson. "He never acted like that before—going off with other girls and neglecting Helen. I'm going to speak to him. No, I won't either!" she decided. "I'll just keep still until I know I can help. It's better that way."

It was perhaps an hour after this that Joe, meeting Helen, called to her:

"Oh, I say! don't you want to do me a favor?"

"What sort?" asked the rider of Rosebud, and if Joe had not been thinking of something else he would have noticed the danger signs about Helen's countenance.

"The fancy jacket I use in one of my tricks is torn," went on Joe. "Would it be asking too much to request you to mend it?"

Helen tossed back her head and there was a snap to her eyes as she answered:

"Why don't you get one of the three pretty girls to do your mending? I'm afraid I'm not clever enough!" And with that she walked on haughtily.

For an instant Joe was so surprised that he could not speak. His face plainly showed how taken aback he was. Then, after a moment, he managed to stammer:

"Oh, but I say! Helen! Wait a moment! Let me explain. I—er I—I only—"

But Helen did not pause, she did not look back, and she did not answer. Joe stood staring after her in blank amazement. Then he gave utterance to a low whistle and exclaimed:

"Oh, ho! I see! Well, it will be my turn later!" and he laughed silently.

"He's either playing a mean trick or else he's up to some joke," declared Mrs. Watson, who, from a distance, had watched this little scene. "And," she added with a shake of her head, "I can't be sure what it is. Young folks are so foolish! So foolish!" and she sighed as she walked away.

Joe, with the torn jacket in his hand, turned back toward his own tent, and presently there came from it the sounds of several young persons, including girls, in conversation and laughter.

It was later, that same afternoon, when Helen noticed Joe in one part of the big tent. He was surrounded by three pretty young ladies and three good-looking young men. They were on one of the platforms seated about a table, and Joe seemed to be entertaining them, for there were plates, cups, knives and forks on the board—all the outward indications of a meal.

The time was late afternoon, following the day performance and prior to the evening show. Helen looked curiously over at the gay little scene, and something tugged at her heart-strings. Then she looked away, and Mrs. Watson, observing her from the other side of the tent, shook her gray head.

"I can't understand Joe Strong," murmured the clown's wife. "What has come over him?"

It was just before the opening of the evening performance that night when Joe, meeting Helen in the dressing tent, said:

"I shan't need you in the box trick, to-night, nor in the vanishing lady stunt, either."

"Oh, I suppose you're going to use one of the new, pretty girls," snapped Helen.

Joe looked at her quietly.

"No," he said, "I am not. But I am not going to put on either trick. I thought you'd like to know, so if you want to introduce any of your extras you'll have a chance."

"Thank you!" she said coldly, and passed on.

Joe smiled as he looked after her.

With a blare of trumpets, a boom and ruffle of drums, the gay procession started around the circus arena. The stately elephants, the hideous camels and the beautiful horses went around to be looked at, wondered at, and admired. Then, when the last of the cavalcade had passed out, the various acts began. Helen had a new costume for her bareback act, and as she started it she looked over to where Joe was busy on his stage. She saw the young men and women around him. They wore fancy costumes and seemed a part of the circus. Helen wondered what act they were going to appear in, since none including them had been announced.

She danced about on the back of Rosebud, and thought bitterly that Joe had never noticed her new dress. She was wearing it for the first time, too.

The whistle blew. All acts stopped and Jim Tracy advanced toward Joe's platform.

"A most marvelous and striking act!" he cried, not stating what it was to be.

All eyes, even those of Helen Morton, turned in the direction of Joe Strong.

He acted quickly. With a wave of his hand he invited the three pretty girls and the three well-appearing young men to be seated. They took their places around a table, with Joe acting as host. The table appeared to be well laden, and at first the act seemed to be only a rather elaborate meal being served in public.

"What is it all about?" mused Helen. "I can't see anything very wonderful in that."

But, even as she thus mused, something strange happened. The banquet table seemed to burst into flames. The dishes of food blazed up, and the audience gasped.

But the young men, the young women, and Joe Strong did not seem in the least surprised. They kept their seats and went right on eating.

And then, with a thrill of surprise, it was noticed that Joe Strong and his guests were devouring the blazing food itself! The girls and young men put portion after portion of the blazing viands into their mouths!



CHAPTER XXI

HAM IS MISSING

Surprise and astonishment held the audience silent and spellbound for a moment. Then a woman screamed, and, ready for this emergency and fearing a panic, than which nothing is more dreaded by circus men, Jim Tracy cried:

"Sit still! Keep your seats! There is no danger! This is all part of the show. We are merely showing you how to eat your meals in case any of you ever get caught in a blazing volcano. Watch the ladies and gentlemen eat their stuff hot—right off the fire!"

There was a laugh at this sally, and a laugh was what the ringmaster wanted more than anything else just then. He knew the tide of fear had been changed to one of wondering admiration.

And so, sitting on the stage in sight of the thrilled audience, Joe Strong and his guests, in the shape of pretty girls and manly young fellows fancifully attired, continued to eat the blazing food.

The very pieces of bread seemed to be on fire, there was a dancing flame over the butter, and each bit of meat or other food Joe and the performers lifted on their forks was alive with leaping fire.

Then the daring feature of the act was borne home to the audience and the applause broke forth—applause loud and long. There were yells and whistles from the younger and more enthusiastic portion of the circus crowd.

And then the fires died away. The table seemed emptied of victuals, and the young men and women, imitating Joe's example, leaned back in their chairs as though well satisfied with their hot meal.

"There you are, ladies and gentlemen!" declaimed the ringmaster. "They have come to no harm from eating living fire. If any of you are tired of cold victuals, kindly step forward and you will be treated to a free, hot lunch by Professor Strong."

"Not any in mine, thank you," murmured a man, and that seemed to be the general opinion.

As Joe and his new associates arose to bow to the renewed applause, the ringmaster made an announcement.

"A blazing banquet, such as you have just witnessed, will take place at each and every performance," he declared. "Come and bring your friends! Nothing like it ever seen before on any stage or in any circus in the world!

"Remember, you will see the same and identical act at each and every performance and all for the price of one admission. Professor Strong and his gifted salamander associates will eat fire as they did just now, at each and every show in the big tent. I thank you!"

"Well, Joe, it went all right!" said Jim Tracy when the performers had left the stage and the young fire-eater was alone on the platform. "It went like a house afire!"

"Yes," said Joe, "it seemed to. I guess it went better than if we had made a lot of preliminary notices. The suddenness of it took them by surprise."

"But we can advertise it big now," said the ringmaster. "We don't need to specify exactly what it is. Of course those who have seen it will tell their friends who are coming and who haven't seen it. But the big majority of the audiences will be as much surprised as this one was. It went big."

"Yes," agreed Joe, "it did. And I'm glad of it. This is the sensation I was planning, but I didn't want to go into details until I was sure it would work. I had to engage my helpers in the dark, so to speak, and I didn't even tell you what I was planning until the last minute."

"No, you didn't," said Jim.

Helen Morton came slowly across the arena. Her act was over, and she had seen the blazing banquet and Joe's part in it.

Her cheeks were unusually red as she approached holding out her hand, and there was a rather misty look about her eyes as she said:

"Will you forgive me, Joe?"

"For what?" he asked tantalizingly.

"Oh, you know perfectly well!" she exclaimed. "It was very silly of me, but—"

"I know, Helen. I did tease you a bit," he said. "I suppose I might have told you that the pretty girls were those I had engaged to help in the banquet scene, together with the young fellows. We had only a few rehearsals in my tent, and I didn't want to spread the news too generally, even among the circus crowd, for fear of a leak. But I suppose I might have told you."

"It would have saved me from acting so silly, if you had," she murmured.

"Then it is I who should ask forgiveness," said Joe. "But it's all right now. And may I come to lunch with you, or would you rather that I should go with—one of the pretty girls?"

"If you do I'll never forgive you!" declared Helen, blushing more than ever. And so the little quarrel ended.

As Joe had intimated, he had engaged his banquet helpers secretly, and they had met him at the city where the circus was to remain three days and nights. Ham Logan had been instrumental in getting the performers for Joe, since the old circus man knew the best theatrical agency at which to apply. So Joe had hired the young men and women to act the part of guests at the "banquet." He had guessed that Helen's actions denoted her jealousy, but he could not forbear teasing her.

"But did they actually eat the fire?" Helen asked, when she and Joe were together again. "Of course I know they didn't," she went on. "It's silly of me to ask such a question. But it was very realistic."

"I'm glad of that," said Joe. "No, they didn't actually 'eat' the fire, any more than I eat it. And I may say that I had quite a little trouble in getting them to put it near enough their mouths to make it seem as if they did.

"But the 'food' was only very thin paper of a peculiar kind, which Ham Logan and I worked out together. It can be made to look like almost any food, and yet it is treated chemically so as to burn easily and quickly. The flames go out as soon as they come near enough our mouths to feel the effects of certain chemicals that are on our faces. I can't tell you all the secrets, but that is enough to show you how we worked it.

"There was no more danger than there is when I 'eat' fire, and the trick is done in much the same way. Ham Logan is getting to be an invaluable helper. I hope he stays with me. I never could have done this trick without him."

The blazing banquet was the talk of that and other cities. As Jim Tracy had said, the feat was shown at each and every performance, Joe cutting out some of his less sensational acts. The circus made a longer stay than usual in the city where the fiery food was first "eaten," and played to record-breaking business.

"And the best of it is that we haven't seen a bogus ticket!" said the treasurer, much elated.

Joe, as one of the chief owners of the circus, was able to hire the "fire-eaters" unknown to any of his associates until the last minute, and thus the surprise was all the greater.

Joe's fire tricks were now the talk of the theatrical and circus worlds, and he received many offers to leave Sampson Brothers' Show and star by himself. But he refused them all, saying he wanted to build up his own show to a point never before reached.

As he had said, Ham Logan proved a valuable helper. The man, a fire-eater of the old school, knew many valuable secrets, and he held himself under such obligation to Joe that he revealed many of them to the young magician.

"Have you learned anything more about who left that bottle of powerful acid in among my things?" asked Joe of Ham, one afternoon when the fire banquet had been unusually successful.

"No, not exactly," was the answer. "But I'm on the trail, I think I am working along the right lines, but it is too early to make any statement."

"Well, take your time," said Joe. "Only I don't want to get mixed up with any of the deadly stuff."

"Don't worry. I'm on the watch," declared the old performer.

That night, when the time for Joe to prepare for his acts, including the fire tricks, came, he did not see Ham in the dressing tent, where the assistant was usually to be found.

"Have you seen him?" asked Joe of Harry Loper.

"Yes, about half an hour ago," was the answer. "He said he was going in to town."

"Going in to town—and so near performing time?" cried Joe. "I wonder what for! He ought to be here!"

Joe was worried, and when his signal for going on came Ham Logan was still missing. Joe Strong shook his head dubiously. It had been found necessary to get another man to help with the act.

"I don't like this," he murmured. "I don't like it for a cent!"



CHAPTER XXII

A SUDDEN WARNING

Only the fact that he had strong nerves and that he possessed the ability of concentrating his mind on whatever was uppermost at the time, enabled the young circus man to get through his various circus acts with credit at that performance. He began with the worry over Ham Logan's disappearance before him. And he was actually worried—a bad state of affairs for one whose ability to please and deceive critical audiences depends on his snappy acting, his quickness of hand and mind, and his skill.

But, as has been said, Joe possessed the ability to concentrate on the most needful matter, and that, for the time being, was his box trick, his fire-eating, and his slide on his head down the slanting wire through the blazing hoops.

Then came the blazing banquet, and this created the usual furor in the audience. Joe managed to get through it with credit, though his rather strange manner was noticed and commented on afterward by the young people associated with him.

"I wonder what's bothering the boss?" asked one of the young fire-eaters of another. "He nearly made a slip when he was lifting up that fake fried oyster."

"Maybe the circus is losing money and he's got to cut out this act—let some of us go—can't pay our salaries," was the reply.

"Don't you believe it!" declared the other. "The circus is making more money than it ever did—more even when the fake tickets are worked off on it."

"Well, it's none of our affair."

"I wouldn't like my salary to be cut off."

"Oh, neither would I."

"Fake tickets? I hadn't heard of them."

"Oh, yes," explained the first speaker, and he went into the details of the affair.

"But there's surely something worrying the boss," commented still another of the young men, and his associates, including the "pretty girls," agreed with him.

And what really was worrying Joe was speculation over the fate of Ham Logan. Not since Joe had first taken the old and broken circus actor into his employ had Ham been away more than a few hours at a time, and then Joe knew where he was. This time Ham had left no word, save the uncertain one that he was going into the city, on the outskirts of which the circus was at the time showing.

"But don't you think he'll come back?" asked Jim Tracy, when, after the performance, Joe had spoken of the missing Ham.

"I wish I could think so," was the reply. "I sure will hate to lose him. I depend a lot on him in my fire tricks."

"What makes you think you will lose him?" asked Tracy curiously.

"Well, his going off this way, for one," declared Joe. "What I'm really afraid of is that he may have gone back to his bad habits. You know how it is. A man starts to reform, and he keeps the pledges he makes until he meets some of his boon companions who used to help him on the downward road. They invite him to come along for a good time, and he goes."

"And you think that's what's happened to Ham?"

"I'm afraid so. I'm going down town and see if I can get any trace of him."

And this Joe did as soon as he was relieved of his duties in the circus. The show was to remain in town over night, and this gave him just the chance he wanted.

It was an unpleasant errand, but Joe went through with it. He had to call at many places that were distasteful to him, but in none of them did he get a trace of Ham Logan. Joe saw in the more brilliant parts of the city a number of the circus men, including some of the chief performers. They were taking advantage of the two-days' stay, and were meeting old friends and making some new acquaintances.

Of these Joe inquired for news of Ham, but no one had seen him. The old fire-eater had endeared himself to more than one member of the Sampson Brothers' Show, for he was always ready to do a favor. So more than Joe were interested in seeing that Ham kept on the good road along which he had started. But all of Joe's efforts were of no avail.

It was after midnight when he ended his search, and, rather than go back to the sleeping car where the other performers spent their night, Joe put up at a hotel, sending word to Jim Tracy of what he intended to do.

"I want to find Ham," Joe wrote in the note he sent to the ringmaster by a messenger boy, "and I've asked the police to be on the quiet lookout for him. If I stay at the hotel I can help him more quickly, in case he's found, than if I am away out at the railroad siding where the circus train is. I'll see you in the morning."

But Joe's night at the hotel was spent in vain, for there was no word of Ham Logan, and the morning which Joe put in, making inquiries, was equally fruitless.

"I guess Ham is gone for good," sighed Joe, and his regret was genuine, and almost as much for the sake of the man himself as for his own loss of a good assistant.

For Ham Logan was that and more to Joe. The former tramp had much valuable information regarding the old style fire-eating tricks, and though he was not up to the task of doing them himself, he gave Joe good advice. It was by his help and advice that Joe had staged the blazing banquet scene, which was such a success and which the newspapers mentioned constantly.

True, Joe did not actually need Ham to go on with his acts. He could break in another man to help him, to hand him the proper article at just the right time, to see to the mixing of the fire-resisting chemicals and to the preparation of the viands that seemed to be composed of fire itself.

"And that's what I'll have to do," mused Joe, when he became convinced some days later that Ham was not to be found.

He wished that Helen was able to act as his assistant in the fire scenes, as she did in the box trick and the vanishing lady act. But she could spare no more time from her own act with Rosebud, since she was billed as one of the "stars." Then, too, Helen had a fear of fire, and though she had succeeded in overcoming part of it, still she would not have made the proper sort of assistant in those acts. Besides, she would not have been able to mix the chemicals Joe required to render himself immune from such fire as he actually came in contact with, though momentarily.

"I've got to train in a new man," decided Joe. He mentally considered various circus employees, rejecting one after another, and finally selected one of the young men who acted in the blazing banquet scene. This youth was a bright, manly fellow, and had introduced some new "business" in the act which made it more interesting.

"I'll train him in," decided Joe, "with the understanding that if Ham comes back he'll get his old place. If he comes back! I wonder if he ever will, and if he'll be in a condition to help me."

Joe shook his head dubiously.

The circus moved on. It had played to good business, and there was more good business in prospect. Mr. Moyne, the treasurer, was on the anxious seat much of the time, fearing another flood of bogus tickets, but the efforts mentioned, on the part of the swindlers, following the use of new paper, was all they had to complain of so far.

"Either the detectives are too close to the trail of the cheats to allow them to work in safety, or they've given it up altogether," decided the treasurer.

"I hope so," said Joe. "Still it won't do to relax our vigilance. I wrote to the detective firm, as I said I would, jacking them up a bit. Maybe they are ready to make an arrest, and that would stop the swindlers."

The young man Joe had picked out to act as his chief assistant in the fire scenes was Ted Brown. Ted was about eighteen years old, and this was his first position with a circus. But he was making good, and he had not yet been afflicted with the terrible disease known as "swelled head," something which ruins so many performers.

Ted learned rapidly, and Joe felt that it would be safe to trust him with some of the secrets of the tricks—the mixing of the fire-resisting chemicals and the like. Joe's choice seemed to be a good one, for Ted did well, and his part in the banquet scene was made even better by his knowledge of the inner workings of the material used.

But though Joe did not lose materially by the desertion of Ham, if that was what it was, since he could now depend on Ted, the young circus man many times found himself wondering if he would ever see the old fire-eater again.

The circus opened one afternoon in a large city—one in which lived many thousands of men employed in a large ship-building plant.

"There'll be big crowds here," said Mr. Moyne, as he walked toward the ticket wagon in preparation for the rush. "And it's here we'll have to look out for bogus coupons."

"Why?" asked Joe, who was getting ready for his acts.

"Because in every other case the swindlers have worked their game where there was a big plant engaging many men of what you might call rough and ready character—ready to take a chance on scalped admission tickets, and rough enough to fight if they were discovered. So I'm going to be on the watch."

"It's just as well to be," decided Joe. He turned back into the tent which was his combined dressing room and a storage place for his various smaller bits of apparatus and the chemicals he used in his fire act.

Before giving his last act Joe always washed his hands and face and rinsed his mouth out with a chemical preparation that would, for a time, resist the action of fire. It was a secret compound, rather difficult to handle and make, and Joe had taught Ted Brown how to do it.

The young fellow was handing Joe this mixture, some of which was also used by all who took part in the blazing banquet scene, when the flap of the tent was suddenly pushed aside and Harry Loper entered.

"Stop!" he cried, raising a restraining hand. "Don't use that solution, Mr. Strong! It's doped! Don't use it!"

Joe, who had been about to apply some of the stuff to his hands, turned in surprise. He was alarmed at the strange look on the face of the youth who acted as his helper in the high wire and in some of the trapeze acts.

"Don't use that stuff!" cried Harry. "It's doped!" and then he sank down on a chair and, burying his face in his hands, burst into tears.



CHAPTER XXIII

A STRANGE SUMMONS

Joe Strong looked from the sobbing Harry Loper to the amazed Ted Brown. The latter's face showed his great surprise. For an instant Joe had an ugly suspicion that his new assistant had played him false—that, because of jealousy or from some other motive, he had mixed the chemicals in some way to make them ineffective. This would spoil the illusion, or it might even cause injury.

"Look here, Harry! what's the matter?" cried Joe, purposely using a rough voice, so as to stop, if possible, the display of emotion on the part of the youth. "Act like a man, can't you! If you've done some mean trick tell me about it. What do you mean when you say this mixture is doped?"

"Just that!" exclaimed Harry, looking up with haggard face. "I can't stand it any longer. I promised not to tell, but I've got to. I—I can't see any harm come to you."

"Harm!" cried Joe. "Do you mean this is poison?"

"No, not that. He said it wouldn't do you any harm—that it would only make the act turn out wrong—that you, nor anybody, would not be hurt. But I don't believe him. I believe he wants to harm you, and I'm going to tell all I know. I can't stand it any longer."

"Look here, Harry!" said Joe sternly, "are you perfectly sober? Do you know what you're saying?"

"Yes, I know that, all right, Mr. Strong," whined the lad. "I won't say I haven't been drinking, for I have. I did it to try to forget, but it wouldn't work. I'm plenty sober enough to know what I'm saying."

"And you tell me this chemical preparation will work harm to me and those who help me in the fire acts?"

"I don't know as to that, Mr. Strong. He told me that it wouldn't harm you. But I don't believe him! I won't trust him any more."

"Who do you mean?" asked Joe. "Do you know anything about this?" he demanded sternly of Ted Brown. "You prepared this mixture, didn't you?"

"Yes, Mr. Strong, I did. I made it just the way you told me. If you think—"

"No, he doesn't know anything about it," murmured Harry, who seemed to have recovered some of his composure, now that the worst of his confession was over. "He didn't have a hand in it. I'm to blame. If I hadn't let him into your tent he couldn't have doped the stuff. Oh, I'm sorry! I was a fool to believe him, but he promised me a lot of money just to keep still, and I've done it up to now. But I'm through with him!"

"Look here!" cried Joe. "How long has this been going on? Was this mixture ever doped, as you call it, before?"

"Oh, no, not that I know," was the answer. Joe knew this much, at least, was true. The mixture had always worked perfectly before, and if it had been tampered with that would not have been the case.

"Then what do you mean?" cried the young magician. "Speak up, can't you? Be a man! If you haven't done anything really wrong you won't be punished. I'm after the person back of you. Speak up! Who is he?"

He realized that Harry Loper was but a weak tool in the hands of some one else, and many things that had seemed strange came back to Joe with a sudden rush now. He might be able to learn who it was that had such enmity against him and the circus.

"Are you going to tell me?" demanded Joe.

"Yes! Yes! I'll tell you everything!" was the answer. "I can't stand it any longer. I can't eat in comfort any more, and I can't sleep! First he promised to pay me for letting him come to your tent when you were out. Then he threatened to kill me if I told. But I'm going to tell. I don't care what he does!"

"But if this is the first time my chemical mixture has been doped, what do you mean about 'him,' whoever he is, coming to my tent at other times?" asked Joe. "What other times were they?"

"Don't you remember when the bottle of acid was found?" asked the abashed youth.

"Yes! Was that some of your doings too?" cried Joe hotly.

"No, I didn't do it. He did. But I—I looked the other way when he did it. And then there was the time when the trapeze wire broke. It was acid that did that. He put it on."

"Who is this mysterious person you call 'he' all the while?" asked Joe. "I want to get after him."

"I'll tell you!" promised Harry. "But you'll protect me, won't you, Mr. Strong?"

"As far as I can with decency, yes. Now tell me!"

But there came another interruption. A man thrust his head into the tent and exclaimed:

"Mr. Tracy wants to know if you can advance the fire scenes about ten minutes, Mr. Strong. One of the men acrobats has sprained his wrist and they've got to cut out his act. Can you go on ten minutes sooner than usual?"

"Guess I'll have to," said Joe. "Quick, Ted, make up some new solution. I'll help you. As for you, Harry, you stay right here. I'll talk to you later. Haven't time now. And I'm going to have some one stay with you, to make sure you don't weaken and run away. It is as much for your own sake as mine. If you've decided to leave the man who got you to help in this work I'll stand by you. But I want to be sure your repentance is genuine. So stay right here, and we'll talk about this later. Don't say anything outside," he cautioned Ted.

"I won't," was the answer. "Say, I hope you don't think I had any hand in this?"

"No," Joe answered, "I don't. I'm trusting you—that's my best evidence."

"Thank you," said the young fellow, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Quick work was needed on the part of Joe and his new helper to get ready for the act. New chemicals had to be mixed, to render it safe to handle fire. This was in the acts where Joe seemed to swallow flames and where he and the others "dined" on blazing food.

In the other acts, where Joe juggled on the slack wire with the flaming torches, where he slid down the wire through the blazing hoops, and where he jumped into the tank of water with his garments apparently in flames, no change was needed. In these feats Joe's costume was fireproofed, and, as they had been treated some time before, he knew there was only a remote possibility that they had been tampered with.

Still he was taking no chances, and while he was waiting for Ted to complete the mixing of the fire-resisting chemical mixture, Joe tested his garments with a blazing bit of paper. They did not catch fire, which assured him of safety during his sensational acts.

"How about you, Joe?" asked Jim Tracy, thrusting his head into the tent a little later. "Are you going to be able to make it?"

"Oh, sure. I'll be there!"

"Sorry to have to make the change," went on the ringmaster. "But Baraldi is hurt, and his act had to be cut out completely. So I had to move you up."

"Oh, that's all right," Joe assured him.

"Hello, what are you doing here—and what's the matter with you?" cried Jim, seeing Harry Loper sitting dejectedly in a chair. "Why aren't you out fixing the trapezes? You know Mr. Strong goes on them soon."

"I—I—he told me to stay here," Loper stammered, indicating Joe.

"Yes," supplemented Joe Strong, "there's something doing, Jim. I'll tell you later. I want some one to stay in here with Harry. Some one we can trust," he added significantly.

"I'll send Paddy Flynn," promised the ringmaster. As he went out he looked curiously at Harry.

"How's the stuff coming on, Ted?" asked Joe, when the doctored mixture had been thrown away and new made.

"All right, I guess. I'll try it."

He put some on one finger, thrust the member into the flame of a candle, and held it there longer than usual.

"Look out!" Joe warned him. "You can't be too familiar with fire."

"The stuff's all right," was the answer. "It's better than the last we used."

"Good! Well, let's get busy!"

In spite of the strain of what he had gone through in listening to the partial confession of Harry Loper, Joe did some of his best work in the fire acts that day. The blazing banquet was most effective.

Having changed to his costume for his magical box and other tricks, and learning that Harry was still safe under the watchful eye of Paddy Flynn, Joe hurried out to his stage, where Mr. Tracy was already making the ten thousand dollar offer.

As Joe hurried across the arena one of the tent men thrust into his hand a scrap of paper.

"What is it?" asked Joe.

"I don't know," was the reply. "A boy just brought it and told me to give it to you."

Joe had a half minute to wait while the ringmaster was talking. Quickly he read the note—it was really a scrawl. But it said:

"Please forgive me and still believe in me. I am suffering! I can't come to you in the condition I'm in now. But I have something to tell you if you could come to me. The boy will bring you."

The note was signed "Hamilton Logan."

"Whew!" whistled Joe. "Worse and more of it!"



CHAPTER XXIV

THE TRAP IS SET

Pausing only long enough to tell the man who had given him the note to be sure and detain the boy who had brought it, Joe Strong hurried over to the stage to begin his box trick. That was to be followed by the "disappearing lady" act.

And here again Joe had to use all his reserve nerve to enable him to go on with the performance as smoothly as he usually did. He had to dismiss from his mind, for the time being, all thoughts of Ham Logan, and he steeled himself not to think of what the strange summons might mean.

"If Ham is in trouble I'm going to help him—that's all!" declared Joe.

Following the usual announcement by Jim Tracy, Joe got into the box. It was locked and roped and then Helen took her place, as did the fireman with his gleaming ax.

Joe worked unusually quickly that night in getting out of the box. He knew this haste would not spoil the illusion of the trick. In fact it really heightened it. For he was out of the heavy box in much shorter time than it had taken the volunteer committee to lock him in.

And Joe was glad no one came forward at this performance to claim the ten thousand dollars. That would have taken up time, and time, just then, was what Joe wanted most.

"Evidently none of you know how the trick is done," commented the ringmaster, when his offer of ten thousand dollars was not taken advantage of. "We will now proceed to the next illusion, that of causing a beautiful lady to disappear and vanish into thin air before your very eyes. There is no reward offered for the solution of this mystery."

Helen then took her place on the trick chair over the trap in the stage. The silk shawl was placed over her, and, in due time, the chair was shown empty.

The usual applause followed and Joe was glad his acts were over for the time. Bowing to acknowledge the fervor of the audience, Joe started toward his dressing apartment.

"I want to see you as soon as I can," he quickly told Helen. "But I have to go away. It's about Ham," he added. "I've heard from him."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. Just a scrawled note. The messenger who brought it is going to take me to him."

"Oh, Joe, I'm so glad you've heard from him. I liked him."

"I did too. I hope I can continue to like him. But I'm afraid, from the tone of his note, that he's broken his pledge. However, we can't expect too much. Don't go away for an hour or so. I'll be back as soon as I can and I'll tell you all about it."

"I'll wait for you," promised Helen.

As Joe hurried across the arena he saw the tent man who had given him the note.

"Where's the boy?" he asked.

"I took him to your tent. Paddy Flynn is there and Loper. Is anything the matter, Mr. Strong?"

"Oh, nothing that can't be made right, I hope."

Joe found a red-haired boy sitting on the edge of a folding chair in the dressing tent. The lad was looking wonderingly about the place.

"Did you bring this note?" asked Joe, showing the crumpled paper.

"Sure I did! And say, I wish I could see the show!"

"You can to-night after you take me to Mr. Logan," replied Joe. "You know where he is, don't you?"

"Sure I do! Didn't he give me the note to bring youse?"

"Where is he?"

"Down in Kelly's joint. I live next door."

"What is Kelly's joint?"

"A saloon," answered the red-haired boy. "De name on de winders is cafe, but they don't pronounce it that way—anyhow some of 'em don't. It oughter be cave I guess. It sure is a joint!"

"Is Mr. Logan there?" asked Joe.

"Sure he is. Upstairs in one of de rooms. He's been on a terrible spree he said, but he's sober now and sick—gee, mister, but he sure was sick. Me mudder helped take care of him."

"I'm glad of that," said Joe. "We'll go to him at once. Where is Kelly's—er—cafe?"

"Down by de river near de shipyards," answered the red-haired lad.

For an instant Joe hesitated, but only for an instant. The district named, as he well knew, was a bad one. It was also dangerous.

But it was still afternoon, though growing late. It would not be dark for some time, however, and Joe felt that he would be safe enough in going alone. At night he would have taken some one with him.

But there were two reasons why he did not want to do this now. One was that no one whom he felt he could trust to be discreet could be taken away from the circus, which was not yet over, though Joe's acts were finished. Another reason was that he did not want the possible degradation of Logan seen by any of his former associates. Possibly he might come back to the show, and he would always have a feeling of shame if he knew that those with whom he worked had seen him recovering from a "spree," as the red-haired lad called it.

"I've got to go away," said Joe to Paddy Flynn. Joe and the lad had talked at one side of the tent and in low tones, so the young circus man knew their voices had not been overheard by Paddy and the man he was guarding, Harry Loper. "I'll be back as soon as I can," went on the young fire-eater. "Meanwhile you stay here, Loper. Paddy will take care of you, and when I come back I'll have a talk with you."

"All right," assented the other wearily. "I feel better now I've told you."

Joe and Micky Donlon, which the red-haired boy said was his name, though probably Michael was what he had been christened, were soon on their way toward the river and the location of one of the shipyards.

"Are youse sure I can see de show to-night?" asked Micky eagerly, as they walked along.

"Positive," said Joe. "Here's a reserved seat ticket now. Two, in fact, in case you want to take some one."

"I'll take me mudder," declared the lad. "I got a girl, but she's goin' wit another feller. He bought two tickets, but dey wasn't reserved seats. I didn't have the dough—dat's why she shook me, I guess. But when I flash dese on her—say, maybe she won't want to shine up at me again! But nothin' doin'! I'll take me mudder. She needs a change after waitin' on dat guy what's been on a spree."

"How long has Mr. Logan been ill?" asked Joe.

"Oh, he's been in Kelly's joint for a week."

"He must have been waiting for the circus to arrive," thought Joe. "He knew we were booked for here. Poor fellow!"

Joe was glad it was still light when he entered the district where Kelly's cafe, or saloon, to be more exact, was situated. For the place was most disreputable in appearance, and the character of men loitering about it would have made it a place to stay away from after dark.

Suspicious eyes looked at Joe as he entered the place with his young guide.

"He's come to see de sick guy," Micky explained to the bartender.

"Well, I hope he's come to pay what's owin'," was the surly comment.

"I'll settle any bills that Mr. Logan may owe for board or lodging," said Joe.

"Board! He don't owe much for board!" sneered the barkeeper. "He hasn't eaten enough to keep a fly alive. But he does owe for his room."

"I'll pay that," offered Joe. Then he was guided upstairs to a squalid room.

"Come in!" called a weak voice, and Joe, pushing back the door, saw, lying on a tumbled bed, the form of the old fire-eater. It was a great change Ham Logan was in even worse condition than when he had applied to Joe for work. He was utterly disreputable. But in spite of that there was something about his face and eyes that gave Joe hope. The man was sober—that was one thing.

As Joe looked at him, Ham turned his face away.

"I—I'm ashamed to have you see me," he murmured. "I fought it off as long as I could, but I just had to see you. 'Tisn't for my own sake!" he added quickly. "I know you're through with me. But it's for your own—and the good of the show. I've got something to tell you, and, when I've done that, you can go away again and forget me. That's all I'm fit for—to be forgotten!"

A dry sob shook his emaciated frame.

"Son, here's a quarter," said Joe to the red-haired Micky. "You go out and get yourself an ice-cream soda and come back in half an hour."

And after he had thus delicately removed a witness to the sad scene Joe closed the door, and, going over to the bed, held out both his hands to the man.

And then tears—tears to which he had long been stranger—coursed down the sunken cheeks of Hamilton Logan.

Just what Joe said to the man whom he had befriended and who had gone back to his old ways and what Ham Logan said to his young benefactor will never be known. Neither would tell, and no one else knew. As a matter of fact, it did not matter. Afterward, though, following some sensational happenings which did become known, Joe told his closest friends enough of Ham's story to make clear the trend of events.

Punctually on the time agreed, Micky Donlon was back at his post. Joe was coming out of the room.

"Are you engaged for the rest of the day?" asked the young circus performer of his guide.

"Engaged?"

"I mean have you anything to do?"

"Not so's you could notice! Me mudder's goin' to dress up to see de show, but me—I'm all ready!"

"Good! Then you can help me. I'll pay you for your time. Can we get an automobile in this part of the city?"

"Gee, no, mister! Dere's jitney buses about two blocks up, though."

"Well, perhaps they'll do for a time. I've got a lot to do, and you can help me."

"I sure will, mister!" cried Micky. "Are youse in de circus—I mean does youse ride a horse or jump over de elephants?"

"Well, something like that—yes," answered Joe with a smile. "You'll see to-night if you come."

"Oh, I'll be dere! Don't forgit dat!"

Joe and his guide took a jitney to the nearest public hack stand, where a number of automobiles were waiting, and Joe entered one of these with Micky.

"Gee, if me girl could see me now!" murmured the red-haired lad, as he sank back in the deep seat.

Joe was too preoccupied to more than smile at the lad. There was much that remained to be done. The circus was to remain in this city two days more, over Saturday night, in fact, leaving on Sunday for a distant city.

"There's time enough to trap them!" mused Joe. "Time enough to trap them!"

And, getting back to the show lot, he dismissed the automobile, and, taking Micky with him, sought out Jim Tracy, Mr. Moyne, and some of the other circus executives.

And then the trap was set.



CHAPTER XXV

A BLAZE OF GLORY

"Well," remarked Joe, after having talked rapidly and said considerable to his friends, "what do you think of my news?"

"Great!" declared the ringmaster. "I didn't think things would take just that turn, but after Loper's confession and what Ham told you, I believe it all. That scoundrel ought to be sent away for life."

"He'll go for a long time if I have anything to say," declared the treasurer. "Did you know we spotted more bogus tickets to-day?" he asked Joe.

"No."

"Well, we did. I found it out just after you left. There were only a few. The rush will come to-night."

"Unless we stop it," put in Jim Tracy.

"We'll stop it!" decided Joe. "That's why I wanted to get things started in a hurry. The trap is all ready to spring. The detectives will be here at eight o'clock, just when the rush is at its height at the ticket wagon."

"Are you going to bring Ham back?" asked Jim, when the conference was over.

"I certainly am," was the answer. "I think he's been on his last spree. And he wouldn't have gone on this one only that he was tempted by some person. Put this tempter out of the way, and it will mean Ham's safety. Now we've got to work."

There was an exceedingly busy time at the circus from then on, and very little of it concerned the show itself. The performance was delayed half an hour that night to enable the trap to be sprung.

Joe and Jim Tracy met a certain train that came in from a large city, and saw alight from it two quiet, unassuming men.

"There they are," said Joe. "Now things will move!" And he and the ringmaster were soon in conversation with the two new arrivals.

A little later the four entered Joe's dressing tent at the circus grounds. And some time after that four men, whose faces were black from the smudge of machine oil and grease and whose clothes carried like marks, left Joe's quarters.

"Down near the shipyards when the last of the day shift comes off will be the time and place," said one of the four smudge-faced men.

"Right!" declared another.

From the big shipyard poured hundreds of men. As they began to emerge from the gate the four soiled-faced individuals who had come from Joe's dressing tent mingled with them. They heard some one ask:

"Are you sure the tickets'll be good?"

"Sure," was the answer. "This fellow and his pal are part of the show. He sells 'em this way so there won't be such a crowd at the wagon, and that's why he makes such a big discount. It sort of guarantees a pretty big crowd, too. Oh, the tickets are good, all right. There's the ticket guy now."

The crowd of men turned down a side street, and the four smutty-countenanced men went with them. One of the four said:

"Wait till he sells a few tickets and then nab him."

"There's two of 'em," said another voice.

"Nab 'em both! They work together."

Soon the men from the shipyard surrounded the two men, one of whom had been designated by the sentence: "There's the ticket guy now."

Money began to change hands, and tickets were passed around. The four men who had kept together shoved their way through the crowd of ship workers.

"How much are the tickets?" one asked.

"Thirty-five cents," was the answer. "They'll cost you fifty or seventy-five at the wagon. The only reason we sell 'em this way is to avoid the rush. Then, too, you're really buying 'em at wholesale."

"I'll take four," said the man of the quartette.

"Here you are! Four."

There was another clink of money and a rustle of slips of paper. Then the man who had passed over the tickets, said:

"Here's your change. That was a five you gave me, wasn't it? Take your change."

"And you take yours, Bill Carfax!" suddenly cried one of the four. "It's quite a sudden change, too!"

There was a flash of something bright, a metallic click—two of them, in fact—and the ticket seller tried to break away. But he was held by the handcuffs on his wrists, one of the four grasping them by the connecting chain.

"Get the other!" cried a sharp voice.

There was a scuffle, another flash of something bright, two more clicks, and one of the four cried:

"That'll be about all from you, Jed Lewis, alias Inky Jed."

The two handcuffed men seemed to know that the game was up. They shrugged their shoulders, looked at each other, and grew quiet suddenly. The set trap had been successfully sprung.

"Hey! what's the big idea?"

"What's it all about?"

"Don't we get our tickets?"

Thus cried the men from the shipyards.

"You don't want these tickets," said Joe Strong, for as Bill Carfax looked more closely at one of the four he recognized him as the young circus man. "You don't want any tickets these men could sell you."

"Why not?" demanded a man who had bought one.

"Because they're counterfeit," was Joe's answer. "This man, Bill Carfax," and he nodded toward the one first handcuffed, "used to work with the Sampson show. He was discharged—ask him to tell you why—and soon after that we began to be cheated by the use of counterfeit tickets. We have been trying ever since to find out who sold them, and now we have."

"You think you have!" sneered the man who had been called "Inky Jed."

"We know it," said Joe decidedly. "Ham Logan overheard your plans discussed, and he's told everything."

"Oh!" exclaimed Bill Carfax, and there was a world of meaning in that simple interjection.

"And who might you guys be?" asked one of the shipyard men.

"I'm one of the circus owners," said Joe quietly, "and this is the ringmaster," he went on, indicating Jim Tracy. "These other two gentlemen are detectives who have been working on the case since we discovered the counterfeits. We disguised ourselves in this way in order to trap these two," and he pointed to the handcuffed men.

The ship workers nodded. One of them asked:

"And aren't they with your show, and can't they sell tickets at reduced prices?"

"Never!" exclaimed Joe. "You might get in on the tickets you bought from them, but it would be illegally. The counterfeits are clever ones," he said, holding up four he had bought for evidence. "But we can detect the difference by means of the serial numbers. And now, if you men really want to see the show, go up to the lot and get your tickets from the wagon, or buy them at one of the authorized agencies."

There were many questions fired at Joe and his friends by the shipyard men, but they had time to answer only a few.

"We've got to get back to the performance," said Joe to the detectives. "You can take them with you," and he nodded toward Bill Carfax and his crony. "Jim and I will see you later."

"Oh, we'll take them with us all right!" laughed one of the detectives. "Move lively, boys!" he added to the two prisoners. "The jig is up!"

And the two counterfeiters seemed to know it.

"What does it all mean?" asked Helen of Joe, when he got back a little before the time to go on with his acts. He had washed his face and changed to his circus costume. The two prisoners had been locked up.

"Well, it means we killed two birds with one stone," said Joe. "We got rid of the men who have been making us lose money my means of the counterfeit tickets, and we have also under lock and key Bill Carfax, who tried several times to injure me, or at least to spoil my act, by means of acid on the trapeze rope and by changing the fireproof mixture."

"Oh, I'm so glad!" cried Helen. "Then you were in danger?"

"I suppose so—danger of injury, perhaps, but hardly death. I think Carfax, desperate as he was, would stop at that."

"How did you find out about him and the other man?"

"I'll just have time to tell you before my first act," said Joe. "It was Harry Loper who gave me the first idea. When he broke down it was because of what he had done, and on account of what Bill Carfax wanted him to do again. It was Bill who got into the tent once and put acid on my trapeze wire. And it was because he bribed poor Loper that he was able to do it. Bill pretended it was only a trick to make me slip, because he wanted to get even with me for discharging him. So poor, weak Harry let him sneak into the tent, disguised so none of our men would know him. Bill climbed up, put acid on the wire, and the fiery stuff did the rest.

"Well, that preyed on Harry's mind, but he kept putting it away. But finally, knowing the hold he had on him, Bill came back and gave him a bottle of acid to work some further harm to me or my apparatus. But Ham discovered that in time.

"Bill was provoked over his failure, and, when he wasn't helping Inky Jed get out the bogus tickets, he followed the show and tried to prevail on Harry to play another trick on me. Just what it was Harry doesn't know. He refused to do it, and then he came and confessed to me. So much for Harry. He's a sorry boy, and I think he'll turn over a new leaf.

"Now about Ham. Just as I feared, he got to drinking again. But it was because Bill met him when poor Ham's nerves were on edge, and Bill induced him to take liquor. Then Ham went all to pieces and started on a spree which lasted until now. He managed to get from place to place, always under Bill's eye, and at last he landed here, very weak and ill. Mrs. Donlon looked after him.

"And it was here that Ham first heard Bill and his crony plotting about the bogus circus tickets. The two counterfeiters planned to make a big strike here with the shipyard workers. Then Ham sent the warning to me. I called on him, learned the plans of Bill and Jed, and we sent for the detectives. The latter, we learned, were about to make an arrest anyhow, but it was of the men who really printed the bogus tickets. They hadn't a clew, as yet, to Bill and Jed, who were the real backers of the game. The detectives came on, disguised themselves with us, and we caught the scoundrels in the very act. Now they're locked up."

"Oh, Joe, it's wonderful!" exclaimed Helen. "I'm so glad it's all over. And are you going to bring Ham back to the show?"

"Just as soon as he's able to travel. Micky Donlon wants to join too, and I may give him a chance later. Well, our troubles seem to be over for a time, but I suppose there'll be more."

"Oh, look on the bright side!" exclaimed Helen. "Why be a fire-eater if you can't look on the bright side?" she laughed.

"That's so," agreed her admirer. "Well, I've got to get ready to eat some fire right now."

As Joe had said, everything was cleared up. Bill Carfax was at the bottom of most of the personal troubles of the young circus man, and his acts were actuated by a desire for vengeance. As to the ticket trick, Bill was only a sort of agent in that. Jed Lewis, alias Inky Jed, was an expert counterfeiter. He had already served time in prison for trying to make counterfeit money, and when he fell in with Bill, and heard the latter tell of some of his circus experiences, the more skillful scoundrel became impressed with the chance of making money by selling spurious tickets.

They had some printed and worked the scheme among crowds of men coming from factories, just as they were doing when they were caught.

As Ham told Joe, the old fire-eater had overheard the plots and saw his chance to do Joe a favor. Carfax, it was surmised, hoped to get Ham Logan under his influence through drink, so that he might use him in order to injure Joe, after having failed with Harry Loper.

It developed, afterward, that the paper mills had, innocently enough, furnished the swindlers with the paper for the counterfeit tickets. The material was secured through a trick, and Inky Jed knew an unscrupulous printer who did the work for him.

It was Bill Carfax who had sent the man who so nearly exposed Joe's box trick. But fortune was with the young circus man.

The music played, the horses trotted about, clowns made laughter, and Helen performed graceful feats on Rosebud. Joe did some magical tricks, walked the wire, slid down on his head, and then prepared for the blazing banquet.

In order to show what he could do, Ted Brown had introduced some novelties. After Joe and the guests had devoured the blazing food there was a pause, and then, suddenly, from the center of the table spouts of red fire burst out, so that the banquet ended in a blaze of glory. Joe's new helper had used some fireworks effectively.

In due time Bill and his crony were tried, convicted, and sent away to prison for long terms. Harry Loper changed his rather loose and weak ways and became one of Joe's best friends. Ted Brown was continued as an "assistant assistant," for in a few weeks Ham Logan was able to rejoin the show, and he again became Joe's chief helper.

"Well, what are you going to spring next on the unsuspecting public as a sensation?" asked Helen, when the show had reached a city where two days were to be spent. "Have you other acts as good a the fire-eating?"

"Well, perhaps I can think up some," was the answer.

And so, with Joe Strong thinking what the future might hold for him and the circus, we will take our leave for a time.

THE END