"Oh, it was just accident, I guess."

"A lucky accident. We other performers will have to dress our acts differently if we want to get any attention."

Joe's act was better that night than it had been in the afternoon. One of the circus men caught a big mud turtle in the creek, near which the tents were erected, and finding it was not of the biting kind, Joe put it in the tank with the goldfish. That added to the effectiveness of the scene at night.

"Say, what are you going to do with these fish?" asked an attendant as he was about to empty Joe's tank after the night performance in order to pack it for transportation.

"I arranged with the aquarium man to buy them back at a reduction," said Joe. "I don't suppose we can transport them very well, but I'll keep the green plants. They'll live a long while and I like them in the tank. The man who brought the fish also brought a small net to lift 'em out with. It ought to be around here somewhere. Put the fish in the box they came in, fill it with water and I'll send 'em back."

"You'll do nothing of the sort!" broke in Jim Tracy.

"Why not?" asked Joe, somewhat surprised.

"Because those goldfish are going to travel with you. They're a part of the regular act after this, and don't you forget it! It went too well to give up. We can carry goldfish as easily as a hippopotamus, I reckon. Put 'em in some kind of a water-tight box, and we'll ship 'em in the hippo tank, where he can't nose 'em out. I'll have a regular traveling tank made for 'em later. Leave those fish behind? I guess not! They're too good for that. Take 'em with you, Joe."

The boy fish was only too glad to do this. He had not hoped to have this part of the act permanently, as he did not see how it was possible to get a fresh supply of goldfish in each town where they played. But taking the fish with them solved the problem.

The golden swimmers were put in the box in which they had been brought to the circus grounds from the animal store, and when water was added they swam about, seemingly in comfort, though their quarters were rather crowded.

Joe put in some of the green aquatic plant, as this serves to keep the fish healthy, and makes it unnecessary to change the water so often.

"But they'll have to have a fresh drink as soon as we arrive in the morning," Joe said.

"I'll look after them," promised the keeper of the hippopotamus, who was grateful to Joe for having stopped the big beast from running into danger.

Thus Joe's act was added to. But he was not done yet—not satisfied. He wanted something different.

For a week the show traveled on. Joe and Helen wrote to Benny, and in reply received a short letter from him. He said they were getting ready to operate on him, though they would have to wait for a favorable opportunity.

"It is the only chance, they say," wrote Benny, "of preventing me from becoming deaf and dumb. But oh, how I dread it! And my mother!—I don't know how to tell her."

"Poor boy!" murmured Helen. "He certainly is in trouble. I wish we could be with him—but we can't."

For the show must go on, and Joe and Helen had to go with it.

Joe's act in the tank made a favorable impression all along the route. He was gaining a reputation, and Jim Tracy ordered some new show bills featuring him. Joe also bought a new suit, red and in some other respects different from Benny's old one.

"Oh, what a pretty color!" Helen exclaimed when she saw Joe's new under-water suit. "It just matches the goldfish."

"So it does," Joe agreed. "I never thought of that when I sent for it."

It did make an effective picture in the tank, and at first glance Joe appeared to be a big goldfish himself, so perfect was the coloring of his rubber garment.

One day, following the afternoon performance, Joe, having finished his act, was watching the antics of some performing dogs that had lately been added to the circus. One dog made a jump from a high pole into a blanket held by four men.

"Another idea!" Joe exclaimed as he watched. "I'll have a new stunt if they'll only let me do it. I wonder if it would work. I'm going to try. It will be even better than the goldfish act!"



CHAPTER X

IN TERROR

When the afternoon performance was over, Joe found a chance to speak to Mr. Fleet, the man who owned the performing dogs.

"Pretty good act you have there," said the boy fish. He sat down and began petting one of the dogs.

"Glad you think so," was the answer. "You have some little act yourself. Strong, I believe your name is?"

"Yes," Joe nodded in friendly fashion. "I guess my act does go pretty well, but it's more because of the novelty of it than from anything I do. It's different from trapeze work."

"It certainly is. I don't see how you hold your breath so long."

"Practice," said Joe. "But if I just stayed under water I wouldn't be able to hold the attention of the crowd long. I have to work in some special stunts."

"So I noticed. That goldfish idea is a good one."

"And that brings me to what I want to say to you," Joe said. "I have a new idea. You know, we've got to be always on the lookout for something new." Mr. Fleet nodded in comprehension. "Now it occurred to me while I was looking at your jumping dog," went on Joe, "that perhaps I could use him in my act—with you to help, of course."

"I'd be very glad to do anything I could," returned Mr. Fleet. He had soon become aware of the popularity of Joe's act, and as trained dogs are not much of a novelty he welcomed the opportunity of increasing attention to his particular act. To be associated with the boy fish would be well worth while.

"What is your idea?" asked the dog trainer.

"This," said Joe. "I want to get something alive in the tank with me—something bigger than the goldfish and the turtle. Of course the fish look pretty, and I shall probably keep them, but they don't show off well enough, especially at the far end of the tent. People can't see them well—I mean as well as I'd like to have them."

"And you have an idea that you can take one of my dogs into the tank with you?"

"Well, yes, that's what I've been thinking of," answered Joe. "Now take the one that jumps off the pole. He seems to have a lot of nerve."

"He has. That dog is a wonder, but I had my own troubles training him. However, I don't understand just what you mean."

"This," said Joe. "After you have put your dogs through their paces, and I have done most of my act, why can't we have the jumping dog leap into the tank, where I'm under the water?"

"We might be able to get him to do it," assented the trainer, slowly considering the matter. "But he wouldn't stay under water with you."

"No, I don't suppose he would at first, certainly not very long at a time," Joe said. "But he could be taught to. An animal, I think, instinctively holds its breath under water. It doesn't try to breathe, as a human being does who falls in for the first time. Of course a dog, or any other animal, instinctively comes to the top as soon as it can after finding itself under the water. But your dog is so smart we might be able to teach it to swim under water, for say a minute at a time."

"Well, perhaps we might," assented Mr. Fleet. "Toto is very quick to learn, and I suppose staying under water for a little while wouldn't be any harder for him to accomplish than some of the tricks I've made him do. But wouldn't it rather detract from you to have a dog sharing in the applause?"

"I don't think so," replied Joe. "If we get Toto to stay under a minute we'll be doing well, and we may have to cut it to a half. But if I stay under more than three minutes it will give the public a good idea of how much more endurance a human being has than an animal. That's only an idea of mine, of course. I don't know that we could make it work, but I feel like trying it."

"Well, I'm willing, if you are," assented Mr. Fleet. "We'll give it a trial, anyhow. We can do it now, if you like."

"We'll try the preliminaries," said Joe. "That is, we'll try to get him to jump into the tank of water first, so he'll get used to that. The rest will come gradually."

"Come on, Toto!" called Mr. Fleet, and the intelligent animal started up from his master's feet. "A new trick, old boy," went on the trainer. Toto barked in anticipation.

"Toto is a very willing worker," said the trainer. "He seems to love trying something new. If any of my dogs, or any dog in fact, can do what you want, Toto is the boy!"

The big tent was practically deserted save for a few attendants who were putting apparatus in shape for the evening performance. The high pole from which Toto jumped was on a movable platform, and with the help of some ring-men Joe and Mr. Fleet transported it over close to the tank which was left filled with water ready for Joe's evening act.

"Hadn't you better take out the goldfish?" asked Mr. Fleet. "Some of them may be hurt if Toto jumps in."

"No, I think not," said Joe. "The tank is big enough for them to swim out of the way, and if the trick goes I'll want the dog used to the fish in the water, so he might as well begin with them."

"Yes," assented the trainer. "I don't suppose you'd dare use a cat in an act like this, even if you could get her to go into the water, which most cats hate. She'd eat the goldfish."

"I'm afraid so!" laughed Joe. "But say! that would be a stunt, wouldn't it? A diving cat! That would create a sensation, but I guess it couldn't be done. I've heard of diving horses and diving bears, but never of a diving cat. Well, we won't bother about that now."

The pole was in place near the tank, the top being reached by a rope ladder up which Toto climbed. On top of the pole was a small padded platform for the dog to rest on before he got the word to make the leap.

"Up, Toto!" ordered Mr. Fleet, and with a bark the dog started up the ladder. Reaching the platform, he sat there in a "begging position," waiting for the sign to jump.

"Down, Toto!" called Mr. Fleet, but instead of jumping, as he had always done at the word, Toto only whined and moved about uneasily on the little platform.

"Come on! Come on!" cried the trainer, but the little dog would not.

"He's afraid of the water," said Joe. "He's used to seeing a blanket under him."

"I guess that's right," agreed the trainer.

"Well, let's hold a blanket over the tank," suggested Joe. "We can hold it high enough at first so it won't touch the surface of the water. Gradually we can lower it until we have a little water showing as it seeps through the blanket. In that way perhaps we can get him used to it."

"We'll try that," assented Mr. Fleet. Four men held a blanket which was stretched over the top of the tank of water.

"Down, Toto!" commanded his master, and down the little dog jumped with a bark of satisfaction.

"That's our plan!" cried Joe.

They kept on with the experiment until they had the dog leaping into the blanket as it sagged down in the water, a quantity of which was held in the depression of the cloth. Toto seemed to like the new trick. He was eager for the leap, and splashed about joyously in the water.

An hour's practice was considered enough for one day.

"To-morrow we'll go at it again," said Mr. Fleet.

The more Joe thought of the new trick the better he liked it.

"To work with a diving dog will surely create a sensation," he mused.

"What's this I hear about you, Joe?" asked Jim Tracy at the evening performance. "Trying some new stunt?"

"Well, yes, just trying it. You mean about the dog?"

"Yes."

"I don't know that we can work it," went on Joe; "but if we can it ought to make a hit."

"That's the idea!" said the ring-master. "We've got to keep working for new hits in the circus business all the while."

For several days after that, whenever opportunity offered, Joe and Mr. Fleet put Toto through the jumping rehearsal, using the blanket. Finally, when they thought the dog would no longer be afraid, they took it away. But at first Toto refused to jump, and his master would not, of course, use force.

Finally, however, patience won, and when another dog, a little water spaniel, was put in the tank Toto seemed to think it was all right, and made his first leap from the high platform into the tank where the goldfish flitted about.

"Hurrah!" cried Joe, as the water splashed up, and the little dog swam to the edge of the tank to be lifted out by his master. "Hurrah! We'll have a diving dog yet!"

"But I'm afraid it will be some time before you can get him to stay under water as long as you do," said Mr. Fleet.

However, the first part was accomplished, and for several days after that Toto was given frequent practice in jumping into the tank, Joe not having yet taken his place beneath the surface.

Then one afternoon, when it was thought that Toto had lost all fear of the water, since he did the trick as naturally as he did some of his older ones, Joe got in the tank, and Mr. Fleet called to the dog to jump.

But the little animal flatly refused to leave the platform. No urging or coaxing could make it take the jump. Whether the sight of Joe in the tank frightened Toto, or whether the form of the boy fish was unduly magnified to the dog because of the fact that Joe was under the surface, could only be guessed at. The fact remained that Toto refused to jump, though when Joe climbed dripping out the dog quickly jumped in.

"Now, what do you think of that!" exclaimed Mr. Fleet. "Well, I've been up against just as queer things in a different way when training other dogs. You'll get them to the point of doing a trick, and maybe because a new kind of fly buzzes around their ears they balk. But we won't give up."

"Maybe it we try it when the tent is crowded, and the music is playing, it will be different," suggested Joe. "Let's do it."

"But if he balks in public it will spoil the act," suggested Mr. Fleet, "and we don't want that to happen. We'll keep on practising in private."

And so they did, but Toto refused to make the jump while Joe was in the tank, and the boy fish had about concluded to give up the trick and think of something else.

"Though I do want to do it," he said. "Maybe we could break in another dog."

"I haven't another one who will jump as fearlessly as Toto does," objected the trainer. "No, we'll have to stick to him."

The circus reached a town where a two days' stay was to be made. There was a good attendance the first day, and as the weather was fine the circus folk were in high spirits, for a combination of good weather and good crowds is the best thing in the world for a circus.

Joe, musing on some way of making Toto do the jumping trick, had gone into the animal tent a few minutes before the close of the afternoon performance. His act had been unusually successful, but he was still impressed with the idea that he must make it more novel. He and Mr. Fleet had arranged to give Toto another trial when the crowd should have departed, and Joe had come to the animal tent to talk to the dog trainer.

The chariot races were over, the "grand concert" had been given, and now the crowd began to file out of the big tent. Some, especially those with children, were coming back into the animal tent for another look at the elephants, camels, lions, tigers and other beasts, but most of the audience was satisfied with the view they had had in passing through to the "main top."

"What's the matter, Senor Bogardi?" asked Joe, as he saw the lion tamer with an anxious look in his face, standing near a cage which was covered with canvas. "More trouble?"

"Yes, friend Strong, more trouble," replied the man who went into their cages and put the lions through their several tricks. "This time it is Prince."

"The big Barbary lion?"

"Yes. Ever since we had to shoot his mate, Princess, he has not been like himself. To-day he began throwing himself with all his force against the iron door. He even started some of the bars, so I had to screen him from the public to quiet him."

"Did it?"

"Yes, he seems to be more tractable now. But I want to see if I can not take off the canvas. The public does not like it that they do not see all the animals. I hope Prince is not going on a rampage as Princess did."

Joe recalled the time when, by quick action, he had prevented the lioness from escaping. She had been shot later, while he was in the hospital recovering from the effects of a fall from his trapeze. Now her mate was making trouble.

"Softly now, Prince! Softly," began the lion tamer, as he removed the canvas cover. "Softly now, old boy!"

But no sooner was the cover off than the lion, which had been lying down, jumped up with a roar and dashed himself against the iron door of his cage.

Women in the crowd screamed with terror, and there was a rush to get out of the tent.

"There is no danger!" Senor Bogardi assured the people. But they thought it safer outside, and the rush for the exit continued.

The lion kept on throwing himself against the door, as though trying to break out.

"We must put the canvas back!" cried the tamer.

"I'll help," offered Joe.

But, even as he spoke, the lion with one last, desperate leap gave a bound against the side of the cage that almost overturned it. Then, with a rending of wood and a snapping of metal, the door of the cage sprang open, and the lion was loose in the tent.



CHAPTER XI

TOTO'S DISCOVERY

Fortunate it was that the circus was over for the afternoon and that the small crowd of spectators in the animal tent had rushed out before the lion broke loose, or there might have been a panic in which many might have been hurt, if not killed. Not necessarily by the lion, but by being trampled on by the feet of hundreds. For it is seldom that a wild beast kills when it first breaks out of a cage. It is too dazed by its sudden freedom, and often too frightened to want to do anything except run and hide.

Not that an escaped wild beast would not kill afterward if cornered, but it is seldom that one seeks blood when first it breaks out.

Mingled with the screams of frightened women and children, now safely outside the tent, and the hoarse cries of the men spectators, also in the open, were the yells of the circus people.

"A lion is loose!" was the warning that echoed through the animal tent. This was to let other circus folk know, so they might prepare to meet the danger.

Senor Bogardi drew his revolver and fired several shots in the air, hoping to frighten Prince and make him cower in some corner, whence he might be driven into another cage.

But the shots seemed only to frighten the lion into further action. Joe had a glimpse of the tawny form, with switching tail, dodging under the other animal cages which were drawn up in a circle around the tent.

"He's headed for the 'main-top' all right!" shouted some one, as he saw Prince running toward the passage which connected the two tents.

"Come on! We must catch him!" exclaimed the tamer. "If he gets loose it will be a great loss!"

"More than a loss. I guess, if he has his appetite with him," mused Joe. "I wonder how they'll catch him."

He had heard circus stories of wild animals escaping and being secured again, sometimes days later, but aside from his experience with the hippopotamus Joe had seen nothing of this kind.

The animal tent was now a place of wild confusion. Men were rushing here and there, to arm themselves with tent pegs, stakes—anything they could grab up. They were alive to the danger, but they did not shirk. The elephants were trumpeting loudly, and some were tugging at their foot chains attached to stakes driven in the ground. The big beasts knew something was wrong.

Monkeys in a cage next to the broken one from which the lion had escaped were wildly leaping about and chattering. They had caught sight of the tawny beast, and knew him for one of their jungle foes, though there was little danger now that the simians would be injured.

The Siberian tigers were spitting and snarling in their cage, and another lion began to roar till he seemed to shake the ground. All the captive animals appeared to know that one of their number had gained its freedom and it was as if they were eager to congratulate him.

"Keep the crowd out! Don't let 'em in here!" cried Jim Tracy, as he came running in, word having reached him of what had happened.

"No danger of any of that crowd coming in," said Joe, as he nodded toward the throng that had passed out of the tent. "You couldn't drag 'em in."

"Come on, boys!" called Senor Bogardi. "We must get him before he runs out of the big tent."

He led the throng of animal men and others in the chase. The men carried ropes, sharp iron prongs and other weapons, while the lion-tamer had sent to the cook wagons for a big chunk of raw beef with which to placate Prince, in case he should come close enough.

And then, in the big tent, there began a lion hunt. The place was cleared of spectators now, but there were many nooks under the thousands of seats or behind some of the apparatus that was left in place for the evening performance, where a beast could hide.

The lion had disappeared. Under the direction of Jim Tracy and the beast's tamer the big tent was gone thoroughly over but no lion could be found.

"He must have gotten out," declared Joe.

"If he has there'll be trouble—not now maybe, but later," said the ring-master.

"We can't move on and leave him behind very well," he went on. "Prince will probably go into hiding until he gets up an appetite, and then we'll have bills of damages to settle from farmers whose calves and sheep are disappearing. I almost wish we didn't have any cats in the show, but I s'pose we must."

The search went on in the tent, but was unavailing. Prince seemed to have run in and run out again, though the circus folk and others on the outside of the tent, on being questioned, said they had seen nothing of the beast.

"Well, we've got to find him, that's all," decided Jim, "and before dark if we can. Get a crowd of men, Bogardi, and start out and see what you can do."

The lion tamer picked some men who were used to handling animals, and set off with them. A spare cage was made ready to rush to the scene as soon as word of the finding of Prince should come in.

Meanwhile there was nothing for the others to do save wait, and nervous waiting it was. Not that the circus could not go on without the lion, but people would not be very likely to come to the evening performance when they knew a savage lion was loose in the neighborhood. They would prefer to remain in their homes.

There, too, was the trouble that would be caused if some one were injured or killed by the beast.

"It sure is tough luck!" complained Jim Tracy.

"Sure is," agreed Joe.

Gradually matters quieted down in the animal tent, and while some of the performers went to supper Joe spoke to Mr. Fleet about giving Toto another trial at the water jump.

"We've got to go on with the show, lion or no lion," said Joe, "and we might as well practise that act."

The dog trainer agreed with him, and they brought in Toto.

"Now, Toto," said his master, "be nice, and do what we want you to. Up you go."

He had the little dog in his arms and was walking toward the platform on which Joe's tank stood. But Toto acted very strangely. He trembled and whined, and seemed to want to get out of Mr. Fleet's arms.

"Why, why now! Steady!" murmured the trainer soothingly. "What's the matter, Toto?"

The dog continued to whine, and exhibited signs of fear.

"Why now, little doggie," said Joe, "you won't have to do that jump if you don't want to. Come on now, jump into the tank. I'll stay out if you won't jump with me in at first."

Mr. Fleet put Toto down at the foot of the rope ladder which led to the top of the pole.

"Up you go!" he said.

But, instead, Toto, with whines and barks, jumped to the ground. Then, running away a short distance, the little dog turned and stood facing the platform of the tank. Toto growled and barked, and the hair on his spine stood up in a straight ridge.

The platform was hollow. It consisted of four uprights, and around them was a heavy and stiff piece of canvas, painted to resemble a mass of rock. On top of this seeming rock pile stood the glass tank.

"Why, Toto, what in the world is the matter?" asked Mr. Fleet.

Joe had a sudden idea.

"It's something—something under the platform," he said.

He and Mr. Fleet looked at each other. The same thought came to them both.

"The lion!"

Toto continued to bark and growl and to face the canvas-enclosed platform.

"Prince must be under there," said Joe.

"Yes," nodded the dog-trainer. "What had we better do?"

"Take your dog away, keep quiet, and one of us go and tell Jim Tracy," decided Joe. "One of us must stay and watch to see that the lion does not come out. I'll stay."

"Perhaps I'd better stay," suggested Mr. Fleet. "I'm used to handling animals, and once I trained some pumas—treacherous beasts they were, too. You go and tell Jim."

This seemed to be the best plan, though Joe would willingly have stayed. It was not a question of bravery, but of expediency. If the lion did come out the dog-trainer could probably hold it back better than Joe could.

"The lion under your tank!" cried the ring-master. "Great Scott! I never thought of looking under there. We'll get him out right away. Say, it's a relief to know where he is!"



CHAPTER XII

MORE MONEY

The animal men who had not gone out with Senor Bogardi to search through the town were hurriedly summoned. The spare cage was wheeled in and arrangements made to again put Prince into captivity. "Is he there yet?" asked the ring-master, as he came up to where Mr. Fleet stood.

"Yes. He hasn't made a move or sign. Of course we're only guessing—Joe and I—that he's under there. It was Toto's actions that gave us the idea."

"Oh, I guess he's there, all right—the dog ought to know," said Jim Tracy. "He picked out the best hiding place in the whole tent. I guess it looked sort of like home to him."

Indeed the space under the tank platform, with its canvas covering painted to resemble rocks, made an ideal hiding place. A lion, or any other beast of his size, could crawl under the flexible cloth which would fall into place without disclosing that it had been disturbed. And, too, Barbary lions have their dens in holes in the rocks, and poor Prince may have fancied he was back in his old home again.

"We'll make sure he's there before we try to drive him out," said Jim. With a long prodding rod he lifted one end of the canvas. At once there sounded a menacing growl, and some of the men moved back.

"He's there all right," the ring-master announced. "Now to get him out. Bring up some of those tubs."

He pointed to some of the heavy wooden affairs used in elephant tricks, and the men rolled them around three sides of the platform. Then they braced them with boards so the sudden rush of the lion would not knock them over.

"Now bring up the cage!" ordered Tracy. It was on wheels, one of the regular wagon affairs, and the spring door was braced open, with a man ready to snap it shut as soon as Prince should be inside. A big piece of raw beef was thrown inside the cage as a bait.

"Now then, Joe, I'm afraid we'll have to spoil some of your ornamentation," said the ring-master grimly. "I'm going to slit down one side of the canvas, but we'll have it fixed for you again. I want a good opening for Prince to run out through when we start him going."

A quick motion of a keen knife, and one side of the canvas fell away. There was another menacing growl and then, in a far corner of the hiding place he had chosen, Prince was seen curled up in a most comfortable fashion.

"The rascal!" said Jim Tracy. "Come out of that. Get behind him, some of you men, and prod him with the irons. Be easy, we don't want him to go on another rampage."

Reaching under the canvas, the men, with prodding irons, poked away until they touched the crouching body of the lion. With a roar Prince sprang up. He saw light only in one direction, where the canvas had been cut. He started toward that, caught a glimpse of the barred cage and hesitated. Then there came to him the odor of the meat, and he could not resist. Prince had had enough of liberty. With slow steps he went into the cage, gave one roar, and began to eat. The door was snapped shut and Prince was caught.

"Good work!" exclaimed the ring-master in relieved tones. "Now we can go on with the show."

Messengers were sent to recall the other lion-hunters, and great precautions were taken to see that this second cage was secure. Prince seemed to have calmed down after his brief freedom.

"We've got to let the public know that the lion is caught," decided Jim Tracy. "Otherwise we'll be playing to empty benches to-night, and that won't do."

Accordingly men were sent out to spread the report that the beast was captured, and could be safely viewed behind strong bars at the circus that night. When Senor Bogardi came back, glad indeed to find that his lion was safe, he said Prince was much quieter and need not be concealed behind canvas, for the present at least.

Joe's stand was temporarily repaired and he made ready for the evening performance.

"I guess we'll let the dog trick go for a while," he said to Mr. Fleet. "Probably it will be hard to get Toto near the platform for a few days, until he can no longer notice the lion smell."

The dog-trainer agreed with him. Wild beasts, even in captivity, give out a strong odor, and it was this that had given the little dog the information that some jungle creature was underneath the canvas covering.

The efforts of Joe and Mr. Fleet to make Toto dive into the tank while the boy fish was in it, were totally unavailing, even some days after the lion episode. Toto would dive in when only the goldfish were there, but the minute Joe entered the little beast refused to jump. It was not that Toto was not friendly with Joe, either, for he would let the youth pet him, and was very fond of him. It was one of those things which cannot be explained, and there was no use trying to get Toto to do the trick as Joe wanted it done.

"Well, if I have to give that up I'll work out something else," our hero decided. And, as the show traveled on from place to place, Joe perfected himself in aquatic work.

He was getting accustomed to staying under the water, increasing the time of submersion a few seconds each day, and he did not doubt but he could make a record of four minutes in the course of a month or two. His lung power was increasing.

From Professor Rosello he had received a pack of celluloid playing cards, and Joe now added to his tricks some sleight-of-hand work with the Kings, Queens and other cards. It took well with the audience, but Joe was not satisfied. He wanted something more spectacular.

Meanwhile Joe was doing less trapeze work in order to give more attention to the tank. In private he practised picking up coins in his mouth, as Benny had done. At first it was hard work, and more than once Joe swallowed so much water that he had to come up to the surface. But he did not stop on that account.

He still continued to use the goldfish, but the turtle died from some undiscoverable cause. Senorita Tanlozo, the snake charmer, offered to let Joe take one of her water anacondas into the tank with him.

"No, thank you," the boy fish said with a laugh and a shake of his head. "It may be all right, but I'd be so busy watching him, to see that he did not make a necklace of himself around my throat, that I couldn't do my acts. I'll just work with the fishes for a while."

Gradually Joe found that he could gather up almost as many coins as Benny had in his best day. Joe had acquired the knack of opening his mouth under water without swallowing any of the liquid. Then came an idea for varying the trick.

"Picking up the coins doesn't show off very well," he decided. "I ought to have something larger. And yet I can't get so many of them in my mouth. I have it—I'll eat under water! I wonder if it can be done."

After some experiments—not all of which were pleasant ones—Joe found that bananas were easier to handle and eat while under water than any other food; and, moreover, the moisture did not spoil them.

So one day he added to his stock of tricks that of eating a banana while submerged. Some persons were skeptical as to whether or not he really did swallow the fruit, thinking it might be sleight-of-hand work. But Joe invited a committee to search him and the tank for any trace of the fruit or of a hiding place, and he proved that he really did swallow the banana under water. It was not easy, but he soon became used to it.

Then he elaborated the trick a little. He had a sheet iron table made, and this was lowered to him after he entered the tank. On the table were plates, a cup and saucer, a knife, a fork and a spoon. It was a complete table set under water.

For food Joe used bananas cut into different shapes. He swallowed them, cutting them with his knife, feeding himself with his fork and pretending to drink from the cup. That of course was pretense.

Then he did his "sleep act" and came up to receive merited applause. Joe was certainly highly successful in his tank work. He had lengthened the whole act by several minutes, and he was nearer than ever to remaining under the full four minutes.

Another performer had been secured in his place to act with the Lascalla Brothers, but Joe did his lone trapeze work with the same satisfactory results as before.

Finally, the young performer decided to take a step he had contemplated for some time.

"Look here, Mr. Tracy," he said one afternoon, after the big crowd that had applauded our hero had filed out, "don't you think I ought to be getting more money?"

"More money!" repeated the ring-master. "What for?"

"Well, I'm doing a double turn. I do almost as much trapeze work as I did at first, and I'm putting on the tank act too. I've made that longer than Benny did. I really think I ought to be getting more money."

"You get a pretty good salary now, Joe. You've had several increases since you joined the show."

"I know I have, Mr. Tracy. But I want more now. Why, you bill my act big!"

"Oh, I know it. It's a good act, Joe."

"Then give me more money! I've just got to have it!"



CHAPTER XIII

ILL FEELING

The ring-master looked critically at the boy fish, but Joe returned the gaze steadily. He seemed very much in earnest.

"Say, Joe," asked Jim Tracy teasingly, "you're not going to get married, are you, that you want more money?"

Joe blushed and answered:

"No, not just yet, though I suppose you do pay the married men more than the single ones."

"Yes, that's the general custom. But if we practically doubled your salary, Joe, you'd be getting more than some of the married men."

"Well, I'm doing a double turn, Mr. Tracy. You've got to think of that."

The ring-master scratched his head. Clearly Joe had the best of the argument there.

"Well, I guess you're right," Jim Tracy was forced to admit.

"Then you'll give me more money?" Joe's voice was eager.

"I'll take it up with the treasurer, Joe," answered his friend. "You know this circus is a partnership affair, and I can't act alone. But I'll do the best I can for you."

It was a day or so later that Joe again brought up the subject. It was after a particularly successful performance, where Joe had been loudly applauded for staying under water within a few seconds of four minutes.

"Now's a good time to strike again for my increase," thought the boy fish. He approached Jim.

"How about more money for me?" Joe asked. "Do I get it?"

"Yes, we have decided to give it to you," was the ring-master's answer. "But I can't imagine what a boy like you—for you are only a boy—can want of so much money."

"Oh, I have a very good use for it," replied Joe coolly. "Thanks, Mr. Tracy."

"Oh, you're welcome, Joe. And I want you to feel that we are glad to pay you well, for you are a drawing card for the show. Only don't waste your money. The time to save is when you're young. I only wish I'd done so."

Joe smiled at this good advice, but he did not say whether or not he was going to follow it. He was pleased when, on the next pay day, he received an envelope with nearly twice as much in it as he had been in the habit of getting.

"It's a good thing I got up spunk to ask for it," mused Joe. "I guess I didn't do so badly when I ran away from the deacon's."

Joe thought back to the time when he had first made the acquaintance of Professor Rosello, the magician, rescuing him at the fireworks explosion. From then on Joe's rise had been steady until now he was earning a salary many a mature man would be glad to receive.

"It may seem a funny way to make a living, turning somersaults in the air, and seeing how long I can stay under water," mused Joe, "but it brings in the money, and that's what counts."

Joe was quite disappointed at the failure to get the diving dog worked into his act. He knew the necessity for something novel from time to time in performances destined to please the public, and he saw, all about him, men and women connected with the circus always striving to get some new effect, or do an old act in a new way.

The clowns were particularly anxious in this respect, for the public tires of nothing so quickly as of something funny. A thing may beget a laugh the first time, and even up to the fourth or fifth time, and then the cry is:

"Give us something new!"

The clowns knew this, and, from the veteran Bill Watson to the newest member of the staff, they were continually cudgeling their brains for novelty. All were afraid lest some fellow-clown steal their ideas; consequently they each worked on them in secret until he had them perfected and ready to give to the public. After that, of course no clown would be allowed to do what another offered for the amusement of the audiences.

Sometimes the simplest thing was made the basis for a funny act. Bill Watson could come out, attired in a suit half black and half white with his face tinted to match, and by going through the motions of a baseball player in his own inimitable way, raise a gale of laughter.

Some of the other clowns would go through the pretense of eating a meal, some one would pretend to go sailing in a soap box, while one team would do a "barber act." Each act was good and funny because of the peculiar way it was done.

So, seeing this spirit all about him, Joe was sorry he had not been able to add something new to his act. Of course, the goldfish had added greatly to it since Benny had been forced to give up his performance.

It did not seem likely that Benny Turton would take up his act again for some time, as a report received from the hospital said that a delicate and dangerous operation would have to be performed if he was to hear and speak again. Therefore, as the days went by, Joe kept his eyes open for a chance to supplement his tank act. There was not much he could do that was new or different in his trapeze work, though he still kept himself in the van of the profession and did as many hair-raising feats as before. He performed on the trapeze alone now, having dropped his act with the Lascalla Brothers because he could not fit it in with the water work. With this Joe was well pleased; for while the Spaniards worked well with him, Joe could not help feeling that they did not like him for having taken the place of Sim Dobley, who had been discharged.

"Well, Joe, I hear you're pulling down a pretty good salary now," remarked Tonzo Lascalla to our hero one day.

"Who told you?" asked Joe, for he had not mentioned the increase to any one but Helen, and she had said she would not tell.

"Oh, those things are soon known in the circus," explained the Spaniard. "We're glad to hear about your good luck though. What do you say to a little celebration in town? We're going to lay over here Sunday."

"What do you mean?" asked Joe.

"I mean why don't you 'blow yourself,' as the boys say over here. Give a sort of supper to the crowd."

"I'm afraid I can't afford it," replied Joe, with a shake of his head. "I'd like to, but it would take a good deal more salary than I'm getting to entertain the circus."

"Oh, I didn't mean the whole outfit," said Tonzo. "I mean just thirty or forty of those you know best."

Joe shook his head.

"I can't afford it," he replied.

"What! With the money you're getting? Why, I hear you've had your salary nearly doubled!"

"Well, I'm doing double work, am I not?" asked Joe.

"Of course you are, but——"

Tonzo shook his head, and there was an unpleasant sneer on his face as he turned away from Joe.

A little later Joe saw Tonzo and Sid talking together. He could not help hearing what they said, as they were in their dressing room, while he was in his, putting on the red, scaly suit which he wore in the tank.

"Will he do it?" asked Sid of Tonzo.

"No. He claims he can't afford it."

"And getting nearly twice as much as we do! Say, he must be a regular tight-wad!"

"That's what he is," said Tonzo bitterly. "Afraid to spend his money!"

The words stung Joe. He paused in his dressing.

"Tight-wad?" he mused. "So that's what they call me. Well, it isn't a very nice name, but if they think I'm going to spend my money on blow-outs for the crowd they're mistaken. I'm not going to be so foolish."

Joe knew that Tonzo had not proposed dissipation, for circus performers, particularly those who take their lives in their hands on high trapezes, cannot afford to live a riotous life, even for one night. Their nerves would be shattered for days to come, and once a performer's nerve is gone he is useless to himself and to others. But Joe was not going to waste his money on even an ordinary supper for the crowd.

"But I sure do hate to be called a tight-wad," he mused, "especially when I don't deserve it."

However, he seemed to have acquired that reputation unwittingly. Several times after that he heard sneering remarks directed toward himself, and once or twice some laughing reference was made to the "blow-out" he was going to give.

Joe flushed at these slurs, but he did not give in.



CHAPTER XIV

HELEN IS WORRIED

Joe Strong stood in a secluded part of the circus lot early one morning before breakfast. The show had reached the place only a little while before, there having been a delay because of a slight accident. Most of the performers, with increased appetites, were wending their way to the dining tents, but Joe, with coat and vest off, with shoulders thrown back and head held high in the air, was taking in long breaths and expelling them again to the utmost capacity of his lungs.

"What in the world are you doing, Joe?" asked Helen, who was on her way to breakfast. "Are you trying to rival Mr. Jefferson when he breaks a chain on his chest?" for this was one of the feats of the strong man.

"Hardly that," laughed Joe, as he let out a long breath.

"Then what are you doing?"

"Practising deep breathing for my tank work. I'm going to try for the four-minute record to-day."

"Are you really?" Helen was much interested.

"I don't say I'm going to do it," went on Joe, for he was anything but boastful. "But this seems a good day to make the attempt. It's clear and crisp after the rain, and I seem to be able to hold my breath longer on a day like this than when it's warm and muggy. So I thought I'd get in a little early practice before I got too loggy with a big breakfast."

"A good idea," Helen said. "I'll wait for you and we'll eat together."

"Thanks," remarked Joe. "But I'll be ten minutes yet, and your appetite may not stand such a delay."

"Oh, yes, it will," laughed Helen. "I'll run over and see how Rosebud is while you finish your practice," and she turned toward the horse tent where her trick pet was contentedly munching his breakfast of oats.

Joe practised faithfully, for he had made up his mind that this was a good time to try to make a new under-water record—that is, new for him.

"If I can't get an elephant, or something big like that, to work in the water with me, I'll have to thrill the crowds by making them wonder how I can live so long without breathing," decided Joe. "I'll do four minutes or—bust!" and he smiled at his conceit.

Joe finished his breathing exercises. In them he made an attempt to hold a full breath for four minutes. This he did, timing himself with his watch. But this, of course, was in the open air, and under water conditions were different.

"If I can only do that in the tank," thought Joe, as he noted the second hand slip five paces beyond the four minute mark, "I'll be all right. Well, I'm going to make a big effort."

Helen came back, and she and Joe went to breakfast. They sat not far from Tonzo and Sid Lascalla, and the former, looking over at Joe, asked:

"When are we going to have that supper?"

"I can't say," Joe answered, trying to be jolly about it.

"What supper is that?" inquired Helen, smiling at Joe.

"Oh, it's one he's going to give to celebrate his increase in salary," answered Tonzo.

Helen looked at Joe, and became aware, from the expression of his face, that there was a hidden meaning in the words. She saw that Joe was embarrassed and so she turned the conversation. Later on, when Helen and Joe were alone, the young aquatic performer said:

"I suppose you are wondering what Tonzo was driving at?"

"Oh, I don't want to hear any secrets," Helen answered.

"It isn't a secret," Joe answered. "At least my increase in salary isn't, for I told you about it. What Tonzo was hinting at was that I ought to give some sort of banquet."

"Why?" Helen demanded.

"Oh, because I'm getting so much money. Well, I suppose I am earning big pay, but, as I claim, I'm doing big work—that is double work. But I'm not going to waste my money on blow-outs."

"I don't blame you," Helen said. "Don't let them worry you, Joe."

The time of the afternoon performance arrived. Everything went off well except that in one elaborate elephant trick one of the huge beasts refused to do his share in the act.

His trainer endeavored to force the big brute, and the elephant grew ugly. It looked for a few seconds as if he would run out of the ring and into the crowd. But two of the more tractable elephants were ordered to force the unruly one into line and they did so.

This caused a little delay, and there was a slight feeling as of panic in the audience. The elephants were near Joe's tank, and for a while the boy fish was afraid lest they knock it over and smash it. In this case there would be a serious delay in getting another, though one spare glass side was always carried.

"And I don't want anything to happen when I'm going to try to make a record," Joe thought.

He had said nothing to Jim Tracy about the attempt he was going to make, preferring not to have the public expect too much through an announcement by the ring-master.

Joe did his usual work, swimming about in the midst of the shimmering goldfish, showing different strokes, turning graceful somersaults and doing a longitudinal whirl that made him look like the propeller of some water craft.

Then Joe performed his tricks, those with the celluloid cards seeming especially to please the audience.

"Mr. Strong will now show you how long it is possible for him to stay under water," announced the ring-master, "and if any of you think it is an easy thing to do, just take out your watches and time him, holding your own breaths as long as does the boy fish. We challenge the world to produce his equal!"

The band blared as Joe made his bow, and then, having inflated his lungs to their capacity, he slipped into the tank, and began "eating."

This was one of the tricks he did to keep the audience amused while the seconds of his underwater endurance were ticked off. It would have been rather monotonous for the crowd merely to look at Joe staying in the tank. He must keep up some kind of action. Then, too, when he was busy, it kept his mind from thinking of the passage of time, and the four minutes, or whatever part of them he remained under the surface, seemed to pass more quickly.

Finally he had done the last of his "water stuff," he had eaten the banana, had pretended to drain his cup of tea and then, yawning and stretching, he prepared for a "nap" under water.

"Now comes the real test!" thought Joe grimly.

Already he was beginning to feel the strain. His temples were throbbing from the retained breath and the water pressure, and his head felt big and stuffy. It was aching, too. Joe had placed outside the tank an alarm clock with big figures so he could keep track of the time. Three minutes and a half had passed, and Joe knew that every second, from now on, would be agony for him, agony that the watching crowd little suspected.

"Can I do it?" thought Joe. The hand was within ten seconds of the four-minute mark. Joe, who had opened his eyes for a brief glance at the clock, shut them again. His heart was beating like a hammer inside his chest, trying to make up for the lack of oxygenated blood.

To Joe it seemed as if fifteen seconds had passed, He gave a swift glance at the clock.

"Only six," he thought. "I'm afraid I can't do it."

To make a complete four minutes he must stay under water four seconds more, and seconds, now, were like hours to him.

There was a ringing in his ears. His head throbbed painfully, he began to yawn and stretch again, as though awakening from a sleep. He looked up and saw Jim Tracy peering anxiously down into the tank. The ring-master realized that this was longer than Joe had ever stayed under water before, and he thought perhaps something had gone wrong, as it had in the case of Benny. The ring-master was calling off the half minutes to the crowd, in which many were holding watches.

A few had tried to imitate Joe's feat, but had given it up as a hopeless task.

"The boy fish has now been under water, without breathing, four minutes, ladies and gentlemen!'" cried the ring-master. "He has beaten his own record!"

It was indeed true. But still Joe did not come up. He was fighting for time now—fighting for fractions of a second. He felt as if he would burst, but he did not come up. He saw, by his clock, that he had stayed under four minutes. A second passed—two—three—and still Joe was under water. Then he could not stand it longer. He had come close to the world's second best record at that.

Four seconds—five—and at the last tick of the five seconds over the four minutes, Joe shot up to the surface. He tried not to show his exhaustion as he climbed, dripping wet, out on to the platform and bowed to the plaudits of the enthusiastic crowd, but it was hard work for Joe to keep up. He did it, however.

"Good work, old man!" cried the ring-master as he helped put the bath robe about Joe. "Great work! How'd you do it?"

"Oh—I—I just did it!" panted Joe, breathing in deeply of the life-giving air.

"You didn't tell me you were going to pull off a stunt like that."

"I—I didn't know, myself, whether or not I could do it," said Joe, as he started for his dressing room. "And I didn't want a failure."

"Good boy!" said Jim. "I guess I didn't make any mistake raising your salary, Joe!"

"If you'll give me more money I'll try for a better record yet," said the boy fish with a smile.

"Say, what are you trying to do—become a millionaire?" asked the ring-master, jokingly.

"Oh, I can always use more money," replied Joe.

As he came down to the ground he saw Tonzo Lascalla looking at him. The trapeze performer had heard what Joe said last.

"We don't see much of your money," he commented, with a sneer.

"Why should you?" asked Joe, passing on.

"Oh, Joe! I congratulate you!" cried Helen, as soon as she saw him. "It was wonderful!"

"Glad you think so," he replied. "But I'm not done yet."

"Are you going to try for a longer time?"

"That's what I am. I don't feel very hopeful about it though. I am about to the limit, I guess."

The world's record for a man to stay under water, holding his breath, is four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Joe was several seconds short of that, but he was ambitious.

It was about a week after this that one day, as Joe and Helen were walking around town after the afternoon performance, Helen paused in front of a furrier's. In the window were fur coats, an advance showing of fall and winter styles, for the summer was passing and already merchants were preparing for the winter's trade.

"That's something I must get," Helen said. "A fur coat. I've been wanting one a long while, and now that I have my inheritance I feel I can afford it. My old one is about worn out."

"I'd like a fur-lined overcoat myself," Joe said.

"Why don't you get it?" asked Helen.

"Can't afford to," was Joe's reply. "I have other uses for my money."

Helen looked at him curiously, and there was a worried look on her face that Joe did not notice.

"I wonder," mused Helen. "I wonder——"

But she did not finish her thought.



CHAPTER XV

JOE'S INSPIRATION

Joe Strong was supervising the cleaning of the glass sides of his tank. It was a few days after he had made his record of staying under water more than four minutes, and the circus had moved on to another town. It had arrived on time, and as Joe had a few hours to spare before he had to get his act into shape, he decided he would have the glass cleaned.

Since he had used goldfish and the aquatic plants the transparent sides of the tank occasionally were dimmed by a slight natural growth, and from refuse of the food given to the fish. This made it difficult for the audience to see clearly, so Joe had the glass taken out every few days and scrubbed.

He was watching the men do this now, as he made it a practice to be on hand when this work was done. The men might grow careless and let one of the big pieces slip, which would mean breakage.

"Going to try something new?" asked Helen, as she passed near Joe where he sat on an empty barrel. Helen carried her riding habit over her arm, having taken it out of her trunk.

"No, just having the tank cleaned," Joe answered. "I wish I could get something new, though. What's wrong with you?" he asked. "Can't you sit down and have a chat?"

"No, I'm going to get Mrs. Watson to help me make a little change in this habit. I want to put on some new ornaments."

Mrs. Watson, the wife of the aged clown, was a sort of mother to all the circus folk. She mended the men's socks, and was always ready to sew up a rent in some distracted woman performer's costume. Mrs. Watson had been a bare-back rider, but increasing age and accumulated flesh had made it necessary for her to give up the work. She now traveled with her husband.

"Joe," began Helen, and she seemed somewhat embarrassed, "I want to ask you something, and I hope you won't be offended."

Joe looked up quickly.

"Offended?" he asked. "You know you couldn't offend me, Helen."

"Oh, I don't know," and her voice was more serious than her manner. "I can't tell how you'll take it. Do you remember the other day saying something about not being able to afford a fur coat?"

"Yes, of course I do. Have you bought yours yet?"

"No, but I've ordered it. But what I want to know is, Joe, why you don't get one, as long as you want it."

"And you thought that question would annoy me? That's queer. I don't get one simply because I can't afford it."

"I haven't yet asked you the question I fear may annoy you," went on Helen. "But this is it, Joe. I know you are getting a good salary, for you told me so. And if you are, what are you doing with it? I—I—this is what I want to ask you, Joe—you're not—not gambling with it—are you?"

She blushed vividly as she made this inquiry.

Joe glanced at the girl curiously. There was a strange look on his face.

"Gambling!" repeated Joe. The men, carrying one of the cleaned glass plates, had moved away.

"Yes," went on Helen. "I feared, when you said you had no money to spare, even with the good salary you are getting, that perhaps you might be wasting it on cards."

Joe shook his head.

"I haven't any use for gambling," he said solemnly, and Helen could not help believing him. "And I don't care for cards, except to do tricks with them. It isn't any fun for me to play, as I could too easily fool the other players—if I wanted to. No, Helen, I'm not spending my money that way—I don't gamble."

"Oh, Joe, I'm so glad! I was afraid you might be, and yet I didn't see how you could be. I thought I knew you better than that. I'm so glad!"

Impulsively she held out her hand, and Joe took it in a warm clasp.

"Now I must hurry away," the girl went on, "or I won't be mended up when the show begins."

She moved off, with a bright look and a nod to Joe, who sat watching the men finish their work of cleaning the glass sides.

"Gambling," mused Joe, as he watched Helen enter the tent where Mrs. Watson had her quarters. "Gambling! I wonder if they are spreading such reports about me just because I don't spend my money on them?"

It was time to put the tank together and to put the water and goldfish in, in readiness for the afternoon show. Joe went to see about this, still puzzling over Helen's question.

The goldfish were carried in a separate tank which the ring-master had provided for them, and Joe, having seen that they were fed, had them turned into the big glass box in which he was soon to go through his act.

"Ah, Senor Strong," called Senorita Tanlazo, the snake charmer, as she passed Joe on her way to look after her reptiles in their air-holed box, "ah, why did you not take advantage of my offer, and use my nice big anaconda in the tank with you?"

"Thank you again, but no," said Joe. "The anaconda is a little too ill-tempered for me."

"Yes, he is that. I was only joking when I suggested that you use him," said the Spanish woman. "I have to be very careful how I handle him of late. He is getting ready to shed his skin, and that always makes a snake treacherous. But have you put anything new in your act of late? I have not been able to watch you, though they tell me you are quite a drawing card."

"No, I haven't been able to hit on anything new," Joe said. "I wish I could. If you hear of anything I wish you'd let me know."

"I will," promised the snake charmer, as she passed on. "Here is a theatrical paper you might like to look at," she said. "I am through with it; so you need not keep it for me."

She handed Joe a magazine which chronicled the doings of actors and actresses, news of circuses, theatrical companies and other amusement enterprises.

Joe had seen it before, and he now looked through it for any news of Professor Rosello's show, in which he had begun his public career.

"It's still on the road," mused Joe, as he saw a note to that effect. "The professor can't have recovered yet."

Joe turned over the pages of the publication rather idly. As he glanced over the advertisements there was one that caught his attention. He read it once—twice, eagerly. Then he cried:

"Say, I believe that would be the very thing I've been looking for! If I could work that in it would be a hit! I'll write to that man."

The advertisement which had given Joe his inspiration was one offering for sale a trained seal, guaranteed to be kind and gentle, and able to do a number of tricks.

"If I can only work it!" Joe murmured.



CHAPTER XVI

THE TRAINED SEAL

The first opportunity he had Joe wrote to the man who had advertised in the theatrical paper. The boy fish asked for all particulars regarding the seal, inquiring especially if a stranger could put it through the usual tricks, and if it would readily learn a few new ones.

Then Joe so anxiously watched the incoming mails that it got to be quite a joke with some of the performers as they crowded around when the epistles were distributed.

"What! hasn't she written yet, Joe?" asked Tom Jefferson, the strong man. "Something must be wrong."

"There isn't any she about it," Joe would retort, but he could not help getting red in the face.

"You ought to send her a self-addressed envelope," added one of the clowns. "Maybe she can't write, Joe."

"It's awful hard to get your mail when you're with a circus," sighed the snake charmer. "I know I've lost dozens of perfectly good letters. But don't worry, Joe. It may come yet."

"Helen, you'd better look out," joked Bill Watson. "Joe has another friend now, outside the business."

"Oh, I'm not worrying," laughed Helen, but Joe thought she did look at him in a peculiar manner, and she blushed slightly. For Joe's anxiety over the letter was obvious to all.

And he did not want to tell even Helen his expectations and hopes for fear he would be disappointed. He knew Helen would keep his secret if he so requested, but he thought it better, everything considered, not to say anything until he had had a reply from the man who offered the trained seal for sale.

And at last a letter came for him. It had been delayed, reaching a certain town after the circus had left, and it had been forwarded from place to place, always getting there a day after the show had moved on. So that when it finally did reach Joe it was about a week after it had been written.

To Joe's delight the seal was guaranteed to be so kind and docile that a stranger could, in a short time, put it through the course of its tricks. And the animal was said to be young, so that it could be taught new tricks.

"I think it is just what I'm looking for," mused Joe. "If only he hasn't sold it to some one else on account of my delay in answering because I didn't get this letter. I guess I'd better telegraph and say I'll take it, but I'd like to look at it first."

The price asked for the seal was within Joe's means. He quickly decided that, and he also made up his mind that he would take the seal, after having seen it, and add it to his tank act if it came up to his expectations.

One might think that Joe's proper course would have been to apply to the owners of the circus and get them to buy the seal for him. But in circuses, just as is often the case in theatrical companies, the performers "dress" their own acts—that is, they provide all they need to work with, and these accessories become their personal property. Of course in big pageants, such as are sometimes seen with circuses, the management provides the costumes and the weapons, chariots, thrones and other spectacular pieces.

But in an act each performer usually provides his own things. A man with trained dogs will own them personally, as a snake charmer owns her crawling pets. Then, when he leaves one show and goes to another, which is often done, he takes his property with him. It is his act.

In the case of the tank, that belonged to Benny Turton, and Joe was, in a sense, only borrowing it. Now he proposed to add a seal as his personal property. He knew the circus people would not object if the act went well, and they would also provide transportation for the animal, just as they did for Helen's horse, Rosebud, or for the trained dogs.

"Yes, if I can only get this to work I'll make a hit; I'm sure I will," reasoned Joe.

He sent a telegram to the man who had advertised the seal for sale, stating that he would buy it if the animal were as represented, and Joe added that within two days he would call and talk matters over.

He found that the next day the circus would play in a town not far from Elmwood, where the seal's owner lived, and by putting his tank act on a little sooner Joe could get off in the afternoon in time to make the visit and get back to the circus in season for the night's performance; that is, if he made good train connections.

"That's the only trouble," thought Joe, on arrival. "I wouldn't want to be stranded and have to cut out my act at night. That wouldn't look very well. I wonder how I can manage it? If I only had an auto or an airship."

But neither was available just then, though Joe began to think of engaging an automobile if one could be hired in the town.

He was on the verge of making inquiries as to this shortly before the afternoon performance, when, as he walked across the circus lot, he saw a man who had been with the circus the previous season as a juggler. The man was standing near a motor-cycle, and neither looked particularly prepossessing. They were both covered with dust, though the machine was of a standard make, and needed only a good cleaning.

"Hello, Joe!" called the performer. "How are you?"

"Why, it's Babson!" Joe exclaimed. "I haven't seen you in some time. What are you doing? Are you with a show?"

"No, I wish I were," came the answer. "I'm sort of down on my luck. After I left the Sampsons I did well for a while, and then I had an accident to my hand, and I had to quit juggling."

He held out a hand on which were two crooked fingers which seemed permanently out of shape.

"How did it happen?" asked Joe.

"Oh, I had an accident riding this machine. I wish I'd never bought it. I could use the money now to good advantage."

"That's too bad," said Joe, sympathetically.

"I wonder if there's any chance to get on here," went on Babson. "I could help in an animal act—I know something about the cats."

"You might try," Joe said. "I saw Jim Tracy around a while ago."

"What are you doing?" Babson asked. "Same trapeze work?"

"Oh, no; I've got a new act—Turton's tank. He gave out, you know. Come on in and watch. It makes quite a hit. I've put in a lot of new stuff, and I'm thinking of adding more." Then, in a sudden burst of confidence, Joe told about the seal, though it was the first time he had mentioned his new idea to any one.

"I'm going to see about it now, as soon as I finish," Joe said. "Getting back from Elmwood is all that bothers me, though. The train connections are pretty close. I was just going to see about hiring an auto. Know where I can get one in this town?"

"What do you want with an auto when I have my little jitney?" asked Babson, indicating the motor-cycle. "She's a good machine, but I haven't cleaned her lately. She'll carry double, too. Hop up behind me and I'll have you at Elmwood in no time. I'll bring you back, too, though I won't promise to carry the seal. Time is no object to me—now," and he laughed rather grimly.

"Say, I believe I'll take you up," Joe said. "That is, if you'll allow me to pay you as I would have to pay a chauffeur."

"Pay nothing!" exclaimed the man. "I guess I can do you that favor. If you feel like spending any money why don't you buy this machine? I'll sell it cheap, and you could have a lot of fun with it. Take your wife out for a run between performances."

"I haven't one," laughed Joe.

"Well, you may have one some day. That's no reason for not buying my motor-cycle. I'll let you have it cheap."

"I don't know how to run one," objected Joe.

"It won't take you long to learn. Come on, I'll take you over and you can look at the seal, and I'll be giving you instructions on the way."

"All right," agreed Joe. "But first come in and watch my act. Then you can see Tracy, too."

And so it was arranged. Babson was disappointed in not securing work from the ring-master, who said, though, that there might be an opening later. But the former juggler enjoyed Joe's act, and said so.

"Don't say anything about the seal proposition," Joe cautioned him, as he went out with Babson after the performance in the tank. "I don't want it known until I actually have the seal."

"Oh, I'll keep quiet. But say, Joe, that act of yours, as it stands now, is a dandy! It sure is!"

"Glad you like it. I'm going to make it better yet, I think."

Joe enjoyed the trip on the motor-cycle. It was not his first one, for a boy he once knew in Bedford owned one, and Joe had frequent rides on it. But now he took a new interest, since he began to consider buying this one.

"It wouldn't be such a bad idea," he told himself as Babson explained how simple it was to ride and operate one. "And I suppose Helen would come for a ride now and then. It wouldn't be any bother taking it with me. A motor-cycle, more or less, wouldn't matter to a circus."

Joe found the seal still unsold. The man had owned several of the intelligent creatures which he took about with him giving performances in theatres. But his health had broken down, and he had been forced to give up his act and had advertised his seals for sale.

"I only have this one seal left," he explained to Joe, "but she is the best of the lot. I hate to part with her."

They went out to the barn, where there was a large tank of water. Stepping up to it Mr. Blossom, the seal's owner, called loudly:

"Here, Lizzie!"

The water had been calm and placid, but in a moment it was violently agitated, and a queer snakelike head was thrust up, while there came a series of loud cries:

"Hook! Hook! Hook!"

"There she is," said Mr. Blossom. He leaned his head over close to the water, and the seal, swimming to him, seemed to kiss him.

"That's the girl, Lizzie!" Mr. Blossom exclaimed. "And now I suppose you want your reward."

From a pail near the tank he took up a dead fish. The seal held up her head high from the water. Mr. Blossom balanced the fish on the animal's nose, and raised a finger.

"No, no. Not yet, Lizzie!" he cried. "Wait a moment."

Turning to Joe, the trainer said: "Count three, and then snap your fingers."

Joe did so, and no sooner had the snap come than the seal, which had fixed its intelligent eyes on Joe, tossed the fish up into the air, caught it in its mouth as it came down and swallowed it. Then, with another loud "Hook!" the animal dived and swam rapidly to the far side of the tank.



CHAPTER XVII

THE NEW ACT

Joe and Babson stood looking in admiration at the swimming seal. Nothing in the water could be more swift or graceful.

"If I could only swim like that," murmured Joe.

"They tell me you are a sort of human fish," remarked Mr. Blossom. "You do a tank act, you tell me."

"Yes, and I've been thinking of adding to the novelty of it. That is why I want your seal. Tell me, do you think I could train him—or, I suppose, it's a her, since you call her Lizzie."

"Yes, it is a female, and she is very affectionate. I believe you could train her to work with you, though I have never swum in the tank with her. I don't know just how she'd take to it. You may try here, if you like. It is large enough. I used to keep ten seals here when I was not on the road."

Joe rather liked the idea of giving the seal a practical test before purchasing her. If the animal objected to being in a tank of water with a human being she would be useless for his act, and he might as well know that now as later.

"You saw how quickly she obeyed you about the fish," went on Mr. Blossom, "and I think she would as readily take orders from you in regard to other tricks. She is young and learns readily. If you like, I can let you take an old bathing suit, and you can go into the tank now, if you have time."

"Oh, yes, we have time enough, now that I have a motor-cycle at my disposal," Joe answered. "I believe I would like to see how Lizzie will behave."

The seal shot out on to a small platform near the edge of the tank, her body glistening wet. Again she cried in that peculiar way, which is best represented by the word "Hook!", sometimes with the "h" silent.

"More fish, that's what she's asking for," said the trainer. "Here you are, Lizzie." He held up one from the pail. The seal flipped her way over to him, and with a snap of her jaws bit the fish cleanly in two pieces with her sharp teeth.

"Whew!" whistled Joe. "She can bite, can't she? I hope she doesn't take a notion to do that to my leg."

"She's as gentle as a baby," declared Mr. Blossom. "Look!"

He called the seal to him, and put his hand in her mouth. She nuzzled him as a pet horse might do, but made not the slightest effort to bite.

"I think you would be safe," said the trainer to Joe. "There isn't a gentler sea-lion in the world, and I've handled a good many of them."

"Is this a sea-lion?" asked Joe. "I thought they were those big animals with long tusks."

"You're thinking of walruses," said Mr. Blossom. "Lizzie really is a sea-lion, though it is easier for me to call her a seal, since nine out of ten persons do so. Few know the difference between a seal and a sea-lion. The latter, of which Lizzie is a specimen, have flat front flippers, without hair and triangular in shape. They use their flippers almost as well as we do our hands, and you can see what an aid they are in swimming. The sea-lions have long necks, and carry their heads well up. There are nine species of them, and the so-called 'fur seal' is one. Sea-lions are mostly used in acts such as mine, and shown in zoological parks, for they are active, easy to keep and, you might say, cheerful.

"On the other hand, the seals have short stubby front flippers, provided with claws and covered with hair. Seals haven't half the power in their front flippers that sea-lions have, and, as a result, the seals are much less active and interesting. Seals have very short necks, in comparison with sea-lions.

"I tell you this," said Mr. Blossom to Joe, "so you can answer questions if any one in the audience should ask you about your act—that is, provided you buy Lizzie."

"I'm much obliged to you," answered the boy fish. "And I'm almost sure I'll take your seal—I mean sea-lion—if she'll act in the tank with me. Now for a trial."

Soon, attired in an old bathing suit belonging to Mr. Blossom, Joe entered the tank and began to swim about. There was considerably more room than in his glass tank, and he did several of his tricks.

"Say, you are a sort of human fish!" exclaimed the sea-lion's trainer.

During the time Joe was in the tank Lizzie remained on the platform gazing at him. She followed his every movement with her big intelligent eyes, but she showed no disposition to enter the water with Joe. But she did not seem frightened.

"In, Lizzie! In!" commanded Mr. Blossom.

Lizzie "Hooked!" but that was all, save that she moved about on the platform.

"Come on, Lizzie; go in and have a dip!" her master commanded.

But the seal (which is the name used here merely because it is a popular one, and not because it is correct) refused to go in, and Joe began to fear his plan would be a failure.

"You call her," suggested Babson, who had been watching the proceedings.

"Come on, Lizzie! I won't hurt you!" called Joe.

"Hook! Hook! Ook!" barked the seal.

"Here, I think this will take her in," said Mr. Blossom. He tossed a fish into the tank, and, after a brief moment of hesitation, in flopped the seal.

"Good!" cried Joe.

Like a flash the seal swam for the fish, and ate it at a gulp. Then she swam back to the platform, upon which she clambered.

"Well, we've got her started, anyhow," said the trainer. "I think she'll soon get used to you."

Joe continued to swim about. Another fish was thrown in and this time Lizzie did not go out so quickly. She swam about and even let Joe approach her. Then the lad dived, turning a somersault in the tank.

The seal snorted, gave her peculiar cry, and then, to the delight of Joe, who, with open eyes under water, could see every motion, Lizzie fairly imitated his act, turning over and over and shooting out on to the platform.

"I guess you've got her started," said Mr. Blossom. "Give her a few more trials."

For half an hour Joe remained in the tank, and every minute Lizzie seemed to grow more friendly toward him. Finally she let him swim at her side, though, of course, Joe could not equal the seal in speed. Then she let him put his hands on her, and she took fish from Joe's fingers.

"I guess she'll do," said the tank-performer, as he came out. "I'll take her, Mr. Blossom, and trust to luck that she'll act with me in public. Now, can you ship her to me in good condition?"

"Oh, yes, I think so. I still have some of the shipping crates I used to use when on the theatrical circuit, and Lizzie is accustomed to traveling. You may have a little trouble with her in a new tank, and one of glass such as you use, but if you are patient with her I think she'll soon learn to do just what you want her to. That is the one great secret of training animals—seals or any other kind. One must be gentle and have infinite patience. I wish you good luck."

"Thank you," replied Joe heartily. "If I can make this act go I think it will be a good thing for me and the circus, too."

He donned his clothes and paid the sum agreed upon for the seal. It was a bargain as such things go, for Joe knew something about the value of trained animals. Lizzie would be shipped to the next town in which the circus showed, and in a crate she had formerly traveled in, and this crate Joe would use in transporting his new acquisition about the country.

"Well, now I'm ready to go back with you, Babson," announced Joe. "It sure was good of you to bring me on the machine. Only for that I couldn't have made that tank test and gotten back in time. As it is now, I'll have an hour or so to spare."

"Yes, a motor-cycle is handy for getting anywhere in a hurry," said Babson. "Why don't you buy mine and work it in your tank act?"

"I don't see how I could," laughed Joe. "But I don't know but that it would be a good thing to have, anyhow. I could take rides about the country."

"You and your wife—when you get one," added Babson. "I'll let you have this machine cheap, for I'm in want of cash just now. It's in good shape, I'll guarantee that, though it is rather travel-stained. I've ridden about on it a lot lately, following up circuses and Wild West outfits looking for work. What do you say?"

He named a price that Joe knew was reasonable, and the upshot of it was that Joe became possessed of the motor-cycle.

"It sure is going some to get a trained seal and a gasoline craft all in one day," laughed Joe, as he completed the transaction. "I don't know which one will give me the most trouble."

Joe went through his tank act that night with more zest than usual, and received an ovation when he remained under water four minutes and ten seconds.

"I'm coming on," he congratulated himself. "I guess that motor-cycle ride to-day did me good. I must take more. And when I get my performing seal in the water with me—well, I can ask for more money for the act. It'll be worth it, and I'll need it, for I'll have some expenses I didn't have before."

Joe told Helen of his new purchases, and spoke about the change he intended to make in his tank act.

"Is that what you've been saving your money for?" she asked.

"No," Joe said. "Both the seal and the motor-cycle were accidents, so to speak. Do you think you'd like to ride with me?"

"I certainly would. And I'm anxious to see the seal."

The animal, which had traveled safely, was awaiting Joe on his arrival in the next town. He had told Mr. Tracy of Lizzie, and the showman was enthusiastic about the chance Joe had taken to add to his act.

"I hope it works all right," the ring-master said. "You'll have to try it out in private."

"Oh, surely," assented Joe.

He made arrangements to have his motor-cycle and seal added to the car in which his tank and goldfish were carried, so all his special possessions would be together.

"As soon as I get Lizzie trained, or partly so, I'll begin to practise motor-cycling," Joe decided.

He began the seal's education the second day after he obtained possession of her, allowing one day to go past so Lizzie could get used to her new quarters. Then, as soon as the tank was set up and filled with water, Joe had the seal taken to the foot of the steps that led to the platform. Lizzie had been trained to go up a short flight of steps to her own tank.

"Now to see what she'll do," said Joe, as Helen and some others of the circus folk gathered about to watch the experiment. Joe had arranged for a supply of fresh fish, and one of these he now put on the top step.

Lizzie flapped out of her box, she smelled the fish, and, looking at it, she cried: "Hook! Hook! Hook!" and up the steps she went as she had been in the habit of doing.

"Now if she'll only go into the tank that will be part of the game solved," mused Joe. He had not put in the goldfish, for he knew, no matter how well trained Lizzie was, she would surely eat the fish if they were left in the tank. The problem of using them in his new act was one Joe had not yet solved.

Up the steps, in her peculiar manner, went Lizzie, the trained seal, and at the top she gulped down the fish. Then, after a moment's hesitation, in which she looked about the tank, she plunged in and began to swim about as though used to it all her life.

"Good!" cried Joe. "The glass sides didn't bother her a bit. I was afraid they would. Now to see how she acts with me."

He had on his fish suit and, moving slowly in order not to alarm the sea-lion, Joe went into the glass tank with her. At first Lizzie seemed a bit timid, and came out. But Joe coaxed her in again with a bit of fish, and soon he and the seal were swimming about in the big glass tank, while the circus folk outside applauded gladly.

Around and around swam Joe, going through many evolutions, and, swimming sometimes at his side, sometimes above and sometimes below him, went Lizzie.

"Say! That's a great act!" cried Jim Tracy, coming in at that moment. "A great act!"

He told Joe as much when the boy fish came out to breathe, as Lizzie had also to do, for a seal has lungs, and not gills like a fish.

"It was a great act, Joe!" said the ring-master.

"It remains to be seen whether she'll do as nicely in public," Joe replied.



CHAPTER XVIII

SAD NEWS

Joe spent as much time as he could spare before the afternoon performance in practising with Lizzie. The trained seal seemed to have taken naturally to the boy fish and was becoming quite friendly. She would let Joe put his arms around her as they both swam under water, and she made no attempts to bite. This was one thing Joe had feared, for he knew that a nip from the sharp teeth of the sea-lion would make a bad wound.

But Lizzie seemed content with the fish, and the number of them she could eat and the ease with which she bit them into two pieces when they were too large to take at one mouthful showed her appetite as well as the strength of her jaws and the keenness of her teeth.

"Going to put on the new act this afternoon, Joe?" asked the ring-master at the conclusion of the practice.

"I think I'd better not," was the answer. "Something might go wrong, and it would queer me, I think. Wait a few days. I want to get her used to the tent, the crowds and the lights. You see, she has only worked in theatres up to the present time."

"Well, maybe you're right," agreed the ring-master.

So that afternoon Joe did his usual tank act, with the goldfish placed in the big glass box. Joe ate his bananas under water, and though he tried to equal his other record of four minutes and ten seconds he had to come up two seconds sooner than the day before.

"I guess I've been going it too hard practising with Lizzie," he reflected. "Then, too, I didn't have a motor-cycle ride. I must get out the machine."

The trained seal was brought into the tent that evening before the night performance and allowed to climb up the steps to get a fish. The gasoline incandescent lights were set aglow, for Joe's object was to see if the strange surroundings at night would bother the seal any.

But Lizzie did not seem to mind. She flopped her way up the steps, ate the fish and plunged into the tank of water, from which the goldfish had again been taken.

"I'll have to think up some way of keeping them in when I work with Lizzie in the water," mused Joe. "They're too pretty to leave out of the act, but unless I put a muzzle on her I don't see how I can keep her from eating them. Well, I'll think of that later."

Joe did not get in the tank with Lizzie for practice that night, as he wanted her to learn gradually. Then, too, he was rather tired, and he had his trapeze work to do in addition to his aquatic act.

That night Lizzie, by Joe's orders, was left in her crate in the big tent while the show went on. Joe's object was to let the seal hear the music and the various noises, to see the lights, and to grow accustomed to the general atmosphere of a night performance in the "main top."

"Then she'll understand what she has to go through with six days out of the week during the season," said Joe.

But something funny happened at that night's performance. Joe was in the midst of his tank act, and was getting ready to come out, prior to going in for the endurance test, when he heard the now familiar:

"Hook! Hook! Ook!"

"Lizzie's loose!" he exclaimed, looking around from the platform on which he stood, inflating his lungs with air to get ready for the four-minute—and longer—under-water stay.

And there, flapping her way over the ground toward the steps that led to the tank platform, was the trained seal. She had gotten out of her crate—though how Joe did not know—and was coming to the place she remembered as her feeding station.

Joe had to act quickly. The tank contained the goldfish, and to let Lizzie in now would mean that some of the pretty fish would be eaten. It would not do to have that happen in public.

"Take her back!" Joe cried to some of the ring attendants. "Don't let her get on the steps."

For Lizzie moved quickly and she could ascend the steps in a very short time, hitching herself along by her flippers. And once at the top, Joe knew a sight of the goldfish swimming around freely in the tank would be too much for the seal.

But Lizzie did not want to be caught, and she flapped away from the attendants who ran after her. They laughingly pursued the seal, and a little boy in the crowd cried:

"Oh, Mamma! What a funny game of tag! They're trying to make the seal it!"

Those about the youngster laughed, and Joe joined in. But Lizzie, while agile, was more used to the water than the land, and she was soon caught and carried, barking protestingly, to her crate. Joe ran over and saw that the door was securely fastened before he went on with his act.

"I don't want her to come splashing in after the fish when I'm trying to hold my breath for an under-water record," reflected Joe.

Lizzie did not get out again, and Joe went through his turn successfully, though he did not quite equal his former endurance.

"I must be out in the air more and increase my breathing capacity," he decided. "The motor-cycle for me!"

Joe's life was now a busy one—busier even than when he had traveled about with Professor Rosello. For the boy fish still kept up his trapeze work—at least, the greater part of it—he did his usual tank work, and in addition he rehearsed each day with Lizzie. He was not yet quite ready to put that act on in public. He wanted to make it a finished piece of work, with no chance for failure, as far as he could foresee.

Still Joe found time to practise some on the motor-cycle. He had mastered the method of controlling and driving it, and all he needed now was practice. Joe had been a good bicycle rider, and this stood him in good stead though the motion was much swifter, and the exhilaration of fairly flying through space with no effort on his part was new to him.

He found that this swift motion in the open air was doing him good. His lung power, which was most excellent, was improved, and he began to have hopes of equalling the world's record of under-water work—four minutes and thirty-seven seconds.

"And I'll even try to beat it," he thought.

Joe found time to ride immediately after breakfast when his tank was being set up in the tent. He did not take part in the parade, and having seen to it that the glass box was being properly put together, and having fed Lizzie, he would ride off around the country on the motor-cycle. And as he rode Joe began to turn over in his mind plans for utilizing the machine in some trick.

"Though I don't just see my way clear to it now," he told himself.

Finally Joe became so well-used to the gasoline bicycle, as he sometimes called it, that he took Helen out with him, she sitting on the seat in the rear. Naturally a good equilibrist, the girl took easily to the motor-cycle, and even when Joe went at top speed on some smooth road she liked it.

"Oh, it's just great!" she said. "I'll think Rosebud is terribly slow after this."

The time quickly came when Joe was first to exhibit the seal in public. Lizzie had been behaving well, and in private she and Joe did all sorts of tricks under water. Joe took down with him to his table some pieces of fish. While he ate the bananas he would hold up on a fork a piece of fish for Lizzie to take.

The seal would curve gracefully downward, take the morsel and eat it under water, even as Joe ate his fruit. It made a novel scene.

"And now to see how it goes in public!" said Joe.

The big tent was crowded when the boy fish entered his tank that afternoon, and after going through some preliminary work, showing the tricks with the celluloid cards and other of his sleight-of-hand performances, Joe gave the signal, and Lizzie was let out of her cage.

Barking and uttering her peculiar cry, she flapped her way to the steps. Up them she went, taking the piece of fish left there to tempt her, and then into the tank she plunged with Joe. Of course the goldfish were not being used.

Then, while the wondering crowd looked on, Joe and the seal swam about together, showing off to the best advantage. It was a good act, and the throng appreciated it, applauding mightily. To cap the climax, Joe and the seal ate under water. Lizzie behaved perfectly, paying no attention to the crowd. Nor did the transparent sides of glass annoy her as they had just a little at first, when she would sometimes unexpectedly bump her nose against them.

It was one of the best aquatic exploits ever exhibited, and the ring-master so announced it. Jim Tracy was delighted with Joe's work, and Joe was pleased himself. Lizzie was certainly a great acquisition.

Back and forth, around and around, up and down, turning, somersaulting and doing all manner of swimming went Joe and Lizzie.

"I couldn't have a better act unless I got a real live mermaid to perform with me," Joe decided, as Lizzie shot up out of the water to breathe.

Joe did not know the length of time the sea-lion could stay under water without breathing. Doubtless she could rival him, but she never did—at least, in the glass tank. A minute seemed to be her limit of endurance, though Joe had no means of making an accurate decision.

At any rate, the act was a big success, and Joe had to bow and bow again to the applause as he came out after his endurance test. This time he made it four minutes and eleven seconds, a gain of one, and he ascribed his better lung power to motor-cycle riding in the open air.

"Good work! Good!" was Jim Tracy's compliment at the conclusion of the performance.

"I'm glad to hear him say that," said the boy fish. "It will make it easier to ask for more money, for that's what I'm going to do."

When the mail was distributed just before supper, there was a letter for Joe.

"Hello! This is too bad!" Joe exclaimed as he read the note.

"What is it?" asked Helen.

"Bad news," Joe answered. "There isn't any hope for Benny after all!"



CHAPTER XIX

HELEN'S SOLUTION

Helen read the letter which Joe held out to her. It confirmed the news the boy fish had given. The note was from the physician who had first attended Benny in the circus tent, and stated that though originally it was hoped an operation would prevent the youth from becoming permanently deaf and dumb, such hope now had to be abandoned.

The physician went into the particulars of the case in writing to Joe, who, it seemed, had left word that he wished to be informed as to Benny's progress. It was his belief that the long continued practice of Benny in staying under water had brought on a disease of the ears and throat.

"I thought it would be comparatively easy to operate on him, or get some surgeon better qualified than I to do it," wrote the hospital doctor. "But, after a consultation, we have decided that it would be dangerous, and so, as far as we can see, there is no hope for your friend. He will not die—in fact, he is much stronger than he was—but he will be unable to speak or hear. He will write you himself shortly, he indicated to me. Just at present he is too down-hearted to do so."

"Poor fellow," murmured Helen, sympathetically, "I should think he would be. Isn't it just perfectly terrible, Joe?"

"It certainly is hard luck!"

"Can't anything be done?"

"I don't see what," was the moody answer. "I was planning to—oh, well, no matter."

"Go on, tell me," Helen urged.

Joe shook his head.

"No. There isn't any use now," he said. "I—I can't do what I intended to, that's all. Poor Benny."

"Yes; poor Benny," echoed Helen.

The sad news concerning the "human fish" soon spread among the circus folk, and much sympathy was expressed for Benny Turton. A movement was started to get up a purse for him, and a small sum was raised. Circus performers do not get the big salaries which theatrical stars are credited with, and, in addition, most of those with the Sampson Brothers' Show had families to support. Then, too, the circus was not one of the big ones. So, all told, not much was done for the youth in the hospital.

Helen and Joe each wrote him a letter, encouraging him as much as they could, but they both knew that the first sudden shock of hearing the bad news must wear off from Benny's mind before he could begin to be reconciled to it.

"Well, it isn't as bad as going blind," remarked Helen with a sigh. "That would be too terrible! Benny can still have the pleasure of reading and seeing things."

"Yes, his case might be worse," admitted Joe. He seemed in a thoughtful mood, and more than once that evening Helen surprised him in a deep study.

"What are you thinking of, Joe?" she finally asked.

"Oh, nothing—that is, nothing that seems to get me anywhere," he answered.

But if the news from Benny was saddening, Joe had plenty of other matters to make him rejoice, and the principal one was that the trained seal was such a success in the tank act. For Lizzie certainly shared the honors with Joe, and the boy fish was contemplating elaborating the act. He thought of having the seal do a series of juggling and other tricks on a platform near the tank, either before or after the under-water work.

"But I guess we'd better wait until next season for that," said Jim Tracy when Joe spoke of it. "You see every act is timed now to occupy just so much of the programme. If I should give you more than twice the time you now have I'd have to cut some one else, and no one would like that."

"Oh, no, I wouldn't want that," Joe declared. As it was, there was plenty of professional jealousy directed toward him, and he did not want to arouse more by encroaching on the time of some other performer.

"I could cut out all of your trapeze work," went on the ring-master, "but I don't want to do that. We haven't any too many good trapezists."

"Thanks," said Joe. "I wouldn't want to give up the bar and rope work, either. I guess I'll wait until next season to give Lizzie a larger part in the act."

Joe did not want to give up his trapeze work for several reasons, one being that it kept him in trim for a certain hazy plan he had in mind. Joe was a youth on whom great heights made no impression. He felt fully as safe on the dizzy height of some church steeple as he did on the ground.

There are some persons who have a morbid fear of looking down from any great height, and who always refuse to ascend a high place or to look down from the top of a tall building.

There is another class of people who are really made temporarily insane when looking from a great height and have an almost irresistible inclination to throw themselves down. There is a complicated medical term which is applied to this disease, for a disease it is. Such persons should never look down from great heights.

But, fortunately, Joe was not in this class. He did not in the least mind climbing high up into the air, with even a frail support. And it was his trapeze work that kept him in good trim for this sort of daring, so Joe did not want to give it up.

The tank act, with Lizzie, the seal, in it, was made one of the big features of the circus. Jim Tracy had new bills printed showing Joe and Lizzie apparently having a fine time under water. The posters were large and in gay colors, and Joe's name was featured, to the envy of many others in the circus.

Not a few were the sneers cast at Joe on more than one occasion, when he declined to take part in some jollification, and remarks were made about his being a miser and a "tight-wad."