Joe Strong The Boy Fire Eater - Vance Barnum
And so it was that the lady "vanished."
"And now, Joe, tell me all about it!" demanded Helen, when the circus
was over for the afternoon, and the box and vanishing tricks had been
successfully performed. "What happened to your trapeze?"
"Some one spilled acid on one of the wire ropes, and it ate into the
metal, corroding it and separating a number of the strands so that a
little extra weight broke them," said Joe.
"Acid on the cable?" cried Helen. "How did you find out?"
"I just examined the wire. I knew it couldn't have rusted naturally in
such a short time. There was a peculiar smell about the wire, and I know
enough of chemistry to make a simple acid test! What kind of acid was
used I don't know, but it was strong enough to eat the steel."
"Who could have put it on?"
"That I've got to find out!"
"Was it Harry Loper?"
"I taxed him with it, but he swears he knew nothing of it," said Joe.
"I'm inclined to believe him, too. I charged him with drinking, and he
could not deny that. But he said he met some old friends and they
induced him to have a little convivial time with them. No, I don't
believe he'd do it. He's weak and foolish, but he had no reason to try
to injure me."
"Who would, Joe? Of course there's Bill Carfax, but he hasn't been seen
near the circus of late."
"No, I don't believe it could have been Bill. I'll have to be on my
guard."
"Do, Joe!" urged Helen. "Oh, I can't bear to think of it!"
"Don't then!" laughed Joe, trying to make light of it. "Let's go down
town and I'll buy you some ice cream."
"But you're not going to give up trying to find out who put acid on the
trapeze, are you?"
"No, indeed!" declared the young performer. "I have two problems on my
hands now--that and trying to learn how too many persons came to the
circus this afternoon," and he told Helen about the extra tickets.
"That's queer!" she exclaimed. "Some jinx bug must be after us!"
"Don't get superstitious!" warned Joe. "Now we'll forget our troubles.
They may not amount to anything after all."
But, though he spoke lightly, Joe was worried, and he was not going to
let Helen know that. They went into an ice-cream parlor and "relaxed,"
as Helen called it.
The two were on their way back to the circus lot, intending to go to
supper and prepare for the evening entertainment, when there was a
sudden alarm down the street, and, in an instant, the fire engines and
other apparatus dashed past.
"A fire!" cried Joe. "Come on, Helen! It's just down the street!"
They could see smoke pouring from a small building and a crowd rushing
toward it. Thither, also, the fire apparatus was dashing. Joe and Helen
were among the early arrivals.
"What is it?" asked Joe of an officer. "I mean what sort of place is
that?" and he pointed to the building, which was now obscured by smoke.
"Dime museum," was the answer. "Lot of fakes. I sent in the alarm. A
fire-eater was trying some new stunt and he set the place ablaze, so the
boss yelled to me. Come now, youse all have to git back!" and he
motioned to the crowd, which was constantly increasing, to get beyond
the fire lines.
CHAPTER VI
SOMETHING NEW
What with the clanging of the gongs on the engines and on the red
runabouts that brought two battalion chiefs to the fire; the pall of
smoke, with, here and there, the suggestion of a red blaze; the swaying
excitement of the crowd; the yells of harassed policemen; the scene at
the blaze of the dime museum was one long to be remembered by Joe Strong
and Helen Morton--particularly in the light of what happened afterward.
"Joe, did you hear what he said?" asked Helen, as she moved back with
the young acrobat in conformity with the officer's order.
"You mean that we've got to slide?"
"No, that a fire-eater started the blaze. Does he mean a professional
'fire bug,' as I have heard them called?"
"Oh, not at all!" exclaimed Joe. "A fire-eater is a chap who does such
stunts in a museum, theater, or even in a circus. Sampson Brothers used
to have one, I understand, from looking over the old books. But it
wasn't much of an act. Golly, this is going to be some blaze!"
That was very evident from the increased smoke that rolled out and the
crackle of fire that now could be heard above the puffing of the engines
and the shouts of the mob.
"A regular tinder box!" muttered the officer who had told Joe the origin
of the blaze. "Place ought to have been pulled down long ago. Git back
there youse!" he yelled to some venturesome lads. "Want to git mushed
up?"
The blaze was a big one, considerable damage was done, and several
persons were injured. But quick work by an efficient department
prevented the flames from spreading to the buildings on either side of
the one where it had started.
Joe and Helen stayed long enough to see the menace gotten under control,
and then they departed just as the ambulance rolled away with the last
of the victims.
"That's the fire-eater they're taking to the hospital now," said the
policeman who had first spoken to the young circus performers. "They
took him into a drug store to wrap him in oil and cotton batting."
"Will he live?" asked Helen.
"Just a chance," was the answer. "Say, if I had to get my living eating
fire I'd starve," confided the policeman. "It must be some stunt! I
always thought it was a fake, but this fire burned real enough."
"Oh, it isn't all fake," said Joe, "though of course there's a trick
about it."
"You seem to know," said the policeman, and he smiled at Joe and Helen.
His chief troubles were about over with the departure of the ambulance
and the knowledge that filtered through the crowd that the most of the
excitement was over.
"Oh, I'm in the circus business," confessed Joe. "I never ate fire," he
went on, "but--"
"Oh, I know you now!" cried the officer. "I was on duty out at the
circus grounds this afternoon, and I went into the tent when you did
that box act. Say, that's some stunt! Do they really pay ten thousand
dollars to the fellow who tells how it's done?"
"Well, we've never paid out the money yet," said Joe, with a smile. "But
it's there, waiting for some one to claim it."
"Then I'm coming to-night to watch you," said the officer, who appeared
delighted that he had recognized one of the "profesh."
"Come along," replied Joe. "Here, wait a minute! There are a couple of
passes. Come and bring a friend. If you tell how I do the trick you'll
get the ten thousand. Only you'll have to post a hundred dollars as a
forfeit to the Red Cross in case you don't guess right. That's included
in the offer."
"Oh!" The officer did not seem quite so pleased. "Well, I'll come
anyhow," he went on, accepting the passes Joe handed him. The policeman
had allowed Joe and Helen to stay in an advantageous place where they
could watch the fire.
"Where are they taking the man who did the dangerous trick that caused
all the trouble?" asked Helen, as she prepared to walk on with Joe.
"To the City Hospital, Miss. He's a bad case, I understand."
"Poor fellow," murmured Helen. "Do you think we could go to see him, and
do something for him, Joe?" she asked solicitously. "He's in almost the
same line of business as ourselves."
"Well, I don't know," was the slow answer.
"I can fix it up if you want to see him--that is, if the doctors and
nurses will let you," said the policeman. "I know the hospital
superintendent. You just tell him that Casey sent you and it will be all
right."
"Thanks; perhaps we will," said Joe.
There was a little time after supper before the performers had to go on
with their acts, and Helen prevailed on Joe to take her to the hospital
whither the injured fire-eater had been removed. They found him swathed
in bandages, no objection being made to their seeing him after the magic
name of "Casey" had been mentioned to the superintendent.
"We came in to see if you needed any help," said Joe to the pathetic
figure in the bed. "We're in the same line of business, in a way."
"Are you a fire-eater?" slowly asked the man.
"No," Joe told him. "But I'm in the circus--Sampson Brothers'."
"Oh, yes, I've heard about it. A partner of mine was with 'em for years.
Gascoyne was his name."
"That was before my time," said Joe. "But how are you getting on? Can we
be of any help to you? We professionals must help one another."
"That's right. We get knocked often enough," was the reply. "Well, I'm
doing as well as can be expected, the doctor says. And I'm not really in
need of anything. The museum folks were pretty good to me. Thank you,
just the same."
"How did it happen?" asked Helen.
"Oh, just my carelessness," said the man. "We get careless after playing
with fire a bit. I put too much alcohol on the tow, and there was a
draft from an open door, some draperies caught, and it was all going
before I knew it. I tried to put it out--that's how I got burned."
"Then you really didn't eat fire?" asked Helen.
Joe and the man swathed in bandages looked at one another and a
semblance of a wink passed between them.
"Nobody can eat fire, lady," said the museum performer. "It's all a
trick, same as some your husband does in the circus."
Joe blushed almost as much as did Helen.
"We're not married yet, but we're going to be," explained Joe, smiling.
"Lucky guy!" murmured the man. "Well, as I was saying, it's all a
trick," he went on. "Strong alum solution in your mouth, just a dash of
alcohol to make a blaze that flares up but goes out quickly if you
smother it right. You know the game," and he looked at Joe.
"Well, not exactly," was the reply. "I've read something of it. But,
somehow, it never appealed to me."
"Oh, it makes a good act, friend!" said the man earnestly. "I've done a
lot of museum and circus stunts, and this always goes big. There's no
danger if you handle it right. I'll be more careful next time."
"You don't mean to say you'll go back to it, do you?" asked Helen.
"Sure, lady! I've got to earn my living! And this is the best thing I
know. I'll be out in a week. I didn't swallow any, thank goodness! Oh,
sure I'll go at it again."
Joe and Helen cheered the sufferer up as much as they could, and then
departed. Joe privately left a bill of substantial denomination with the
superintendent to be used for anything extra the patient might need.
On the way back to the circus, where they were soon to give their
evening performance, Joe was unusually quiet.
"What's the matter?" asked Helen. "Are you thinking of that accident on
the trapeze?"
"No," was the answer. "It's something different. I've got to get up a
new act for the show. That trapeze act, even the way I had to do it this
afternoon, isn't sensational enough. I've got to have something new, and
I've about decided on it."
"What?" asked Helen.
"I'm going to become a fire-eater!" was the unexpected, reply.
CHAPTER VII
THE PAPER EXPERT
For a moment Helen Morton stared at Joe Strong as though not quite sure
whether or not he was in his proper mind. Then, seeing plainly that he
was in earnest, she seemed to shrink away from him, as he had noticed
her shrink away, for a moment, from the burned man suffering there in
the hospital.
"What's the matter, Helen?" asked Joe, trying to speak lightly. "Don't
you want to see some more sensational acts in the show?"
"Yes, but not that kind," she answered with a shudder she could not
conceal. "Oh, Joe, if you were to--" She could not go on. Her breast
heaved painfully.
"Now look here, Helen!" he exclaimed with good-natured roughness, "that
isn't any way to look at matters; especially when we both depend on
sensations for making our living.
"You know, as well as I do, that in this business we have to take risks.
That's what makes our acts go. You take a risk every time you perform
with Rosebud. You might slip, the horse might slip, and you'd be hurt.
Now is this new act I am thinking of perfor--"
"Yes, I may take risks, Joe!" interrupted Helen. "But they are perfectly
natural risks, and I have more than an even chance. You might just as
well say you take a risk walking along the street, and so you do. An
elevated train might fall on you or an auto run up on the sidewalk. The
risks I take in the act with Rosebud are only natural ones, and really
shouldn't be counted. But if you start to become a fire-eater--Oh, Joe,
think of that poor fellow in the hospital!"
"He didn't get that way from eating fire--or pretending to eat it--for
the amusement of the public. He might just as easily have been burned
the way he is by lighting the kitchen stove for his wife to get
breakfast. His accident was entirely outside of his act, you might say.
Why, I use lighted candles in some of my tricks. Now, if some one
knocked over a candle, and it caused a fire on the stage and I was
burned, would you want me to give up being a magician?"
"Oh, no, I suppose not," said Helen slowly. "But fire is so dangerous.
And to think of putting it in your mouth! How can you do it, Joe? Oh, it
can't be done!"
"Oh, there's a trick about it. I haven't mastered all the details yet,
so as to give a smooth performance, but I can make an attempt at it."
"Joe Strong! do you mean to say you know how to eat fire?" demanded
Helen, and now her eyes showed her astonishment.
"Well, not exactly eat it, though that is the term used. But I do know
how to do it. I learned, in a rudimentary way, when I was with Professor
Rosello--the first man who taught me sleight-of-hand. He had one
fire-eating act, but it didn't amount to much. He told me the secret of
it, such as it was.
"But if I put on that stunt I'm going to make it different. I'm going to
dress it up, make it sensational so that it will be the talk of the
country where circuses are exhibited."
"And won't you run any danger?" questioned the girl quickly.
"Oh, I suppose so; just as I do when I work on the high trapeze or ride
my motor cycle along the high wire. But it's all in the day's work. And
now let's talk about something pleasant--I mean let's get off the shop."
Helen sighed. She was plainly disturbed, but she did not want to burden
Joe with her worries. She knew he must have calm nerves and an
untroubled mind to do his various acts in the circus that night.
After supper and before the evening performance Joe made a careful
examination of his trapeze apparatus. Beyond the place where the acid
had eaten into the wire strands, causing them to become weakened so that
they parted, the appliances did not appear to have been tampered with.
Nor were there any clews which might show who had done the deed. That it
could have happened by accident was out of the question. The acid could
have gotten on the wire rope in one way only. Some one must have climbed
up the rope ladder to the platform and applied the stuff.
"But who did it?" asked Jim Tracy, when Joe had told him of the
discovery of the acid-eaten cable.
"Some enemy. Perhaps the same one who was responsible for our loss in
tickets this afternoon," answered the young magician.
"Carfax?" asked the ringmaster.
"It might be, and yet he isn't the only man who's been discharged or who
has a grudge against me. There was Gianni with whom I had a fight."
"You mean the Italian? Yes, he was an ugly customer. But I haven't heard
of him for years. I don't believe he's even in this part of the
country."
"And we haven't any reason to suppose that Carfax is, either, after his
fiasco in trying to expose my Box of Mystery trick. But we've got to be
on our guard."
"I should say so!" exclaimed the ringmaster. "And now about your
trapeze act, Joe! Are you going to put it on again to-night?"
"Of course. It's billed."
"Then you'll have to hustle to rig up a new rope."
"I'm not going to put on a new rope," declared Joe. "The act went so
well when I seemed about to fall, that I'm going to keep that feature
in. I'll rig up a catch on the severed cable. At the proper time I'll
snap it loose, seem to fall, swing by the dangling bar as I did before,
and land on the platform that way. It will be more effective than if I
did it in the regular way."
"But won't it be risky?"
Joe shrugged his shoulders.
"No more so than any trapeze act. Now that I'm ready for the sudden drop
I'll be on my guard. No, I can work it all right. And now about these
extra admissions? What are we going to do about them?"
"Well," said the ringmaster, "maybe we'd better talk to Moyne about
them. If they ring an extra thousand persons in on us again to-night the
thing will be getting serious."
The treasurer was called in consultation with Joe and Tracy and other
circus officials, and it was decided to keep a special watch on the
ticket wagon and the ticket takers that night.
Joe quickly made the change in his trapeze and tested it, finding that
he could work it perfectly. Then he began to think of his new
fire-eating act. He was determined to make that as great a success as
was his now well advertised ten thousand dollar mystery box act.
The evening performance had not long been under way, and Joe had done
his big swing successfully, when he was sought out by Mr. Moyne.
"The same thing has happened again," said the treasurer.
"You mean more people coming in than we have sold tickets for?"
"That's it."
"Well, where do the extra admissions come from? I mean where do the
people get their admission slips from--the extra people?"
"That's what we can't find out," the treasurer aid. "As far as the
ticket takers can tell only one kind of admission slip for the fifty
cent seats is being handed them. But the number, as tallied by the
automatic gates, does not jibe with the number of ordinary admissions
sold at the ticket office. To-night there is a difference of about eight
hundred and seventy-five."
"Do you mean," asked Joe, "that that number of persons came in on
tickets that were never sold at the ticket wagon?"
"That's just what I mean. There is an extra source from which the
ordinary admission tickets come. As I told you this afternoon, we are
having no trouble with our reserved seats. There have been no duplicates
there. But there is a duplication in the fifty cent seats, where one may
take his pick as to where he wants to sit."
"Don't we have tickets on sale in some of the downtown stores?" Joe
asked.
"Oh, yes, several of the stores sell tickets up to a certain hour. Then
they send the balance up here for us to dispose of."
"How about their accounts? Have you had them gone over carefully?"
"They tally to a penny."
"How about the unsold tickets these agents send back to us? Isn't there
a chance on the way up for some one to slip out some of the pasteboards,
Mr. Moyne?"
"There is a chance, yes, but it hasn't been done. I have checked up the
accounts of the stores, and there is the cash or the unsold tickets to
balance every time. But somehow, and from some place, an extra number of
the ordinary admission tickets are being sold, and we are not getting
the money for them."
"It is queer," said Joe. "I have an idea that I want to try out the
first chance I get. Save me a bunch of these ordinary admission tickets.
Take them from the boxes at random and let me have them."
"I will," promised the treasurer. "There is nothing we can do to-night
to stop the fraud, is there?" he asked. Mr. Moyne was a very
conscientious treasurer. It disturbed him greatly to see the circus lose
money.
"I don't see what we can do," said Joe. "If we start an inquiry it may
cause a fight. Let it go. We'll have to charge it to profit and loss.
And don't forget to let me have some of those tickets. I want to examine
them."
Mr. Moyne promised to attend to the matter. Joe then had to go on in his
Box of Mystery trick, and when this was finished, amid much applause, he
caused Helen to "vanish" in the manner already described.
The circus made considerable money in this town, even with the bogus
admissions, and as the weather was fine and as the show would exhibit
the next day in a big city for a two days' stand, every one was in good
humor. Staying over night in the same city where they exhibited during
the day was always a rest for the performers. They got more sleep and
were in better trim for work.
The last act was finished, the chariot races had taken place, and the
audience was surging out. The animal tent had already been taken down
and the animals themselves were being loaded on the railroad train.
As Joe, Helen, and the other performers started for their berths, to
begin the trip to the next town, the "main top" began coming down. The
circus was on the move.
Soon after breakfast the next morning, having seen that all his
apparatus had safely arrived, Joe visited Mr. Moyne in the latter's
office.
"Have you a bunch of tickets for me?" asked the young magician.
"Yes, here they are--several hundred picked at random from the boxes at
the entrance. I can't see anything wrong. If you're looking for
counterfeit tickets I don't believe you'll find them," added Mr. Moyne.
"I don't know that I am looking for counterfeits," said Joe. "That may
be the explanation, or it may be there is a leak somewhere in the ticket
wagon."
"I'm almost sure there isn't," declared the treasurer. "But of course no
one is infallible. I hope you get to the bottom of the mystery."
"I hope so myself," replied Joe, with a smile, as he put the tickets in
a valise.
A little later he was on his way downtown. He had several hours before
he would have to go "on," as he did not take part in the parade, and he
had several matters to attend to.
Joe made his way toward a large office building, carrying the valise
with the circus tickets. A little later he might have been seen entering
an office, the door of which bore the name of "Herbert Waldon,
Consulting Chemist."
"Mr. Strong," said Joe to the boy who came forward to inquire his
errand. "Mr. Waldon is expecting me, I believe."
"Oh, yes," said the boy. "You're to come right in."
Joe was ushered into a room which was filled with strange appliances,
from test tubes and retorts to electrical furnaces and X-ray apparatus.
A little man in a rather soiled linen coat came forward, smiling.
"I won't shake hands with you, Mr. Strong," he said, "for I've been
dabbling in some vile-smelling stuff. But if you wait until I wash I'll
be right with you."
"All right," assented Joe. And then, as he caught sight of what seemed
to be a number of canceled bank checks on a table, he smilingly asked:
"Have you been paying your income tax?"
"Oh, no," answered the chemist with a laugh. "Those are just some
samples of paper sent in for me to test. An inventor is trying to get up
an acid-proof ink. I'm a sort of paper expert, among my other chemical
activities, and I'm putting these samples through a series of tests.
But you'll not be interested in them."
"I don't know but what I shall be," returned Joe, with sudden energy.
"Since you are a paper expert I may be able to set you another task
besides that of showing me the latest thing in fire-resisting liquids.
Yes, I may want your services in both lines."
"Well, I'm here to do business," said Mr. Waldon, smiling.
CHAPTER VIII
JOE EATS FIRE
The chemist led the way into a little office. This opened off from the
room in which was the apparatus, and where, as Joe had become more and
more keenly aware, there was a most unpleasant odor.
"I'll open the window, close the laboratory door, and you won't notice
it in a little while," said Mr. Waldon, as he observed Joe's nose
twitching. "I'm so used to it I don't mind, but you, coming in from the
fresh air--"
"It isn't exactly perfume," interrupted Joe, with a laugh. "But don't be
uneasy on my account. I can stand it."
However, he was glad when the fresh air came in through the window. The
chemist washed his hands and then sat down at a desk, inviting Joe to
draw up his chair.
"Now, what can I do for you?" asked Mr. Waldon. "Is it fire or paper?"
"Well, since I know pretty well what I want to ask you in the matter of
fire," replied Joe, "and since I've got a puzzling paper problem here,
suppose we tackle the hardest first, and come to the known, and easier,
trick later."
"Just as you say," assented Mr. Waldon. "What's your paper problem?"
Joe's answer was to take from the valise several hundreds of the circus
tickets. They were the kind sold for fifty cents, or perhaps more in
these days of the war tax. They entitle the holder to a seat on what, at
a baseball game, would be called the "bleachers." In other words they
were not reserved-seat coupons.
However, these tickets were not the one-time blue or red pieces of stiff
pasteboard, bearing the name of the circus and the words "ADMIT ONE,"
which were formerly sold at the gilded wagon. These were handed in at
the main entrance, and the tickets were used over and over again.
Sometimes the blue ones sold for fifty cents, and a kind selling for
seventy-five cents entitled the purchaser to a seat with a folding back
to it, though it was not reserved.
But Joe had instituted some changes when he became one of the circus
proprietors, and one was in the matter of the general admission tickets.
He had them printed on a thin but tough quality of paper, and each
ticket was numbered. In this way it needed but a glance at the last
ticket in the rack and a look at the memorandum of the last number
previously sold at the former performance, to tell exactly how many
general admissions had been disposed of.