Chapter 13

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.