Chapter 20

ACROSS THE TRESTLE

Helen, with a pencil and piece of paper, began rapidly making a little sketch. Joe looked over her shoulder. They were in the outer section of the dressing tent, waiting for their turn to go on with their acts.

"See," Helen explained, "you can easily put double glass sides on your tank by slipping sheets of glass inside the four present outer sides, leaving a space of five or six inches between them. Fill this space with water, and put the goldfish in that. Then they can swim around, and Lizzie can't get at them because they'll be protected by the glass."

She made a sectional view of the tank with its double sides and held it up triumphantly to Joe.

"Will that solve the puzzle?" she asked.

"Why, I really believe it will!" exclaimed Joe, after a moment's thought. "Yes, I could have metal clips, made water-tight with rubber, fitted inside the tank. Taking five inches off each side wouldn't mean much loss. Then I could slip four sheets of glass down in the metal clips, and, as you say, fill the intervening space with water for the goldfish."

"Exactly," cried Helen. "The audience can't tell whether the fish are in the tank with you or not, for the water and glass, being transparent, will make it look exactly as if you and the fish and the seal were in the same bit of water."

"Good!" cried Joe. "I'll do it! The very thing, Helen!"

The fact that persons looking directly at a glass tank of water can not tell how far back the water and tank extends is taken advantage of by moving picture operators in producing novel effects. Only the other day was shown a scene where a man apparently went down to the bottom of a river. Fish swam all about him, there was a portion of a wreck half buried in the sand and mud, and waving aquatic plants seemed to reach out and twine themselves around the man, while fish swam above and below him.

This effect was produced by having the man go through certain actions behind a square glass tank in which the sand, aquatic plants, wreck and fish had been placed. The fish could swim about, but the man was not in the water at all but behind the tank, the water and glass offering no obstruction to the camera.

It was that principle which Helen suggested to Joe. He and the seal would be doing their act behind a glass and water screen, in which fish were swimming and aquatic plants gently waving.

Joe lost no time in putting the plan into operation. He ordered the glass and metal holding clips, with the water-tight rubber gaskets, from the same firm in New York that had originally made Benny's tank. They still had the patterns, and knew just the proper size and kind of glass to send, and Joe had no difficulty in malting his tank a double one.

The experiment was tried in private one afternoon just before the performance. The plants and goldfish were put in the thin outer tank which extended all around the inner one. The fish, of course, swam about as they were in the habit of doing. The fact that they were in a much more restricted space did not seem to perplex or vex them.

Then Joe got into the inner tank, and Lizzie was allowed to follow him. No sooner did the seal see herself surrounded by the fish she loved to eat than she made a dash for a big golden one.

Of course Lizzie bumped her nose against the protecting glass, but this did not deter her. Joe watched the sea-lion curiously. Again she made a dash for a fish, evidently thinking she had not been quick enough to get the first one. Again came a painful bump.

Joe continued to swim about as he always did when Lizzie was in the tank. It was not until after her third failure that the intelligent seal began to think something was wrong. Then she swam alongside the inner glass. Just beyond, three-quarters of an inch away, but as secure as though the space were miles, swam the goldfish. Lizzie could not get them, and then she turned her big eyes on Joe as if to ask what sort of trick this was to play on a good, performing seal.

If Joe had not been under water he would have laughed. He did this when he came up, however, and he gave Lizzie more than her usual allowance of common fish to make up for her disappointment over the gold ones.

But Helen's solution of the problem was perfect. The circus folk formed a critical rehearsal audience and as Joe swam about in the inner tank with the seal, and as the goldfish flitted about in the outer tank, Jim Tracy said:

"It couldn't be better. The illusion is perfect. No one looking at it as the crowd will view it, could tell but that it was all one tank. Helen, you're a fine suggester. First I know, you'll be going into business for yourself."

"Not while I have Rosebud," she answered, blushing. "But I'm glad my plan worked."

Joe was glad also. Not only was he enabled to get a much more spectacular effect by having the goldfish and his seal in the same act, but it saved a lot of work in taking out the fish every time he wanted to perform with Lizzie. And as it had been necessary to take the goldfish out twice a day--for the afternoon and night performance--much work was entailed. And there is so much to do, anyhow, in moving a circus from place to place, that everything which makes for economy of time or motion is very welcome and eagerly adopted.

That afternoon the audience seemed to appreciate very much the aquatic act. It certainly made a pretty scene with Joe, in his red scaly suit, going through all manner of performances in the water, while the dark seal swam in and out, sometimes circling around his head, again darting through his looped arms, while on all sides they were surrounded by goldfish and gracefully waving green grass and plants.

It was one of the showiest acts in the circus, and taking advantage one day of a particularly gracious reception on the part of the crowd, and when he had lengthened his stay under water by two seconds, Joe asked for more money.

Jim Tracy whistled in mild surprise, but he did not make half the objections he had made on the other occasion.

"I'm under a lot more expense," Joe explained. "Lizzie cost me money, and I have to buy fish for her every day. Besides, the extra tank fittings cost considerable."

"All right, Joe. I'm not making any kick," said the ring-master. "You're certainly worth a lot to us, and we can't afford to lose you. I wouldn't say that to every performer, or they'd get such a swelled head that there'd be no doing anything with them. But you're different, I'm glad to say. Yes, you shall have more money. The act is worth it, especially since you got Lizzie. First you know you'll be a millionaire, my boy."

"Not in this business, I guess," laughed Joe.

Joe found himself liking more and more his motor-cycle rides. Helen, too, enjoyed them very much. She was even learning to manage the machine herself, though, as yet, she had not ventured to drive it at more than a slow speed, and then on some little-frequented road.

As soon as the circus reached a town where it was to show, and Joe and Helen had had their breakfast, and had seen, one to his tank and seal and the other to her horse, they would set off for a ride through the beautiful country. It took them away from the atmosphere of the circus, and rested them mentally and physically. They were in better trim for the strenuous and exacting work that was to follow.

Helen had greatly elaborated her act since the time when Joe had first seen it. She had taken a little dog--the same one that had refused to act with Joe in the tank--and had trained it to ride with her on Rosebud's back. The dog did some simple tricks, and that, with the beautiful and intelligent horse and Helen, who herself was strikingly pretty, made an act that always was well applauded.

"I only hope you two don't have a break-down when you're out on the road motor-cycling some day," said Jim Tracy. "If you do, and don't get back to the show on time--well, I don't know what I'll do."

Joe had not thought of that, and thereafter he was careful not to go too far away, so, in case of some accident to the machine, he could hire a horse and wagon to bring him and Helen back. But the machine had not yet given him trouble and he hoped it would not.

"I'm very glad I bought it from Babson," he said, "though the day I got it and the seal I seemed to be going it pretty heavy in the matter of expenditures."

Then, one day, Joe had his accident. It was not a very serious one, merely the breaking of the motor-cycle transmission chain, but as far as making the machine go without it, Joe might as well have had a bad smash-up.

Helen was not with him, and he was glad of this, for when the break came he was on his way back to the circus grounds, as it was nearing time for the afternoon performance.

Joe tried to mend the chain himself, but a link was needed and he had no spare one. He was looking about on the country road for some place where he could hire a horse and carriage, when he met a small boy who told him there was a garage about a mile away. Joe decided that if he could get his chain repaired he could make better time than by engaging a horse.

Accordingly he pushed the heavy machine along a sandy road until he came to the garage and repair shop. To his delight, the machinist said he could easily repair the chain, and he set about it.

But Joe had consumed more time in his weary walk than he was aware of, and when the chain was mended and he set off again, he had barely time to reach the circus on time, even if he rode at top speed, and had excellent roads all the way.

He was returning by a different route from the one he had taken on going out, and now he regretted it, for the way was longer.

"I'm afraid I'm not going to make it," Joe decided as he looked at his watch. "I've cut my schedule too fine."

He came to a small village and inquired of some loungers if there was not a shorter route to the circus town than the one he had been told to take.

"Well, there is a short cut," said a man, "if you can ride the railroad track. Otherwise you can't get over the river without going five miles out of your way. The railroad bridge over the river is the only one around here, and it's a long, high bridge at that."

"I guess I can ride the railroad," said Joe. "What sort of a bed is it--cracked stone?"

"No, cinders."

Joe was glad to hear that, for cracked stone would have worked havoc to his tires.

"He can't ride no railroad line," declared another man, positively.

"Why not?" Joe wanted to know.

"You can't ride over the railroad trestle, and it's more than a mile long, counting the approaches. If you walk you won't make any better time than if you went around the long way. You can't ride that machine over the open ties. It would rattle it all to pieces. The only way you can do is to walk and push it."

Joe thought for a moment.

"I think I can ride the trestle," he said.

"How?" demanded the man.

"By keeping on the steel rail. That's smooth enough."

"You never can do it!" declared the man who had offered the objection. "You never can do it in this world. You'll be off in no time, and it's a long fall to the river. You can't do it!"

"Can't I?" asked Joe coolly. "You come and watch me. I'm going to ride my motor-cycle across the railroad trestle bridge on the single rail!"

Several in the crowd looked at him admiringly, while others shook their heads.

"He'll kill himself!" murmured one old man.

"He sure has got nerve!" exclaimed a boy, admiringly.

Meanwhile a crowd of villagers followed Joe as he rode off in the direction of the railroad. It was his only chance of getting to the circus on time.