CHAPTER XIV
HELEN'S INHERITANCE
Joe Strong had scarcely begun his act when he became aware that indeed the storm was no usual blow and bluster, accompanied by rain. He could feel his trapeze swaying as the whole tent shook, and while this would not have deterred him from going on with his performance, he felt that an accident was likely to occur that would start a panic.
"It surely does feel as if the old 'main top' was going to fall," thought Joe as he swung head downward by his knees, preparatory to doing another act. He could see that many in the audience were getting uneasy, and some were leaving their seats, though the red-capped ushers were going about calling:
"Sit still! Keep your seats! There is no danger. The tent is perfectly safe."
Jim Tracy had ordered this done. As a matter of fact the tent was not perfectly safe, but under the circumstances it was best to tell the people this to quiet them and to avoid having them make a rush to get out, as in that case many would be hurt—especially the women and the children.
"It's a good thing it isn't night," reflected Joe. "Whew! That was a bad one!" he exclaimed as a terrific blast seemed fairly to lift one side of the tent. Men started from their seats and women and children screamed.
"Just keep quiet and it will be all right," urged the ring-master, but the crowd was fast getting beyond control.
Joe saw Jim Tracy sending out a gang of men to drive the tent pegs deeper into the ground. The rain softened the soil, and thus made the pegs so loose that they were likely to pull out. At the same time the rain, wetting the ropes, caused them to shrink, and thus exert a stronger pull on the pegs and poles. So the ropes had to be eased off, while the pegs were pounded farther into the ground with big mauls.
"Lively now, men!" called the ring-master.
The big tent swayed, sometimes the top of it being lifted high up by the wind which blew under it. Again the sides would bulge in, making gaps by which the rain entered.
But the band kept on playing. Jim saw to that, for nothing is more conducive to subduing a panic than to let the crowd hear music. The performers, too, kept on with their acts, and some of the audience began to feel reassured.
But the wind still kept up, blowing stronger if anything, and Joe and others realized that it needed but a little accident to start a rush that might end fatally for some.
Joe was just about to go into the second series of his gymnastic work when he heard a tent pole beneath him snap with a breaking sound. At first he thought it was the big one to which his apparatus was made fast, but a glance showed him this one was standing safe. It was one of the smaller side poles.
That part of the tent sagged down, the wind aiding in the break, and there were cries of fear from scores of women, while men shouted all sorts of directions.
But the circus people had gone through dangers like this before, and they knew what to do. Under the direction of Jim Tracy and his helpers, extra poles were quickly put in place to take the weight of the wet canvas off the broken one. This at once raised the tent up from those on whom it had partly fallen.
And then something else happened.
One of five horses which were being put through a series of tricks by a man trainer, suddenly bolted out of the ring. Joe, high up in the tent, saw him running, and noted that the animal was headed for the ring where Helen Morton was performing with Rosebud.
"He's going to run into her!" thought Joe. "I've got to do something!"
He must think and act quickly. While attendant's were running after the bolting horse Joe, looking down, saw that the animal would pass close to his life net. In an instant Joe had decided what to do.
He poised on the small platform, from which he made his swings, and dropped straight into the big net. Just as he had calculated, he bounced up again, and as he did so he sprang out to one side.
Joe's quick eyes and nerves had enabled him to judge the distance correctly. He leaped from the net just as the horse was opposite him, and landed on his back in a riding position.
It was the work of but a second to reach forward, grasp the little bridle which the animal wore, and pull him to one side.
And it was not a second too soon, either, for the horse was on the edge of the ring in which Helen was performing with Rosebud. If the maddened animal had gone in, there would have been a collision in which the girl performer would, undoubtedly, have been injured.
"Good work, Joe!" cried the ring-master. "But there's plenty more to be done. I guess we'll have to get all the men performers to help hold down the tent. I'm afraid she's going."
"It does look so," Joe admitted as he leaped from the horse and gave him in charge of one of the attendants. "What can we do?"
"Help drive in extra pins and attach more ropes. I'm going to dismiss the audience. We'll stay over here to-morrow, and give an extra performance to make up for it."
"I'll get a crowd together and we'll help the canvasmen," offered Joe.
"And I'll help," said Benny Turton, who had finished his tank act.
"Come on!" cried Joe, as he led the way.
Meanwhile Jim Tracy had requested the audience to file out as quickly and in as orderly a manner as possible. The crowd was not large, as the weather had been threatening in the morning and many had stayed at home. But it was no easy matter to dismiss even a small throng in such a storm.
However, it was accomplished, the band meanwhile playing its best, and under hard conditions, as part of the tent over them split and let the rain in on them.
But the music served a good turn, and while the people were hurrying out the canvasmen, aided by the performers, Joe among them, drove in extra pegs, tightening those that had become loose, put on additional ropes, so that, by hard work, the big tent was prevented from blowing down.
Once outside, the audience, though most of them were soon drenched, took it good-naturedly. They were given emergency tickets as they passed out, good for another admission.
And then the storm, which seemed to have reached its height, settled down into a heavy rain. The wind died out somewhat, and there was no danger from the collapse of the tent.
"Good work, boys!" said the ring-master, as the performers, all of them wet through, and in their performing suits too, came in. "Good work! If it hadn't been for you I don't know what we would have done. I'll not forget it."
There had been some trouble in the animal tent during the storm; the beasts, especially the elephants, evincing a desire to break loose. But their trainers quieted them, and soon the circus was almost normal again.
Of course the afternoon had been lost, but there was hope of a good attendance at night if the storm were not too bad. And by remaining over another afternoon the deficiency could be made up. Word was telegraphed ahead to the next town announcing a postponement in the date. The broken pole was replaced with another, and then the performers enjoyed an unexpected vacation.
"I want to thank you, Joe, for what you did," said Helen, coming up to him in the dining tent, where an early supper was served. "I saw what you did—stopping that runaway horse."
"Oh, it wasn't anything," Joe said, modestly enough.
"Wasn't it?" asked Helen, with a smile. "Well, I consider myself and Rosebud something worth saving."
"Oh, I didn't mean it that way," Joe said quickly. "But the runaway might not have gone near you."
"Yes, I'm afraid he would. But you saved me."
"Well, if you feel that way about it," laughed Joe, for he did not want Helen to take the matter too seriously, "why then we're even. You saved me from a bad fall on the trapeze."
The storm subsided somewhat by night, and there was a good attendance. And the receipts the next day were very large in the afternoon, for the story of what the circus men had done was widely spread, and served as a good advertisement. Joe was applauded louder than ever when he did his acts.
The two wily Lascalla Brothers never referred to the incident of the rotted trapeze rope, and Joe did not know whether to believe them guilty or not. At most, he thought, they only wanted to give him a tumble that might make him look ridiculous, and so discourage him from continuing the work. In that case their deposed partner might get a chance. But Joe did not give up, and he kept a sharp lookout. He redoubled his vigilance regarding his ropes, bars and rings, inspecting all of them just before each performance.
On arriving at the next town Helen received a note in her mail asking her to call at the principal hotel in the place. It was signed by one of the members of the law firm.
"You come with me, Joe," she begged. "I don't want to go alone."
"All right," agreed the young performer. "We'll go and get your inheritance."
"If there's any to get," laughed Helen. "Oh, Joe, I'm so nervous!"
"Nervous!" he answered. "I wish I could be afflicted with nervousness like that—money-nervousness, I'd call it!"
They found Mr. Pike, the lawyer, to be an agreeable gentleman. He had requested Helen to bring with her the proofs of her identity, the old Bible and other books, which she did. These the lawyer examined carefully, and asked the girl many questions, comparing her answers with some information in his notebook. Finally he said:
"Well, there is no doubt but you are the Miss Helen Morton we have been looking for so long, and I am happy to inform you that you are entitled to an inheritance from your grandfather's estate."
"Really?" cried Helen, eagerly.
"Really," answered the lawyer, with a smile. "It isn't a very large fortune, but it will yield you a neat little income every year. In fact there is quite an accumulation due you, and I shall be happy to send it on as soon as I get back to New York. I congratulate you!"