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.