“Has he stabbed him?” asked Bob, in frightened tones.
“Watch,” said the professor, with a smile.
The youth opened the basket. It was empty. The boy had disappeared. The youth gave a cry of astonishment, and gazed up into the starlit sky. Naturally, every one in the crowd gazed upward, likewise. All at once there was a cry from behind the youth, and the boy who had been in the basket, laughing and capering about as if being thrust through with a sword was the biggest joke in the world, moved among the assemblage, collecting coins in his cap.
“Another old Indian trick,” said the professor. “He simply curled up close to the outer rim of the basket and the sword went through the middle, where his body formed a circle.”
“But the blood!” exclaimed Bob.
“The boy had a sponge wet with red liquid, and when the sword blade came through the basket he wiped the crimson stuff on it,” explained the professor.
The tricks seemed to please the crowd very much, for few of them saw how they were done. The Mexicans cried for more.
The youth and boy retired to the tent. Their place was taken by an old man, wrapped in a cloak. He produced a long rope, which he proceeded to knot about his body, tying himself closely. Then he signed for two of the spectators to take hold, one at either end of the cord, which extended from under his cloak. Two men did as he desired.
Then the old man began a sort of chant. He waved his hands in the air. With a quick motion he threw something at one of the torches. A cloud of smoke arose. There was a wild cry from the two men who held the rope. When the vapor cleared away the magician was nowhere to be seen, though his cloak lay on the ground and the men still held the ends of the rope that had bound him.
An instant later there came a laugh from a tree off to the left. Every one turned to look, and the old man jumped down from among the branches.