"I'll be right on the job in a moment," the young performer answered. "I had to get another trapeze—the lioness cracked mine."
"Oh, all right—but hustle."
Under pretense of fastening the short trapeze to the larger one Joe pushed back the loose silk covering the ropes. To his surprise, on one rope was a dark stain. Joe rubbed his fingers over the strands. They were rotten, and crumbled at the touch. Joe smelled of the dark stain.
"Acid!" exclaimed Joe. "Some one spilled acid on this rope. Talk about putting on something to ripen it! This is something to rot it!"
He tested the rope in his hands. It did not part, but some of the strands gave, and he did not doubt but that if he trusted his weight to it it would break and give him a fall.
"Now I wonder if they did that on purpose to queer me," mused Joe. "If they did they waited for a most opportune time to give me the doctored trapeze. They couldn't have known I was going to break mine. I wonder if they did it on purpose.
"Of course I wouldn't have been killed, and probably not even much hurt, if the rope did break," thought Joe. "I'd only fall into the life net, but it sure would spoil my act and make me look like an amateur. Maybe that's their game! If it was——"
Joe paused, and looked over in the direction of the two Spaniards. They were going through their act, but Joe thought he had a glimpse of Tonzo looking over toward him.
"They want to see what happens to me," thought Joe. "Well, they won't see anything, for I sha'n't use this trapeze. I'll change my act."
"Hey, what's the matter over there, Joe?" called Jim Tracy to him. "You ought to be up on the bar."