"Any chance for a job here, boss?" Joe looked up to see a somewhat disreputable figure of a man observing him. The fellow looked like the typical tramp, perhaps not quite so ragged and dirty, but still in that class. However, there was something about the man that attracted Joe's attention. As he said afterward, his visitor had about him the air of the "profesh."
Joe's first impulse was to say that he knew of no job, or else to refer his accoster to the head canvas man, who hired transient help in putting up the main top and in pulling or driving stakes. But as Joe observed the man curiously watching him, he had another idea. Before he could act on it, however, the man exclaimed:
"You do a fire-eating stunt, don't you?"
"Yes," Joe answered. And then it occurred to him to wonder how the man knew. True he might have observed Joe in some of the many performances, but the man did not look like one who would spend money on circus tickets. He might have crawled under the tent, but it did not seem exactly probable. And, of course, some of the circus employees plight have pointed Joe out to the man as the actor who handled fire. But, again, Joe did not believe this. So he asked:
"How did you know?"
For answer the man pointed to the pail of chemicals into which Joe was about to dip a suit of tights.
"Smelled the dope," was the brief answer. "You're using tungstate of soda, aren't you?"
"Yes," answered Joe, surprised that a man, evidently of such a class, should recognize the not very common chemical.
"We used to use alum in the old days," the man went on. "I guess the new dope's better, though I never tried it."
"Are you in the business?" asked Joe.