"Oh, you may," replied Tonzo, with a shrug of his shoulders. "You certainly keep what you get—that is sure."
"Of a certainty, yes!" chimed in Sid. "Not once have you treated the crowd on the strength of your increases in salary."
"No," returned Joe slowly, "I haven't, that's a fact. And now I want to say one thing. I know you fellows have been calling me a 'tight-wad' and all that. I stood for it because——"
At that moment a dusty youth came pushing his way up to Joe, the Lascallas and some others of the circus folk who had formed a group about the boy fish. The youth was in the uniform of a telegraph messenger, and he pushed a dusty wheel, chewing gum the while.
"Say, where's Joe Strong?" he asked of no one in particular. "I've got a wire for him. Is he de guy what does dat tank act? Say! dat's swell, all right. I'd like to see dat, I would!"
He took off his cap, and from the top extracted a telegram and a receipt sheet.
"I'm Joe Strong," said our hero quietly.
"G'wan!" answered the messenger. "Why, he must be a big guy to do all de bills says he does—rescuin' a diver an' all dat! G'wan!"
There was a laugh, but others assured the boy that Joe could make good his claim to identity.
"Sign dis," the messenger said, extending the telegram and receipt blank to Joe. The boy fish hurriedly scribbled his name, and then tore open the envelope. As he read a look of surprise and joy showed on his face.