Joe Strong gave a low whistle. It expressed at once surprise and dismay. He looked at Helen, and saw in her eyes deep sorrow for the unfortunate youth. For Benny Turton was loved by every one in the circus. His act was so peculiar that there was no professional jealousy against him, as there was against other performers, including Joe. And Benny was a gentle youth.
"Not able to join the circus again," repeated Joe.
"No," replied the physician.
"What is the trouble?" Helen queried. "Was he hurt in the tank?"
"Well, it wasn't an accident, if you mean it that way," went on the doctor. "But his injuries and condition are due to long-continued tank-work."
"How is that?" inquired Joe. He was interested, not only because he liked Benny Turton, but from a personal standpoint. Joe might have to give several more performances in the tank before some one was obtained to fill Benny's place, or until a new "thriller" was substituted for the tank scene, and Joe did not wish to run any chances. He had felt no ill effects from his immersion, save a slight inconvenience due to holding his breath, and this had passed as soon as he was out of the water.
"Your friend Benny's trouble," said the physician, "is due to staying so long under water. I don't mean staying under too long at one time—there is a limit which nature fixes in that case. But I understand he has been doing this act twice a day now for some years. He works, so I am told, under about eight feet of water. Of course divers have withstood greater pressures than that, but Benny has done it so constantly that he had injured himself."
"Permanently?" Joe asked.
"That remains to be seen. But it is certain now that he is in great danger of becoming deaf and dumb."
"Oh!" exclaimed Helen, sympathetically. "Poor Benny, never to speak or hear again!"