The professor was still resting, and his show, under lease, was on the road. Joe kept up a correspondence with the man who had given him such a good start toward becoming a public entertainer, and the professor was always glad to hear of the success of his protégé.
The circus performers who knew Benny, and there were few who at least did not have some sort of an acquaintance with him, were very sorry to learn of his disablement.
"Well, it's too bad he can't be with us!" said motherly Mrs. Talfo, the fat woman. "Benny sure was a nice little boy, and I'm certainly sorry for him."
"So am I," affirmed Señorita Tanlozo, the snake charmer. "He got me some medicine once, when I had a terrible toothache, and I'll never forget it."
"And will he not ever be able to appear in public again?" asked Señor Bogardi, the lion tamer.
"I don't know about that," answered Joe. "Never is a long while. He'll have to stay in the hospital for some time, the doctor says."
"Ugh! Hospitals!" exclaimed Madame Bullriva, the strong woman. "Deliver me from them. They mean all right—those doctors and nurses—but it's awful trying to lie on your back and want a drink of water."
"Especially if you happen to know that you could get up and lift a barrel of it, if you weren't ill," put in Tonzo Lascalla. "Yes, I, too, am sorry for Benny. But it is what will happen to all of us in this business."
"What will happen?" asked the snake charmer.
"Oh, we will be down and out some day. You may play once too often with that big constrictor which you let twine about your waist. Some day he will squeeze you too hard—Poof! You are dead!"