"Yes, if I can only get this to work I'll make a hit; I'm sure I will," reasoned Joe.
He sent a telegram to the man who had advertised the seal for sale, stating that he would buy it if the animal were as represented, and Joe added that within two days he would call and talk matters over.
He found that the next day the circus would play in a town not far from Elmwood, where the seal's owner lived, and by putting his tank act on a little sooner Joe could get off in the afternoon in time to make the visit and get back to the circus in season for the night's performance; that is, if he made good train connections.
"That's the only trouble," thought Joe, on arrival. "I wouldn't want to be stranded and have to cut out my act at night. That wouldn't look very well. I wonder how I can manage it? If I only had an auto or an airship."
But neither was available just then, though Joe began to think of engaging an automobile if one could be hired in the town.
He was on the verge of making inquiries as to this shortly before the afternoon performance, when, as he walked across the circus lot, he saw a man who had been with the circus the previous season as a juggler. The man was standing near a motor-cycle, and neither looked particularly prepossessing. They were both covered with dust, though the machine was of a standard make, and needed only a good cleaning.
"Hello, Joe!" called the performer. "How are you?"
"Why, it's Babson!" Joe exclaimed. "I haven't seen you in some time. What are you doing? Are you with a show?"
"No, I wish I were," came the answer. "I'm sort of down on my luck. After I left the Sampsons I did well for a while, and then I had an accident to my hand, and I had to quit juggling."
He held out a hand on which were two crooked fingers which seemed permanently out of shape.