So some new apparatus was bought, and a young man, or rather an overgrown boy, hired to relieve Joe of some of the detail work. Thus Joe could devote more time to the tricks and to practice. The professor’s “show” was not a large one, and he did not play in the big cities, or, if he did, it was in the small theatres or in halls. But Joe was in good company, and he was getting valuable experience. He often wondered what was going on in Bedford, and whether his disappearance had caused any stir.
It had. The robbery at the deacon’s house became known, and also the fact of the accusation against Joe, who was being sought by the police.
“Well, Joe may have run away, because he couldn’t stand it any longer,” said Tom Simpson, when he found his suit of clothes and the note the morning after Joe had left them on the door-step. “Joe Strong may have run away, but he never stole!”
“That’s right!” agreed his other chums.
But of all this Joe knew nothing.
The young wizard, which he was rapidly becoming in earnest, kept at his chosen work. He practiced sleight-of-hand at every opportunity. Nor did he neglect his physical welfare. In many of the places he visited there were Y. M. C. A. gymnasiums, and there Joe paid a small fee for the privilege of using the trapeze or the bars. This he did during the day, while waiting for the night’s performance. He would end his exercise with a shower bath, and be in fine trim for the evening’s work. He did the disappearing trick every night of the show, and it always went well.
Joe also did considerable studying, for the professor had a number of books on magic. And one evening after a successful performance Joe approached Professor Rosello, and said:
“I think I have invented a new trick.”
“Good!” exclaimed the professor. “Let’s hear about it.”
“I say think,” Joe reminded him, “for, though I haven’t seen you do it, you may know about it.”