“Perhaps I can,” replied Joe, quietly.
His chums looked curiously at him. And, for the moment, we can do no better than to observe this boy, who had sunk down in an easy position on the grass. A moment’s study of him now will help greatly in understanding the nature of a youth destined to have many curious and thrilling adventures. And he was a lad well adapted by nature for a life of daring excitement.
Briefly, Joe Strong was a remarkable boy. From the time of his early infancy he had never known what it was to be ill or ailing. Even the simplest childish diseases seemed to pass him by as one too strong and sturdy to try to weaken. He had a superb physical form, and as soon as he was old enough to take regular exercise he added to his suppleness and strength in a systematic way.
There was no better runner, jumper, swimmer, diver or all-around athlete in Bedford than Joe Strong. Added to this he could ride any horse he ever saw; he could climb to the roof of the church and walk the ridge pole, with never a qualm of dizziness; he was an excellent shot with a rifle; and he could juggle with stones, baseball bats, balls—in fact with almost anything that he could handle. Taking it all in all, Joe was rather remarkable.
Another point in his favor, and one that was destined to stand him in good stead in after life, was the fact that he seemed absolutely without nerves. Rather be it said that his nerves were under such perfect control that he was their master, not their slave. It took high-strung but perfectly controlled nerves to do some of the things Joe did.
The secret of his abilities, if secret it was, lay in the fact that his mother, now dead some years, had been one of the most daring bareback riders in any circus that ever toured the country. She was billed as Madame Hortense, though her name was Mrs. Janet Strong. She was an English woman, and Joe dimly remembered hearing that before her marriage her name had been Willoughby. Beyond that fact he knew little of his mother’s early history.
But it was not alone from his mother that Joe inherited certain health, nerve, daring, ability to ride a horse and to take risks higher up off this solid earth than most persons care to go. He also was indebted to his father for many of his talents and abilities.
Professor Morretti—known in private life as Alexander Strong—had been in his day, one of the best-known and best-drawing (from a theatrical standpoint) magicians that ever brought a live rabbit out of a silk hat, or locked himself up in a solid box, only to be found missing when the box was opened, the professor himself afterward walking coolly down the aisle of the playhouse.
Thus Joe inherited two totally different sets of talents. And that was about all he had inherited from his parents. For they had both died when he was about five years old, the professor first, following a severe attack of pneumonia contracted when one of his water tricks went wrong, and he received a drenching on a zero night.
Mrs. Strong did not long survive her husband. Perhaps she lost her nerve, following news of his sudden death. At that they were traveling in different shows, Joe being with his mother. Usually, however, Professor Morretti and Madame Hortense went about together, caring for little Joe between them.