"Who told you?" asked Joe, for he had not mentioned the increase to any one but Helen, and she had said she would not tell.

"Oh, those things are soon known in the circus," explained the Spaniard. "We're glad to hear about your good luck though. What do you say to a little celebration in town? We're going to lay over here Sunday."

"What do you mean?" asked Joe.

"I mean why don't you 'blow yourself,' as the boys say over here. Give a sort of supper to the crowd."

"I'm afraid I can't afford it," replied Joe, with a shake of his head. "I'd like to, but it would take a good deal more salary than I'm getting to entertain the circus."

"Oh, I didn't mean the whole outfit," said Tonzo. "I mean just thirty or forty of those you know best."

Joe shook his head.

"I can't afford it," he replied.

"What! With the money you're getting? Why, I hear you've had your salary nearly doubled!"

"Well, I'm doing double work, am I not?" asked Joe.

"Of course you are, but——"

Tonzo shook his head, and there was an unpleasant sneer on his face as he turned away from Joe.

A little later Joe saw Tonzo and Sid talking together. He could not help hearing what they said, as they were in their dressing room, while he was in his, putting on the red, scaly suit which he wore in the tank.

"Will he do it?" asked Sid of Tonzo.

"No. He claims he can't afford it."

"And getting nearly twice as much as we do! Say, he must be a regular tight-wad!"

"That's what he is," said Tonzo bitterly. "Afraid to spend his money!"

The words stung Joe. He paused in his dressing.

"Tight-wad?" he mused. "So that's what they call me. Well, it isn't a very nice name, but if they think I'm going to spend my money on blow-outs for the crowd they're mistaken. I'm not going to be so foolish."

Joe knew that Tonzo had not proposed dissipation, for circus performers, particularly those who take their lives in their hands on high trapezes, cannot afford to live a riotous life, even for one night. Their nerves would be shattered for days to come, and once a performer's nerve is gone he is useless to himself and to others. But Joe was not going to waste his money on even an ordinary supper for the crowd.

"But I sure do hate to be called a tight-wad," he mused, "especially when I don't deserve it."

However, he seemed to have acquired that reputation unwittingly. Several times after that he heard sneering remarks directed toward himself, and once or twice some laughing reference was made to the "blow-out" he was going to give.

Joe flushed at these slurs, but he did not give in.

CHAPTER XIV

HELEN IS WORRIED

Joe Strong stood in a secluded part of the circus lot early one morning before breakfast. The show had reached the place only a little while before, there having been a delay because of a slight accident. Most of the performers, with increased appetites, were wending their way to the dining tents, but Joe, with coat and vest off, with shoulders thrown back and head held high in the air, was taking in long breaths and expelling them again to the utmost capacity of his lungs.

"What in the world are you doing, Joe?" asked Helen, who was on her way to breakfast. "Are you trying to rival Mr. Jefferson when he breaks a chain on his chest?" for this was one of the feats of the strong man.

"Hardly that," laughed Joe, as he let out a long breath.

"Then what are you doing?"

"Practising deep breathing for my tank work. I'm going to try for the four-minute record to-day."

"Are you really?" Helen was much interested.

"I don't say I'm going to do it," went on Joe, for he was anything but boastful. "But this seems a good day to make the attempt. It's clear and crisp after the rain, and I seem to be able to hold my breath longer on a day like this than when it's warm and muggy. So I thought I'd get in a little early practice before I got too loggy with a big breakfast."

"A good idea," Helen said. "I'll wait for you and we'll eat together."

"Thanks," remarked Joe. "But I'll be ten minutes yet, and your appetite may not stand such a delay."

"Oh, yes, it will," laughed Helen. "I'll run over and see how Rosebud is while you finish your practice," and she turned toward the horse tent where her trick pet was contentedly munching his breakfast of oats.

Joe practised faithfully, for he had made up his mind that this was a good time to try to make a new under-water record—that is, new for him.

"If I can't get an elephant, or something big like that, to work in the water with me, I'll have to thrill the crowds by making them wonder how I can live so long without breathing," decided Joe. "I'll do four minutes or—bust!" and he smiled at his conceit.

Joe finished his breathing exercises. In them he made an attempt to hold a full breath for four minutes. This he did, timing himself with his watch. But this, of course, was in the open air, and under water conditions were different.

"If I can only do that in the tank," thought Joe, as he noted the second hand slip five paces beyond the four minute mark, "I'll be all right. Well, I'm going to make a big effort."

Helen came back, and she and Joe went to breakfast. They sat not far from Tonzo and Sid Lascalla, and the former, looking over at Joe, asked:

"When are we going to have that supper?"

"I can't say," Joe answered, trying to be jolly about it.

"What supper is that?" inquired Helen, smiling at Joe.

"Oh, it's one he's going to give to celebrate his increase in salary," answered Tonzo.

Helen looked at Joe, and became aware, from the expression of his face, that there was a hidden meaning in the words. She saw that Joe was embarrassed and so she turned the conversation. Later on, when Helen and Joe were alone, the young aquatic performer said:

"I suppose you are wondering what Tonzo was driving at?"

"Oh, I don't want to hear any secrets," Helen answered.

"It isn't a secret," Joe answered. "At least my increase in salary isn't, for I told you about it. What Tonzo was hinting at was that I ought to give some sort of banquet."

"Why?" Helen demanded.

"Oh, because I'm getting so much money. Well, I suppose I am earning big pay, but, as I claim, I'm doing big work—that is double work. But I'm not going to waste my money on blow-outs."

"I don't blame you," Helen said. "Don't let them worry you, Joe."

The time of the afternoon performance arrived. Everything went off well except that in one elaborate elephant trick one of the huge beasts refused to do his share in the act.

His trainer endeavored to force the big brute, and the elephant grew ugly. It looked for a few seconds as if he would run out of the ring and into the crowd. But two of the more tractable elephants were ordered to force the unruly one into line and they did so.

This caused a little delay, and there was a slight feeling as of panic in the audience. The elephants were near Joe's tank, and for a while the boy fish was afraid lest they knock it over and smash it. In this case there would be a serious delay in getting another, though one spare glass side was always carried.

"And I don't want anything to happen when I'm going to try to make a record," Joe thought.

He had said nothing to Jim Tracy about the attempt he was going to make, preferring not to have the public expect too much through an announcement by the ring-master.

Joe did his usual work, swimming about in the midst of the shimmering goldfish, showing different strokes, turning graceful somersaults and doing a longitudinal whirl that made him look like the propeller of some water craft.

Then Joe performed his tricks, those with the celluloid cards seeming especially to please the audience.

"Mr. Strong will now show you how long it is possible for him to stay under water," announced the ring-master, "and if any of you think it is an easy thing to do, just take out your watches and time him, holding your own breaths as long as does the boy fish. We challenge the world to produce his equal!"

The band blared as Joe made his bow, and then, having inflated his lungs to their capacity, he slipped into the tank, and began "eating."

This was one of the tricks he did to keep the audience amused while the seconds of his underwater endurance were ticked off. It would have been rather monotonous for the crowd merely to look at Joe staying in the tank. He must keep up some kind of action. Then, too, when he was busy, it kept his mind from thinking of the passage of time, and the four minutes, or whatever part of them he remained under the surface, seemed to pass more quickly.

Finally he had done the last of his "water stuff," he had eaten the banana, had pretended to drain his cup of tea and then, yawning and stretching, he prepared for a "nap" under water.

"Now comes the real test!" thought Joe grimly.

Already he was beginning to feel the strain. His temples were throbbing from the retained breath and the water pressure, and his head felt big and stuffy. It was aching, too. Joe had placed outside the tank an alarm clock with big figures so he could keep track of the time. Three minutes and a half had passed, and Joe knew that every second, from now on, would be agony for him, agony that the watching crowd little suspected.

"Can I do it?" thought Joe. The hand was within ten seconds of the four-minute mark. Joe, who had opened his eyes for a brief glance at the clock, shut them again. His heart was beating like a hammer inside his chest, trying to make up for the lack of oxygenated blood.

To Joe it seemed as if fifteen seconds had passed, He gave a swift glance at the clock.

"Only six," he thought. "I'm afraid I can't do it."

To make a complete four minutes he must stay under water four seconds more, and seconds, now, were like hours to him.

There was a ringing in his ears. His head throbbed painfully, he began to yawn and stretch again, as though awakening from a sleep. He looked up and saw Jim Tracy peering anxiously down into the tank. The ring-master realized that this was longer than Joe had ever stayed under water before, and he thought perhaps something had gone wrong, as it had in the case of Benny. The ring-master was calling off the half minutes to the crowd, in which many were holding watches.

A few had tried to imitate Joe's feat, but had given it up as a hopeless task.

"The boy fish has now been under water, without breathing, four minutes, ladies and gentlemen!'" cried the ring-master. "He has beaten his own record!"

It was indeed true. But still Joe did not come up. He was fighting for time now—fighting for fractions of a second. He felt as if he would burst, but he did not come up. He saw, by his clock, that he had stayed under four minutes. A second passed—two—three—and still Joe was under water. Then he could not stand it longer. He had come close to the world's second best record at that.

Four seconds—five—and at the last tick of the five seconds over the four minutes, Joe shot up to the surface. He tried not to show his exhaustion as he climbed, dripping wet, out on to the platform and bowed to the plaudits of the enthusiastic crowd, but it was hard work for Joe to keep up. He did it, however.

"Good work, old man!" cried the ring-master as he helped put the bath robe about Joe. "Great work! How'd you do it?"

"Oh—I—I just did it!" panted Joe, breathing in deeply of the life-giving air.

"You didn't tell me you were going to pull off a stunt like that."

"I—I didn't know, myself, whether or not I could do it," said Joe, as he started for his dressing room. "And I didn't want a failure."

"Good boy!" said Jim. "I guess I didn't make any mistake raising your salary, Joe!"

"If you'll give me more money I'll try for a better record yet," said the boy fish with a smile.

"Say, what are you trying to do—become a millionaire?" asked the ring-master, jokingly.

"Oh, I can always use more money," replied Joe.

As he came down to the ground he saw Tonzo Lascalla looking at him. The trapeze performer had heard what Joe said last.

"We don't see much of your money," he commented, with a sneer.

"Why should you?" asked Joe, passing on.

"Oh, Joe! I congratulate you!" cried Helen, as soon as she saw him. "It was wonderful!"

"Glad you think so," he replied. "But I'm not done yet."

"Are you going to try for a longer time?"

"That's what I am. I don't feel very hopeful about it though. I am about to the limit, I guess."

The world's record for a man to stay under water, holding his breath, is four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Joe was several seconds short of that, but he was ambitious.

It was about a week after this that one day, as Joe and Helen were walking around town after the afternoon performance, Helen paused in front of a furrier's. In the window were fur coats, an advance showing of fall and winter styles, for the summer was passing and already merchants were preparing for the winter's trade.

"That's something I must get," Helen said. "A fur coat. I've been wanting one a long while, and now that I have my inheritance I feel I can afford it. My old one is about worn out."

"I'd like a fur-lined overcoat myself," Joe said.

"Why don't you get it?" asked Helen.

"Can't afford to," was Joe's reply. "I have other uses for my money."

Helen looked at him curiously, and there was a worried look on her face that Joe did not notice.

"I wonder," mused Helen. "I wonder——"

But she did not finish her thought.

CHAPTER XV

JOE'S INSPIRATION

Joe Strong was supervising the cleaning of the glass sides of his tank. It was a few days after he had made his record of staying under water more than four minutes, and the circus had moved on to another town. It had arrived on time, and as Joe had a few hours to spare before he had to get his act into shape, he decided he would have the glass cleaned.

Since he had used goldfish and the aquatic plants the transparent sides of the tank occasionally were dimmed by a slight natural growth, and from refuse of the food given to the fish. This made it difficult for the audience to see clearly, so Joe had the glass taken out every few days and scrubbed.

He was watching the men do this now, as he made it a practice to be on hand when this work was done. The men might grow careless and let one of the big pieces slip, which would mean breakage.

"Going to try something new?" asked Helen, as she passed near Joe where he sat on an empty barrel. Helen carried her riding habit over her arm, having taken it out of her trunk.

"No, just having the tank cleaned," Joe answered. "I wish I could get something new, though. What's wrong with you?" he asked. "Can't you sit down and have a chat?"

"No, I'm going to get Mrs. Watson to help me make a little change in this habit. I want to put on some new ornaments."

Mrs. Watson, the wife of the aged clown, was a sort of mother to all the circus folk. She mended the men's socks, and was always ready to sew up a rent in some distracted woman performer's costume. Mrs. Watson had been a bare-back rider, but increasing age and accumulated flesh had made it necessary for her to give up the work. She now traveled with her husband.

"Joe," began Helen, and she seemed somewhat embarrassed, "I want to ask you something, and I hope you won't be offended."

Joe looked up quickly.

"Offended?" he asked. "You know you couldn't offend me, Helen."

"Oh, I don't know," and her voice was more serious than her manner. "I can't tell how you'll take it. Do you remember the other day saying something about not being able to afford a fur coat?"

"Yes, of course I do. Have you bought yours yet?"

"No, but I've ordered it. But what I want to know is, Joe, why you don't get one, as long as you want it."

"And you thought that question would annoy me? That's queer. I don't get one simply because I can't afford it."

"I haven't yet asked you the question I fear may annoy you," went on Helen. "But this is it, Joe. I know you are getting a good salary, for you told me so. And if you are, what are you doing with it? I—I—this is what I want to ask you, Joe—you're not—not gambling with it—are you?"

She blushed vividly as she made this inquiry.

Joe glanced at the girl curiously. There was a strange look on his face.

"Gambling!" repeated Joe. The men, carrying one of the cleaned glass plates, had moved away.

"Yes," went on Helen. "I feared, when you said you had no money to spare, even with the good salary you are getting, that perhaps you might be wasting it on cards."

Joe shook his head.

"I haven't any use for gambling," he said solemnly, and Helen could not help believing him. "And I don't care for cards, except to do tricks with them. It isn't any fun for me to play, as I could too easily fool the other players—if I wanted to. No, Helen, I'm not spending my money that way—I don't gamble."

"Oh, Joe, I'm so glad! I was afraid you might be, and yet I didn't see how you could be. I thought I knew you better than that. I'm so glad!"

Impulsively she held out her hand, and Joe took it in a warm clasp.

"Now I must hurry away," the girl went on, "or I won't be mended up when the show begins."

She moved off, with a bright look and a nod to Joe, who sat watching the men finish their work of cleaning the glass sides.

"Gambling," mused Joe, as he watched Helen enter the tent where Mrs. Watson had her quarters. "Gambling! I wonder if they are spreading such reports about me just because I don't spend my money on them?"

It was time to put the tank together and to put the water and goldfish in, in readiness for the afternoon show. Joe went to see about this, still puzzling over Helen's question.

The goldfish were carried in a separate tank which the ring-master had provided for them, and Joe, having seen that they were fed, had them turned into the big glass box in which he was soon to go through his act.

"Ah, Señor Strong," called Señorita Tanlazo, the snake charmer, as she passed Joe on her way to look after her reptiles in their air-holed box, "ah, why did you not take advantage of my offer, and use my nice big anaconda in the tank with you?"

"Thank you again, but no," said Joe. "The anaconda is a little too ill-tempered for me."

"Yes, he is that. I was only joking when I suggested that you use him," said the Spanish woman. "I have to be very careful how I handle him of late. He is getting ready to shed his skin, and that always makes a snake treacherous. But have you put anything new in your act of late? I have not been able to watch you, though they tell me you are quite a drawing card."

"No, I haven't been able to hit on anything new," Joe said. "I wish I could. If you hear of anything I wish you'd let me know."

"I will," promised the snake charmer, as she passed on. "Here is a theatrical paper you might like to look at," she said. "I am through with it; so you need not keep it for me."

She handed Joe a magazine which chronicled the doings of actors and actresses, news of circuses, theatrical companies and other amusement enterprises.

Joe had seen it before, and he now looked through it for any news of Professor Rosello's show, in which he had begun his public career.

"It's still on the road," mused Joe, as he saw a note to that effect. "The professor can't have recovered yet."

Joe turned over the pages of the publication rather idly. As he glanced over the advertisements there was one that caught his attention. He read it once—twice, eagerly. Then he cried:

"Say, I believe that would be the very thing I've been looking for! If I could work that in it would be a hit! I'll write to that man."

The advertisement which had given Joe his inspiration was one offering for sale a trained seal, guaranteed to be kind and gentle, and able to do a number of tricks.

"If I can only work it!" Joe murmured.

CHAPTER XVI

THE TRAINED SEAL

The first opportunity he had Joe wrote to the man who had advertised in the theatrical paper. The boy fish asked for all particulars regarding the seal, inquiring especially if a stranger could put it through the usual tricks, and if it would readily learn a few new ones.

Then Joe so anxiously watched the incoming mails that it got to be quite a joke with some of the performers as they crowded around when the epistles were distributed.

"What! hasn't she written yet, Joe?" asked Tom Jefferson, the strong man. "Something must be wrong."

"There isn't any she about it," Joe would retort, but he could not help getting red in the face.

"You ought to send her a self-addressed envelope," added one of the clowns. "Maybe she can't write, Joe."

"It's awful hard to get your mail when you're with a circus," sighed the snake charmer. "I know I've lost dozens of perfectly good letters. But don't worry, Joe. It may come yet."

"Helen, you'd better look out," joked Bill Watson. "Joe has another friend now, outside the business."

"Oh, I'm not worrying," laughed Helen, but Joe thought she did look at him in a peculiar manner, and she blushed slightly. For Joe's anxiety over the letter was obvious to all.

And he did not want to tell even Helen his expectations and hopes for fear he would be disappointed. He knew Helen would keep his secret if he so requested, but he thought it better, everything considered, not to say anything until he had had a reply from the man who offered the trained seal for sale.

And at last a letter came for him. It had been delayed, reaching a certain town after the circus had left, and it had been forwarded from place to place, always getting there a day after the show had moved on. So that when it finally did reach Joe it was about a week after it had been written.

To Joe's delight the seal was guaranteed to be so kind and docile that a stranger could, in a short time, put it through the course of its tricks. And the animal was said to be young, so that it could be taught new tricks.

"I think it is just what I'm looking for," mused Joe. "If only he hasn't sold it to some one else on account of my delay in answering because I didn't get this letter. I guess I'd better telegraph and say I'll take it, but I'd like to look at it first."

The price asked for the seal was within Joe's means. He quickly decided that, and he also made up his mind that he would take the seal, after having seen it, and add it to his tank act if it came up to his expectations.

One might think that Joe's proper course would have been to apply to the owners of the circus and get them to buy the seal for him. But in circuses, just as is often the case in theatrical companies, the performers "dress" their own acts—that is, they provide all they need to work with, and these accessories become their personal property. Of course in big pageants, such as are sometimes seen with circuses, the management provides the costumes and the weapons, chariots, thrones and other spectacular pieces.

But in an act each performer usually provides his own things. A man with trained dogs will own them personally, as a snake charmer owns her crawling pets. Then, when he leaves one show and goes to another, which is often done, he takes his property with him. It is his act.

In the case of the tank, that belonged to Benny Turton, and Joe was, in a sense, only borrowing it. Now he proposed to add a seal as his personal property. He knew the circus people would not object if the act went well, and they would also provide transportation for the animal, just as they did for Helen's horse, Rosebud, or for the trained dogs.

"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.

"How did it happen?" asked Joe.

"Oh, I had an accident riding this machine. I wish I'd never bought it. I could use the money now to good advantage."

"That's too bad," said Joe, sympathetically.

"I wonder if there's any chance to get on here," went on Babson. "I could help in an animal act—I know something about the cats."

"You might try," Joe said. "I saw Jim Tracy around a while ago."

"What are you doing?" Babson asked. "Same trapeze work?"

"Oh, no; I've got a new act—Turton's tank. He gave out, you know. Come on in and watch. It makes quite a hit. I've put in a lot of new stuff, and I'm thinking of adding more." Then, in a sudden burst of confidence, Joe told about the seal, though it was the first time he had mentioned his new idea to any one.

"I'm going to see about it now, as soon as I finish," Joe said. "Getting back from Elmwood is all that bothers me, though. The train connections are pretty close. I was just going to see about hiring an auto. Know where I can get one in this town?"

"What do you want with an auto when I have my little jitney?" asked Babson, indicating the motor-cycle. "She's a good machine, but I haven't cleaned her lately. She'll carry double, too. Hop up behind me and I'll have you at Elmwood in no time. I'll bring you back, too, though I won't promise to carry the seal. Time is no object to me—now," and he laughed rather grimly.

"Say, I believe I'll take you up," Joe said. "That is, if you'll allow me to pay you as I would have to pay a chauffeur."

"Pay nothing!" exclaimed the man. "I guess I can do you that favor. If you feel like spending any money why don't you buy this machine? I'll sell it cheap, and you could have a lot of fun with it. Take your wife out for a run between performances."

"I haven't one," laughed Joe.

"Well, you may have one some day. That's no reason for not buying my motor-cycle. I'll let you have it cheap."

"I don't know how to run one," objected Joe.

"It won't take you long to learn. Come on, I'll take you over and you can look at the seal, and I'll be giving you instructions on the way."

"All right," agreed Joe. "But first come in and watch my act. Then you can see Tracy, too."

And so it was arranged. Babson was disappointed in not securing work from the ring-master, who said, though, that there might be an opening later. But the former juggler enjoyed Joe's act, and said so.

"Don't say anything about the seal proposition," Joe cautioned him, as he went out with Babson after the performance in the tank. "I don't want it known until I actually have the seal."

"Oh, I'll keep quiet. But say, Joe, that act of yours, as it stands now, is a dandy! It sure is!"

"Glad you like it. I'm going to make it better yet, I think."

Joe enjoyed the trip on the motor-cycle. It was not his first one, for a boy he once knew in Bedford owned one, and Joe had frequent rides on it. But now he took a new interest, since he began to consider buying this one.

"It wouldn't be such a bad idea," he told himself as Babson explained how simple it was to ride and operate one. "And I suppose Helen would come for a ride now and then. It wouldn't be any bother taking it with me. A motor-cycle, more or less, wouldn't matter to a circus."

Joe found the seal still unsold. The man had owned several of the intelligent creatures which he took about with him giving performances in theatres. But his health had broken down, and he had been forced to give up his act and had advertised his seals for sale.

"I only have this one seal left," he explained to Joe, "but she is the best of the lot. I hate to part with her."

They went out to the barn, where there was a large tank of water. Stepping up to it Mr. Blossom, the seal's owner, called loudly:

"Here, Lizzie!"

The water had been calm and placid, but in a moment it was violently agitated, and a queer snakelike head was thrust up, while there came a series of loud cries:

"Hook! Hook! Hook!"

"There she is," said Mr. Blossom. He leaned his head over close to the water, and the seal, swimming to him, seemed to kiss him.

"That's the girl, Lizzie!" Mr. Blossom exclaimed. "And now I suppose you want your reward."

From a pail near the tank he took up a dead fish. The seal held up her head high from the water. Mr. Blossom balanced the fish on the animal's nose, and raised a finger.

"No, no. Not yet, Lizzie!" he cried. "Wait a moment."

Turning to Joe, the trainer said: "Count three, and then snap your fingers."

Joe did so, and no sooner had the snap come than the seal, which had fixed its intelligent eyes on Joe, tossed the fish up into the air, caught it in its mouth as it came down and swallowed it. Then, with another loud "Hook!" the animal dived and swam rapidly to the far side of the tank.

CHAPTER XVII

THE NEW ACT

Joe and Babson stood looking in admiration at the swimming seal. Nothing in the water could be more swift or graceful.

"If I could only swim like that," murmured Joe.

"They tell me you are a sort of human fish," remarked Mr. Blossom. "You do a tank act, you tell me."

"Yes, and I've been thinking of adding to the novelty of it. That is why I want your seal. Tell me, do you think I could train him—or, I suppose, it's a her, since you call her Lizzie."

"Yes, it is a female, and she is very affectionate. I believe you could train her to work with you, though I have never swum in the tank with her. I don't know just how she'd take to it. You may try here, if you like. It is large enough. I used to keep ten seals here when I was not on the road."

Joe rather liked the idea of giving the seal a practical test before purchasing her. If the animal objected to being in a tank of water with a human being she would be useless for his act, and he might as well know that now as later.

"You saw how quickly she obeyed you about the fish," went on Mr. Blossom, "and I think she would as readily take orders from you in regard to other tricks. She is young and learns readily. If you like, I can let you take an old bathing suit, and you can go into the tank now, if you have time."

"Oh, yes, we have time enough, now that I have a motor-cycle at my disposal," Joe answered. "I believe I would like to see how Lizzie will behave."

The seal shot out on to a small platform near the edge of the tank, her body glistening wet. Again she cried in that peculiar way, which is best represented by the word "Hook!", sometimes with the "h" silent.

"More fish, that's what she's asking for," said the trainer. "Here you are, Lizzie." He held up one from the pail. The seal flipped her way over to him, and with a snap of her jaws bit the fish cleanly in two pieces with her sharp teeth.

"Whew!" whistled Joe. "She can bite, can't she? I hope she doesn't take a notion to do that to my leg."

"She's as gentle as a baby," declared Mr. Blossom. "Look!"

He called the seal to him, and put his hand in her mouth. She nuzzled him as a pet horse might do, but made not the slightest effort to bite.

"I think you would be safe," said the trainer to Joe. "There isn't a gentler sea-lion in the world, and I've handled a good many of them."

"Is this a sea-lion?" asked Joe. "I thought they were those big animals with long tusks."

"You're thinking of walruses," said Mr. Blossom. "Lizzie really is a sea-lion, though it is easier for me to call her a seal, since nine out of ten persons do so. Few know the difference between a seal and a sea-lion. The latter, of which Lizzie is a specimen, have flat front flippers, without hair and triangular in shape. They use their flippers almost as well as we do our hands, and you can see what an aid they are in swimming. The sea-lions have long necks, and carry their heads well up. There are nine species of them, and the so-called 'fur seal' is one. Sea-lions are mostly used in acts such as mine, and shown in zoological parks, for they are active, easy to keep and, you might say, cheerful.

"On the other hand, the seals have short stubby front flippers, provided with claws and covered with hair. Seals haven't half the power in their front flippers that sea-lions have, and, as a result, the seals are much less active and interesting. Seals have very short necks, in comparison with sea-lions.

"I tell you this," said Mr. Blossom to Joe, "so you can answer questions if any one in the audience should ask you about your act—that is, provided you buy Lizzie."

"I'm much obliged to you," answered the boy fish. "And I'm almost sure I'll take your seal—I mean sea-lion—if she'll act in the tank with me. Now for a trial."

Soon, attired in an old bathing suit belonging to Mr. Blossom, Joe entered the tank and began to swim about. There was considerably more room than in his glass tank, and he did several of his tricks.

"Say, you are a sort of human fish!" exclaimed the sea-lion's trainer.

During the time Joe was in the tank Lizzie remained on the platform gazing at him. She followed his every movement with her big intelligent eyes, but she showed no disposition to enter the water with Joe. But she did not seem frightened.

"In, Lizzie! In!" commanded Mr. Blossom.

Lizzie "Hooked!" but that was all, save that she moved about on the platform.

"Come on, Lizzie; go in and have a dip!" her master commanded.

But the seal (which is the name used here merely because it is a popular one, and not because it is correct) refused to go in, and Joe began to fear his plan would be a failure.

"You call her," suggested Babson, who had been watching the proceedings.

"Come on, Lizzie! I won't hurt you!" called Joe.

"Hook! Hook! Ook!" barked the seal.

"Here, I think this will take her in," said Mr. Blossom. He tossed a fish into the tank, and, after a brief moment of hesitation, in flopped the seal.

"Good!" cried Joe.

Like a flash the seal swam for the fish, and ate it at a gulp. Then she swam back to the platform, upon which she clambered.

"Well, we've got her started, anyhow," said the trainer. "I think she'll soon get used to you."

Joe continued to swim about. Another fish was thrown in and this time Lizzie did not go out so quickly. She swam about and even let Joe approach her. Then the lad dived, turning a somersault in the tank.

The seal snorted, gave her peculiar cry, and then, to the delight of Joe, who, with open eyes under water, could see every motion, Lizzie fairly imitated his act, turning over and over and shooting out on to the platform.

"I guess you've got her started," said Mr. Blossom. "Give her a few more trials."

For half an hour Joe remained in the tank, and every minute Lizzie seemed to grow more friendly toward him. Finally she let him swim at her side, though, of course, Joe could not equal the seal in speed. Then she let him put his hands on her, and she took fish from Joe's fingers.

"I guess she'll do," said the tank-performer, as he came out. "I'll take her, Mr. Blossom, and trust to luck that she'll act with me in public. Now, can you ship her to me in good condition?"

"Oh, yes, I think so. I still have some of the shipping crates I used to use when on the theatrical circuit, and Lizzie is accustomed to traveling. You may have a little trouble with her in a new tank, and one of glass such as you use, but if you are patient with her I think she'll soon learn to do just what you want her to. That is the one great secret of training animals—seals or any other kind. One must be gentle and have infinite patience. I wish you good luck."

"Thank you," replied Joe heartily. "If I can make this act go I think it will be a good thing for me and the circus, too."

He donned his clothes and paid the sum agreed upon for the seal. It was a bargain as such things go, for Joe knew something about the value of trained animals. Lizzie would be shipped to the next town in which the circus showed, and in a crate she had formerly traveled in, and this crate Joe would use in transporting his new acquisition about the country.

"Well, now I'm ready to go back with you, Babson," announced Joe. "It sure was good of you to bring me on the machine. Only for that I couldn't have made that tank test and gotten back in time. As it is now, I'll have an hour or so to spare."

"Yes, a motor-cycle is handy for getting anywhere in a hurry," said Babson. "Why don't you buy mine and work it in your tank act?"

"I don't see how I could," laughed Joe. "But I don't know but that it would be a good thing to have, anyhow. I could take rides about the country."

"You and your wife—when you get one," added Babson. "I'll let you have this machine cheap, for I'm in want of cash just now. It's in good shape, I'll guarantee that, though it is rather travel-stained. I've ridden about on it a lot lately, following up circuses and Wild West outfits looking for work. What do you say?"

He named a price that Joe knew was reasonable, and the upshot of it was that Joe became possessed of the motor-cycle.

"It sure is going some to get a trained seal and a gasoline craft all in one day," laughed Joe, as he completed the transaction. "I don't know which one will give me the most trouble."

Joe went through his tank act that night with more zest than usual, and received an ovation when he remained under water four minutes and ten seconds.

"I'm coming on," he congratulated himself. "I guess that motor-cycle ride to-day did me good. I must take more. And when I get my performing seal in the water with me—well, I can ask for more money for the act. It'll be worth it, and I'll need it, for I'll have some expenses I didn't have before."

Joe told Helen of his new purchases, and spoke about the change he intended to make in his tank act.

"Is that what you've been saving your money for?" she asked.

"No," Joe said. "Both the seal and the motor-cycle were accidents, so to speak. Do you think you'd like to ride with me?"

"I certainly would. And I'm anxious to see the seal."

The animal, which had traveled safely, was awaiting Joe on his arrival in the next town. He had told Mr. Tracy of Lizzie, and the showman was enthusiastic about the chance Joe had taken to add to his act.

"I hope it works all right," the ring-master said. "You'll have to try it out in private."

"Oh, surely," assented Joe.

He made arrangements to have his motor-cycle and seal added to the car in which his tank and goldfish were carried, so all his special possessions would be together.

"As soon as I get Lizzie trained, or partly so, I'll begin to practise motor-cycling," Joe decided.

He began the seal's education the second day after he obtained possession of her, allowing one day to go past so Lizzie could get used to her new quarters. Then, as soon as the tank was set up and filled with water, Joe had the seal taken to the foot of the steps that led to the platform. Lizzie had been trained to go up a short flight of steps to her own tank.

"Now to see what she'll do," said Joe, as Helen and some others of the circus folk gathered about to watch the experiment. Joe had arranged for a supply of fresh fish, and one of these he now put on the top step.

Lizzie flapped out of her box, she smelled the fish, and, looking at it, she cried: "Hook! Hook! Hook!" and up the steps she went as she had been in the habit of doing.

"Now if she'll only go into the tank that will be part of the game solved," mused Joe. He had not put in the goldfish, for he knew, no matter how well trained Lizzie was, she would surely eat the fish if they were left in the tank. The problem of using them in his new act was one Joe had not yet solved.

Up the steps, in her peculiar manner, went Lizzie, the trained seal, and at the top she gulped down the fish. Then, after a moment's hesitation, in which she looked about the tank, she plunged in and began to swim about as though used to it all her life.

"Good!" cried Joe. "The glass sides didn't bother her a bit. I was afraid they would. Now to see how she acts with me."

He had on his fish suit and, moving slowly in order not to alarm the sea-lion, Joe went into the glass tank with her. At first Lizzie seemed a bit timid, and came out. But Joe coaxed her in again with a bit of fish, and soon he and the seal were swimming about in the big glass tank, while the circus folk outside applauded gladly.

Around and around swam Joe, going through many evolutions, and, swimming sometimes at his side, sometimes above and sometimes below him, went Lizzie.

"Say! That's a great act!" cried Jim Tracy, coming in at that moment. "A great act!"

He told Joe as much when the boy fish came out to breathe, as Lizzie had also to do, for a seal has lungs, and not gills like a fish.

"It was a great act, Joe!" said the ring-master.

"It remains to be seen whether she'll do as nicely in public," Joe replied.

CHAPTER XVIII

SAD NEWS

Joe spent as much time as he could spare before the afternoon performance in practising with Lizzie. The trained seal seemed to have taken naturally to the boy fish and was becoming quite friendly. She would let Joe put his arms around her as they both swam under water, and she made no attempts to bite. This was one thing Joe had feared, for he knew that a nip from the sharp teeth of the sea-lion would make a bad wound.

But Lizzie seemed content with the fish, and the number of them she could eat and the ease with which she bit them into two pieces when they were too large to take at one mouthful showed her appetite as well as the strength of her jaws and the keenness of her teeth.

"Going to put on the new act this afternoon, Joe?" asked the ring-master at the conclusion of the practice.

"I think I'd better not," was the answer. "Something might go wrong, and it would queer me, I think. Wait a few days. I want to get her used to the tent, the crowds and the lights. You see, she has only worked in theatres up to the present time."

"Well, maybe you're right," agreed the ring-master.

So that afternoon Joe did his usual tank act, with the goldfish placed in the big glass box. Joe ate his bananas under water, and though he tried to equal his other record of four minutes and ten seconds he had to come up two seconds sooner than the day before.

"I guess I've been going it too hard practising with Lizzie," he reflected. "Then, too, I didn't have a motor-cycle ride. I must get out the machine."

The trained seal was brought into the tent that evening before the night performance and allowed to climb up the steps to get a fish. The gasoline incandescent lights were set aglow, for Joe's object was to see if the strange surroundings at night would bother the seal any.

But Lizzie did not seem to mind. She flopped her way up the steps, ate the fish and plunged into the tank of water, from which the goldfish had again been taken.

"I'll have to think up some way of keeping them in when I work with Lizzie in the water," mused Joe. "They're too pretty to leave out of the act, but unless I put a muzzle on her I don't see how I can keep her from eating them. Well, I'll think of that later."

Joe did not get in the tank with Lizzie for practice that night, as he wanted her to learn gradually. Then, too, he was rather tired, and he had his trapeze work to do in addition to his aquatic act.

That night Lizzie, by Joe's orders, was left in her crate in the big tent while the show went on. Joe's object was to let the seal hear the music and the various noises, to see the lights, and to grow accustomed to the general atmosphere of a night performance in the "main top."

"Then she'll understand what she has to go through with six days out of the week during the season," said Joe.

But something funny happened at that night's performance. Joe was in the midst of his tank act, and was getting ready to come out, prior to going in for the endurance test, when he heard the now familiar:

"Hook! Hook! Ook!"

"Lizzie's loose!" he exclaimed, looking around from the platform on which he stood, inflating his lungs with air to get ready for the four-minute—and longer—under-water stay.

And there, flapping her way over the ground toward the steps that led to the tank platform, was the trained seal. She had gotten out of her crate—though how Joe did not know—and was coming to the place she remembered as her feeding station.

Joe had to act quickly. The tank contained the goldfish, and to let Lizzie in now would mean that some of the pretty fish would be eaten. It would not do to have that happen in public.

"Take her back!" Joe cried to some of the ring attendants. "Don't let her get on the steps."

For Lizzie moved quickly and she could ascend the steps in a very short time, hitching herself along by her flippers. And once at the top, Joe knew a sight of the goldfish swimming around freely in the tank would be too much for the seal.

But Lizzie did not want to be caught, and she flapped away from the attendants who ran after her. They laughingly pursued the seal, and a little boy in the crowd cried:

"Oh, Mamma! What a funny game of tag! They're trying to make the seal it!"

Those about the youngster laughed, and Joe joined in. But Lizzie, while agile, was more used to the water than the land, and she was soon caught and carried, barking protestingly, to her crate. Joe ran over and saw that the door was securely fastened before he went on with his act.

"I don't want her to come splashing in after the fish when I'm trying to hold my breath for an under-water record," reflected Joe.

Lizzie did not get out again, and Joe went through his turn successfully, though he did not quite equal his former endurance.

"I must be out in the air more and increase my breathing capacity," he decided. "The motor-cycle for me!"

Joe's life was now a busy one—busier even than when he had traveled about with Professor Rosello. For the boy fish still kept up his trapeze work—at least, the greater part of it—he did his usual tank work, and in addition he rehearsed each day with Lizzie. He was not yet quite ready to put that act on in public. He wanted to make it a finished piece of work, with no chance for failure, as far as he could foresee.

Still Joe found time to practise some on the motor-cycle. He had mastered the method of controlling and driving it, and all he needed now was practice. Joe had been a good bicycle rider, and this stood him in good stead though the motion was much swifter, and the exhilaration of fairly flying through space with no effort on his part was new to him.

He found that this swift motion in the open air was doing him good. His lung power, which was most excellent, was improved, and he began to have hopes of equalling the world's record of under-water work—four minutes and thirty-seven seconds.

"And I'll even try to beat it," he thought.

Joe found time to ride immediately after breakfast when his tank was being set up in the tent. He did not take part in the parade, and having seen to it that the glass box was being properly put together, and having fed Lizzie, he would ride off around the country on the motor-cycle. And as he rode Joe began to turn over in his mind plans for utilizing the machine in some trick.

"Though I don't just see my way clear to it now," he told himself.

Finally Joe became so well-used to the gasoline bicycle, as he sometimes called it, that he took Helen out with him, she sitting on the seat in the rear. Naturally a good equilibrist, the girl took easily to the motor-cycle, and even when Joe went at top speed on some smooth road she liked it.

"Oh, it's just great!" she said. "I'll think Rosebud is terribly slow after this."

The time quickly came when Joe was first to exhibit the seal in public. Lizzie had been behaving well, and in private she and Joe did all sorts of tricks under water. Joe took down with him to his table some pieces of fish. While he ate the bananas he would hold up on a fork a piece of fish for Lizzie to take.

The seal would curve gracefully downward, take the morsel and eat it under water, even as Joe ate his fruit. It made a novel scene.

"And now to see how it goes in public!" said Joe.

The big tent was crowded when the boy fish entered his tank that afternoon, and after going through some preliminary work, showing the tricks with the celluloid cards and other of his sleight-of-hand performances, Joe gave the signal, and Lizzie was let out of her cage.

Barking and uttering her peculiar cry, she flapped her way to the steps. Up them she went, taking the piece of fish left there to tempt her, and then into the tank she plunged with Joe. Of course the goldfish were not being used.

Then, while the wondering crowd looked on, Joe and the seal swam about together, showing off to the best advantage. It was a good act, and the throng appreciated it, applauding mightily. To cap the climax, Joe and the seal ate under water. Lizzie behaved perfectly, paying no attention to the crowd. Nor did the transparent sides of glass annoy her as they had just a little at first, when she would sometimes unexpectedly bump her nose against them.

It was one of the best aquatic exploits ever exhibited, and the ring-master so announced it. Jim Tracy was delighted with Joe's work, and Joe was pleased himself. Lizzie was certainly a great acquisition.

Back and forth, around and around, up and down, turning, somersaulting and doing all manner of swimming went Joe and Lizzie.

"I couldn't have a better act unless I got a real live mermaid to perform with me," Joe decided, as Lizzie shot up out of the water to breathe.

Joe did not know the length of time the sea-lion could stay under water without breathing. Doubtless she could rival him, but she never did—at least, in the glass tank. A minute seemed to be her limit of endurance, though Joe had no means of making an accurate decision.

At any rate, the act was a big success, and Joe had to bow and bow again to the applause as he came out after his endurance test. This time he made it four minutes and eleven seconds, a gain of one, and he ascribed his better lung power to motor-cycle riding in the open air.

"Good work! Good!" was Jim Tracy's compliment at the conclusion of the performance.

"I'm glad to hear him say that," said the boy fish. "It will make it easier to ask for more money, for that's what I'm going to do."

When the mail was distributed just before supper, there was a letter for Joe.

"Hello! This is too bad!" Joe exclaimed as he read the note.

"What is it?" asked Helen.

"Bad news," Joe answered. "There isn't any hope for Benny after all!"

CHAPTER XIX

HELEN'S SOLUTION

Helen read the letter which Joe held out to her. It confirmed the news the boy fish had given. The note was from the physician who had first attended Benny in the circus tent, and stated that though originally it was hoped an operation would prevent the youth from becoming permanently deaf and dumb, such hope now had to be abandoned.

The physician went into the particulars of the case in writing to Joe, who, it seemed, had left word that he wished to be informed as to Benny's progress. It was his belief that the long continued practice of Benny in staying under water had brought on a disease of the ears and throat.

"I thought it would be comparatively easy to operate on him, or get some surgeon better qualified than I to do it," wrote the hospital doctor. "But, after a consultation, we have decided that it would be dangerous, and so, as far as we can see, there is no hope for your friend. He will not die—in fact, he is much stronger than he was—but he will be unable to speak or hear. He will write you himself shortly, he indicated to me. Just at present he is too down-hearted to do so."

"Poor fellow," murmured Helen, sympathetically, "I should think he would be. Isn't it just perfectly terrible, Joe?"

"It certainly is hard luck!"

"Can't anything be done?"

"I don't see what," was the moody answer. "I was planning to—oh, well, no matter."

"Go on, tell me," Helen urged.

Joe shook his head.

"No. There isn't any use now," he said. "I—I can't do what I intended to, that's all. Poor Benny."

"Yes; poor Benny," echoed Helen.

The sad news concerning the "human fish" soon spread among the circus folk, and much sympathy was expressed for Benny Turton. A movement was started to get up a purse for him, and a small sum was raised. Circus performers do not get the big salaries which theatrical stars are credited with, and, in addition, most of those with the Sampson Brothers' Show had families to support. Then, too, the circus was not one of the big ones. So, all told, not much was done for the youth in the hospital.

Helen and Joe each wrote him a letter, encouraging him as much as they could, but they both knew that the first sudden shock of hearing the bad news must wear off from Benny's mind before he could begin to be reconciled to it.

"Well, it isn't as bad as going blind," remarked Helen with a sigh. "That would be too terrible! Benny can still have the pleasure of reading and seeing things."

"Yes, his case might be worse," admitted Joe. He seemed in a thoughtful mood, and more than once that evening Helen surprised him in a deep study.

"What are you thinking of, Joe?" she finally asked.

"Oh, nothing—that is, nothing that seems to get me anywhere," he answered.

But if the news from Benny was saddening, Joe had plenty of other matters to make him rejoice, and the principal one was that the trained seal was such a success in the tank act. For Lizzie certainly shared the honors with Joe, and the boy fish was contemplating elaborating the act. He thought of having the seal do a series of juggling and other tricks on a platform near the tank, either before or after the under-water work.

"But I guess we'd better wait until next season for that," said Jim Tracy when Joe spoke of it. "You see every act is timed now to occupy just so much of the programme. If I should give you more than twice the time you now have I'd have to cut some one else, and no one would like that."

"Oh, no, I wouldn't want that," Joe declared. As it was, there was plenty of professional jealousy directed toward him, and he did not want to arouse more by encroaching on the time of some other performer.

"I could cut out all of your trapeze work," went on the ring-master, "but I don't want to do that. We haven't any too many good trapezists."

"Thanks," said Joe. "I wouldn't want to give up the bar and rope work, either. I guess I'll wait until next season to give Lizzie a larger part in the act."

Joe did not want to give up his trapeze work for several reasons, one being that it kept him in trim for a certain hazy plan he had in mind. Joe was a youth on whom great heights made no impression. He felt fully as safe on the dizzy height of some church steeple as he did on the ground.

There are some persons who have a morbid fear of looking down from any great height, and who always refuse to ascend a high place or to look down from the top of a tall building.

There is another class of people who are really made temporarily insane when looking from a great height and have an almost irresistible inclination to throw themselves down. There is a complicated medical term which is applied to this disease, for a disease it is. Such persons should never look down from great heights.

But, fortunately, Joe was not in this class. He did not in the least mind climbing high up into the air, with even a frail support. And it was his trapeze work that kept him in good trim for this sort of daring, so Joe did not want to give it up.

The tank act, with Lizzie, the seal, in it, was made one of the big features of the circus. Jim Tracy had new bills printed showing Joe and Lizzie apparently having a fine time under water. The posters were large and in gay colors, and Joe's name was featured, to the envy of many others in the circus.

Not a few were the sneers cast at Joe on more than one occasion, when he declined to take part in some jollification, and remarks were made about his being a miser and a "tight-wad."

But Joe did not seem to care. He drew his salary regularly, and as he was not known to gamble or to have other noticeably bad habits, there was considerable speculation as to what he did with his money.

"He doesn't send any to his folks, for he hasn't any folks," said Tonzo Lascalla. "He told me so. His foster father is well off, and doesn't need any cash from Joe, and he hasn't any other relatives, except maybe some in England he never heard of."

"Maybe he's saving to hire a lawyer to get his English fortune for him," suggested Sid Lascalla.

"Maybe," agreed his partner.

But, as a matter of fact, Joe had about given up hope of ever hearing anything favorable from England. His inquiries had come to naught, though Bill Watson insisted that Janet Willoughby, which was Mrs. Strong's name before her marriage, came from a wealthy and aristocratic family.

The circus moved on from town to town, and Joe was more and more satisfied with his purchase of the trained seal. Lizzie in the tank with Joe was certainly an added attraction. The seal seemed to like the under-water work as much as Joe did. She ate her fish as Joe ate his bananas, and was a pretty sight as she cavorted around in the water with the boy fish swimming by her side.

Joe took frequent rides on his motor-cycle, Helen often accompanying him, and when one day he found he was able to stay under water for four minutes and twenty seconds he ascribed his success to his swift riding in the open air.

"I'll go after the world's record before the season is over," he said to Helen.

"I hope you make it," she said.

"One thing bothers me, though," said Joe. "I can't use the goldfish in the tank when I act with Lizzie. She'd do nothing but eat them. And it's quite a bother to have to take the fish out every time just before I let Lizzie go into the water. I could have two tanks, I suppose, doing part of my act in one with the goldfish, and then changing to another with the seal. But I have enough duffle to cart about as it is. I don't want another big tank."

"No, it would be a nuisance," agreed Helen.

"I've tried and tried to think of a way to use the double act, but I can't," Joe went on. "I took a couple of goldfish into the tank with Lizzie and me one day, but she gobbled them up before I could turn over. I didn't repeat that experiment."

Helen seemed to be thinking deeply. Suddenly she clapped her hands, her eyes sparkled, and she cried:

"Oh, Joe! I believe I have it!"

"Have what?"

"The solution of your trouble. I think I know a way in which you can use the goldfish and the seal in the same tank."

"How, by putting a muzzle on Lizzie?"

"No, but by using a tank with double glass sides. Let me show you what I mean!"

CHAPTER XX

ACROSS THE TRESTLE

Helen, with a pencil and piece of paper, began rapidly making a little sketch. Joe looked over her shoulder. They were in the outer section of the dressing tent, waiting for their turn to go on with their acts.

"See," Helen explained, "you can easily put double glass sides on your tank by slipping sheets of glass inside the four present outer sides, leaving a space of five or six inches between them. Fill this space with water, and put the goldfish in that. Then they can swim around, and Lizzie can't get at them because they'll be protected by the glass."

She made a sectional view of the tank with its double sides and held it up triumphantly to Joe.

"Will that solve the puzzle?" she asked.

"Why, I really believe it will!" exclaimed Joe, after a moment's thought. "Yes, I could have metal clips, made water-tight with rubber, fitted inside the tank. Taking five inches off each side wouldn't mean much loss. Then I could slip four sheets of glass down in the metal clips, and, as you say, fill the intervening space with water for the goldfish."

"Exactly," cried Helen. "The audience can't tell whether the fish are in the tank with you or not, for the water and glass, being transparent, will make it look exactly as if you and the fish and the seal were in the same bit of water."

"Good!" cried Joe. "I'll do it! The very thing, Helen!"

The fact that persons looking directly at a glass tank of water can not tell how far back the water and tank extends is taken advantage of by moving picture operators in producing novel effects. Only the other day was shown a scene where a man apparently went down to the bottom of a river. Fish swam all about him, there was a portion of a wreck half buried in the sand and mud, and waving aquatic plants seemed to reach out and twine themselves around the man, while fish swam above and below him.

This effect was produced by having the man go through certain actions behind a square glass tank in which the sand, aquatic plants, wreck and fish had been placed. The fish could swim about, but the man was not in the water at all but behind the tank, the water and glass offering no obstruction to the camera.

It was that principle which Helen suggested to Joe. He and the seal would be doing their act behind a glass and water screen, in which fish were swimming and aquatic plants gently waving.

Joe lost no time in putting the plan into operation. He ordered the glass and metal holding clips, with the water-tight rubber gaskets, from the same firm in New York that had originally made Benny's tank. They still had the patterns, and knew just the proper size and kind of glass to send, and Joe had no difficulty in malting his tank a double one.

The experiment was tried in private one afternoon just before the performance. The plants and goldfish were put in the thin outer tank which extended all around the inner one. The fish, of course, swam about as they were in the habit of doing. The fact that they were in a much more restricted space did not seem to perplex or vex them.

Then Joe got into the inner tank, and Lizzie was allowed to follow him. No sooner did the seal see herself surrounded by the fish she loved to eat than she made a dash for a big golden one.

Of course Lizzie bumped her nose against the protecting glass, but this did not deter her. Joe watched the sea-lion curiously. Again she made a dash for a fish, evidently thinking she had not been quick enough to get the first one. Again came a painful bump.

Joe continued to swim about as he always did when Lizzie was in the tank. It was not until after her third failure that the intelligent seal began to think something was wrong. Then she swam alongside the inner glass. Just beyond, three-quarters of an inch away, but as secure as though the space were miles, swam the goldfish. Lizzie could not get them, and then she turned her big eyes on Joe as if to ask what sort of trick this was to play on a good, performing seal.

If Joe had not been under water he would have laughed. He did this when he came up, however, and he gave Lizzie more than her usual allowance of common fish to make up for her disappointment over the gold ones.