"I will," promised the snake charmer, as she pa.s.sed 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 amus.e.m.e.nt 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 advertis.e.m.e.nts 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 advertis.e.m.e.nt 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.

"h.e.l.lo, 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.