CHAPTER VIII THE GIRL AND THE TIGER
Late that night Johnny Thompson was reminded for the hundredth time ofhis position as a serf among the knights and ladies of the circus. He wasjust passing into the now almost deserted big top when he came face toface with Millie Gonzales. In sudden embarrassment he was about to speakto her and doff his cap when, with chin in air, she swept past him.
Setting his teeth hard, Johnny hastened on. Only when he was at a safedistance did he give vent to his feelings.
"If it wasn't for the ring, I wouldn't stand for it," he raged in awhisper, "I, I'd, well, I'd make her bite her own sharp tongue. Maybe,"he reflected, "maybe some time I will."
The incident was soon forgotten, and it was not so long after that Johnnywas made to realize that not all the ladies of the circus were likeMillie, not even those who ranked above her.
In a dark corner of the tent, Johnny threw himself on a pile of nettingto think. Life had grown strangely complicated for him since he hadjoined the show. Problems great and small lay before him for solving. Itwas like a lesson in algebra. There was the problem of boxing the bear.His ability to solve that problem would be tested all too soon, on theday after to-morrow. In some small city he would have his try-out.Depending upon the successful solving of this problem was the other andmore important one, that of the ring. Who had it? Millie, the barebackrider, Mitzi, the trapeze performer, or Gwen, the dancing queen of thetight wire? Thus far he had not the slightest clue. If one of them hadit, she never had worn it while Johnny was in sight. Could it be that theone in possession of it suspected him of seeking it? That did not seemprobable.
"And yet," he reflected, "stranger things have happened. She may haveseen me make that foolhardy dash for it when the elephant flicked it fromthe chain."
But at once his mind swept on to the third and most important problem ofall--Pant's problem, the problem of the counterfeit bonds. Pant had namedthree men who might be responsible, the conman of the ragged ear, themidget clown, the steam kettle cook. Johnny Thompson was one of the kindof fellows who, when they recognize a great and important problem, setthemselves to solving it, leaving all minor difficulties to take care ofthemselves. As he lay there now, he realized that Pant's problem hadalready become his; that for the time being, the ring might be all butforgotten. And yet he hoped that, as the more important and difficultproblem was being solved, this one of lesser importance would work itselfout.
"Well, anyway," he mumbled, half rising, "my success at boxing the bearcomes first, for unless I put that stunt across, I will have preciouslittle chance to discover the whereabouts of the ring, or to help Pantrun down the counterfeiter. To-morrow's my last day of training. Me formy bunk."
But just as he was about to get upon his feet he checked himself and sankback in his place. A vision had struck his eye--a vision of lithe wonderand beauty. It was dancing along a silver wire.
It was Gwen, Queen of the circus. The great tent was totally dark, savefor the corner where she practiced. She had arranged a spot light in sucha manner that its brilliant rays struck squarely across the tightly drawnwire, and there in that light, which was flashed back by her brilliantcostume and her tossing umbrella, she was performing all unconscious thatanyone was watching her.
Johnny Thompson thought he was the only onlooker, and perhaps at first hewas. If so, it was not for long. Had he but known the nature of thatother spectator, he might have leaped to his feet and rushed to warn thequeen of her danger. Not knowing, he sat entranced by the wonderfulapparition who seemed more a being of another world, or perhaps sometropical bird, as she flitted from end to end of that silver wire. Nowshe rose straight in air and, seeming to soar aloft, swept down to thewire again. And now she dropped upon her hands to bend and twist in ablinding whirl, while her gleaming parasol spun above her.
"Um," Johnny breathed; then again, "Um!"
But what was that? He thought he detected a stealthy movement to theright of him. It might have been but the swaying of a tent pole shaken bythe wind, but he kept his eyes upon the spot for some time. He hadconcluded it was nothing, and was about to turn his attention to the girlagain, when the movement came again, this time closer at hand. At thesame time he heard a sound that in a place less quiet to an untrained earwould be nothing at all. To Johnny it spoke of danger--perhaps danger tohimself, perhaps to the girl. He thought of the counterfeiters. Did theyknow he had joined Pant in the task of hunting them down, and realizinghis importance as an inside man, had they decided to do away with him atonce? Or was this some enemy of the beautiful dancer?
Danger, Johnny had learned, loses much of its terror when squarely faced.He now threw himself upon the sawdust and began creeping, knife in hand,toward the spot from which the sound had come.
Ten feet he crawled, then paused to listen. In the stillness he heard theoccasional creak of the wire, the spatter of the spot light. Then againhe caught that gliding sound. It was retreating from him, moving closerto the girl. This time he crept twenty feet or more before he paused.Again the same sounds greeted his strained ears. Again the gliding sound.The creature, whether beast or human, traveling faster than he, must benot more than thirty feet from the swinging, swaying girl.
And now, like a flash, his eyes, for a moment relieved from the dancer'sdazzling light, saw the creature--a gaunt tawny beast it was, a tigerstalking human prey. For a second Johnny shivered and shrank back. Howhad this creature escaped? This he could not know. Its purpose was alltoo evident. Attracted by the gleam of the fairylike figure dancing onthe wire, it was thinking only of breaking her bones with its yellowfangs.
Johnny paused for half a minute, then resumed his forward movement.Poorly armed as he was, he would not allow the beast to have its wayunopposed.
Yet, after covering another yard or two, he paused. The girl was ten feetin air. Did the tiger have the power to leap that high? For a tiger ofthe jungle this would be no feat at all, but for this one of the cage,Johnny was in doubt. And Gwen? Did she have the iron nerve to keep ondancing down the wire with a great yellow beast leaping madly for herfeet?
It was a tense moment. Every muscle in his body quivered. The hand thatgripped his knife almost crushed the hilt.
The questions that surged through his brain were not long in beinganswered, for now, in the dim half light about her, the girl saw thebeast. For one brief second her eyes were dilated with fear. The parasol,trembling, wavering, almost slipped from her grasp.
Johnny rose on one knee. "If she falls? If she falls?" he breathedsilently.
But she did not fall. Seeming to summon all her nerve and strength, sheheld her parasol high and once more danced gracefully down the wire.
* * * * * * * *
Two hours before this moment in our story, Pant had left the circusgrounds, and, crossing a viaduct over the tracks, had made his way downthe avenue toward the river. As he cut across the roadway and losthimself down a dark alley near the river, he might have been heard sayingto himself:
"The bear, driven from his lair, returns; the rabbit circles back to hisbrush pile; sometimes crooks return to their rendezvous. I wonder if theywill this time? Well, we shall see what we shall see."
He was by this time nearing a long, low-lying building that flanked theriver. Before a door which was reached by three downward steps, hepaused. All was dark, silent, mysterious. For a moment he listenedintently, then after a hasty glance up and down the deserted alley, hedarted to a low, narrow window. His efforts to lift the sash werefruitless. Quickly drawing a thin-bladed knife from his pocket, heinserted the blade beneath the catch. There was a click. The next instantPant had lifted the sash, dived through and closed the window after him.
The room was utterly dark, yet he appeared to have no difficulty infinding his way about the place. Whether he had a previous knowledge ofthe building, was endowed with an instinctive sense of location ofthings, or could see in the dark, would have been a quest
ion toodifficult for a casual thinker to answer. An observer, had there beenone, might have said that the room had a strange way of flashing crimsonfor a fraction of a second, then becoming inky black again.
After moving about for a time, Pant doubled himself up and, creeping intothe broad lower part of a dilapidated cupboard, closed the door behindhim.
Ten minutes elapsed. A rat scurried over the uneven floor. Anothercreeping through a hole in the base of the cupboard, began rattling aloose bit of board about. Pant kicked at it. Then all was silent again.
Five minutes more passed. Three rats had ventured out upon the floorwhen, of a sudden, there sounded the rattle of a key in the outer door.The rats scurried away. Pant caught a quick breath, as he whispered:
"They return!"
A match was struck. A broad, fat face appeared at the door. The man'ssmall, beady eyes peered about the place for a moment, then he whisperedback over his shoulder:
"All right. C'm'on."
"Safe?"
"Sure!"
Two other men followed him. One was slim, the other broad shouldered.Pant almost let fall an exclamation, as he saw that the broad-shoulderedone had a ragged ear.
"Perhaps Johnny's right," was his mental comment.
Through a hole left by what had once been a lock on the cupboard door, hecould catch every move of the mysterious three.
Gathering around the table they proceeded at once to what appeared to bethe task of the night. A flat tin affair was placed on the table. A tincup from which the handle of a brush protruded was set down close to thepan. A roll of paper was produced. It was while this was being rolledbackward and then drawn across the smooth edge of the table to make itstraight that Pant felt something touch his hand. Barely checking astart, he held himself rigidly motionless. In an instant he realized thatit was only a hungry rat. But in a minute he knew that this was quite badenough, for the rat began to gnaw at his finger.
In the meantime, in the room the man of the ragged ear had taken thebroad brush and moved it several times over the pan. He dipped the brusheach time in the cup, as if applying a liquid. The fat man held a sheetof paper as if ready to spread it out upon the pan.
The rat persevered. He had gnawed his way through the tough outer skin ofPant's finger, and had touched tender flesh when, with a sudden quickmovement, Pant's thumb closed down. He was not quick enough. The rat,whirling about, was caught only by the tail. With a piercing, almosthuman scream the rat struggled for freedom.
Instantly the room went dark. In that same instant, a hand groped for thedoor, behind which Pant was concealed. Pant had hoped to strangle the ratwithout a sound. In this he had failed. Just what he was in for now, hecould not even guess.