“Better put on your pigeon-omelet trick now, Joe.”

“All right. That ought to go well. And you are getting ready for ”

“The fire trick,” interrupted Professor Alonzo Rosello, as he and his young assistant, Joe Strong, stood bowing and smiling in response to the applause of the crowd that had gathered in the theatre to witness the feats of “Black Art, Magic, Illusion, Legerdemain, Prestidigitation and Allied Sciences.” That was what the program called it, anyhow.

“The fire trick!” repeated Joe. “Do you think it will work all right now?”

“I think it will. I’ve had the apparatus overhauled, and you know we can depend on the electric current here. It isn’t likely to fail just at the wrong moment.”

“No, that’s so, still ”

Again Joe had to bow, as did Professor Rosello, for the applause continued. They were both sharing it, for both had taken part in a novel trick, and it had been successfully performed.

Joe had taken his place in a chair on the stage, and, after having been covered by a black cloth by the professor, had, when the cloth was removed a moment later, totally disappeared. Then he was seen walking down the aisle of the theatre, coming in from the lobby.

There was much wonder as to how the trick was it done, especially since the chair had been placed over a sheet of paper on the stage, and, before and after the trick, the professor had exhibited the sheet the front page of a local paper apparently unbroken. (This trick is explained in detail in the first volume of this series, entitled, “Joe Strong, the Boy Wizard.”)

“The audience seems to be in good humor to-night,” observed the professor to Joe, as they bowed again. The two could carry on a low-voiced conversation while “taking” their applause.

“Yes, I’m glad to see them that way,” answered the youth. “It’s not much fun playing to a frosty house.”

“I should say not! Well, Joe, get ready for your pigeon-omelet trick, and I’ll prepare the fire apparatus.”

The professor, with a final bow, made an exit to one side of the stage, which was fitted up with Oriental splendor. As he went off, and as Joe Strong picked up some apparatus from a table near him, a disturbed look came over the face of the boy wizard.

“I don’t like that fire trick,” he mused. “It’s altogether too uncertain. It’s spectacular, and all that, and when it works right it makes a big hit, but I don’t like it. Well, I suppose he’ll do it, anyhow or try to. I’ll be on the lookout though. If the current fails, as it did last time ” Joe shrugged his shoulders, and went on with his trick.

Since he had become associated with Professor Rosello, Joe had adopted the philosophic frame of mind that characterizes many public performers, especially those who risk bodily injury in thrilling the public. That is, he was willing to take the chance of accident rather than disappoint an audience. “The show must go on,” was the motto, no matter how the performer suffered. The public does not often realize its own cruelty in insisting on being amused or thrilled.

“Yes, I’ll have to keep my eyes open,” thought Joe. “After all, though, maybe nothing will happen. And yet I have a feeling as if something would. It’s foolish, I know,, but ”

Again Joe shrugged his shoulders. There was nothing he could do to avoid it, as far as he could see. Joe was beginning to acquire the superstition shared by many theatrical persons.

The theatre, filled with persons who had paid good prices to see Professor Rosello’s performance was hushed and still now, as Joe, his preparations complete, advanced to the edge of the stage. He was smiling and confident, for he was about to perform a trick he had done many times, and always with success. For the time being he dismissed from his mind the risk Professor Rosello would run in doing the “fire trick,” for which the chief performer was even then preparing.

“Persons in the audience,” began Joe, smilingly addressing the house, “often wonder how we actors and professional people eat. It is proverbial, you know, that actors are always hungry. Now I am going to show you that it is easier for us to get food than it is for other folk.

“For instance: If I were to be shipwrecked on a desert island I could reach out into the seemingly empty air, and pick money off invisible tree branches like this.”

Joe stretched up his hand, which seemed to contain nothing, and in an instant there appeared between his thumb and finger a bright gold coin.

“So much for a start!” he exclaimed with laugh. “We’ll drop that on this plate, and get more.” There was a ringing sound as the coin dropped on the plate, and Joe, reaching up in the air, seemed to gather another gold piece out of space. This, too, fell with a clink on the plate. And then in rapid succession Joe pulled in other coins until he had a plateful.

Probably it has been guessed how that trick was done. Joe held one coin in his hand, palmed so that it was not visible. A movement of his well-trained muscles sent it up between his thumb and finger. Then he seemed to lay it on a plate. But the plate was a trick one, with a false bottom, concealed under which was a store of coins. A pressure on a hidden spring sent one coin at a time out through a slot, and it seemed as if Joe deposited them on the receptacle as he gathered them from the air.

“But we must remember,” Joe went on, as he laid the plate of coins down on a table, “that I am on a desert island. Consequently all the money in the world would be of no use. It would not buy a ham sandwich or a fresh egg. Why not, then, gather eggs from the air instead of coins? A good idea. One can eat eggs. So I will gather a few.”

Joe stretched his hand up over his head, made a grab at a seemingly floating egg and, capturing it, laid it on the table. In like manner he proceeded until he had three.

This trick was worked in the same way as was the coin one, Joe holding but one egg, cleverly palmed, in his hand, the others popping up from a secret recess in the table. But the audience was mystified.

“Now some persons like their eggs raw, while others prefer them cooked,” resumed Joe. “I, myself, prefer mine in omelet form, so I will cook my eggs. I have here a saucepan that will do excellently for holding my omelet. I will break the eggs into it, add a little water, and stir them up.”

Joe suited the action to the words. He cracked the three eggs, one after another, holding them high in the air to let the audience see the whites and yolks drip into the shining, nickel pan.

“But a proper omelet must be cooked,” Joe said. “Where shall we get fire on a desert island, particularly as all our matches were made wet when we swam ashore? Ah, I have it! I’ll just turn this bunch of flowers into flame.”

He took up what seemed to be a spray of small roses and laid it under the saucepan. Pointing his wand at the flowers Joe exclaimed:

“Fire!”

Instantly there was a burst of flame, the flowers disappeared, and flickering lights shot up under the saucepan.

“Now the omelet is cooking,” said Joe, as he clapped on a cover. “We shall presently dine. You see how easy it is for actors and magicians to eat, even on a desert island. I think my omelet must be cooked now.”

He took the cover off the saucepan and, on the instant, out flew two white pigeons, which, after circling about the theatre, returned to perch on Joe’s shoulders.

There was loud applause at this trick.

The boy wizard bowed and smiled as he acknowledged the tribute to his powers, and then hurried off the stage with the pigeons on his shoulders. He did not stop to explain how he had chosen to make the omelet change into pigeons, the surprise at the unexpected ending of the illusion being enough for the audience.

Of course, one realizes there must have been some trick about it all, and there was several in fact. The eggs Joe seemed to pick out of the air were real eggs, and he really broke them into the saucepan. But the saucepan was made with two compartments. Into one went the eggs, while in another, huddled into a small space where there were air holes through which they might breathe, were two trained pigeons, which Joe had taught, not without some difficulty, to fly to his shoulders when released.

After he had put the cover on the saucepan Joe caused the fire to appear. The flowers were artificial ones, made of paper soaked in an inflammable composition, and then allowed to dry. As Joe pointed his wand at them an assistant behind the scenes pressed an electric button, which shot a train of sparks against the prepared paper. It caught fire, the flowers were burned, and ignited the wick of an alcohol lamp that was under the saucepan.

Then, before the pigeons had time to feel the heat, Joe took off the cover, opening the secret chamber and the birds flew out.

Easy, indeed, when you know how!

Joe walked off the stage, to give place to Professor Rosello, who was going next to give his “fire trick.” This was an effective illusion, and was worked as follows:

Professor Rosello came out on the stage attired in a flowing silk robe of Japanese design. His helpers wheeled out a long narrow box, which was stood upright.

The professor, after some “patter,” or stage talk, announced that he would take his place in the small box, or cabinet, which would then be lifted free from the stage to show that it was not connected with hidden wires. As soon as the cabinet was set down again, the house would be plunged in darkness, and inside the cabinet would be seen a bony skeleton, outlined in fire, the professor having disappeared. This would last for several seconds, and then the illuminated skeleton would disappear and the magician again be seen in the box.

“And in order to show you that I do not actually leave the box while the trick is in progress except in spirit,” the professor went on to state, “I will suffer myself to be tied in with ropes, a committee from the audience being invited to make the knots.”

He took his place in the upright cabinet, and three men volunteered to tie him in with ropes which were fastened at the back of the box, two ends being left free.

The cabinet containing the professor was lifted up, and set down on the stage again. Then the ropes were tied, Joe supervising this.

“Tie any kind of knot you like, gentlemen,” Joe urged, “only make them so you can quickly loosen them again, as the professor is very much exhausted after this illusion.” This, of course, was merely stage talk for effect.

Finally the knots were tied, the committee retired, and Joe, taking his place near the imprisoned performer, asked:

“Are you ready?”

He looked keenly at the professor as he asked this.

“It’s all right Joe I guess it’s going to work properly,” was the low-voiced response. Then aloud Professor Rosello replied:

“I am ready!”

“Light out!” called Joe sharply. This was a signal for the stage electrician to plunge the house into darkness. It was done at once.

Then, to the no small terror of some in the audience, there appeared in the upright cabinet the figure of a grinning skeleton, outlined in flickering flames. It was startling, and there was a moment of silence before thunderous applause broke out at the effectiveness of the trick.

The clapping was at its height when Joe, who always stood near the cabinet when this trick was being done, heard the agonized voice of the professor calling to him:

“Joe! Joe! Something has gone wrong! There must be a short circuit! I’m on fire! Joe, I’m being burned! Help me!”