Joe Strong was in a quandary. He did not quite know what to do. To give an alarm to let the audience know something had gone wrong with the trick that the professor was in danger of being burned to death to even utter the word “Fire!” might cause a terrible panic, even though the heavy asbestos curtain were rung down on the instant.

On the contrary, Joe could not stand idly by without doing something to save his friend, Professor Rosello, from the great danger. The applause kept up, none in the audience suspecting anything wrong.

“Quick, Joe!” whispered the performer. “The current is burning me. I can’t stand it any longer.”

“I’ll save you!” hoarsely answered the young magician; and then, on the darkened stage, he lifted the cabinet, performer and all to one side.

This was not an easy feat to do. The professor was no light weight, and the cabinet itself was heavy. But Joe was a powerful youth, and by raising the cabinet on his back, much as a porter carries a heavy trunk, he shifted it to one side. This took it away from the hidden electrical connections sunk in the floor of the stage, and the flickering, playing, shimmering electric lights went out.

The stage, the whole house, was in dense darkness. There was a sudden silence which might precede a panic of fear. Joe’s work was not yet done. What could he do to reassure the audience and, at the same time, to bring the illusion to a satisfactory conclusion?

While he is quickly debating this in his mind, I will take just a moment to tell my new readers something of Joe Strong, and how he came to be following the calling of a stage magician.

In the first volume of this series, entitled “Joe Strong, the Boy Wizard; Or, The Secrets of Magic Exposed,” Joe was introduced as a youth of about seventeen years, living in the country town of Bedford. He was talking one day with some of his chums, and explaining to them how this same Professor Rosello had done a trick in the local theatre the night before, when suddenly there came a fire-alarm from a fireworks factory near by.

Some powder exploded and Joe managed to save the professor, whose real name was Peter Crabb, from severe injury, if not from death. In doing this Joe spoiled his suit of clothes, and on returning home his foster-father, Deacon Amos Blackford threatened to punish him.

Joe was an orphan. His mother, Mrs. Jane Strong, had been a famous circus bareback rider, known to the public as Madame Hortense. Joe’s father was Alexander Strong, or, to give him his stage name, Professor Morretti. He had been a magician, even better than Professor Rosello. Both Joe’s parents had died when he was a small boy.

For a time the boy was cared for by his mother’s circus friends, but finally Joe was adopted by the Blackfords. His life with them was not a happy one, and the climax came when the deacon punished Joe for spoiling his suit in rescuing Professor Rosello.

In the night, Joe ran away. He decided to appeal to the magician who had gone on to another town to give a show. Joe had a half-formed plan in mind. The boy was of great strength, and fearless. When a mere child he had attempted circus feats, and now he was an expert on the trapeze and flying rings, while he had also made a study of “magic,” and could perform many tricks. Joe was absolutely fearless, and one of his delights was to execute daring acts at great heights in the air. When a boy he climbed up the village church steeple.

Thus, taking matters into his own hands, Joe ran away and joined Professor Rosello, who hired him as an assistant. Joe had a natural aptitude for tricks of magic and was a great help to the professor. He even invented some tricks of his own. So Joe and Professor Rosello toured the country, making a fairly good living.

The night Joe ran away Deacon Blackford was robbed in a strange manner, and, for a time, suspicion was thrown on Joe, a warrant being issued for his arrest. Among the other adventures which Joe had was a meeting with the ring-master of Sampson Brothers’ Colossal Circus. Joe had done a favor for Benny Turton, the “human fish,” and Benny made it possible for Joe to try some tricks on the circus trapèzes. As a result Jim Tracy, the ring-master and one of the owners of the show, made Joe an offer to join the circus. Joe would have liked this, as he had taken quite a fancy for Helen Morton billed as Mademoiselle Mortonti a fancy rider on her trick horse, Rosebud. But Joe thought it best to remain with Professor Rosello for a time.

The circus went on its way, and Joe and the professor went on theirs. Joe progressed in his chosen work, and he and Mr. Crabb found themselves becoming well-known performers. On the road Joe met several persons who had seen his father’s feats of magic, and the youth learned of the great respect in which his parent had been held by the members of the “profession.”

“And I suppose,” Professor Rosello had said, “if you could meet some circus folks they would remember your mother, even if Jim Tracy did not know her.”

So Joe had became a traveling magician. And it is in that capacity that the readers of this volume first meet him.

But, as Joe stood there on the darkened stage, realizing the great danger to which his friend was subjected, and wondering what he could do to relieve him and not have the trick a failure, he, for an instant, wished he had chosen some other calling. It was a great responsibility for a young fellow, for now the fate of the whole remaining performance was in Joe’s hands. There was much yet to be done, and it was not to be thought that, after being burned, as he said he was, the professor could go on.

There was uneasiness now among the stage hands. The electrician from the wings was cautiously whispering to Joe to let him know what to do. As yet the audience had not realized anything was wrong.

“Are you badly hurt?” Joe asked the professor in a whisper, standing near the now dark cabinet.

“I’m burned on my back, yes. I’m glad you shut off the current when you did, or I’d have been killed.”

“I didn’t shut off the current,” Joe answered. “I just pulled the connecting legs of the cabinet out of the sockets in the stage floor.”

“That was just as good. The current’s off. But something has to be done.”

“What went wrong?” asked Joe.

“One of the wire connections in here. I can feel it now with my fingers. A wire has broken. If I could twist it together ”

“I’ll do it,” volunteered Joe. He had to work the dark, as a glimmer of light would show that the cabinet had been moved, and the audience would suspect that something was wrong. But Joe knew every inch of the cabinet, for he and the professor had worked this trick out between them. In an instant he had twisted the wire ends together, pushing them to one side so they would not come in contact with the professor’s body, for the ends were not now insulated.

“It’s all right,” Joe whispered. “Can you manage to finish the trick if I put the cabinet back the connections?”

“Yes, I think so. Go ahead.”

Joe called to the leader of the orchestra:

“Louder!”

The musicians had been softly playing some “shivery” music. At once they struck into a blare of sound. This would cover any noise Joe might make in putting the cabinet back in place, so that the two metal legs would rest in the electric sockets in the stage, which contained the conductors that supplied the electric current needed.

In another moment Joe lifted the cabinet, Professor Rosello and all, back to where it had stood at first. Again there was the grinning, glowing skeleton showing. The applause was renewed, and then the glow died out, and as the house lights flashed up there stood the professor in the cabinet, as at first, in his flowing silk robe.

Close observers might have noticed that he was quite pale, and he had to grit his teeth to keep back a moan of pain from the burns he had received.

“Now, gentlemen,” said Joe to the committee, which had stepped down off the stage, “if you will kindly examine the knots, and loosen them, I shall be obliged to you. Quickly, if you please, as this act is very trying on the professor.”

Joe wanted to get his friend back of the scenes as soon as he could, to have his burns dressed.

“Are the knots just as you tied them?” asked Joe.

The men admitted they were.

“Proving conclusively,” the young wizard went on, “that the professor did not leave the cabinet to produce the effect you have just witnessed.”

The professor bowed to the applause as he stepped out of the cabinet, which was at once taken away by assistants. Then Joe walked back of the scenes with his friend, a pantomimist engaging the attention of the audience while the next part of the program was being prepared.

But could the show go on with the professor disabled? That was what Joe wondered. He felt, more than ever, the weight of responsibility on his shoulders.