“This ought to do the business,” said Sid.

“Yes,” agreed Tonzo, “and not so quickly that it will be noticed, either. It will work slowly, but surely.”

“That’s what we want,” commented the other. “We’re in no hurry. Any time inside of a week will do. Now we’ll put this away to ripen.”

“That’s queer,” thought Helen, and she passed on, for by the movement in the canvas dressing room she thought the men were about to come out, and she did not want them to see her at what they might consider spying on them. “I never heard of ripening a rope before,” the girl said. “But it may be they have to for a trapeze. I’ll ask Joe about it. He might fix some of his ropes that way.”

Helen went on, anxious to find the young performer, and show him her letter from the lawyer.

“I’ll tell Bill Watson, too,” Helen decided.

As she expected, both Joe and the old clown were much interested in her news.

“It does really begin to look as though you would come into some money, doesn’t it?” Joe said.

“I’m beginning to believe it myself,” Helen answered, “though I don’t really count on it as yet.”

“Yes, it’s best to go a little slowly,” advised Bill. “Not to count your chickens before they’re hatched is a good motto. But this looks like business. I’d like to interview that lawyer when he comes.”

“I’ll turn him over to you,” Helen said with a laugh. “To you and Joe, and you can arrange about getting my money for me. I’ll make you two my official advisers.”

“I accept with pleasure,” Joe answered, with a bow.

“And that reminds me,” went on Bill. “I’m going to give you the addresses of some people who might know about your mother’s folks in England, Joe. As I told you, they disowned her when she married your father, though there wasn’t a finer man going. But he was an American, and that was one thing they had against him, and another was that he was a public performer.

“I think, too, that they rather blamed him for your mother’s going into the circus business, Joe. Your mother was always a good horsewoman, so I have understood. She took part in many a fox hunt in England, and in cross-country runs, always coming out in front. And when your father met her he, as I understand it, suggested that, just for fun, she try circus work. She took it up seriously, and Madame Hortense became one of the foremost circus riders of her time. But from then on her name was forgotten by her relatives, and her picture was, so to speak, turned to the wall.”

“I wish I could get one of those pictures,” said Joe thoughtfully. “I have only a very small one that was in my father’s watch. I’d like a large one, for I can’t remember, very well, how she looked.”

“She was a handsome woman,” said the clown. “It may be that you can get a picture of her from England that is, if they saved one. I’ll give you the address of some folks you can write to. It might be well to get a firm of lawyers here to take the matter up for you.”

“I believe it would be best,” agreed Joe.

“Why not let my lawyers notice that, my,” laughed Helen. “Why not let my lawyers act for you, Joe? That is, after we see what sort they are. They seem honest.”

“Another good idea!” commented the young performer. “I’ll do it. You say one of them is coming to see you?”

“So he says in this letter.”

“Does he know where to find you?”

“Yes; I have told him the places where the circus will show for the next two weeks. He can find the place easily enough, and inquire for me. Oh, I’m so anxious to know how rich I’m going to be!”

“I don’t blame you,” chuckled Bill. “Now, Joe, if I had a pencil and paper I’d give you those addresses I spoke of.”

Joe supplied what was needed, and obtained the names of some men and women circus performers who had been associated with his mother. Joe wrote to them, asking the names of his mother’s relatives in England, and their addresses.

Helen’s attention was so taken up with the affairs of her inheritance that she forgot about the queer actions of Sid and Tonzo until after the performance that night.

Then, as she and Joe were going to the train to take the sleeping cars for the next stop, Helen asked:

“Joe, did you ever hear of ripening trapeze ropes?”

“Ripening trapeze ropes?” he repeated. “No. What do you mean?”

Helen then told what she had seen and heard in the dressing tent.

Joe shook his head.

“It may be some secret process they have of treating ropes to make them tougher, so they’ll last longer,” Joe said. “They may call it ripening, but I never heard of it. I’ll ask them.”

“Don’t tell them I saw them,” Helen cautioned him.

“Of course not,” Joe answered. “Perhaps it may be a professional secret with them, and they won’t tell me anyhow. But I’ll ask.”

But when Joe, as casually as he could, inquired of Sid and Tonzo what they knew of ripening trapeze ropes, the two Spaniards shook their heads, though, unseen by Joe, a quick look passed between them.

“I sometimes oil my ropes, to make them pliable,” Tonzo admitted. “Olive oil I use. But it does not make them ripe.”

“I guess that must have been it,” thought Joe. “Helen was probably mistaken. It might have been a word that sounded like ripening.”

So he said no more about it then, though when he reported to Helen the result of his questioning, she shook her head.

“I’m sure I heard aright,” she declared. “And they were pouring something from a bottle on the trapeze rope from which they had pushed the silk covering.”

“It might have been olive oil,” Joe said.

“It might,” Helen admitted, ’"but I don’t believe it was. They don’t handle any of your ropes, do they?”

“I always look after my own. Why?”

“Oh, I just wanted to know,” and that was all the answer Helen would give.

As Joe went to his dressing room for that afternoon’s performance he passed Senor Bogardi, the lion tamer. Something in the man’s manner attracted Joe’s attention, and he asked him:

“Aren’t you feeling well to-day, Senor?”

“Oh, yes, as well as usual. It is my Princess who is not well.”

“Princess, the big lioness?”

“Yes. I do not know what to make of her actions. She is never rough with me, but a little while ago, when I went in her cage, she growled and struck at me. I had to hit her which I seldom do and that did not improve her temper. I do not know what to make of her. I have to put her through her paces in the cage this afternoon, and I do not want any accident to happen.

“It is not that I am afraid for myself,” went on the tamer, and Joe knew he spoke the truth, for he was absolutely fearless. “But if she comes for me and I have to to do something, it may start a panic. No, I do not like it,” and he shook his head dubiously.

“Oh, well, maybe it will come out all right,” Joe assured him. “But you’d better tell Jim, and have some extra men around. She can’t get out of her cage, can she?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. Well, we shall see.”

It was almost time for the performance to begin. The crowd was already streaming into the animal tent and slowly filtering into the “main top,” where the performance took place. Before that, however, there was a sort of “show” in the animal arena, Senor Bogardi’s appearance in the cage with the lioness being one of the features.

Joe had gone to his dressing tent and was coming out again, when he heard unusual roars from the animal tent. The lions often let their thunderous voices boom out, sometimes startling the crowd, but, somehow or other, this sounded differently to Joe.

“I wonder if that’s Princess cutting up,” he reflected. “Guess I’ll go in and have a look. I hope nothing happens to the senor.”

Though lion tamers, as well as other performers with wild beasts, seem to take matters easily, slipping into the cage with the ferocious creatures as a matter of course, they take their lives in their hands whenever they do it. No one can say when a lion or a tiger may suddenly turn fierce and spring upon its trainer. And there is not much chance of escape. The claws of a lion or a tiger go deep, even in one swift blow of its powerful paws.

Joe started for the animal tent, and then remembered that he needed in his act that day a certain short trapeze, the ends of the ropes being provided with hooks that caught over the bar of another trapeze.

He hurried back to get it, and then, as the unusual roars kept up in the arena, he hastened there. As he had surmised, it was Princess who was roaring, her fellow captives joining in. Senor Bogardi had slipped into the cage, and was waiting until the creature had calmed down a little.

Cages in which trainers perform with wild beasts are built in two parts. In one end is a sort of double door, forming a compartment into which the trainer can slip for safety. The senor had opened the outer door of the cage and slipped in, it being fastened after him.

But he was still separated from Princess by another iron-barred door that worked on spring hinges. And Princess did not seem to want this door opened. She sprang against it with savage roars and thrust her paws through, trying to reach her trainer. He sought to drive her back into a far corner, so that he would have room to enter. Once in, he felt he could subdue her. But Princess would not get back sufficiently, though Senor Bogardi ordered her, and even flicked her through the bars with the heavy whip he carried.

“I guess you’d better cut out the act to-day,” advised Jim Tracy, as he saw how matters were going. The women and children were beginning to get nervous, some of them hastening into the other tent. Men, too, were looking about as if for a quick means of escape in case anything happened.

“No, no. I must make her obey me,” insisted the performer. “If I give in to her now I will lose power over her. Get back, Princess! Get back! Down!” he ordered.

But the lioness only snarled and struck at the bars with her paws. Then she threw herself against the spring door, roaring. The cage rocked and shook, and several women screamed.

“Cut out the act!” ordered the ring-master. “It isn’t safe with this crowd.”

“That’s right,” chimed in a man. “We know it isn’t your fault, professor.”

“Thank you!” Senor Bogardi bowed. “For the comfort of the audience I will omit my act to-day. But I will subdue Princess later.”

There was a breath of relief from the crowd as the trainer prepared to leave the cage. Men who had fastened the door after him raised the iron bar that held it so he could emerge.

The lion-tamer slipped from the cage through the outside door, which was about to be shut when Princess, with all her force, threw herself against the inner spring door.

Whether it was insecurely fastened or whether she broke the fastenings, was not disclosed at the moment, but the door gave way and the enraged beast sprang into the smaller compartment and toward the outer door.

“Quick!” cried the trainer. “Up with that bar! Fasten the door, or she’ll be out among us!”

The circus men raised the bar, but the cage was swaying so from the leapings of the lioness that they could not slip the iron in place. It almost dropped from their hands.

Joe Strong saw the danger. He stood near the cage, the crowd having rushed back, men and women yelling with fright. Joe saw the outer door swing open. In another instant the lioness would be out.

At that moment the men dropped the iron bar.

“Quick! Something to fasten the door to hold it!” cried the lion-tamer.

Joe acted in a flash and not an instant too soon. He forced the strong hickory bar of his small trapeze into the places meant to receive the iron bar, and as the lioness, with a roar of rage, flung herself against the door, it did not give way, but held. Joe had prevented her escape.