Joe Strong looked from the group of sullen, lowering canvasmen to Jim Tracy. On the ring-master’s face were signs of anxiety.

“Is it really a strike?” Joe asked.

“That’s what they call it,” replied the circus owner. “I didn’t know they belonged to a union, and I don’t believe they do. They just want to make trouble, and they take advantage of me at a time when I’m tied up because we’re late with the show.”

“What is it they want?” asked Helen.

“More money,” Jim Tracy replied. “I wouldn’t mind giving it to them if I could afford it, or if they weren’t getting the same wages that are paid other canvasmen in other circuses. But they are. As a matter of fact, they get more, and they have better grub. I can’t understand such tactics!”

“It looks as if some of them were coming over to speak to you,” remarked Joe, as he observed one of the strikers detach himself from the group, and approach the ring-master.

“Let him come,” snapped Jim. “He’ll get no satisfaction from me.”

The man seemed a bit embarrassed as he approached, chewing a straw nervously. He ignored several of the circus performers, Joe and Helen among them, who were grouped about Jim Tracy, and, addressing the owner, asked:

“Well, have you made up your mind? Is it to be more money for us or no show for you?”

“It’s going to be ‘no’ to your unreasonable demand, and I want to tell you, here and now, that the show’s going on. You can go back to your cowardly crowd, that tries to hit a man when he’s down, and tell ’em Jim Tracy said that!” cried the ring-master with vigor. “You’ll get no more money from me. I’m paying you wages enough as it is!”

“All right, no money no show!” said the fellow, impudently. “We gave you half an hour to make up your mind, and if that’s your answer you can take the consequences.”

He started to walk away, and Tracy called after him:

“If you try to interfere or make trouble, and if you try to stop the show, I’ll have you all arrested if I have to send for special detectives.”

“Oh, we won’t make any trouble except what you make for yourself,” declared the striker. “We just won’t do anything that’ll be the trouble. There’s your ‘main top,’ and there she’ll stay. We won’t pull a rope or drive a peg!”

He pointed to the pile of canvas with its mass of ropes, poles and pegs that lay on the ground ready for erection. It should have been up by this time, and the parade ought to have been under way. But with the railroad accident, the delay and the strike, the big tent in which Joe, Helen and the others were to perform was not yet raised.

“The cowards!” exclaimed Jim in a low voice; looking at Joe. “I wonder if I’d better give in to ’em?”

“Can you get others to take their places?” the young trapeze acrobat wanted to know.

“Not here. I could if I were nearer New York. But as it is ” He threw up his hands with a gesture of despair. “I guess I’ll have to give in,” he said. “I can’t afford not to give a show. Here, you ”

He called to the departing striker.

“Wait a minute!” Joe quickly exclaimed to the ring-master. “I think we can find a way out of this.”

“How?”

“Have you any men who know something about putting up the tent?”

“I know all there is to be known about it myself. But it takes more than one man to raise the ‘main top.’ There are a lot of the animal men and wagon drivers who used to be canvas hands. They haven’t struck. But there aren’t enough of them. It’s no use.”

“Yes, it is!” cried Joe. “We men performers will turn canvasmen for the time being. Give us some hands who know how to lay out the canvas, how to lace up the different sections, which ropes to pull on; men to show us how to drive stakes and to haul up the poles do that and we’ll have the tent up in time for the show!”

“Can you do it?” cried the ring-master, in an eager tone.

“Sure we can!” exclaimed Joe. “There are enough of us, and we’re willing to turn in. You get the men who know how, and we’ll be their assistants.”

“It might work,” said Tracy, reflectively. “I’m much obliged to you, Joe. It’s worth trying. But do you think the performers will do it?”

“I’ll talk to ’em,” said the trapeze artist. “They’ll be glad to raise the tent, rather than see a performance given up. Go get your men and I’ll talk to the others.”

“All right I will.”

“Did you call me?” asked the striker who had been appointed to wait on the ring-master and learn his decision.

“I did not!” cried Jim Tracy. “I’m through with you. We don’t need your services.”

“Ha!” laughed the man. “Let’s see you get up the ‘main top’ without us.”

“Stick around long enough and you’ll see it,” said Joe Strong.

Joe found a group of the men performers gathered in the dressing tent, discussing the situation. And while the ring-master hastened to gather up such forces as he could muster, Joe made his little talk.

“You’re just the very one we want,” he said to Tom Jefferson, “the strong man.” “You ought to be able to put up the tent alone. Come on now, gentlemen, we must all work together,” and rapidly he explained the situation to some who did not understand it.

“Will you help raise the tent?” Joe asked.

“We will!” cried the performers in a chorus.

Soon there was a busy scene in the circus “lots.” Not that there is not always a busy time when the show is being made ready, but this was somewhat different. Led by Joe, the performers placed themselves under the direction of some veteran canvasmen who had been working in other departments of the circus.

Jim Tracy, who had in his day been a helper, took the part of the striking foreman of the canvas-workers, and the “main top” soon began to look as it always did. The big center poles were put in place and guyed up. The sections of canvas were laced together in the regular manner, so that they could be taken apart quickly simply by pulling on a rope. Knots tied in erecting a circus tent must be made so they are easily loosed, even in wet weather.

For a while the striking canvasmen stood and laughed at the efforts of those who were taking their places. But they soon ceased to jeer. For the tent was slowly but correctly going up.

“We’ll give the show after all!” cried Joe, as he labored at lifting heavy sections of canvas, pulling on ropes or driving stakes.

“I believe we will,” agreed the ring-master. “I don’t know how to thank you, Joe.”

“Oh, pshaw! I didn’t do anything! I’m only helping the same as the rest.”

“Yes, but it was your idea, and you persuaded the men to pitch in.”

And, in a sense, this was true. For Joe was a general favorite with the circus performers, though he had been with them only a comparatively short time. But he had his mother’s reputation back of him, as well as his father’s, and Bill Watson had spoken many a good word for the young fellow. Circus folk are always loyal to their own kind, and there were many, as Joe learned later, who knew his mother by reputation, and some personally. So they were all glad to help when Joe put the case to them vividly, as he did.

Joe’s popularity stood him in good stead, even though there were some who were jealous of the reputation he was making. But jealousies were cast aside on this occasion.

Even the Lascalla Brothers did their share, working side by side with Joe at putting up the tent, as they worked with him on the trapeze. The strong man was a great help, doing twice the work that the others did.

The performers wore their ordinary clothes, laying aside coats and vests as they labored. And the men who knew how circus tents must go up, saw to it that the amateurs did their work well, so there would be no danger of collapse.

While the big tent was being put up the other preparations for the show were proceeded with. Mr. Boyd and Mr. Sampson, who were part owners with Jim Tracy, arranged for a small parade, since it had been advertised. On the back of one of the elephants rode the fat lady, with a banner which explained that because of a strike of the canvasmen the usual street exhibition could not be given. The assurance was made, though, that the show itself would be the same as advertised.

“That will prevent the public from being too sympathetic with the strikers,” said Jim Tracy. “The public, as a rule, doesn’t care much for a strike that interferes with its pleasure.”

At last the big tent was up, and all was in readiness for the afternoon performance, though it would be a little late.

“It won’t be much fun taking down the tent after the show to-night,” said Joe.

“Perhaps you won’t have to,” stated the ring-master. “I may be able to hire men to take the strikers’ places before then.”

“But if you can’t, we’ll help out,” declared the young trapeze performer, though he knew it would be anything but pleasant for himself and the others, after high-tension work before a big audience, to handle heavy canvas and ropes in the dark.

The public seemed to take good-naturedly to the circus, not being over-critical of the lack of the usual big street parade. And men, women and children came in throngs to the afternoon performance.

The circus people fairly outdid themselves to give a good show, and Joe worked up a little novelty in one of his “lone” acts.

He gave an exhibition of rope-climbing, Jim Tracy introducing the act with a few remarks about the value of every one’s knowing how to ascend or descend a rope when, thereby, one’s life might some time be saved.

“Professor Strong will now entertain you,” announced the ring-master, “and tell you something about rope-work.”

Joe had hardly bargained for this, but his work as a magician, when he often had the stage to himself and had to address a crowded theatre, stood him in good stead. He was very self-confident, and he illustrated the way a beginner should learn to climb a rope.

“Don’t try to go up hand over hand at first,” Joe said. “And don’t climb away up to the top unless you’re sure you know how to come down. You may get so exhausted that you’ll slip, and burn your hands severely, for the friction of rapidly sliding down a rope will cause bad burns.”

Joe showed how to begin by holding the rope between the soles of the feet, letting them take the weight instead of the hands and arms. He went up and down this way, and then went up by lifting himself by his hands alone, coming down the same way which is much harder than it looks.

Joe also illustrated the “stirrup hold,” which may be used in ascending or descending a rope, to get a rest. The rope is held between the thighs, the hands grasping it lightly, and while a turn of the rope passes under the sole of the left foot and over the toes of the same, the right foot is placed on top, pressing down the rope which passes over the left foot. In this way the rope is held from slipping, and the entire weight of the body can rest on the side of the left leg, which is in a sort of rope loop. Thus the arms are relieved.

Joe showed other holds, and also how to sit on a rope that dangled from the top of the tent. Half way up he held the rope between his thighs, and made a loop, which he threw over his left shoulder. Then, by pressing his chin down on the rope, it was held between chin and shoulder so that it could not slip. Grasping the rope with both hands above his head, Joe was thus suspended in a sitting position, almost as easily as in a chair. The crowd applauded this.

Then Joe went on with his regular trapeze work doing some back flyaway jumps that thrilled the audience. This trick is done by grasping the trapeze bar firmly at arm’s length, swinging backward and downward until the required momentum is reached. When Joe was ready he suddenly let go and turned a backward somersault to the life net.

The trick looked simple, but Joe had practised it many times before getting it perfectly. And he often had bad falls. One tendency he found was to turn over too far before letting go the bar. This was likely to cause his feet to strike the swinging bar, resulting in an ugly tumble.

The evening performance was even better attended than that of the afternoon. Jim Tracy succeeded in hiring a few men to assist with the tents, but he had not enough, and it began to look as though the performers would have to do double work again.

But there occurred one of those incidents with which circus life is replete. The place they were showing in was a large factory town, and at night crowds of men and boys not the gentlest in the community attended.

At something or other, a crowd of roughs felt themselves aggrieved, and under the guidance of a “gang-leader” began to make trouble. They threatened to cut the tent ropes in retaliation.

“That won’t do,” decided Jim Tracy. “I’ve got to tackle that gang, and I don’t like to, for it means a fight. Still I can’t have the tent collapse.”

He hurriedly gathered a crowd of his own men, armed them with stakes, and charged the gang of roughs that was creating a small riot, to the terror of women and children.

The rowdies finding themselves getting the worst of it, called for help from among the factory workers, who liked nothing better than to “beat-up” a circus crowd. Jim Tracy and his men were being severely handled when a new force took a hand in the melee.

“Come on, boys. We can’t stand for this!” shouted Jake Bantry, the leader of the striking canvasmen. “They sha’n’t bust up the show, even if the boss won’t give us more money.”

The canvasmen were used to trouble of this kind. Seizing tent pegs, and with cries of “Hey Rube!” the time-honored signal for a battle of this kind the striking canvasmen rushed into the fracas.

In a short time the roughs had been dispersed, and there was no more danger of the tents being cut and made to collapse.

“I’m much obliged to you boys,” said Jim Tracy to the strikers, when the affray was over. “You helped us out finely.”

“It was fun for us,” answered Jake Bantry. “And say, Mr. Tracy, we’ve been talking it over among ourselves, and seeing as how you’ve always treated us white, we’ve decided, if you’ll take us back, that we’ll come and at the same wages.”

“Of course I’ll take you back!” exclaimed the owner heartily. “And glad to have you.”

“Good! Come on, boys! Strike’s broken!” cried Bantry.

So Joe and his fellow-artists did not have to turn to tent work that night.

In looking over the advance booking list one day, Joe saw Bedford marked down.

“Hello!” he cried. “I wonder if that’s my town.” It was, as he learned by consulting the press agent.

“Are you glad?” asked Helen.

“Well, rather, I guess!” Joe said.

And one morning Joe awakened in his berth, and looked out to see the familiar scenes of the town where he had lived so long.

“Bedford!” exclaimed Joe. “Well, I’m coming back in a very different way from the one I left it,” and he chuckled as he thought of the “side-door Pullman,” and the pursuing constables.