  In the center of the “big top,” which sheltered the mammoth three-ring circus, brass horns blared to the rhythmic beat of a huge bass drum. Eight trained elephants, giant actors of the sawdust ring, patiently stood in line, awaiting the command to make way for the tumblers, trapeze performers, bareback riders and the queen of the circus. The twins, Marjory and Margaret MacDonald, just past ten years of age, and attending their first circus, stood pressed against the rope not an arm’s length from the foremost elephant. Suddenly the gigantic creature reached out a beseeching trunk for a possible peanut. Sensing danger, Johnny Thompson, the one-time lightweight boxing champion, who, besides their maid, stood guard over the millionaire twins, sprang forward. Quick as he was, his movement was far too slow. Marjory jumped back; there was an almost inaudible snap. The elephant stretched his trunk to full length—then in apparent anger uttered a hollow snort. A broad bar of sunlight shooting over the top of the canvas wall was cut by a sudden flash. The flash described a circle, then blinked out at the feet of three waiting young women performers. With a cry of consternation on his lips, Johnny Thompson sprang over the ropes. Bowling over an elephant trainer in his haste, he bolted toward the three girl acrobats at whose feet the miniature meteor had vanished. Again his agile movement was far too slow. Six pairs of rough hands tried to seize him. Johnny’s right shot out. With a little gurgle, an attendant in uniform staggered backward to crumple in the sawdust. A ring-master, leaping like a panther, landed on Johnny’s back. Dropping abruptly, Johnny executed a somersault, shook himself free and rose only to butt his head into the stomach of a fat clown. And then what promised to be a beautiful scrap ended miserably. A razor-back, or tent roustabout, struck Johnny on the head with a tent stake. Johnny dropped like an empty meal sack. At once four attendants dragged him beneath the tent wall into a shady corner. There, after tying his hands and feet, they waited for his return to consciousness. Little by little Johnny came to himself, and began to fumble at his fetters. “Wow! What hit me?” he grumbled, as he attempted to rub his bruised head. “You fell and struck your head on a tent pole,” grinned a razor-back. “Some scrapper, eh?” a second man commented. “Dope or moonshine?” asked a third. “Neither,” exclaimed Johnny. “It was—darn it! No. That’s none of your business. But I’ll get it back if I have to follow this one-horse show from Boston to Texas.” “You won’t follow nothin’ just at present,” scowled the razor-back, eying his shackles with satisfaction. “That guy you hit had to go to the show’s surgeon.” “Wow!” ejaculated his companion. “And I bet this little feller doesn’t weigh a hundred and ten stripped! How’d he do it?” “Let me loose and I’ll give you a free exhibition,” grinned Johnny, as he settled back, resolved to take what was coming to him with a smile. He was not a quarrelsome fellow, this Johnny Thompson. He had studied the science of boxing and wrestling because it interested him, and because he wished to be able to take care of himself in every emergency. He never struck a man unless forced to do so. The emergency of the past hour had spurred him to unusual activity. In a way he regretted it now, but on reflection decided that were the same set of conditions to confront him again, his actions would probably be the same. His one regret was that he had been unable to attain his end. His only problem now was to recover lost ground and to reach the desired goal. Late that night, with stiffened joints and aching muscles, he made his way to the desolate spot where but a few hours before a hilarious throng had laughed at the antics of clowns and thrilled at the daring dance of the tight-rope walker. In his hand Johnny held a small flashlight. This he flicked about here and there for some time. “That’s it,” he exclaimed at last. “This is the very spot.” Dropping on hands and knees he began clawing over the sawdust. Running it through his fingers, he gathered it in little piles here and there until presently the place resembled a miniature mountain range. He had been at this for a half hour when he straightened up with a sigh. “Not a chance,” he murmured, “not a solitary chance! One of those circus dames got it; the trapeze performer, or maybe the tight-rope walker. Which one? That’s what I’ve got to find out.” Suddenly he leaped to his feet. A long-drawn-out whistle sounded through the darkness. “The circus train! I’ve just time to jump it. I’ll stow away on her. How’s that? A circus stowaway!” Johnny dashed across the open space and, just as the train began to move, caught at the iron bars of a gondola car loaded with tent equipment. Climbing aboard, he groped about until he found a soft spot among some piles of canvas, and, sinking down there, was soon fast asleep. He had had no supper, but that mattered little. He would eat a double portion of ham and eggs in the morning. It was enough that he was on his way. Where to? He did not exactly know. When Johnny leaped over the rope in the circus tent the previous afternoon, in his rush toward the lady performers, he had dodged behind the trained elephants. This took him out of the view of the twins, Marjory and Margaret. So interested were they in the elephants that they did not miss him, and not having noted the sparkle in the sunlight which sent Johnny on his mad chase, they remained fully occupied in watching the regular events of the circus. The elephants had lumbered into the side tent, the tight-rope walker had danced her airy way across the arena, the brown bear had taken his daily bicycle ride, and the human statuary was on display, when Marjory suddenly turned to Margaret and said: “Why, Johnny’s gone!” “So he is,” said the other twin. “Perhaps he didn’t like it. He’ll be back, I’m sure.” The maid was quite accustomed to looking after the millionaire twins, so when Johnny failed to put in an appearance at the end of the performance, they passed out with the throng, the maid hailed a taxi and they were soon on their way home. It was then that Marjory, looking down, noticed that the fine gold chain about her neck hung with two loose ends. Catching her breath, she uttered a startled whisper: “Oo! Look! Margaret! It’s gone!” Margaret looked once, then clasped her hands in horror. “And father said you mustn’t take it!” “But it was our first, our very first circus!” “I know,” sighed Margaret. “And wasn’t it just grand! But now,” she sighed, “now, you’ll have to tell father.” “Yes, I will—right away.” Marjory did tell. They had not been in the house a minute before she told of their loss. “Where’s Johnny Thompson?” their father asked. “We—we don’t know.” “Don’t know?” “We haven’t seen him for two hours.” “Well, that settles it. I might have known when I hired an adventurer to look after my thoroughbreds and guard my children that I’d be sorry. But he was a splendid man with the horses; seemed to think of ’em as his own; and as for boxing, I never saw a fellow like him.” “Yes, and Daddy, we liked him,” chimed in Marjory. “We liked him a lot.” “Well,” the father said thoughtfully, “guess I ought to put a man on his trail and bring him back. Probably went off with the circus. But I won’t. He’s been a soldier, and a good one, I’m told. That excuses a lot. And then if you go dangling a few thousand dollars on a bit of gold chain, what can you expect? Better go get your supper and then run on to bed.” That night, before they crept into their twin beds, Marjory and Margaret talked long and earnestly over something very important. “Yes,” said Marjory at last, “we’ll find some real circus clothes somewhere. Then we’ll have Prince and Blackie saddled and bridled. Then we’ll ride off to find that old circus and bring Johnny Thompson back. We can’t get along without him; besides, he didn’t take it. I just know he didn’t.” “And if he did, he didn’t mean to,” supplemented Margaret. A moment later they were both sound asleep. As Johnny Thompson bumped along in his rail gondola, with the click-click of the wheels keeping time to the distant pant of the engine, he dreamed a madly fantastic dream. In it he felt the nerve-benumbing shudder which comes with the shock of a train wreck. He felt himself lifted high in air to fall among rolls of canvas and piles of tent poles, heard the crash of breaking timbers, the scream of grinding ironwork, and above it all the roar of frightened animals—tigers, lions, panthers, tossed, still in their cages, to be buried beneath the wreckage, or hurled free to tumble down the embankment. In this dream Johnny crawled from beneath the canvas to find himself staring into the red and gleaming eye of some great cat that was stalking him as its prey. He struggled to draw his clasp knife from his pocket, and in that mad struggle awoke. With every nerve alert he caught the click-click of wheels, the distant pant of the engine. It had been nothing more than a dream. He was still traveling steadily forward with the circus. Yet, as he settled back, he gave an involuntary shudder and, propping himself on one elbow, stared through the darkness toward the spot where, in his dream, the great cat had crouched. To his horror, he caught the red gleam of a single burning eye. Instantly there flashed through his mind the row of great caged cats he had seen that day. Pacing the floor of their dens, pausing now and again for a leap, a growl, a snarl, they had fascinated him then. Now his blood ran cold at the thought of the creature which, having escaped from its cage, had crept along the swinging cars, leaping lightly from one to the other until the scent of a man had arrested its course. Was it the Senegal lion? Johnny doubted that. Perhaps the tawny yellow Bengal tiger, or the more magnificent one from Siberia. All this time, while his mind had worked with the speed of a wireless, Johnny’s hand was struggling to free his clasp knife. Once more his eye sought the ball of fire. Suddenly as it had come, so suddenly it had vanished. He started in astonishment. Yet he was not to be deceived. The creature had turned its head. It was moving. Perhaps at this very moment it was crouching for a spring. A huge pile of canvas loomed above Johnny. A leap from this vantage, the tearing of claws, the sinking of fangs, and this circus train would have witnessed a tragedy. He strained his ears for a sound, but heard none. He strove to make out a bulk in the dark, but saw nothing. Could it be a tiger or mountain lion, jaguar or spotted leopard? Or was it the black leopard from Asia? A fresh chill ran down Johnny’s spine at thought of this creature. Other great cats had paced their cages, growled, snarled; the black leopard, smaller than any, but muscular, sharp clawed, keen fanged, with glowering eyes, had lurked in the corner of his cage and gloomed at those who passed. It was this animal that Johnny feared the most. If he but had a light! At once he thought of his small electric torch. Grasping it in his left hand, he leveled it at the spot where the burning eye had been, and gripping the clasp knife in his right, threw on the button. As the shaft of light flashed across the canvas, he stared for a second, then his hand trembled with surprise and excitement. “Panther Eye, as I live!” he exclaimed. “You old rascal! What are you doing here?” The former companion, for it was not a great cat, but a man, and none other than Panther Eye, fellow free-lance in many a previous adventure, stared at him through large smoked glasses, a smile playing over his lips. “Johnny Thompson, I’ll be bound! Some luck to you. What are you doing here?” “Looking for something.” “Same here, Johnny.” “And I’ll stay with this circus until I find it,” said Johnny. “Same here, Johnny. Shake on it.” Pant crawled over the swaying car and extended a hand. Johnny shook it solemnly. “Slept any?” asked Pant. “A little.” “Better sleep some more, hadn’t we?” “I’m willing.” “It’s a go.” Pant crept back to his hole in the canvas; Johnny sank back into his. He was not to sleep at once, however. His mind was working on many problems. Not the least of these was the question of Panther Eye’s presence on the circus train. This strange fellow, who appeared to be endowed with a capacity for seeing in the dark, was always delving in dark corners, searching out hidden mysteries. What mystery could there be about a circus? What, indeed? Was not Johnny on the trail of a puzzling mystery himself? Having reasoned thus far he was about to fall asleep, when a single red flash lighted up the peak of the canvas pile, then faded. He thought of the red ball of fire he had taken for a cat’s eye. He remembered the yellow glow he had seen when with Pant on other occasions. His mind attacked the problem weakly. He was half asleep. In another second the click-click of the car wheels was heard only in his dreams. |
|
