The Crimson Flash Page 2

  CHAPTER II BOXING THE BUNCO-STEERER

  From time to time during the night, Johnny awoke to listen for a momentto the click-click of the wheels. Once he thought he caught again theplay of that crimson flash upon the canvas. Once he remained awake longenough to do a little wondering and planning. How had Pant, his friend ofother days, come aboard this circus train? What was he seeking? True,Johnny had received a letter from this strange fellow some time before,in which he spoke in mysterious terms of a three-ring circus and theSecret Service, but Johnny had taken this very much as a joke. Whatpossible connection could there be between circus and Secret Service?Finding the problem impossible of solution, he turned his attention tohis own plight. He had started upon a strange journey of which he knewnot even the destination. In his pocket was a five-dollar bill and someloose change. He must stick to this circus until he had regained acertain precious bit of jewelry. How was he to do that? One of the threelady circus performers had it, he felt sure, but how was he to find outwhich one? Should he be so fortunate as to discover this, how was he toregain possession of it?

  Hedged about as the life of the circus woman is, by those of her ownkind, the task seemed impossible, yet somehow it must be done. It hadbeen the utmost folly for Marjory to wear her mother's engagement ring,set with an immense solitaire, dangling on a chain, when they attendedthe circus, yet she had done it, and Johnny had promised to watch it. Hehad kept a sharp lookout, but had been caught unawares when the thief hadproved to be an elephant, who doubtless had taken it for something toeat, and, having scratched his trunk upon it, had tossed it to his ladyfriends of the human species, to see what they thought of it.

  "Rotten luck!" Johnny grumbled, as he turned over once more to fallasleep.

  By a succession of sudden stops and starts, by the bumping of cars, andthe grinding of brakes, Johnny realized that at last they had come to astopping place. When the starting and stopping had continued for sometime, he knew the city they were entering was a large one. Opening hiseyes sleepily, he propped himself up on one elbow and tried to peer abouthim. It was still dark. A stone wall rose a short distance above the carson either side. Above and beyond the wall to the left great buildingsloomed. From one of these, towering far above the rest, lights gleamedhere and there. The others were totally dark.

  "Big one's a hotel, rest office buildings," was Johnny's mental comment."But say, where have I seen this before?"

  Lifting himself to his knees, he looked down the track in the directionthey had just come. A tower pointing skyward appeared to have closed inon their wake. Turning, he looked in the opposite direction. A dull graybulk loomed out of the dark.

  "Chicago," he muttered in surprise. "Of all places! We've come all theway from that jerk-water city of Amaraza to put on a show in good oldChi. Can't be a bit of doubt of it, for yonder's the Auditorium hotel,back there's the Illinois Central depot, and ahead the Art Institute.Grant Park's our destination. The situation improves. We'll have somereal excitement. Pant will be tickled pink.

  "Pant! Oh, Pant!" he whispered hoarsely. "Pant!" He spoke the name aloud.

  Receiving no answer, he climbed over the canvas piles to the spot wherePant had been.

  "Gone," he muttered. "Didn't think he'd shake me like that!"

  He dropped into gloomy reflections. What was his next move? He hadcounted on Pant's assistance. Now he must go it alone.

  "Oh, well," he sighed at last, "I'll just hang around and let thingshappen. They generally do."

  Before darkness came again things had happened--several things, in whichthe fortunes of Johnny Thompson rose and fell to rise again like bits ofcork on a storm-tossed sea.

  Before putting his hand on the iron rod to lower himself to the cinderstrewn track, he gave himself over to a moment of recollection. He wasthinking of this strange fellow, Pant. Again he groped his way in thedark cave in Siberia, with Pant's all-seeing eye to guide him. Again hefought the Japs in Vladivostok. Again--but I will not recount all hisvivid recollections here, for you have doubtless read them in the bookcalled "Panther Eye." It is enough to say that the incidents of thisstory proved beyond a doubt that Pant could see in the dark, but as tohow and why he was so strangely gifted, that had remained a mystery tothe end; and to Johnny Thompson it was to this time as great a mystery asin the beginning.

  * * * * * * * *

  Pant had left the circus train at Twenty-second Street. He had drawn hiscap down to his dark goggles, and hurrying over to State Street, boardeda north-bound surface car.

  A half hour later he climbed the last of six flights of stairs, andturning a key in a dusty door, let himself into a room that overlookedthe river at Wells Street.

  This room had been Johnny Thompson's retreat in those stirring days toldof in "Triple Spies." Johnny had turned the key over to Pant before heleft Russia. Pant had renewed the lease, and had, from time to time, ashis strangely mysterious travels led through Chicago, climbed the stairsto sit by the window and reflect, or to throw himself upon the bed andgive himself over to many hours of sleep.

  At present he was not in need of sleep. Swinging the blinds back withoutthe slightest sound, he drew a chair to the window and, dropping his chinin his cupped hands, fell into deep reflection. His inscrutable,mask-like face seemed a blank. Only twice during two hours did themuscles relax. Each time it was into a cat-like smile. Just before thesemoments of amusement there had appeared upon the river, far below, abroad patch of crimson light.

  * * * * * * * *

  Morning before the circus performance is like the wash of a recedingtide. Dull gray fog still lingers in the air. In front of the ropes thatexclude visitors a few curiosity seekers wander up and down, but it isbehind these lines, on behind the kitchen, mess, and horse tents that thereal denizens of the fog are to be found. Here a host of attaches of thecircus, and those not definitely attached, wander about like beasts intheir cages, or engage in occupations of doubtful character. Here are tobe found in great numbers the colored razor-backs, mingled with the whitemen of that profession. Stake drivers, rope pullers, venders of peanutsand pop, mingle with the motley crowd of sharp-witted gentry who, likevultures following a victorious army, live in the wake of a prosperouscircus. Later, all these would sleep, but for the moment, like owls andbats, they cling to the last bit of morning fog.

  It was down this much trodden "gold coast" at the back door of the circusthat Johnny Thompson found himself walking. He had taken his coffee andfried eggs at a restaurant that backed "Boul Mich." He was now in searchof Pant, also hoping for things to turn up, which, presently, they did.

  So Johnny sauntered slowly along the broad walk bordering the Lake Frontpark.

  Here and there he paused to study the faces of men who sat munching theirbreakfast. Faces always interested him, and besides, he knew full wellthat some of the sharpest as well as the lowest criminals follow acircus.

  His course was soon arrested by the hoarse half whisper of a man to theright of him. About this man--a white man--was gathered a knot of othermen.

  "Five, if you pick the black card. Try your luck! Try it, brother. Fivedollars, if you pick the lucky card." These were the words the manwhispered.

  Johnny edged his way to the center of the group. In shady places at theback of great country picnics, or in secluded sheds at county fairs, hehad seen this game played many a time, but to find it in a Chicago parkseemed unbelievable. Yet, here it was. A broad shouldered man, with anirregular mouth and a ragged ear, evidently badly mauled in some fight,stood with a newspaper held flat before him. On the paper, face down,were three ordinary playing cards. The slim, tapering fingers of the manplayed over the cards, as a pianist's fingers play over the keys. Now hegathered them all up to toss them one by one, face up, on the paper.

  "See, gents; two reds and a black! Watch it! There it is! There it is!Now, there! Five dollars, if you pick the lucky card! Five to me if youlose.
"

  He shot an inquiring glance toward Johnny. Johnny remained silent.

  A short, stout man thrust a five dollar bill into the conman's hand. Histrembling fingers turned a card. It was red. With an oath he struggledout of the ring.

  "Can't hit it always, brother," a smirky smile overspread the conman'sface.

  "Well, now, I'll make it easy. There it is! Leave it there. Who will try?Who will try?"

  A young man wearing a green tie passed over a ten dollar bill.

  "Make it all or nothing. All or nothing," chuckled the operator.

  The youth grinned. His confident finger picked the card. It was black.

  "You win, brother, you win. I told you. Now, who'll win next?"

  Again he shot a glance at Johnny. Again Johnny was silent.

  Twice more the game was played. Each time the conman lost.

  "Everybody wins this morning." The conman's fingers played with thecards, and in playing bent the corner of the black card ever so slightlyupward. Johnny's keen eyes saw it. When the card was turned, he hadpicked it right. Five times in imaginary plays the conman tossed thecards down and gathered them up. Each time Johnny's eye, following thebent card, told him he was right. Six times he picked the black cardcorrectly. Was the conman drunk? He thought not. His keen eyes studiedthe circle of faces. Then he laughed.

  "Where do you think it is?" The conman bantered.

  Johnny pointed a finger at the bent card.

  "Why don't you bet?"

  Johnny laughed again.

  "I bate." A Swede standing near Johnny thrust out a five dollar bill.

  He won.

  "See?" jeered the conman. "You're no sport. You're a coward." He leeredat Johnny.

  Johnny's cheek turned a shade redder, but he only smiled.

  Again the Swede bet and won.

  Again the conman had the word "coward" on his lips. He did not say it.

  Johnny was speaking. There was a cold smile on his lips.

  "I can tell you one thing, stranger," Johnny squared his shoulders, "I'mnot in the habit of allowing men to call me a coward. I'll tell you why Idon't play your rotten game, then I'll tell you something else. That man,and that one, and that one and this Swede are your cappers. You hadtwenty-five dollars between you when I came. You got five from thatstranger who left. When one of your cappers won, he passed the money fromhand to hand until it came back to you. If they lost it's the same. Astranger has about as much chance with a bunch like you as a day-oldchick has in the middle of the Atlantic. But say, stranger, you called mea coward. I'll tell you what I'll do. You've got me topped byseventy-five pounds, and you think you know how to handle your dukes.I'll box you three rounds, and if you touch my face in any round, I'llgive you a five-case note, the last one I have. Not bet, see! Just give!You can't lose; you may win. What say?"

  The conman's lips parted, but no sound came. The eyes of his pals andcappers were upon him.

  "You wouldn't let the little runt bluff y'," suggested the young capperof the green tie.

  "Oh--all, all right, brother." The conman's voice stuck in his throat."All right. Somebody fetch the gloves."

  A boxing match, or even a free-for-all, is not so uncommon on the backlines of a circus, but it never fails to draw a crowd. It was upon thisinevitable crowd that Johnny counted for his backing, should the threerounds turn into a rough and tumble, with no mercy and no quarter.

  Once his gloves were on, he explained to the rapidly growing circle theterms of the match.

  "There's no referee, so all of you are it," he smiled.

  "Right-O. We're wid ye," a genial Irishman shouted.

  "Go to it, kid," a sturdy stake driver echoed.

  "Are you ready?"

  Johnny moved his gloves to a position not ten inches from his body. Withfists well extended, the conman leaped across the ring. The blow he aimedat Johnny's head would have felled an ox, had it landed. It did not land.Johnny had sprung to one side. The next instant he tapped the conman onhis ragged ear.

  This appeared to infuriate his antagonist. Perhaps it served to bringback memories of another battle in which he had been worsted. His ragedid him neither service nor credit. Time and again he bounded at theelusive Johnny, to find himself fanning air. Time and again Johnny tappedthat ragged ear. The conman landed not a single blow. When, after threeminutes, a man called time, and the two paused to take a breath, theplaudits were all for Johnny.

  As he rested, the beady eyes of the conman narrowed to slits. He wasthinking, planning. He had not scored on the first bout, the second wouldsee him a winner.

  Instantly upon re-entering the ring he rushed Johnny for a clinch. Takenby surprise, the boy could not avoid it. Yet, even here, he was more thana match for his heavier opponent. Gripping hard with his left, he rainedblows on the other's back, just above the kidney. That, in time, made abreak welcome.

  The conman's game was to clinch, then to force his opponent back to aposition where he could land his right on Johnny's chin. This would winhis point. More than that, it would enable him to break Johnny's neck, ifhe chose, and he might so decide.

  Three times he clinched. Three times he received trip-hammer blows on hisback, and three times he gave way before his plucky opponent. When, atlast, time was called, he fairly reeled to his corner.

  There was a dangerous light in his eye as he stepped up for the thirdround.

  "Watch him, kid. He'll do you dirt," muttered the Irishman.

  "Keep your guard," echoed another.

  Johnny, still smiling, moved forward. His face was well guarded. He wasconfident of victory.

  Twice the conman feinted with his right, struck out with his left, thenretired. The third time he rushed straight on. Johnny easily dodged hisblows, but the next second doubled up in a knot. Groaning and panting forbreath he fell to the earth.

  Eagerly the conman leaped forward. His glove had barely touched Johnny'scheek when a grip of iron pulled him back.

  "There's no referee. Then I'm one. An Irishman for a square scrap." Itwas Johnny's ardent backer.

  Panting, the conman stood at bay.

  In time, Johnny, having regained his breath, sat up dizzily and lookedabout.

  "Where's the five?" demanded the conman.

  Johnny held up his right glove. "I leave it to the crowd if he gets itfair."

  "He fouled you wid his knee! He jammed it into yer stummick! A rottentrick as ever was played!" yelled the Irishman.

  "Right-O! Sure! Sure! Kill him! Eat him alive!" came from every corner.

  Johnny rose.

  "We'll finish the round," he said quietly.

  "Keep your money," grumbled the conman.

  "No! No! No!" came from a hundred throats, for by this time a dense mobwas packed about the improvised ring. Chairs, benches and barrels hadbeen dragged up. On these men stood looking over the shoulders of thosein front.

  Like an enraged bull the conman stood at bay.

  "All right," he laughed savagely. "We'll finish it quick."

  He leaped squarely at Johnny. Johnny's whole body seemed to stiffen, thento rise. Springing full ten inches from the ground and ten inchesforward, he shot out his glove. There came the thudding impact of amaster-blow.

  The conman rose slightly in the air, then reeled backward into the mob.The point of his chin had come in contact with Johnny's fist.

  With characteristic speed, Johnny threw off the gloves, seized his coatand lost himself in the crowd.

  He was not ashamed of his part in the affair, far from that. He knew hehad given the crook only that which he richly deserved. He was not,however, at that moment looking for publicity, and escape was the onlyway to avoid it.

  In eluding the crowd he was singularly successful. By dodging about thehorse tent, and rounding the mess tent, he was able to make his waydirectly to the shore of the lake. Here he walked rapidly south until hefound himself alone. Throwing himself upon the ground, for ten minutes hewatched the small breakers coil and recoil upon the shore. R
ising, helifted his laughing blue eyes to the sunshine. Then, scooping uphands-full of the clear lake water, he bathed his face, his chest, hisarms.

  "Boy! Boy!" he breathed, as he beat his chest dry. "It's sure good to bealive!"

  A moment later his face clouded. "But how about that diamond ring? Oh,you sparkler, come to your daddy!"

  With this, he repaired to the show site.

  On returning to the rear of the circus tents, he was surprised to beaccosted at once by a smooth-shaven, sturdy man with a clean, clear lookin his eye.

  "You're the boy that's so handy with his mitts?"

  Johnny had a mind to run for it, but one look into those clear eyes toldhim this would be folly.

  "That's what they say," he smiled.

  "Shake! I like you for that." The stranger extended his hand.

  Johnny gripped it warmly.

  "The way you handled that conman wasn't bad; not half-bad. You're asport; a regular one! The circus boys like a good sport; the real chapsdo. How'd you like a job?"

  "A--a job?" Johnny stammered. "What kind?"

  "Circus job."

  "What kind?" Johnny repeated.

  "What can you do?"

  "I--I--" suddenly Johnny had an inspiration. "Why, I'm the best littlegroom there is in three states. I could shine up those fat barebackhorses of yours till you'd take them for real plate glass."

  "Could you? I believe you could, and you're going to have a chance.Millie Gonzales' three mounts have been neglected of late."

  Millie Gonzales! Johnny caught his breath. He had gone fishing and caughta whale the first cast. Millie Gonzales was one of the three circus girlsat whose feet the diamond ring had dropped. Perhaps she was the one whohad picked it up; who held it among her possessions now. He would know.

  "When can I go to work?" he asked unsteadily.

  "Right now. I'll take you over to the stables. Stable boss'll give you asuit and some unionalls. You shape up the three and have 'em ready forMillie by two o'clock, in time for the grand parade."

  "Of all the luck!" Johnny whispered into the ear of a sleek, broad backedgray a half hour later. "To think that I should have fallen into this atthe very start! Perhaps Millie has it. Perhaps she's wearing it on one ofthose tapering fingers of hers at this very moment. Is she, old boy? Isshe?"

  The horse looked at him with eyes that said nothing.

  "You won't tell," Johnny bantered. "Well, then, I'll have to find out formyself. Come on, you two o'clock!"