es in their hands on
high trapezes, cannot afford to live a riotous life, even for one
night. Their nerves would be shattered for days to come, and once a
performer's nerve is gone he is useless to himself and to others. But
Joe was not going to waste his money on even an ordinary supper for the
crowd.

"But I sure do hate to be called a tight-wad," he mused, "especially
when I don't deserve it."

However, he seemed to have acquired that reputation unwittingly.
Several times after that he heard sneering remarks directed toward
himself, and once or twice some laughing reference was made to the
"blow-out" he was going to give.

Joe flushed at these slurs, but he did not give in.

CHAPTER XIV

HELEN IS WORRIED

Joe Strong stood in a secluded part of the circus lot early one morning
before breakfast. The show had reached the place only a little while
before, there having been a delay because of a slight accident. Most of
the performers, with increased appetites, were wending their way to the
dining tents, but Joe, with coat and vest off, with shoulders thrown
back and head held high in the air, was taking in long breaths and
expelling them again to the utmost capacity of his lungs.

"What in the world are you doing, Joe?" asked Helen, who was on her way
to breakfast. "Are you trying to rival Mr. Jefferson when he breaks a
chain on his chest?" for this was one of the feats of the strong man.

"Hardly that," laughed Joe, as he let out a long breath.

"Then what are you doing?"

"Practising deep breathing for my tank work. I'm going to try for the
four-minute record to-day."

"Are you really?" Helen was much interested.

"I don't say I'm going to do it," went on Joe, for he was anything but
boastful. "But this seems a good day to make the attempt. It's clear
and crisp after the rain, and I seem to be able to hold my breath
longer on a day like this than when it's warm and muggy. So I thought
I'd get in a little early practice before I got too loggy with a big
breakfast."

"A good idea," Helen said. "I'll wait for you and we'll eat together."

"Thanks," remarked Joe. "But I'll be ten minutes yet, and your appetite
may not stand such a delay."

"Oh, yes, it will," laughed Helen. "I'll run over and see how Rosebud
is while you finish your practice," and she turned toward the horse
tent where her trick pet was contentedly munching his breakfast of
oats.

Joe practised faithfully, for he had made up hi