manager had stepped briskly out into the ring.

In great wonderment he stood gazing aloft. The audience swayed, and a
general murmur filled the air. Many pointed upwards. Some arose from
their seats, craning their necks in excitement.

The orchestra dropped the music to low, undecided notes. Puzzled
spectators wondered if the strange appearance above was part of some new
novelty change in the programme.

Andy clung to the dangling strip of canvas for dear life. The trapezist,
Thacher, stared at him in profound astonishment. He was about to speak,
to demand an explanation, when there was a second ripping sound.

"Look out!" cried Thacher sharply.

Andy saw what was happening. The canvas strip that had torn free
lengthwise was now splitting its breadth.

In another moment a mere filament of cloth would hold Andy suspended. He
must act, and act quickly, or take a plunge sixty feet down.

Andy did not lose his presence of mind. Just the same as if he was on
the rafters of the old barn at home, or practicing on a rope strung from
two high tree tops, as had been many a time the case, he calculated his
chances and set his skill at work.

He ventured a brief swing on the frail strip of canvas. As it finally
tore free in his hand, Andy dropped it. He had got his momentum,
however. It was to swing sideways and down. The next instant Andy was at
the side of Thacher. One hand caught and held to a rope of the trapeze.
There Andy anchored, resting one knee on the edge of the performing bar.

"You're a good one!" muttered the trapezist in wonder. "Don't get
rattled, now."

"Not while I've got my grip. Say," projected Andy, "I'm sorry to
interrupt the performance, but it's a matter of life or death."

"Eh?" uttered Thacher in a puzzled way. "What's up?"

"Do you know a man named Murdock?"

"Ring man, fired last week. Yes. What of it?"

"Do you know a man named Daley?"

"Fired, too--for drinking. I took his place on this team."

"They hate you. They have plotted to disable you. The trapeze
yonder--Murdock has cut the ropes, secured the bar with thread, and the
slightest touch will send a performer to the ring with broken limbs."

"What! Are you crazy or fooling? Doped the rigging? Why, that's murder,
kid!"

"They have done it just the same. Listen."

Faster than he had ever talked before Andy told of the conversation he
had overheard in the old hay barn. He hurriedly recited his failure in
reaching the manager. H