CHAPTER XXIX. – PORLER’S MOVE
Porler was angry enough to give Leo a good beating.
He struck at the boy as he sent him down to the ground, but the young gymnast avoided the blow.
Then Leo let out, and Porler received a blow on the nose.
This brought blood, and he grew more enraged than ever.
Like an eel Leo squirmed from his grasp, and panting the two faced each other.
“I’ll fix you!” howled Porler.
He ran to his trunk to get a weapon, for he was in his balloon costume, but suddenly stopped short.
“Where is he?”
He referred to Mart Keene, who had disappeared.
Fearful that the boy was running away, Porler forgot all about Leo for the time being and ran outside.
The young gymnast ran to his own tent and came out.
He saw Porler looking around anxiously.
The lad had certainly escaped.
“I hope he doesn’t find him,” thought Leo.
Porler whispered to his assistant, a man named Murphy, and the latter hurried off to ascertain, if possible, what had become of Mart.
Then Porler re-entered his tent. The band was playing and it was time for him to make his ascension.
He delayed as long as possible, but at last the crowd got impatient.
“A little hole in the balloon, that is all, gentlemen,” said Porler. “I am ready now.”
He did not dare to speak of Mart for fear an investigation would be started.
He came out, smiling falsely at the crowd, and walked over to where his balloon swayed in the air.
At a given signal the balloon shot up with Porler in the basket.
When the balloon was scarcely two hundred feet in the air Porler got out his parachute and leaped overboard.
As he came floating down he made several turns about the double handle of the parachute.
The crowd applauded this, for it was something new to them.
Leo saw the exhibition from a hole in the top of his tent, and smiled to himself.
“There are twenty balloonists in the United States who can do as good as that, and better,” he thought.
Porler had expected to make Mart go up with him.
The boy was to leave the balloon with him on the parachute, and then, when within fifty feet of the ground, fly away by himself on an immense pair of white wings filled with gas.
The band continued to play after Porler landed.
“Now for the circus balloonist!” was the cry.
A flourish from the band and Leo came running out.
He was dressed in a suit of white and gold. The gold sparkled in the sunshine and made a beautiful appearance, quite in contrast to Porler’s dirty costume of plain white and red.
“Let go!”
Up shot the circus balloon with a rush.
There was Leo, not in a basket, but clinging to a slender trapeze. A shout of approval arose.
Up and up went the balloon until it became to the human eye about as large as a dinner plate.
The young gymnast was making a great ascension.
As he went up he began to perform on the trapeze. He turned over and over and hung by his toes.
The crowd could scarcely believe its eyes. Porler was completely outdone.
At last both balloon and balloonist passed out of sight of those on the fair grounds.
Leo landed in a field several miles from the city.
He hired the farmers who came out to see what was the matter to help him pack up the balloon.
About an hour later Greson came along and the outfit was packed on a wagon and carted back to the circus grounds. When Leo came in for supper he found a note awaiting him.
It was from Mart Keene and ran like this:
“Dear Mr. Dunbar: I must thank you for your bravery and great kindness to me. I am alone in the world and need a friend. If you will help me, kindly call at the address given on the inclosed card.”
The young gymnast looked at the card. It bore the address of a boarding-house on a side avenue half a dozen blocks from the grounds.
He at once departed for the place.
CHAPTER XXX. – MART KEENE’S STORY
It did not take Leo long to reach the boarding-house advertised on the card.
“I wish to see Mart Keene,” he said to the lady who answered his summons.
“Oh, yes; please walk into the parlor.”
In a few minutes the lad came in.
He wore an old suit, one he had caught up when escaping from Porler. He blushed as he took Leo’s hand.
“You will have to excuse my appearance,” he said. “But you are aware it cannot be helped.”
“Yes, Mart, I understand it all. I am glad you escaped from Porler.”
“I must thank you for what you did for me,” went on Mart. “You are as brave as you are daring.”
“Don’t mention that, Mart. It was a pleasure to be of service to you. Let me know how I can serve you further.”
There was a silence, and the lad cast down his eyes.
“I must be frank with you,” he said at last. “I am without a friend in the world and likewise without a dollar.”
The young gymnast smiled faintly.
“My boy, allow me to contradict you,” he said. “Neither statement is true. I am your friend.”
The boy’s face lit up.
“I thought you would be my friend, you seemed so generous. And I wanted a small loan, so that I might get away from Mr. Porler. I never want to see that man again.”
“As I said before, what I have is at your service.”
“Will you loan me ten dollars?”
“Yes, and more. Here are twenty dollars. Accept them as a loan, to be paid back at any time that suits you.”
And Leo handed out the amount.
Mart blushed as he accepted the bills.
“I shall never forget you, never!” he murmured, and put the money away. “I will repay you as soon as I am able.”
“Be in no hurry. What are you going to do, if I may ask?”
“I am going to try to hunt up an uncle of mine,” said Mart. “If I can only find him, I think he will give me a home. If I am not mistaken, he is holding some property which belongs to me.”
“Where does your uncle live?” questioned Leo with interest.
“That I do not know. I will have to advertise for information, I presume.”
“Up-hill work, that. What is your uncle’s name?”
“Daniel Hawkins.”
“Daniel Hawkins,” repeated Leo, leaping to his feet in astonishment.
“Yes. Why, you act as if you knew him,” returned Mart.
“Know him? Well, I rather guess I do,” returned the young gymnast bitterly.
“Oh, I am so glad!”
“And I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Why?”
“You need expect nothing from your uncle, Mart.”
“Oh, don’t say that!” and the boy grew pale.
“I might as well be plain with you, even if it does hurt. There is no use in building up false hopes.”
“You must know my uncle well.”
“I worked for him for a long while – he acted as if he owned me. He is a miserable skinflint, nothing less. If you go to him he will work you to death and treat you worse than a slave. He never lets up on anybody, not even his own relations.”
And then and there Leo sat down again and told his story – how he had slaved for the farmer and run away and become a professional circus performer.
Mart listened with interest, his face growing paler as he proceeded.
“You are right; I have nothing to expect from him, even though he was my mother’s own half-brother.”
“Won’t you tell me your story?” asked Leo.
“Willingly, if you care to listen to it.”
And then Mart told how he had been an orphan for ten years. His father had been an actor and his mother a comic-opera singer.
“The Hawkinses never had much to do with us after mother went on the stage,” he said. “That is how I lost track of my uncle.”
Then he told of his mother’s death in New Orleans and how he had been cast out on the streets by an old woman with whom they boarded. He had danced down in the French quarter, and there Porler had picked him up.
“He promised me so many things that I went with him willingly,” he said. “But it was a great mistake.”
The two talked matters over for a long while – until nearly midnight – and then Leo made a proposition.
“I am sure you will not find living with Daniel Hawkins agreeable,” he said. “So I am going to make you an offer. If you wish to travel with the circus I will try to arrange it for you. I think I can get you a place at eight or ten dollars a week to go up in the balloon with me.”
“Thank you; I’d like that,” replied Mart Keene.
CHAPTER XXXI. – A FALL FROM THE CLOUDS
The next day Leo lost no time in interviewing Adam Lambert concerning Mart.
“He is clever and will in time make a good acrobat and balloonist,” he said.
The matter was talked over, and that afternoon Mart joined the “Greatest Show on Earth” on trial. He was to assist Leo in the balloon, Larry Greson having now to spend much of his time with Professor Ricardo, who was worse in health.
A week later found the circus in Denver. In the meantime nothing had been heard of Porler, but one night Leo came face to face with him.
The balloonist scowled and was about to speak, but suddenly changed his mind and walked away.
“You must be on guard against that man,” said Leo to Mart.
“I will be,” was the reply.
The ascension from the circus grounds in Denver attracted great attention.
When the time came for the balloon to go up Leo and Mart entered the basket.
Up and up went the great monster, gayly decorated on every side.
Below hung several swinging bars and a rope ladder.
Mart began to perform on the ladder, while the young gymnast leaped from one trapeze to another.
It was a marvelous sight, and the crowd went wild with enthusiasm.
But suddenly, when the balloon was well up over the buildings near by, a cry of horror arose.
A man was seen to lean out of a window not far away.
He held a rifle in his hand, and the weapon was pointed at the balloon.
Crack!
The weapon spoke and the ball pierced the silken sides of the floating monster.
Leo heard the sound of the rifle and he at once felt that something was wrong.
Suddenly Mart Keene gave a cry of terror.
“Oh, Mr. Dunbar, look out. There is a man in one of the buildings who is aiming a gun at the balloon!”
Crack!
The rifle spoke again, and the people, looking upward, saw Leo make a leap.
The trapeze had been struck.
Leo had leaped to where hung his parachute.
He caught it with his left hand.
Down he came, the parachute in his grasp.
The catch gave way and out shot the ribs of the parachute, and the young gymnast’s headlong flight to earth was stayed.
A cheer went up.
“He is safe!”
The crowd gathered around to where Leo had reached the earth, in the center of a field of grass.
“He was struck!”
“Is he badly hurt?”
The youth lay unconscious on the grass, his face as pale as a sheet.
A few thought him dead, and the report that he had been killed quickly circulated.
The police ran into the building in search of the rascal who had done the firing, but could not find their man.
Taking advantage of the excitement, Porler, for it was he, had left the grounds as fast as possible.
He knew that if caught the crowd might be incensed enough to lynch him on the spot.
Luckily two physicians were present, and both hurried to Leo’s side.
It was found that he was suffering quite a little from his fall.
An ambulance was summoned, and the young gymnast was conveyed to a hospital.
Here he was given every attention, and by the following morning he felt nearly as well as ever, although his breast was still sore and had to be kept tightly bandaged.
In the meanwhile the balloon had sailed away from the fair grounds with Mart clinging to the ropes.
The boy was terribly frightened over what had occurred.
He became faint and felt for a minute that he must fall from his lofty perch.
But he recovered and held fast, and thus the balloon drifted far away.
He imagined the man who had fired the shots was Porler, but was not certain.
On and on went the balloon over the city, and then across a wide stretch of farming land.
Finally it began to settle in a neighborhood full of brush and trees.
Mart looked out anxiously, and it was with much satisfaction that he saw the balloon was about to fall in a cleared spot, where no damage would come to it, and from which he could easily escape.
Down and down came the monster, until it touched the ground as lightly as would a drifting feather.
The lad leaped away to escape the great mass of falling silk and ropes. Soon the balloon lay a flat mass where it had struck.
Mart wondered if it would be safe to leave the thing until some one came for it.
Usually Greson attended to such matters, but now he might have his hands full with Leo Dunbar.
As Mart thought of Leo his eyes filled with tears.
He thought a good deal of his champion.
He was the first person in the world who had really befriended him.
“Oh, I hope he isn’t seriously hurt!” he murmured to himself.
While he stood by the fallen balloon wondering what was best to do he heard the sound of wagon wheels.
They came from a country road a few hundred feet to his right.
“It must be Greson or one of the others coming for the balloon,” he said to himself.
The wagon came to a stop, and he ran forward to meet the newcomer that he might inquire about Leo.
Then of a sudden his heart seemed to stop beating.
The man approaching from the wagon was Porler!
CHAPTER XXXII. – MART A PRISONER
Mart was nearly dumfounded.
It was so unexpected, this meeting, that he was almost too paralyzed to move.
He gave a faint cry of alarm. Porler heard it and looked in his direction.
“Ah, so there you are!” he sang out. “I thought I would find you somewhere in the vicinity!”
He ran toward the lad.
Instinctively Mart turned to flee.
“Stop!” he cried. And he made after the boy at a greater speed.
Mart did not answer him, but ran the faster.
But the boy was no match for the old balloonist, who in his day had been a swift runner.
He kept gaining on Mart, and seeing this, the lad ran toward a clump of bushes.
Mart dived into the midst of these, and thus managed to get out of his sight.
“You can’t escape me,” cried Porler in a rage. “You might as well stop right where you are.”
Mart made no reply, but kept on.
Presently he came to a tall tree.
This gave him an idea. Mart could climb like a monkey, and up the tree he went with great speed.
When Porler reached the spot he was out of sight, and the old balloonist went on.
“Oh, how I hope he will go far enough away,” said Mart to himself.
Soon he could hear no more of Porler.
Thinking him gone, he cautiously descended the tree.
Barely had his feet touched the ground than he felt a rough hand on his shoulder.
“I thought you were here,” cried the old balloonist in his harsh tone. “You can’t get away from me now, Mart Keene.”
“Let me go!” he panted. “Don’t you dare touch me!”
“Touch you? Well, I guess that’s cool. As if you didn’t belong to me!”
“I don’t belong to you. You haven’t the first claim on me.”
“We’ll see about that. Didn’t I take you out of the street and feed and clothe you, and – ”
“Made me work like a horse to pay for it,” finished the boy. “You have got more out of me than I ever cost you, ten times over, so there!”
“You’ll come along with me – willingly or unwillingly,” growled Porler. “Give me your hand.”
He tried to catch hold of Mart. He snatched his arm away.
Filled with rage, he struck the lad a cruel blow full in the face.
It staggered Mart, and he nearly went to the ground.
Then he picked Mart up and put him over his shoulder.
At once the boy began to scream for help.
“Shut up!” growled Porler.
For reply Mart screamed louder.
Then Porler threw him down, poured some chloroform he had in a bottle on his handkerchief and applied it to Mart’s nose.
The boy struggled vainly for a few minutes and then became limp in his arms.
“Ah, that did the business,” Porler murmured to himself. “Glad I brought the chloroform along.”
He took Mart to his carriage and placed him inside, covering him with several robes.
When Mart came to his senses he found himself in a little room. The door was locked and the one window was nailed up tightly. He was a close prisoner.
The boy had been placed on a cot in the corner, and now sat up and gazed around in bewilderment.
“Where am I?” he thought.
Then the full realization of what had happened burst upon the boy, and he gave way to tears.
“That bad man! What does he intend to do with me?”
Hour after hour went by and no one came to Mart.
There was a pitcher of water in the room and a loaf of bread, both on a stand close at hand.
He drank some of the water, but could not eat.
He knew it was night. Slowly the hours dragged by until morning.
Not long after this the door was unlocked and Porler came into the room.
“Awake, are you?” he said. “Hope you slept well.”
“You monster!” Mart cried. “What are you going to do with me?”
“I’ll tell you. I am going to make you promise on your bended knees that you will travel with me as you used to do, and obey all my commands.”
“I’ll never promise anything like that,” exclaimed Mart, recoiling with horror.
“You will, or else – ” The old balloonist paused.
“Or else what?”
“I will keep you here, and starve you into submission.”
CHAPTER XXXIII. – LEO TO THE RESCUE
Leo’s first care, after leaving the hospital, was to ask about Mart.
He was astonished to learn at the hotel at which the party was stopping that nothing had been seen of the lad since the balloon had left the exhibition grounds.
Greson had gone for the balloon late the day before.
“Found the balloon all right, but didn’t see a single trace of the boy,” said the assistant.
“That is queer,” mused Leo. “Can it be that he tumbled down in some out-of-the-way place and was killed?”
He at once learned the course the balloon had taken, and then got a buggy and horse and went over every inch of the ground.
A little later he found himself at the spot where the balloon had come down.
He walked around in much perplexity.
If Mart had escaped injury, where was he?
“All this must be Porler’s work,” said the young gymnast to himself. “I would just like to come across that man.”
Satisfied that nothing was to be gained by remaining near the woods, Leo started back to the road.
In doing this he came across the bottle which had contained the chloroform Porler had used.
He picked up the bottle and smelled of what remained in it.
“My gracious!”
Like a flash the truth burst upon him.
“It’s that rascal’s work! He fired on me, and then came out here after Mart. He has abducted the boy!”
As we know, Leo was partly right and partly wrong.
The young gymnast realized that if he was to act he must do so without delay.
It made him very angry to think of the young lad being in the old balloonist’s power.
That he would ill-use Mart he felt certain.
From where he had found the bottle Leo traced Porler’s footsteps to the carriage.
The marks of the carriage wheels were still fresh and they ran straight into the city.
On the pavements they were, of course, lost.
Leo was in a quandary.
He told Greson of what he had discovered, and then both of them began a systematic search for Mart.
Greson started from where the carriage had entered the city.
The young gymnast went to the exhibition grounds and attempted to trace up the man who had fired the shots at the balloon.
From one and another the young gymnast was able to trace up Porler to a third-rate boarding-house on one of the side streets.
He was about to enter the place when he saw a fellow named Danny Murphy, who was Porler’s assistant, leaving in a great hurry.
“Perhaps he is going to join Porler at some place where Mart is being kept,” said Leo to himself. “I’ll follow him.”
And follow Murphy he did.
All unconscious of being watched, Porler’s tool walked half a dozen blocks until he came to the residence in which Mart was kept a close prisoner. He walked around to the rear through an alleyway.
Close behind him, Leo heard him give a peculiar knock on the door.
A moment passed and Murphy was admitted. The back door was locked and bolted after him.
When the door had been opened Leo had caught a momentary glimpse of Porler’s face.
“That settles it,” he thought. “Mart is kept a prisoner right here.”
Leo had armed himself, and now he walked to one of the kitchen windows.
He opened the blinds. The window itself was locked, but bringing out his pocketknife he shoved back the catch.
Another moment and the lower sash was raised and the young gymnast leaped into the house.
He did not care if his enemies were present. He was prepared to fight, if need be.
But, as he surmised, the lower floor of the residence was deserted.
With cautious steps Leo left the kitchen and walked toward the stairs leading to the next floor.
As he did so he heard the murmur of voices from above.
He went up and listened with strained ears.
“Mr. Porler, starve me or not, I will never do as you wish.”
It was Mart who was speaking.
“And I say you will do so,” growled Porler.
“That’s right,” put in Murphy. “Make the boy toe the mark.”
“I will not only starve you,” went on Porler, “but I will give you a taste of your old friend, the strap.”
“You will not dare to touch me!” exclaimed the lad.
“Wait and see.”
“My friend, Mr. Dunbar, will have the law on you for it.”
“Dunbar will never help you again.”
“I think he will.”
The voice came from the doorway, and the three in the room found themselves confronted by Leo.