“Are you grit for a swing?” pursued Thacher.

“Try me,” said Andy.

Thacher called over some further words to old Benares.  The latter at once swung down from his trapeze, holding on by his knees, both hands extended towards his partner.

“Do just as I say,” directed Thacher to Andy.  “Let me get you under the arms.  Double your knees up to your chin.  Can you hold yourself that way?”

“Yes,” assented Andy.

“Now!” spoke Thacher sharply.

The next instant the performer had dropped Andy in his clasp.  He had slipped an ankle halter to one of his own limbs.

This alone held him.  Head downward, he lightly swung Andy to and fro. 
Andy rolled up like a ball ready for the next move.

All this had consumed less than two minutes.  Now the audience believed Andy’s sensational appearance a regularly arranged feature of the performance.

The oddity of a boy in ordinary dress coming into the act, as Andy had done, excited the profoundest interest and attention.

The manager in the ring below stood like one petrified, puzzled beyond all comprehension.

The orchestra checked its music.  An intense strain pervaded.  The audience swayed, but that only.  There was a profound silence.

“One, two, three,” said Thacher, at intervals.

“Come,” answered old Benares.

At the end of a long, swift swing of his body, Thacher let go of Andy, who spun across a ten feet space that looked twenty to the audience below.  Andy felt a light contact, old Benares’ double grip caught under his arms.

The act was the merest novice trick analyzed by an expert, but it set the audience wild.

A prodigious cheer arose, clapping of hands, juvenile yells of admiration.  The band came in with a ringing march.  Old Benares righted himself, Andy with him.

“Su-paarb!” he said.  “Can you hold on alone—­one little minute?”

“Sure,” said Andy.

The trapezist reached up and untied the descending rope, secured it to the bar, and shouted to those standing below.

Two ring hands ran out into the sawdust, caught the other end, and held it perfectly taut.

“Can you slide down it?” asked Benares.

Andy’s eyes sparkled.

“Say, Mr. Benares,” he replied, “if I wasn’t rattled by all that crowd, I could do it head first.  I’ve done the regular, one leg drop, fifty times.”

“You are admirable—­an ex-paart!” declaimed old Benares.  “Who are you, anyway?”

“Only Andy Wildwood.  Do you think I could ever do a real circus act?”

“Do I think—­hear them yell!  You have made a hit.  Good boy.  Be careful.  Go.”

Andy essayed an old rope performance he had seen done once, and had many times practiced.

This was to secure one leg around the rope, throw himself outwards, fold his arms, and wind round and round the rope, slowly descending.