The woman told him.  It was Miss Susan Crawford.  The name meant nothing to Joe, though he afterward learned she was a member of an old, wealthy and aristocratic family.  She had had an unfortunate love affair, and, her family having all died, she made for herself a little apartment in one of her many buildings and lived there with her pets—­a recluse in the midst of a big city.  It was a pathetic story.

“I wish you would let me reward you in some way,” said Miss Crawford wistfully, as Joe left.  “You did so much, and you get nothing out of it.”

“Oh, yes I do,” returned the young acrobat.  “I’ll get a lot of advertising out of this, and it will be the best thing in the world for the circus.”

And Joe was right.  The next day the papers all carried big stories of his wire-walking feat to save the cat that had ventured out over the street and was afraid to go back.  Bigger crowds than ever came to the circus.

As she had promised, Miss Crawford was at the evening performance, and Joe introduced a little novelty in one of his “magic stunts,” producing a cat instead of a rabbit from a man’s pocket.  As he held it up he looked over and smiled at the old lady in black, for he had given her a seat near his stage.  She smiled back.

Joe never saw her again.  She was found dead a few months later in her lonely rooms, with her cats and dogs around her.  But Joe always remembered her.

The street wire-walking feat was the talk of the city, and when, the following day, Joe announced that he was ready to put on his fire act, which had been well advertised, every one was on figurative tiptoes to see what it would be.

Joe had made all his preparations, and he had taken care to provide against danger and accidents.  He realized the risk he was running in handling fire in a circus tent before crowds of people.  But extinguishers were provided, and one of the fire-fighting force of the circus was constantly on hand.

After the preliminary whistle of the ringmaster which ended the other acts and prepared for Joe’s new one, the young magician advanced to the platform and gave a little “patter.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “in introducing my new act I wish, first of all, to assure you that there is no danger.  Even though I seem to be in the midst of fire, do not be alarmed.  I shall be safe, and no harm will come to you.”

Joe did this to forestall a possible panic.

“You have all heard of the ancient salamanders,” he went on.  “It is reputed that this animal was able to live in the midst of fire.  As to the truth of that I can not say.  I never saw a salamander, that I know of.  But that fire may safely be handled by human beings, and not at the risk of being burned, I am about to demonstrate to you.  I shall first show you how to carry fire about in your hands, so that if you run short of matches at any time you will not lack means of igniting the gas, starting your kitchen range, or enjoying your smoke.  While the stage is being made ready for my main act, I will show you how to carry fire in your hands.”