psychological moment. Yet he did not want to ask her. He was already enjoying her friendship, knew he would enjoy it more and more and did not wish to risk losing it. Then he thought of Pant and his problem. Perhaps she could aid them in solving that.

“Say,” she whispered suddenly, “what was that blood red light?”

“I, I don’t know,” Johnny replied.

“Wasn’t it spooky? Came from nowhere!”

“I don’t know how it was done,” said Johnny, “but someone was behind it—someone who evidently wanted to help you.”

The girl glanced at him sharply.

“No,” he smiled, “I didn’t do it. I’m not that much of a magician. But I’m not sure but that I know the person who did it.”

“Oh!” she gasped. “Will you find out and let me know?”

“If I can,” said Johnny, smiling once more.

“Oh!” she gasped again. “I owe that person a lot. The tiger would have got me for sure. I’d do a lot for him.”

“Would you?” asked Johnny.

“Of course I would.”

“You may have a chance some time.”

“How strangely you talk!”

“That’s all I can tell you now.”

He arose and, assisting her to her feet, walked with her to the flap of the ladies’ dressing tent; then bade her good-night.

“She’s a real sport!” he told himself. “Now I’ve got to make good at boxing the bear, even if it is a rotten job.”

CHAPTER X GWEN MEETS A “HAY MAKER”

Johnny Thompson did not relish giving boxing lessons. Like all true artists, he was more interested in doing things than in teaching others how to do them. Especially did he dislike giving lessons to women.

Johnny had his particular 

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