of the ‘queer’ they are peddling in these towns, and take my word, it’s a plenty. They are planting it thick. We’ve got to get ’em, and get ’em quick. Have you talked with Andy McQueen, the steam kettle cook, yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“Do it to-morrow. He may be important. And Johnny,” Pant leaned forward with an impressive gesture, “Johnny, watch your step. You’re in danger every moment. They may know you’re with me; probably do, and if they do, they’ll get you if they can. That’s all. Goodnight.”

Rising, he stretched himself like a cat, then went slouching away into the darkness.

For a long time Johnny lay there on the sand dreamily gazing into the fire. It was, indeed, a tangled web of mystery the unraveling of which he had let himself in for, and one which, as Pant had suggested, might at any moment suddenly break and let him down with an awful fall.

There was the ring. Gwen had it that morning; Millie had it two days before; perhaps Mitzi had it at this very moment. He was still surprised at himself because of his action of that morning. Well, he must have that ring. This, if for no other reason, must hold him to his surprising circus career. He wondered if Gwen were serious about the clown stunt and, if so, whether she would soon have it arranged. He thought again of Pant’s problem, and wondered for the hundredth time if he should have any part in its solving.

But the greatest mystery of all was the crimson flash. He had seen it leap down from the air and turn the tiger, loose in the big tent, blood red. He had seen it do the same thing in the animal tent. In his suggestion regarding the direction of the sun’s rays in the Arctic, Pant had intimated that rays of light could be made to follow crooked paths. If this could be done, if Pant held within his fertile brain the secret of this terrible power, what a wonderful fellow he was! How it would transform modern life, modern warfare! Trenches would be utterly useless once a light might be thrown upon them from any angle. Many things that were dark, secret and hidden in every day life would be clear as the light of day. What dark corner, what secret rendezvous, would be safe from the glare of those crooked rays of gleaming light?

Johnny pondered until his head whirled, then, rising and shaking himself, he made his way to the sleeping car in which he now bunked. The circus would soon be on its way to the next small city.

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