He ventured a brief swing on the frail strip of canvas. As it finally
tore free in his hand, Andy dropped it. He had got his momentum,
however. It was to swing sideways and down. The next instant Andy was at
the side of Thacher. One hand caught and held to a rope of the trapeze.
There Andy anchored, resting one knee on the edge of the performing bar.

"You're a good one!" muttered the trapezist in wonder. "Don't get
rattled, now."

"Not while I've got my grip. Say," projected Andy, "I'm sorry to
interrupt the performance, but it's a matter of life or death."

"Eh?" uttered Thacher in a puzzled way. "What's up?"

"Do you know a man named Murdock?"

"Ring man, fired last week. Yes. What of it?"

"Do you know a man named Daley?"

"Fired, too--for drinking. I took his place on this team."

"They hate you. They have plotted to disable you. The trapeze
yonder--Murdock has cut the ropes, secured the bar with thread, and the
slightest touch will send a performer to the ring with broken limbs."

"What! Are you crazy or fooling? Doped the rigging? Why, that's murder,
kid!"