“Why doesn’t the band play and quiet the rush?” asked Jack, who had read of such things being done in theatres when there was a fire panic. “That’s the stuff!” cried Sam. “Good idea! Come on, we’ll get over to the band-stand and tell the leader to strike up a tune. Come on!” He grasped Jack by the arm and half led, half dragged him through the press of people, who, every second, were becoming more and more unmanageable. “Sit down! Stand still! There’s no danger!” cried Mr. Paine, but all in vain. No one paid any attention to him. He even began pushing the people back, to prevent the rush against the bank of which Sam had spoken. He was only shoved to one side. The crowd wanted to get out, and that in the quickest manner possible. Just as Jack and Sam got near where the band was stationed (for the musicians had kept their places), one of the big centre poles began to sway. “That’s going to fall,” said Jack, in a low voice, to the head clown. “It’ll kill a lot of people if it does!” “Play! Play!” cried Sam frantically. “Play for all you’re worth, fellows! It’s the only way to stop the rush!” The band leader comprehended. He gave a signal and the men, who were rather alarmed at the signs of panic all about them, placed their instruments in position. Jack, with horror-stricken eyes, watched the swaying pole. Others were also looking at it. One man set up a hoarse shout, and more women screamed. Then, just as the band struck up a lively air, Jack saw Ike Landon, the boss canvasman, and several of his helpers spring from the centre of the middle ring toward the swaying pole. Would he be able to catch the slipping ropes in time, and hold them? The lives of many depended on him now. CHAPTER XXIII THE MAD ELEPHANT But Ike was equal to the emergency. With one motion, he had leaped to the foot of the swaying pole, which held up a great weight of wet canvas, and he had grabbed the rope which had slipped on account of the manner in which the tent swayed. “Come on, you fellows!” yelled Ike to his men. They came with a rush. The rope was slipping from the grasp of the head canvasman, but with the aid of his sturdy helpers he managed to hold it. They took a turn about a tent stake driven deep into the ground, and the fallen pole was held in place. “That was a close call,” whispered Sam to Jack. The boy clown nodded. He had had a glimpse of the dangers that beset a circus, and he had no liking for them. Only by a narrow margin had a terrible tragedy been averted. But now the band was playing. The crowd, that had seen the masterful manner in which Ike saved the pole from falling, was becoming quieter. The panic was dying away, though the storm was now fiercer than ever. The big tent withstood the blast, however, and the maddened throng, being turned back from rushing at the steep bank, swerved around and poured out of the main entrance and into the driving rain.