bars fixed to a true level.

On this point there have been endless arguments, and many persons have
contended that acrobats must imagine all this, since the upward or
downward slope of the ground under a trapeze can in no way affect the
movement of that trapeze. I fancy the wisdom of such people is like that
of the professors who proved some years ago that it is a physical
impossibility for a ball-player to "pitch a curve." There is no doubt
that trapeze performers are obliged to take serious account of the
ground's slope in their daily work, to note carefully the amount of
slope and the direction of slope, and to take their precautions
accordingly. If they did not they would fail in their feats. Those are
the facts to which all acrobats bear witness, let scientists explain
them as they may.

"Suppose the ground slopes to one side or the other under your trapeze,"
I asked Ryan, one day. "How does that affect you?"

"It draws you down the slope, and makes your bar swing that way."

"What do you do about it?"

"Sometimes I pull the bar over a little in starting, so as to balance
the pull of the hill; but that's uncertain. It's better to fix the
rigging so that the bar is a little higher on the downhill side."

Ryan said that a straight-ahead downhill slope is the worst for a man,
because he is apt to hold back too hard, being afraid of bumping into
his partner, and so he doesn't get send enough, and falls short of his
mark.

"But all slopes are bad for us," he said, "and we try hard to get our
things put up over level ground."

This is but one instance of the jealous care shown by acrobats for their
bars and rigging. These things belong not to the circus, but to the
individual performers, who put every brace and knot to the severest
test. For the high bars a particular kind of hickory is used with a core
of steel inside. Every mesh of the net must resist a certain strain. The
bars themselves must be neither too dry nor too moist. The light must
come in a certain way, and a dozen other things. Many an accident has
come through the failure of some little thing.

This much is certain, that acrobats often suffer without serious injury
falls that would put an end to ordinary men. Like bareback riders, they
_know how to fall_, this art consisting chiefly in "tucking up" into a
ball and hardening the muscles so that the shock is eased. Also they
have by practice acquired the power of deciding instantly how to make
the