PROFESSOR KLOPPER APPEARS
“That’s the stuff!” cried Mr. Paine, running up to where Jack was
getting out of the collapsed airship. This was the first the boy knew
that the manager had been watching him. But there was very little
that escaped the “old man.” “You’re doing good,” the manager went on.
“Quick, now, on the other side. The people there are wondering what
it’s all about. Here,” he cried to several men, “help get this platform
over by the box and press seats. This is a good stunt!”
Jack was proud and happy. Of course he had higher ambitions than being
a circus clown, but while he was in that rôle he was going to do his
best. Besides, he wanted to earn all the money he could, so that he
might go and search for his father and mother, and he hoped that if he
did well his salary might be increased.
“Do the same thing over here,” said Mr. Paine. “Make it as funny as
you can. It’s a hit, all right. Ha! Hum! It’s not so bad! It’s not so
bad!” which was praise indeed from Mr. Paine.
Jack repeated his act, and was applauded louder than ever. Then he had
to go to the far end of the tent, where the ordinary seats were. There
he was well received, the final collapse of the aeroplane apparently
affording the best amusement of all.
“Down at the other end now,” ordered the manager, who seemed to be
keeping an eye on Jack. Though the boy did not know it, managers of
shows, whether they be circuses or theatrical performances, are always
on the lookout for novelties, and they are only too willing to advance
young players who show that they can stand out above the average, and
gain the plaudits of the crowd, which is all, save the ticket receipts,
that a manager usually cares about.
Just as Jack was getting up on his platform for his last airship
performance, Ted Chester, who was creating some amusement by his antics
with the miniature automobile, came along.
“You’re not going to do your act here!” he exclaimed to Jack.
“Yes, I am,” replied our hero boldly.
“I say you’re not! I’m going to show here, and I’m not going to have
you butting in. Clear out of here!”
“Mr. Paine sent me here.”
“I don’t care whether he did or not. I say I’m going to do my turn
here, and you can’t. You’re always around bothering me, and I won’t
stand for it!”
“I’m going to do my act here,” declared Jack. “I was told to by the
manager.”
“I don’t care whether you were or not.”
“Besides, the platform is erected here now,” went on the young clown,
“and the men have gone. I can’t move it.”
“Then cut your act out. You’re not going to spoil mine.”
“That’s right. Make him quit,” advised Mitz, the ringmaster, who had
just finished putting several horses through their paces, and who was
retiring to the dressing-tent. “Make him quit the show,” he added.
Jack looked at him apprehensively, but the ugly ringmaster had been
taught a lesson. He did not flick his whip at the boy.
The young clown hesitated. He did not know whether to ignore Ted and go
on with his act, or appeal to Mr. Paine, who was at the far side of the
ring, making an announcement about a young woman who did a “loop the
gap” act in an automobile.
But there was an unexpected diversion in Jack’s favor. Sam Kyle, in his
progress around the big ring, had seen that something was amiss. It
was his duty to settle disputes among the clowns, and he often had to
do so, as, since these performers had no regular place for their acts,
one frequently would appear in the same spot where a fellow-actor was
showing off.
“What’s the matter?” asked Sam, as he approached.
“He’s butting in on me,” replied Ted, in surly tones.
“That’s what he is,” added the ringmaster.
“This is none of your affair,” declared Sam to the man in the
dress-suit. “I think I can settle it. Go on with your act, Jack,” he
said.
“And spoil mine?” demanded Ted.
“You’ve already been on four times this afternoon,” said the head
clown. “I’ve been keeping watch of you. This will make your fifth act.
Four’s all you’re allowed unless I say so, and I don’t. Go on, Jack.”
“But I----” began Ted.
“Cut it out,” advised Sam. “I haven’t time to listen to you, but let me
tell you one thing, if you interfere again with Jack, and make trouble,
I’ll have you fired, that’s what I’ll do! And you know I’m a man of my
word, and that I can do as I say,” he added significantly. “Take your
auto and get out of the ring. Jack has a good act, and he’s entitled to
the credit of it.”
“I’ll--I’ll----” spluttered Ted, who was very angry.
“Don’t you threaten me!” exclaimed Sam. “I’ve told you what to do, and
I want you to do it!”
Ted had no choice but to obey, though he did it with no very good
grace. Jack prepared for his act, while the ringmaster, who had been
too busy before to notice, looked on sneeringly. He was a great chum
of Ted, and for this reason, more than because he had any reason to
dislike Jack, he had a grudge against our hero.
The airship act went off well, the applause at the last attempt being
louder than any that had preceded it. Jack felt very proud.
He repeated his success that evening, and he was more than gratified
when Mr. Paine, seeking him out at the close of the show, announced
that his wages would be raised to fifteen dollars a week.
“I’ll soon get to China at that rate,” thought Jack, for, since he had
to spend nothing for board, he could save nearly all his salary.
With practice, Jack became more proficient in odd little parts, until
in about two weeks he was one of the best attractions of the ring. His
act was mentioned on the bills, though he was given no name, for he had
not yet arisen to be a star of that magnitude.
Meanwhile the circus was traveling about from city to city, and Jack
was becoming accustomed to the free and easy life, though it had its
drawbacks, especially in a storm.
“Where do we show to-morrow?” asked the boy of Sam, one night when they
were in the sleeping car.
“Northrup is the next stop.”
“Northrup? That’s not far from where I live--or used to live,” he
added, as he thought rather sadly that he had no real home now. “Maybe
I’ll see some of the boys from Westville,” he went on.
Jack was strolling about the next morning, after a good breakfast,
watching the men put up the big tent, an operation of which he never
tired. There was the usual crowd of boys looking on, and our hero
glanced among them for the possible sight of some one he might know.
Often, when he was younger, he had gone from Westville to Northrup to
see the circus come in. But he saw no familiar faces, and was turning
to go back to the dressing-tent, for it was nearly time to get ready
for the street parade, when he was startled by hearing a voice ask of
one of the canvasmen:
“Is this Bower & Brewster’s circus?”
“Sure thing,” replied the man shortly.
“Thank you, my man. I am looking for a certain person, and I heard he
was with this show.”
Jack’s heart almost stopped beating. He knew that voice only too well.
It was that of Professor Klopper. And a guarded look at the man who
had asked the question showed the boy that he was right.
Hidden behind a tent-pole wagon, Jack peered cautiously out, and beheld
the figure of his former guardian, stern and forbidding, looking about
him.
“He’s after me,” thought Jack. “What shall I do? I’ll never let him
arrest me. I must hide! No, I know a better plan than that,” he added
to himself. “I’ll make up in my clown outfit. He’ll never know me then,
even if he does see me. But I’ll take precious good care to keep out of
his sight.”