“SAY,” remarked Ike Landon, when Jack had made his way through the little ring of performers, “you did better than I thought you would. The old man—I mean the boss—is mighty hard to please. If you attend strictly to business now, there’s no reason why you can’t become a first-class performer.”
“I’m going to try,” said Jack. “I need the money for a particular purpose, for I’m determined to locate my folks if I can. I’ll do my best.”
“I’ll tell Sam to give you a few pointers. He knows the business from A to Z, backwards and forwards, and he isn’t jealous of a new performer like lots of ’em in this game. You stick to Sam and you’ll be all right.”
“Do you suppose I can perform to-night?” asked Jack.
“I don’t know. Maybe so. Ask Sam.”
Jack found the head clown eating his early supper in the big dining-tent.
“Sit down and eat with me,” invited Mr. Kyle, when Ike had related the result of the runaway’s trial. “I don’t like to cut up capers on a full stomach,” he went on, “so I eat early. Well, I hear you made good.”
“Mr. Paine seemed to like what I did, though I don’t know that it was very funny,” replied Jack modestly.
“It’s not so easy to make people laugh,” spoke the old clown. “I’ve known elaborate acts to fall as flat as a pancake, and, again, some simple little thing would bring roars of laughter. It all depends on how it’s done. I’ve been at it forty years, and I’ve still got things to learn.”
“Do you think it’s a good thing to have a specialty?” asked Jack, as he began to eat of the plain but wholesome food which a waiter set before him.
“The best thing in the world. My specialty is taking the part of animals, and I may say I’ve been quite successful. If you can get up a novel act, something that’s up-to-date, and which will hit the popular fancy, you’re all right.”
Mr. Kyle spoke quite seriously, and it seemed rather odd to see him thus, when Jack remembered what a queer figure he had presented while in the ring, attired as a big rooster.
“I was thinking of getting up some special act,” said Jack.
“What was it?” asked Sam quickly. “You want to be careful of one thing,” he went on. “Don’t try to imitate any of the other clowns. If you do they’ll get down on you. Besides, one act of a kind is enough. What were you thinking of trying?”
“I thought some stunt that had to do with a flying machine wouldn’t be bad,” replied Jack. “You know there’s so much of that going on now that the public is interested. I might get up something to look like an airship, pretend to fly in it, and come tumbling down. Do you think that would take?”
“It might. At any rate, it wouldn’t be any harm to try.”
“I was wondering how I could get a make-believe airship made.”
“Why, Pete Delafield, the property man, will help you out if you ask him. He makes all the things the other clowns and I use in our acts. Of course you can’t get it for to-night, though.”
“Oh, no, I don’t expect to. I’ll have to plan it out, and think up how I’m going to act. Where can I find Mr. Delafield?”
“I’ll take you to him after we finish eating. You’ll go on to-night, won’t you?”
“Mr. Paine didn’t say anything about it, but I’d like to, if you think I’m good enough.”
“Well, it won’t much matter at night. You can go out in the ring when I go, and do your stunt. Even if the audience doesn’t laugh at you, you’ll gain confidence, so when you’re ready with your airship act you’ll not be afraid.”
“That will be a good idea,” replied Jack. “I’m much obliged to you.”
“That’s all right. I’ll go with you to Pete Delafield in a minute.”
While Mr. Kyle was finishing his second cup of coffee, a stout man, whose manner at once proclaimed that he was inclined to be nervous and fussy, approached.
“I say, Sam,” he began. “What do you think of this? ‘A Death-Defying Double Dive Down a Dangerous, Darksome, Decapitated Declivity.’ That’s to advertise the new bicycle ride down a broken incline, which we’re going to spring next week. How does that sound to you?”
“I’d say ‘descent’ instead of ‘dive,’” suggested Mr. Kyle. “There’s no water in it, is there?”
“No, but I might have ’em put a tank under it. But I guess you’re right. I’ll change it,” and he hurried away, writing as he went on a bit of paper, and murmuring to himself: “Death-Defying Descent Down,” etc. Jack looked at the head clown, as if asking who the man was.
“That’s Nolan Waddleton, our adjective man,” said Mr. Kyle.
“The adjective man?”
“Yes. He gets up all the big words to describe the special acts and attractions. Maybe he’ll be putting yours in big type on the posters some day.”
“Not much hope of that.”
“You never can tell, my boy. You may make a big hit. I hope you do. But come on, now, we’ll go see the property man.”
Jack was introduced to Mr. Delafield, who agreed to make Jack as good an imitation of a small airship as possible, provided the boy would describe what he wanted.
“I’ll have it for you the middle of next week,” he said. “I’ve got to make a fake automobile for Ted Chester,” he added to Mr. Kyle.
“Is Ted going to do an auto stunt?” asked the head clown. “That’s pretty stale now.”
“Well, Ted thinks he can freshen it up. It’s none of my affair. I’m here to obey orders.”
“That’s so, but I don’t believe Ted will make a hit with an auto. He had one last season, and the people are sort of getting tired of them.”
“That’s what I say, but you can’t convince Ted.”
“No, I suppose not. Well, Jack, come on over to my tent, and I’ll give you a few pointers about to-night. I want to see you make good,” and the kind old clown led our hero over to the rehearsing tent, a part of which was screened off for his own use.