CHAPTER XVIII
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.”