Then, to cap his performance, Jack caught up a couple of paper-covered hoops, or rings, similar to those through which some of the performers jumped from the backs of running horses. Holding these under his arms, like a pair of wings, he began to imitate a clumsy bird. He hopped up on a board that rested across a saw-horse, and, from that elevation, pretended to fly to the ground, but doing it so grotesquely that he stepped through both hoops and was all tangled up in them. This produced some hearty laughs, and one or two of the women performers applauded, for Ike had whispered to them what Jack’s trial meant. “Ha! Hum! Not so bad,” remarked the manager, though his voice was not very cordial. “That imitation flying was well done. That might be worked up. I think we can use another clown, as I’m one short. I’ll engage you, young man. You’ll get ten dollars a week, and your board, of course. Can you come right on the road?” “Yes, sir.” “Ha! Hum! Well, perhaps we can work you into shape. You need some practice, but it’s not so bad; it’s not so bad. You can consider yourself engaged. Report to Sam Kyle.” Jack could hardly believe his good luck. An hour before he had not known where his next meal was coming from. Now he was engaged as a clown in a large circus. CHAPTER XIII PLANNING AN ACT “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.