Then the band on the wagon struck up, the steam calliope began to play, and the parade started. Soon the procession was in the midst of the streets of a fair-sized city. Jack, doing as he saw Sam and the other clown do, blew as loudly as possible on his trumpet. The grotesque music raised many a laugh, as did the funny antics of the clowns. At times some of them stood up and made elaborate bows, as if in answer to applause, while others did little dance steps. But Jack sat silent, save when he blew the trumpet. He was beginning to see the darker side of the circus life. “Be a little livelier,” whispered the clown next to him. “There’s no telling when the old man is watching.” By the “old man” was meant Manager Paine, though no disrespect was intended by this title. Thus urged, Jack tried to be gay and to cut some of his funny tricks, but it was with no light heart. He realized now what it meant to have to amuse a crowd when one felt the least like it. He was glad when the parade was over and he could go back to the circus grounds. Sam told him he could take off his clown dress and wash up, as it would be several hours until the afternoon performance. “A good dinner will make you feel better,” said the head clown to the boy, for he understood how the lad felt, as he had heard Jack’s story and had taken an unusual liking to him. Our hero did feel better after the meal, and he looked forward, with something akin to real pleasure, to the performance in which he was to take part. The big tent was up now, and was gay with many-colored flags and banners. Jack strolled around to the side shows, and was amused in getting a near view of the freaks, for he was a privileged character now. “Well, boy, I’ll have that flying machine for you sooner than I expected,” said a voice at his elbow, and he turned to see Mr. Delafield, the property man. “I was speaking to Mr. Paine about it, and he thinks it a good idea. I’ll have it for you the first of the week. We strike Stewartsville then, and that’s quite a town. Suppose you come over to my tent and we’ll take a look at what I’ve got done. Maybe you can suggest something.” This gave a new turn to Jack’s thoughts. He found that the property man had carried out his ideas exactly, for Jack had made a rough sketch of what he wanted to introduce into his act. The flying machine consisted of a big muslin bag, shaped like a cigar, and held distended by barrel hoops. This was to make it look as if filled with gas. Above it was a big Japanese umbrella, while below it was a sort of harness, holding a seat, which Jack could sit astride of. On either side were big, tough paper-covered wings, working on hinges, and they could be operated by his feet. The handle of the big umbrella extended down through the distended muslin bag, so that Jack could grasp it with both hands.