“I guess so. How much?” “About ten feet.” “But that will make it nearly forty feet for you to jump. Won’t that be rather dangerous?” “I guess not. You see, the umbrella is a big one, and once it gets a lot of air under it, I’m held up, and I’ll come down slowly. Besides, it will make a better act. I can make it look more as if I was really flying.” “All right, I’ll do it. Did you ask Mr. Paine?” “Yes; and he said it would be all right. He likes the idea.” “Mr. Waddleton will have to get some new adjectives to put on the bills about you,” remarked the property man, with a laugh. “He thinks you’re quite an attraction. You’ve got Ted and some of the other clowns jealous. They’re at me all the while to get them up something so they can make a hit.” “Well, there’s nothing to stop them,” declared Jack. “I don’t care how many queer stunts they do.” “Me either; only I’m not going to think ’em out for ’em and then make ’em. I told ’em I’d make ’em if they’d tell me what they wanted, but they haven’t got brains enough to do that. They make me tired!” and the property man went on with his work of patching up a big sea serpent that one of the clowns used in an act. “I’ll make that platform higher for you to-morrow,” he said to Jack; “only you want to be careful how you jump off from such a height.” “I will,” said the young clown, and then he went into the tent to rest until the evening performance, for he was rather tired, as he had responded to several encores that afternoon. The platform, made ten feet higher, was ready for him the next day, when they opened in a good-sized city in Indiana. He got his flying machine in readiness, and it was carted out by a couple of the ring hands, for since Jack had made such a success he was given more attention by the manager, who detailed two men to help the lad, since the apparatus was now quite bulky to move about, though it was very light. Jack had made one or two changes in it, and had rigged up some United States flags on the top of the umbrella, the emblems being suddenly displayed by the pulling of a string as he began to sail downward. “Now, Jack,” said Sam Kyle, as the clowns ran out of the dressing-tent, in response to the trumpet signal, “let’s see how your improvement works. I expect you’ll sail all about the tent now.” “Hardly; but I can give a better exhibition, I think.” He climbed up to the top of the slender platform. Then, after his usual song and dance, he prepared to take his place on the seat of the flying machine. First, however, as was his custom, he carefully examined the umbrella, for it was on this he relied to save him from the effects of his high jump, the big Japanese affair acting as does a parachute when a man leaps from a balloon.