That night when Jack went to get his apparatus ready for his performance, he could not find the trained rooster, that was kept in a cage in a small tent with other animals used by the clowns. “Have you seen Pippo?” Jack asked the clown who had loaned him the bird. “Seen Pippo? Why, no. I told you to take care of him. I hope he isn’t lost.” “I put him in his cage, in here, just as you told me to, after the performance this afternoon,” replied Jack. “Now he’s gone.” “Yes, and the lock on the cage has been broken off,” declared the clown, when he had examined the small box, which was kept locked between performances. “I must tell Mr. Paine.” The manager was wrathful when informed of what had happened. “There’s some queer game going on in this show,” he exclaimed. “If I find out who’s responsible I’ll discharge him at once. Look around, Jack, and have some of the men help you. That’s a good part of the act, and I don’t want it spoiled. Maybe some one hid the rooster for a joke, though it won’t be very funny for him if I find out who it was.” Careful search was made for the rooster, but it was not to be found. It was getting close to the time of the performance when the living skeleton came in from the freak tent. “Where’s the old man?” he asked Jack, as Mr. Paine had gone to another part of the dressing-tent. “I don’t know. Why?” “Because the fat lady has kicked up a row, and she says she won’t go on exhibition. That’ll queer the show.” “What’s the matter with her?” asked Jack, not caring particularly, however, as he was anxious about his own act. “Why, there’s a rooster under the raised platform she sits on, and she’s superstitious about roosters. She’s afraid she’ll have bad luck.” “A rooster!” cried Jack. “I’ll get it! I’ll bet it’s the one I’m looking for!” He ran to the freak tent, the inmates of which knew nothing of the missing rooster. Lifting up the canvas side of the raised platform, upon which sat Madam Rosallie del Norto (stage name, her real one being Mrs. Susan McGinness), Jack saw the missing bird. No sooner was the canvas flap raised than the rooster began to crow. Doubtless it imagined it was in the regular cage on top of the airship, and was waiting for the falling of the sides. “Some one stole him out of the cage, and hid him here,” thought Jack, “and I believe I know who did it. Well, I haven’t time to do any investigating now, for I must get ready for my act. But I’ll tell Mr. Paine afterward.” Jack did not get a chance to inform the manager, however, for that night after his act, which went off successfully, there were hurried preparations for departure, as there was every indication of another storm. The performance was cut short, Mr. Paine going about the ring, urging the performers to hasten their acts. Jack only did his turn three times, instead of four.