Jack, however, remained in his clown suit, with the coloring matter still thick on his face.
“Going to stay that way until you get your cue?” asked a fellow clown.
“I—I guess so,” replied Jack. “Might as well. It won’t be long.”
“Too long for me,” was the reply. “I get enough of it as it is. No paint for mine until the last minute, and off it comes as soon as I’m through.”
But Jack had a good reason for keeping his on. His own mother would not have known him in his present costume. To avoid the many questions of the other performers, who could not understand the boy’s action, Jack, after a hasty dinner, went into the main tent, which was now up, and pretended to be adjusting his imitation airship. He remained there until almost time for the afternoon show to start, and then he started back to the dressing-tent to await the blast of the trumpets that summoned the company of clowns.
As he was coming out of the main tent he almost ran into a man who was standing on the outside, near the dressing-rooms. Jack started back in surprise, for, as the man turned, he saw that he was none other than Professor Klopper.
“I beg your pardon!” exclaimed the former college teacher, “but I am looking for a friend of mine—a young lad—who, I understand, is with this circus. He ran away to join it, and I wish to find him about a very particular matter. Can you tell me where he is? His name is Jack Allen.”
Jack almost stopped breathing. He could scarcely believe that the professor would not recognize him.
Not daring to trust his voice to make reply, and fearing the professor would know his tones, if he did not know his ward’s face under the coating of paint, Jack shook his head to answer in the negative, and hurried on.
“One moment,” exclaimed the professor. “Perhaps you——”