The bird had been trained to fly, flap its wings and crow as soon as the sides of its cage fell, and Jack counted on making quite a hit this time.
He succeeded. Everything went off well, from the time he jumped with his apparatus off the tower platform until he shot off the cartridge, unfurling the flags and revealing the rooster, who added not a little to the novelty of the act by crowing most vigorously.
“Ha! Hum! Not so bad! Not so bad! Not half bad!” was all Mr. Paine said, when he saw Jack’s latest performance; but the young clown knew that was the highest praise the manager ever bestowed.
“If it goes off as well to-night as it did this afternoon, you’ll get two dollars more a week,” went on Mr. Paine. “I like my clowns to think up new things. It’s a wonder some of you fellows wouldn’t put a little more ginger into your work,” the manager continued to Jack’s fellow workers. “Some of you are all right, but unless the rest of you wake up, you’ll be looking for other jobs soon.”
He walked away, and several of the clowns murmured among themselves. The majority, however, knew they were all right, for they were continually improving their acts.
“This is what comes of letting a fresh young kid get in among older performers,” said Ted Chester. “I’m going to quit soon if he don’t. He gets all the attention.”
“That’s right,” added two or three others. “The manager thinks he’s the whole show.”
“If we could queer his act some way maybe it would take him down a peg,” suggested a tall, lanky clown, whose specialty was to lead an educated pig around the ring.
“Say, I’ve got an idea,” whispered Ted. “Come over here, you fellows.”
The dissatisfied ones were soon whispering among themselves, but whenever any one came near them they seemed to be discussing the most ordinary topics.