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?”