“Pshaw!” he exclaimed to himself. “What’s the matter with me, anyhow? I’m thinking too much of poor Mr. Henyon. Well, here goes,” and he launched himself down.
He landed safely, amid the laughter of the crowd at his queer act.
“I guess I’m all right,” he thought. His success made him more confident, and he did the next two turns even better than the first. Then came the last one.
“I’m tired to-night,” thought Jack. “I don’t feel just like myself. Guess I must be getting homesick. Oh, but I would like to see dad and mom again! I wish I was back in Westville, even if the professor would have me arrested. Well, here goes for the last turn, and then I’m going to bed and sleep.”
There was some delay in getting his platform over to the far side of the tent, where he was to make his last jump, and it was almost time for the final races when it was in position.
Jack climbed up, and his airship was hoisted up to him. He did his customary song and dance, and then prepared to give his exhibition of flying. Yet in spite of the confidence that had come back to him when he found that he had done the trick three times successfully, he felt his nervousness returning.
“I guess I’d better take a tonic,” he told himself. “Well, here goes.”
He leaped forward, grasping the handle of the big umbrella that extended down through the distended bag. He expected to feel himself buoyed up as usual by the big Japanese affair, but as his feet began to work the pedals controlling the wings, and as he got ready to pull the strings to fire the shot and display the flags and rooster, he realized that something was wrong. The umbrella was not holding him up. In fact, he was falling swiftly to the ground.
The crowd not understanding that something was wrong, began to laugh as it always did, but there was terror in Jack’s heart.
Suddenly there was a ripping sound, and the big umbrella turned inside out. Jack fell rapidly and heavily toward the earth, having no support to break his terrific fall.