As he landed, his hand unconsciously pulled the strings and the shot was fired, the flags fluttered out, and the rooster crowed. The crowd yelled and applauded, but poor Jack felt a pain in his left leg as if some one had run a red-hot iron into it. Then it seemed as if some one had hit him on the head with a club. The lights, high up on the tent poles, died away. All became black, and Jack knew nothing more.
CHAPTER XXV
LEFT BEHIND—CONCLUSION
When Jack regained his senses he found himself in a soft bed, and, as his eyes roved about they did not encounter the familiar hangings of the circus sleeping-car. Instead, they saw a room neatly papered, and at a window hung with white curtains sat a young lady. Jack stirred uneasily. Perhaps he was dreaming.
The woman at the window heard him, and came over to the bed.
“So you’re awake, are you?” she asked pleasantly. “How do you feel?”
“Rather—sore—and—stiff,” replied Jack slowly. “What’s—the—matter—with—my leg?”
“Oh, nothing much. It’s broken, that’s all; but the doctor says it’s a clean break. You’ll soon be better.”
“My—head——”
“Yes, you got quite a bad blow on the head, and you’ve been unconscious for several hours, but it’s nothing serious.”
“Unconscious for several hours?” repeated Jack more quickly. “Where’s the circus?”