All these speculations were cut short by the appearance of the smiling face of his lady boxing partner, Gwen.
“It’s the clown stunt,” she exclaimed excitedly. “The big chief fell for it right away. He hurried a messenger off to Chicago for the balloons. They’re already here, and they’ve tried them out with a dummy and they worked beautifully. They want you to try it right away.”
“This dummy,” smiled Johnny, “he didn’t fall and break his neck, did he?”
“No, of course not, Silly!”
“Well, here’s hoping I don’t, but it’s a powerful long distance from the top of the center tent pole down to the sawdust.”
CHAPTER XV
BURSTING BALLOONS
The big top had never been more crowded than it was the night of Johnny’s first performance as a clown. And never, in the memory of the oldest circus man, had there been a jollier throng. Never had there been an act more thoroughly appreciated than that of Gwen, the Queen, and Johnny, the fat clown.
Johnny had been dressed in inflated rubber clothing until he appeared as fat as a butcher. When, by the aid of the balloons, he rose to the tight wire, when he tripped lightly along it, and returned cakewalking, the spectators howled their approval. But when in apparent consternation, he lost his step and instead of plunging downward, leaped upward with the sudden lift of the balloons, they rose to their feet and roared their delight.
Silently, calmly, he rose toward the tent top. There was nothing calm about the feelings that surged in Johnny’s breast, however. He had never been in aviation, and never would be. Going up in the air made him feel sick. Had it not been for Gwen, he would have refused to attempt this stunt.
“Oh, well!” he sighed, “here’s the top; now I can grab the rope and come down. Rope’s more certain than these balloons.”