"Dixon, Franklin W - Hardy Boys 111 - Three-Ring Terror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dixon Franklin W)

"That's easy," Jacobs said. Before Joe could say another word, Jacobs dashed over to a dressing table and came back with five tennis balls. "If you can do three, you can do as many as you want," he explained, tossing the balls in the air one by one. "The principle's exactly the same."
One after another, Jacobs tossed all five balls in the air. Grabbing a ball with his right hand, he tossed it back into the air as his left hand grabbed another. "You try it," he said, passing a ball to Joe as it came down.
Joe jumped as Jacobs shot him the ball. He hadn't expected to have to juggle for the man. Before he could react, Jacobs had tossed him another, and another, and Joe was hurling them up into the air as fast as Jacobs threw them. With no time to think, Joe had all five balls going at once and was frantically shuffling them back into the air as fast as they landed.
"You've got it!" Jacobs shouted. "There you go. All right."
"Way to go, Joe," Frank added.
"Keep your eyes on them," Jacobs said.
As soon as Jacobs directed him, Joe began to think about what he was doing, and he faltered. One by one, he dropped the balls. Soon they were all bouncing and rolling on the ground.
Joe looked at his brother. Frank's expression was a mixture of amusement and sympathy. "You almost had it," he said, barely holding back a smile. "Next time, don't think."
"Let's see you try," Joe said, passing the balls to Frank.
"No thanks," Frank said, holding up one hand. "I'll pass on this one."
"Come on, Frank," Joe urged. "Just do it."
"Your brother here almost had the hang of it," Jacobs said.
Frank shook his head. "We've got a class to go to."
"Chicken," Joe whispered under his breath. Then he said to Jacobs, "Thanks for the lesson."
"No problem," Jacobs said. "Come back any time.
"We'll do that," Joe told him as they walked away. "Thanks for setting me up like that, Frank. You're a real pal."
Frank grinned at his brother. "You did pretty well. I didn't know you could juggle."
Joe smiled wryly. "Neither did I. It's amazing what you can do when you try." He ran his hands through his blond hair and thought for a moment. "With Rosen gone, this case is shot."
"Not necessarily." Frank counted off on his fingers. "One, the guy might turn up. From what Jacobs said, it sounds like he needs this job. Two, we still have the code to crack. And three, there's the sabotage to investigate. We're not out of the business yet."
"Leave it to Frank Hardy to look on the bright side. Come on. We'd better get to Chet’s class."
Frank nodded. "And after class, I think we should ask Dean Turner some more questions about the sabotage. And I want to talk to his assistant, Georgianne Unger, too."
The Hardys made their way toward the prop classroom Chet had shown them earlier. There was a sign on the door that read Clowning in Session. Through the glass pane Joe spotted Chet along with the other clowning students. Joe eased the door open and, being careful not to disturb the class, he and Frank stepped inside.
The classroom was large, with a high ceiling and bright lights. Along one wall there were workbenches set up with all kinds of materials, including wood, Styrofoam, and paint. Joe remembered what Chet had told him about the clowns making their own props.
The class was concentrating on stilt-walking. Ten students were gathered around Paul Turner, who was up on ten-foot-high stilts and walking smoothly around the room.
"I didn't expect him to teach these classes," Joe said.
"You mean the dean?" Frank asked.
Joe nodded. "He's good, too. Just don't volunteer me for this stunt, okay?"
Before Frank could answer, Turner had jumped off the stilts and was speaking to the class. "No clown walks on stilts this high right away," he said. "That would be like a baby running before it could walk." The class laughed nervously as Turner went over to some shorter stilts that were leaning against a wall. "We start with these," he said, holding up a pair of five-foot-high stilts. "Who wants to go first?"
Joe waited for someone in the class to volunteer. No one raised his hand. Then Chet’s hand shot up. "I can't believe it," Joe said to Frank. "Chet’s a great football player, but I can't see him mastering a skill like this. The only other time he got up on stilts, he fell off them."
"He can handle it," Frank said. "Chet may be big, but he's not clumsy."
"We'll see," Joe said. With Turner's help, Chet stepped onto the stilts.
"The trick here," Turner explained to the class, "is to pretend these sticks are just another part of your legs. They won't bend," he said. "And they won't break, either."
"I sure hope not,” Chet said, taking a small step.
Joe held his breath, then let it out slowly as Turner let go of the stilts. Chet started moving around the room. He wobbled and the stilts started shaking under him. With every step he took it looked as if he might fall, but then he began to get the hang of it.
"Hey," Joe said, watching Chet walk around the room. "He's not bad."
"I told you," Frank countered.
As soon as the words were out of Frank's mouth, he heard a yell. Frank and Joe looked over and saw Chet swaying back and forth. Several members of the class let out a gasp. One woman held her hand to her mouth.
"Chet!" Joe shouted, rushing toward his friend.
But before Joe could reach him, he saw the stilt under Chet’s right leg snap in half. It broke in two, and Chet fell to the ground in a heap.
Chapter 6
Dean Turner’s Dilemma
"Chet!" Frank called out, following his brother to where Chet was lying on the floor. "Are you all right?"
As Joe was pulling Chet up, Paul Turner rushed over to them. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I should have been spotting you better."
"That's okay," Chet answered, rubbing his elbow and grimacing. "I just fell on my funny bone, that's all."
The rest of the class had crowded around, looking at Chet to make sure he wasn't hurt.
Dean Turner turned to them and announced, "It's okay, everybody. Can you all please stand back and give us a little room?"
The class edged back a bit, and Frank put his arm around Chet. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked in a concerned tone.
Chet nodded silently, but his face turned slightly red. "It's a little embarrassing," he confessed as he slowly got to his feet. "I mean, these stilts weren't exactly tall."
"You're not the first clown to take a fall," Turner told him, a smile crossing his face. "And you won't be the last."
"Dean Turner's right," Joe said reassuringly. "What's more important is that you're okay."