asked the Box Jack.
"Yes," answered the Clown. "Well, I am going to climb that string and hang by my toes."
He quickly walked over to a long string that hung down from the ceiling. At Christmas time it had held some wreaths of holly, but now nothing was fast to it.
"Up I go!" cried the Clown.
It was hard work for him to climb the string with the cymbals fast on the ends of his arms, but he managed to get up nearly as high as the flaming gas jet which lighted the store at night, so the watchman could see his way around.
"That's high enough--don't go up any farther!" cried the Bold Tin Soldier.
"Yes, I am high enough now," said the Clown. "Watch me hang by my toes!"
He began turning over as he clung to the string, and, as he did so, he began to sway to and fro, like the pendulum of a clock.
"Look out! Look out for the blazing gas light! You'll be burned!" suddenly called the Rag Doll.
And as she spoke, the Clown on the dangling string came too near the gas flame. His baggy trousers,