“Oh! then you want rope, not wire,” went on Brighteyes, as she put the pan of potatoes on the table.

“Wire is what the circus performers use,” insisted her brother, “but if you can’t find any I suppose rope will do.”

“I saw some up in the attic,” said Brighteyes.  “I’ll get it for you.  But, Buddy, isn’t it dangerous?  Do you s’pose mamma and papa would let you do it?”

“There’s not much danger,” answered Buddy.  “I’ll not put the rope up very high, and I’ll put some pillows on the ground underneath, so that if I fall I won’t get hurt much.”

Well, Brighteyes found a long rope, and she helped Buddy tie it from one clothes post to the other, across the yard, so that it looked like a real tight rope in a circus.

“Oh, you can never get on that!” she cried to her brother, as she saw how high up it was.

“Yes, I can,” he replied.  “You just watch me.  But first I must put some pillows underneath, in case I fall.”

So he ran into the house and got a lot of feather pillows and put them on the ground under the rope, Brighteyes helping him.

Then Buddy got some old soap boxes, piled them one on top of the other, and, by climbing up on them, he was able to step to the rope.

“Oh, how thin and slender and shaky it is!” cried Brighteyes.  “You never can walk across that, Buddy!”

“Yes, I think I can,” he answered.  “But I must get a pole to balance myself with,” so he got off the boxes and ran to the woodpile, got a piece of an old broom handle, and ran back to the rope again.  He stepped one foot out on it, to try it, and it seemed quite strong, though it wabbled a bit from side to side, like a duck’s tail.

“Oh! are you really going to walk on it?” cried Brighteyes in delight.

“I really am,” answered her brother.

“Then you ought to have an audience to applaud you and clap when you do it,” she went on.  “Wait, and I’ll run and get Johnnie and Billie Bushytail and Sammie and Susie Littletail, and—­”

“No, don’t!” cried Buddy, quickly.  “Better wait until I walk across a few times, first, so as to sort of practise.  Then I’ll do the trick before folks.”

So he got up on the rope, standing up on his hind legs, and balancing the pole with his front paws and he steadied himself for a moment and then took a step.  My! but that rope wiggled, though, from side to side, almost like a hammock, only, of course, not as safe as a hammock.  But Buddy kept bravely on, and took another step—­and land sakes laddy-da! if that rope didn’t wiggle more than ever.

“Oh, take care!  You’ll fall!” cried Brighteyes, and she screamed.

“Oh, Brighteyes, don’t do that, please!” begged Buddy.  “You make me nervous, and then I can’t walk the tight rope.”

So Brighteyes, whose real name was Matilda, you know, kept real still and quiet, just like a little mouse when it wants a bit of cheese, and Buddy took another step out on the tight rope.