Frank squirmed, and Harris laughed.
"That hits you hard," said the fellow. "We'll soon put you out of business as a professional magician."
"You shall pay dearly for every bit of property you destroy!" vowed Frank.
"That's all right. You'll not worry anybody by talking like that. You'll have to catch your hare, and we'll be far away from here to-morrow."
"I was too easy with you in the past, Harris," said Frank. "I can see that now."
"Oh, yes, you were easy with me!" snarled the fellow. "You didn't do a thing but disgrace me in college! You——"
"I simply exposed your tricks when you were fleecing my friends by playing crooked at poker. You brought it on yourself."
"It's a lie! I didn't play crooked. I——"
"You acted as the decoy to draw them into the game, while Rolf Harlow robbed them with his slick tricks. You can't deny that. You deserved worse than you received."
"That's what you think. Anyhow, I'll have my revenge now. Go ahead, Mazarin; smash up the stuff."
"He may shout."
"If he does, it will be his last chirp, for I swear I'll use the knife on him!"
Frank fully believed the fellow would do just as he threatened. Besides that, it was extremely doubtful if anyone could hear him in case he shouted, as the theater was a detached building, in which there were no offices or stores.
So Merriwell was forced to sit there, bound and helpless, and witness the destruction of his property, the intricate and costly apparatus for performing his wonderful feats of magic.
With savage frenzy the little man battered and hammered and smashed the apparatus which had cost many hundreds of dollars. He laughed while he was doing it.
Harris lighted a cigarette and sat astride a chair near Frank, whom he continued to taunt.
"This is the finish of the career of Merriwell, the wonderful magician," he sneered. "He'll never be heard of again. Smash the stuff, Mazarin, old man! That's the way to do it! How do you like it, Merriwell? Doesn'tit make you feel real happy to see him break up the furniture? Ha! ha! ha!"
Now, not a word came from Frank, but his jaws were set and his eyes gleaming. It was plain enough that he had vowed within his heart that some day he would square the account with his enemies.
Piece after piece of the apparatus was destroyed by the vengeful little man, while Harris sat and smoked, puffing the vile-smelling stuff into the face of the helpless youth.
Since starting out to fill Zolverein's engagements on the road, Frank had been remarkably successful, but he could not go on without the apparatus, and it would take a long time for him to replace the articles thus maliciously ruined. Some of them he knew he would never be able to replace.
With the wrecking of his property one of his dearest dreams vanished. He had thought it possible that he might make enough money during vacations to carry him through Yale, so he could complete his course in college, which he had been forced to leave because of financial losses.
He knew this was purely a speculation, as it was not certain he would continue to do a good business, especially when he got off Zolverein's route; but that had been his dream, and now it was over.
Surely fate was giving him some hard blows, but still he did not quail, and he was ready, like a man, to meet whatever came.
He had tasted of the glamour of the footlights, and there was bitter with the sweet. He had learned that the life of the traveling showman is far from being as pleasant and easy as it seems.
But Frank had not started out in the world looking for soft snaps. He was prepared to meet adversity when it came and not be crushed. He felt that the young man who is looking for a soft snap very seldom amounts to anything in the world, while the one who is ready to work and push and struggle and strive with all his strength, asking no favors of anybody, is the one who is pretty sure to succeed in the end.
Whenever fate landed a knockout blow on Frank he refused to be knocked out, but invariably came up smiling at the call of "time."
It was plain that his enemies believed they would floor him this time and leave him stranded.
Harris was watching Frank's face by the light of the lamp.
"Oh, this is better than a circus!" chuckled the fellow, evilly. "Every blow reaches you, and I am settling my score."
"Instead of settling it," said Merry, grimly, "you are running up a big account that I shall call for you to settle in the future."
"You'll have a fine time collecting."
"But I always collect once I start out to do so."
"Bah! Your threats make me laugh!"
"Because I was easy with you in the past, you fancy Imay be if my chance comes in the future. You are wrong!"
"All bluff!"
"Time will show that I am not bluffing now. I have given you more chances than you deserved. I shall give you no more. When next my turn comes, I shall have no mercy."
Somehow Harris shivered a bit despite himself, for he knew that Frank Merriwell was not given to idle words. True, Frank had been easy with his enemies at college, but he must have changed since leaving Yale and going out into the world to fight the great battle of life. He had seen that the world gave him no favors, and now it was likely he would retort in the same manner.
"Perhaps I may have no mercy now," said Harris. "You are in my power, and I can do with you as I choose. I am a stranger in this town. No one knows I am here. What if you were found in this old building with your throat cut? How could the deed be traced to me? Better spare your threats, Merriwell, for if I really thought there was danger that you would bother me in the future, I swear I'd finish you here and now!"
Mazarin had finished his work of destruction. All the costly apparatus was broken and ruined, and the little man was standing amid the shattered wreck, wringing his hands and sobbing like a child that is filled with remorse after shattering a toy in a fit of anger.
"All done!" he moaned; "all done!"
Harris looked around, annoyed.
"What's the matter with you?" he fiercely demanded. "What are you whimpering about?"
"I have broken everything!"
"Well, now is your time to laugh."
"Now is my time to cry! All those things should have been mine."
"But were not."
"No one can ever replace them."
"And that knocks out Mr. Frank Merriwell. Wasn't that what you were after?"
"But to have to smash all those beautiful things! I have broken my own heart!"
"You're a fool!"
Harris turned from his repentant companion, his disgust and anger redoubled.
Frank, for all of the bitter rage in his heart, could see that Mazarin was not entirely bad. The little man's conscience was troubling him now.
"I hate fools!" grated Harris. "I hate sentiment! A man with sentiment is a fool! You're a fool, Merriwell; you always were sentimental."
"As far as you are concerned," spoke the captive, "I shall put sentiment behind me in the future. I am satisfied that you are irreclaimably bad, and you have the best chance in the world of ending your career on the gallows."
"I don't care what you think."
"I didn't suppose you would care. You are too low and degraded to care. In the past I spared you when youshould have been exposed and punished. Why? Because I hoped you would reform. Now I know there is no chance of that. For your own sake I spared you in the past; in the future, if my turn comes, for the sake of those with whom you will mingle and injure and disgrace, I shall have no mercy."
These words, for some reason, seemed to burn Harris like a hot iron. His eyes glowed evilly, and he quivered in every limb. He leaned toward Merriwell, panting:
"Your turn will not come! I might have let you go, but now——"
He glanced down at the knife in his hand.
Frank watched him closely, feeling all at once that the desperate wretch had formed a murderous resolve.
Harris was hesitating. It was plain he longed to strike, and still his blood was too cold to enable him to bring himself to that point without further provocation.
So he began to lash himself into fury, raving at Merriwell, striking Frank with his open hand, and repeating over and over how much he hated him. So savage did he become that Mazarin stopped his sobbing and stared at him in wonder.
"You ruined my college career!" panted Harris. "You made me an outcast! You are the cause of all of my ill-fortune! And now you threaten to drag me down still further. You never shall! I'll see to that now!"
He clutched Frank's shoulder and lifted the knife!
"Stop!"
The word came from Mazarin's lips, and the little man's left hand shot out and caught Sport's wrist, checking the murderous stroke, if Harris really meant to deliver it.
"Let go!"
"No!"
The murderous-minded young villain tried to wrench away.
He met with a surprise.
The small, soft hand held him fast, despite all his writhings.
Harris had wondered that Mazarin so easily choked Merriwell into helplessness, but, after twisting and pulling a few seconds and failing to break away, he began to understand the astonishing strength of those small hands.
"What's the matter with you?" he snarled. "Are you daffy?"
"You are, or you would not try that trick," shot back the little man. "Do you think I'm going to stand here and see you do murder? I guess not!"
"It's my business!"
"And mine now."
"How?"
"If you killed Merriwell, I should be an accomplice. I'm not taking such chances."
"You're a fool!"
"No! you are the fool. I helped you get in here that we might square our account with him, not that you might cut his throat. You have lost your head. Do you want to hang?"
"Of course not, but——"
"Then have a little sense. I didn't think you rattle-headed. We are even with Merriwell now."
"No, I shall not be even with him till I have disgraced him as he disgraced me!" hissed Harris. "I have brooded over it for months. I have dreamed of it. Sometimes I have been unable to sleep nights from thinking about it. I have formed a thousand plans for getting even with the fellow, and now——"
"Now you would make yourself a murderer. Well, you'll have to choose another time to do that job. I am satisfied, and from this day I shall have nothing more to do with you."
"So you are going back on me?"
"No; I am going to quit you, that's all, for I am satisfied that you will get us both into a bad scrape if I stick by you."
"All right; you can quit. You are too soft for me, anyway."
Harris tried to show his contempt for Mazarin in his manner as well as his voice, but the little man did not seem at all affected.
"You are too hard for me," he said. "I believe I was foolish in having anything to do with you."
"Let go my wrist!"
"Drop that knife!"
They now stood looking straight into each other's eyes, and there was something commanding in the manner of the little man who had smashed Frank's apparatus and then wept like a child over the ruin he had wrought.
After some seconds, Sport's fingers relaxed on the handle of the knife, which fell to the floor, striking point downward and standing quivering there.
Mazarin stooped and caught up the knife, closing it and thrusting it into a pocket.
"Give it back," commanded Harris.
"After a while," was the quiet assurance. "Not now. I don't care to trust you with it till——"
He did not finish, but his meaning was plain. He believed Harris treacherous, and he would not trust the fellow till he was sure there would be no opportunity to use the knife on Merriwell.
But Sport's rage had cooled, and now he himself was sick at heart when he thought how near he had been to committing murder. Passion had robbed him of reason for a time, but now cowardice robbed him of his false nerve, and he was white and shaking.
Frank had watched the struggle between the two men with interest and anxiety, for he realized that his life might depend on the outcome.
He fully understood that Mazarin had not saved himout of pity for him, but because the little man was more level-headed than his accomplice, and not such a ruffian.
No matter if Mazarin did hate Merry, he was not ready to stain his hands with blood in order to satisfy his desire to "get even."
A student of human nature, Frank understood Harris very well, and he saw when the reaction came. He knew well enough that all danger was past when he saw the former Yale man grow white and tremble all over.
In the past Merry had sometimes experienced a thrill of sympathy for the young gambler, understanding how youths who are fairly started on the downward course almost always find it impossible to halt and turn back. One crooked act leads to another, and soon the descent becomes swift and sure, leading straight to the brink of the precipice of ruin, upon which not one man in a thousand has the strength to check his awful career, obtain a foothold and climb back to the path of honesty that leads to the plain of peace.
Now it was plain that Harris had sunk so low that there was little hope for him. He was almost past redemption.
Incapable of feeling gratitude, the fellow had never realized that Merry had shown him any kindness in not exposing him and bringing about his disgrace when his crookedness was first discovered at college.
Knowing that he would never let up in the least on an enemy, Harris had believed Frank "soft" because of his generosity. The fellow's hatred had grown steadily witheach and every failure to injure Merriwell, while his conscience had become so hardened that he was not troubled in the least by things which might have worried him once.
As Harris swung the knife aloft, Frank had braced his feet, preparing to thrust himself over backward as the only means of escaping the blow. This, however, had not been necessary, for Mazarin had interfered.
"Now," said the little man, seeming to assume command, "it's time for us to get out of here."
"I guess that's right," came weakly from Harris. "Some one might come."
"By this time it's dark, and we can slip out by the stage door without attracting attention."
"We mustn't be seen coming out."
"It's well enough not to be seen, but it wouldn't make much difference if we were. The people who saw us might think we were members of Merriwell's show."
"Merriwell's show!" cried Harris, forcing a laugh. "I rather think his show business is over. We have put an end to that."
Then he turned on Frank, some of the color getting back into his face.
"We've fixed you this time," the revengeful fellow sneered. "It's the first time I've ever been able to do you up in good shape. You always managed to squirm out of everything before, but all your squirming will do you no good now."
Frank was silent, his eyes fixed on Harris' face, andthe fellow felt the contempt of that look as keenly as it was possible for him to feel anything.
"Don't look at me like that!" he snarled.
Frank continued to look at him.
Once more Harris seemed losing his head.
"How I hate you, Merriwell!" he panted, bending toward Frank, while Mazarin watched him narrowly. "I never dreamed I could hate anyone as I hate you."
Then, quick as a flash, he struck Frank a stinging blow with his open hand, nearly upsetting the youth, chair and all.
"Oh there is some satisfaction in that!" he grated.
"A coward's satisfaction," said the steady voice of the helpless victim. "Only a wretched coward would strike a person bound and unable to resist!"
"That's right!"
Mazarin uttered the words, and they filled Harris with unspeakable fury.
"Right!" he snarled. "What's the matter with you? You smashed his stuff when he was tied and unable to prevent it. Was that cowardly?"
"Yes!"
Sport literally gasped for breath.
"Yes?" he echoed. "What do you mean?"
"Just that," nodded Mazarin, gloomily. "I have played the coward here, as well as you. I know it now, but it is too late to undo anything I have done."
"Well, you make me sick!" Harris sneered. "You are one of the kind that does a thing and then squeals. I'mglad we are going to quit, for I wouldn't dare trust you after this."
"Nor I you," returned the little man. "You'd be sure to do something to get us both in a mess. Come, are you going to get out of here?"
"Directly."
"Now?"
"Wait a little."
"What for?"
"I have a few more things to say to Merriwell."
"You have said enough. Let him alone."
"Well, we must gag him, or he will set up a howling the moment we are gone."
"Let him howl. We'll be outside of the building, and it is dark. We can get away. It's not likely he'll be heard for some time if he does howl, and——"
Slam!
Somewhere below in the building a door closed.
Harris made a leap and caught Mazarin by the wrist.
"Somebody coming!" he hissed.
"Sure thing!"
"We must skip!"
"In a hurry."
"Which way?"
There were steps on the stairs leading to the stage.
Then Frank shouted:
"Help! help! This way! Look out for trouble! Hurry!"
"Satan take him!" hissed Harris. "He has given the alarm!"
Mazarin did not stop an instant, but darted away amid the scenery and disappeared from view in the darkness.
"Hello, Frank!" came a voice from the stairs. "Is that yeou? What in thunder's the matter?"
It was Ephraim Gallup!
"Look out, Ephraim!" warned Merriwell. "Enemies here! Danger!"
Tramp, tramp, the Vermonter's heavy feet sounded on the stairs.
Then there was a rush, and a dark form swept down upon him, struck him, knocked him rolling and bumping to the foot of the stairs.
"Waal, darn—my—pun—ugh!—kins!" came from the Yankee youth in jolts and bursts.
Over him went the dark figure, closely followed by another.
"Hold on a minute," invited Ephraim. "Whut's your gol darn rush?"
But they did not stop. The door near the foot of the stairs was torn open, and both figures shot out of the building.
Gallup gathered himself up.
"Back broke, leg broke, shoulder dislocated, jaw fractured, teeth knocked out, tongue bit off, and generally injured otherwise," he enumerated. "All done in a jiffy. Whatever hit me, anyhaow? Hey, Frank!"
From above Merriwell answered, and again Ephraim started to mount the stairs. He reached the top, foundhis way to the stage, and discovered Merry tied to the chair.
"Good-evening, Ephraim," said Frank, grimly. "You are a very welcome caller. I'm getting tired of sitting here."
"Hey?" gasped the Vermonter. "Whut in thunder——"
He stopped, his jaw snapping up and down, but not another sound issuing from his lips. He was utterly flabbergasted.
"Just set me free," invited Frank. "I'll tell you all about it later. Mazarin was one, Harris was the other. You've heard me speak of Harris. They caught me here, smashed my stuff, got away. We must catch them."
"Gol dinged if I don't think so!" shouted the Yankee, and, a moment later, he was working fiercely to set Merriwell at liberty. Finding he could not easily untie the knots, he took out his knife and slashed the ropes.
Frank sprang up.
"Come on, Ephraim!" he cried. "We'll get after those chaps."
Gallup followed Merriwell down the stairs, but both Harris and Mazarin had disappeared when the open air was reached, and all inquiries failed to put the pursuers on the track of them.
In fact, the two rascals had disappeared from the town, and, for the time, it seemed that they had utterly vanished from the face of the earth.
Of course Merriwell notified the authorities, swore out a warrant for the arrest of both Harris and Mazarin, and did everything he could to bring the rascals to justice.
He was obliged to give up his project of filling Zolverein's dates and cancel all engagements.
That night, sitting amid the ruins of his apparatus, he held a council with his two friends and assistants, Ephraim Gallup and Hans Dunnerwust.
Hans seemed overwhelmed and stunned by what had happened, while Ephraim was "so gol dern mad" he occasionally gave vent to his feelings in violent outbreaks of lurid language.
"I never was much of a hand to fight," said the Vermonter, "but I'll be swuzzled if I wouldn't jest like to knock sixteen kainds of stuffin aout of them critters whut bruk us up in business! I could do it, too, by chaowder!"
"Yaw," nodded Hans; "you could done it, Efy!"
"Well, boys," said Frank, "we've got to do something to make a living. Here we are out here in Missouri, a long distance away from home, and it's a case of hustle."
"How we peen goin' to donet dot, Vrankie?"
"We'll hev to start up a three-cornered variety show," suggested Ephraim, with a sickly grin.
"If I had the old company here now," mused Merriwell, "I'd put what money I've made in the past week into backing it."
"An' lose it, same as t'others did."
"Perhaps so. Nothing venture, nothing have, you know."
"Waal, yeou ain't got the comp'ny."
"No, I haven't anything but this broken stuff."
Frank did not say that dejectedly. Indeed, he did not seem crushed by what had happened, somewhat to Ephraim's surprise, for the Vermonter could not understand how anyone could help being downcast by such misfortune.
Indeed, one of Merriwell's secrets of success was his sanguine and hopeful temperament. He did not believe in worrying over anything, and so, no matter how dark the future looked, he remained cheerful and confident, knowing the clouds must clear away in time.
People who worry much over things that may happen make a big mistake, for in more than fifty per cent. of the cases the things they dread the most never occur.
Be cheerful and hopeful. That is a good motto.
The three talked a long time, and at the end they had not decided on what course they would pursue.
The following morning Merriwell received a letter. It proved to be from Cassie Lee, the soubrette of the company with which Frank had originally started on the road.
The letter was brief. It ran as follows:
"Dear Friend Frank: Your note received, and you bet we're all glad to know you are making such a hit as a magician. The press clippings you sent show you were not giving me a game of talk, but how in the world you can do it is what puzzles me. When did you learn to do magic? It seems to me that you are a kind of wonder, for you do everything you attempt, and you do it well."I write to tell you that we are on the road again with a patched-up company, playing small towns—just barnstorming, that's all. How long it will last nobody knows, for there ain't a blessed dollar behind us, and Ross is doing the whole thing on pure bluff. We may keep it up all right, but if we strike three nights of bad business it will give us the final knockout. If we had a few hundred dollars behind us to tide us over a bad streak, I guess we'd be able to keep going till hot weather sets in."There's something I want to write you about, Frank. You know the last time we talked together we had something to say about praying, and you told me you reckoned the prayers of an actress would be heard same as the prayers of anybody else. You told me to pray for strength to help me leave off using the drug that has been pulling me down lately. Well, Frank, I took your advice and prayed all alone in my room. You said you would pray for me, too. I guess you did. I honestly believe I'm going to be able to quit it without going to a sanitarium. If I do so, I shall owe it all to you."Hoping to hear from you again soon, and wishing you all the luck you deserve, I am always your friend,"Cassie Lee."
"Dear Friend Frank: Your note received, and you bet we're all glad to know you are making such a hit as a magician. The press clippings you sent show you were not giving me a game of talk, but how in the world you can do it is what puzzles me. When did you learn to do magic? It seems to me that you are a kind of wonder, for you do everything you attempt, and you do it well.
"I write to tell you that we are on the road again with a patched-up company, playing small towns—just barnstorming, that's all. How long it will last nobody knows, for there ain't a blessed dollar behind us, and Ross is doing the whole thing on pure bluff. We may keep it up all right, but if we strike three nights of bad business it will give us the final knockout. If we had a few hundred dollars behind us to tide us over a bad streak, I guess we'd be able to keep going till hot weather sets in.
"There's something I want to write you about, Frank. You know the last time we talked together we had something to say about praying, and you told me you reckoned the prayers of an actress would be heard same as the prayers of anybody else. You told me to pray for strength to help me leave off using the drug that has been pulling me down lately. Well, Frank, I took your advice and prayed all alone in my room. You said you would pray for me, too. I guess you did. I honestly believe I'm going to be able to quit it without going to a sanitarium. If I do so, I shall owe it all to you.
"Hoping to hear from you again soon, and wishing you all the luck you deserve, I am always your friend,
"Cassie Lee."
Frank read that letter over twice, and then he sat meditating over it.
"She doesn't know what has happened to me," he said. "Cassie has a good heart, and I hope she will get free from that dreadful habit. Here is their route."
It was written across the top of the sheet, and gave the towns the company expected to play in for the next five days.
Looking it over, Frank found they would play that night in a place seventy-five miles away.
"How surprised they would be if I should turn up there to-night!" he laughed. "And I might as well do that as anything else."
Then he thought that he would not leave Hans and Ephraim behind, and it would cost money to take them along.
"Never mind," he muttered. "I've made four hundred dollars in the time I've been out for myself, and I shall look out for the boys. We'll all go over to Blueburg."
He looked up the railroad time-table, and found he could reach the place by taking a train at one o'clock. So he told Ephraim and Hans to pack up and get ready to leave right after dinner.
Of course they wondered where he was going, but his manner betrayed no intention of saying anything about that, and so even Hans had sense enough not to ask questions.
That afternoon they took the train, which was an accommodation and stopped at every little shanty station.
The monotonous scenery of that portion of the countrydid not interest Merriwell, so he busied himself with paper and pencil as the train crept snaillike along.
"Whut be yeou doin' of, Frank?" asked Ephraim, curiously.
"Plotting," was the short answer.
"Hey? Plottin'?"
"Yes."
"Plottin' whut?"
"A play."
"Whut's that? Plottin' a play? Whut kind of a play?"
"A comedy-drama."
"Great gosh!"
The Vermonter gazed at Merry in astonishment.
"Yeou don't mean that yeou're goin' to write a play, do ye?"
"Why not?" smiled Frank.
"Waal, I be darned! When will yeou git time to do it?"
"In my spare moments."
"An' yeou really mean to write a play?"
"I'm going to try it."
"I dunno whut yeou won't try next. Do yeou s'pose yeou kin write a good play?"
"Well, that is something I don't know," laughed Merry. "Not even an experienced playwright can tell if his piece will be good or bad till after it is written and tried on the dog. Even then it is sometimes difficult to tell what there is in it, and many failures have been rewritten and become successes. There is nothing more uncertain inthe world than the fate of an untried play. The very pieces that managers are most sanguine about often prove the greatest fizzles, while those pieces that do not promise very much, and are rushed on as 'stop-gaps,' often prove winners from the word go. Some playwriters produce one or two great successes, and are never again able to construct anything that will go. It is a great gamble, with the chances mainly in the favor of losing."
"You seem to know all about it."
"I've been studying up about it."
"Studyin'?"
"Yes."
"Haow?"
"By observation, by reading, and by the aid of books."
"Is there any books whut will help a feller abaout writin' plays?"
"Yes, several. I have one called 'The Art of Playwriting,' and it has been a wonderful aid to me. Of course experience is what a fellow needs in writing good plays, like anything else, although it is said that some persons have made successes out of their very first pieces."
"Yeou beat any feller I ever saw! When yeou go to do any kind of work, yeou set about readin' up an' studyin' over it with all yeour might."
"That is the way to succeed. The fellow who does any kind of work must take an interest in it in order to do it well. He who simply does his work mechanically, without taking any interest in it, and gets away from it assoon as possible, can never be successful. There are lots of boys who work on that plan in offices and stores, and they wonder how it is that their salaries are never raised and other boys get ahead of them. Often bright boys and men are outstripped by those they consider slow-witted and dull, and all because the dull ones work hard and earnestly to get ahead, while the others think they ought to get ahead anyhow."
"Say," said Ephraim, nudging Hans; "ain't he a reg'ler filoserfer?"
"Yaw," grunted the Dutch boy, who had not the least idea in the world what a "filoserfer" could be.
"It takes a heap of time to write a hull play, Frank," said Ephraim. "I've heerd haow some of them fellers that write 'em take a hull year on one single play."
"That is right; but there are others."
"Whut, do it in less time?"
"Yes."
"An' make good ones?"
"Yes; some successful plays have been written in a very few days. All the same, I do not expect to accomplish such a feat. I believe I have hit on a fine plot for a good society comedy-drama, and now I am working up the situations and climaxes. I have all the central characters named and their peculiarities jotted down opposite their names. See, here is a mass of notes on the piece. I shall not be able to work in all that stuff. Much of it will be thrown away or altered. Some of these situations that now seem so good I shall have to abandon, I suppose, forit is not likely I can work them all into the piece in a consistent manner."
"Waal, I don't s'pose yeou're goin' to give up everything else an' set daown an' go to writin' plays, be ye?"
"Not much!" laughed Frank. "I am not quite daffy, Ephraim. Lots of fellows have done that—and been sorry for it afterward. A man is foolish to give up any kind of steady paying work and attempt to make a living out of playwriting till he knows his ground and has plenty of money to live on comfortably for a good long time. Some fellows have given up good jobs after making a success of their first play, but in four cases out of five they regretted that they did not stick to their jobs and write plays on the side."
"On der vich side?" asked Hans, thickly.
"On the right side," smiled Frank. "No one wants to be left."
"Darned if I don't hope yeou'll do somethin' with yeour play, Frank," said the Vermonter. "That is, if yeou ever git it wrote, which I don't see haow yeou're goin' ter."
"Oh, I don't expect to make a fortune out of it. Of course I've had some foolish dreams about having my own company and playing the leading part, but I realize those are all dreams. All the same, I'm going to write it when I can, and somebody may produce it sometime."
Merry went to work again, and Hans and Ephraim left him alone.
It was supper time when the train pulled into Blueburg, after a tedious journey. The trio went direct toa restaurant and ate supper. By inquiry they found the reorganized company was in town and would play in the "town hall" that evening.
"We'll be there," said Frank; "but I think we'd better give them a surprise. We'll keep quiet till it is time for the curtain to go up, and then we'll walk into the hall."
This they did. It was exactly eight o'clock when Merry presented himself at the box office and asked if he could obtain three passes.
The local manager was selling tickets, and he immediately asked why he should give up three passes to three strangers.
Frank explained that he had at one time been connected with the company. The manager asked for his name so that he could send back to Havener to find out about him, but Frank saw a familiar face at the door.
"Hello, Dan!" he cried. "I think you'll vouch for us."
Old Dan Lee, Cassie's father, gave a cry of surprise.
"Merriwell?" he exclaimed. "What in the world does this mean? How do you happen to be here?"
"Just thought we'd drop down and see how you are getting along," Frank explained. "Can we get passes, or do we have to plank down for seats?"
"Well, I rather think you can pass any time. I'll stand responsible for them, Mr. Crisper," he said, to the man in the box office.
He shook hands warmly with Frank, and then greeted Ephraim and Hans. The three were given some goodseats in the second row, and they entered just as the curtain was going up on the first act.
Barely were they seated when Cassie came romping onto the stage in one of her favorite parts, that of a tomboy, and her three friends in the second row started a "hand" that surprised her. She opened her mouth to speak, saw Frank, stopped, stared, and then exclaimed:
"Well, I never!"
Cassie had been thrown off her guard, but she quickly recovered and went on with her part. The moment she left the stage she carried the news to the other members behind the scenes.
"Merriwell is out there, with Gallup and Dunnerwurst," she said, as she grasped Havener by the arm. "What do you suppose it means?"
"You must be mistaken," said the former stage manager, now the business manager as well. "Merriwell is in Attleboro to-night."
"Not by a long shot!" cried the somewhat slangy little soubrette. "If he ain't out there in the second row middle I'll eat my hat!"
"Then something is wrong with him. But I can't believe you are right."
"Didn't you catch onto the hand I got on my enter?"
"Of course."
"He started it. He's got Dunnerwurst on one side of him and Gallup on the other, and the three of them tried to break things when I went on."
"Then it's sure something has happened to Merriwell. It's likely he's as badly off as the rest and wants to get in with us. We might find a chance for him, but we haven't any use for Gallup or Dunnerwurst now there is no band."
Lester Lawrence, the leading man of the company, had been standing near enough to hear these words, and now he broke in:
"I don't see that we have any chance for Merriwell," he said, quickly. "By sharp doubling we can play any piece in our repertory, and to take in Merriwell will add to the expense without proving a decided advantage. As we are working on the commonwealth plan now, I am against anything that will add a cent of expense. I shall vote against Merriwell."
"Don't be in such a hurry, Mr. Lawrence!" flashed Cassie. "No one knows Frank Merriwell wants to join us. If he does, you're only one."
"But there are others."
"Name them."
"Dunton, that's certain."
"I don't know. Dunton did hate Merriwell, but he got over it."
"You may think so, but a fellow like Dug Duntonseldom gets over hating anybody. Then there is Sargent."
"That's three, with yourself. You don't run everything. If Merriwell's on his uppers, we'll take him in."
"Who says so?"
"I do, and you can bet your boots that what I say goes! See!"
"Oh, are you running this show?" murmured Lawrence, gently lifting his eyebrows. "I didn't know that."
"I've got something of a pull with the people."
"You must be stuck on Merriwell," sneered Lawrence.
Havener was scowling at the leading man, for he was not at all pleased by the fellow's manner toward Cassie.
"That will do!" he said, sharply. "We won't have any growling between you. It's not certain Merriwell wants to join us. If he does, we can settle that business later. The play is going on now, so you can attend to your own business."
What Havener said "went," and the matter was dropped then, but a short time later, Cassie saw Lawrence talking with Dunton and Sargent, and she knew the fellow had begun his campaign against Merriwell.
When the curtain fell on the first act, Havener sent out for Frank and his friends to come behind the scenes.
They did so, and there was a general handshaking all round. The actors who were not busy changing makeups or helping reset the stage crowded around Frank and plied him with questions.
Frank told them just what had happened to him.
"Harris and Mazarin got away," he said; "but I am ready to bet anything I'll see something more of Sport. My turn will come next time."
"I'm sorry for you, Merriwell," said Havener, who had found time to stop and listen to Frank's explanation. "You were hitting them hard. What are you going to do now?"
"Don't know," answered Frank, honestly. "Haven't made any plans."
"I suppose you're busted, like the rest of us?"
"Not quite."
"No?"
"I made a big haul the first night I played to the audience that had assembled to hear Zolverein, and I have done fairly well since then. I'm pretty near five hundred dollars ahead."
"Five hundred dollars!" cried several voices.
"Five hundred dollars!" cried Collie Cates, the comedian, striking a tragic pose. "Ye gods and little apples! A marvelous fortune! Hail, Monte Christo! The world is yours!"
"Five hundred dollars!" said Havener. "Then I suppose you are going to get out of this forsaken country and make for the East in a hurry?"
"Haven't formed my plans yet, but I'm thinking of backing a traveling company on the road."
There was a great catching of breaths.
Lawrence caught Dunton by the arm.
"He's a mark!" whispered the leading man. "He'sstage-struck, and we can get that five hundred behind us without a struggle. Talk about angels! Here's one!"
Then Lawrence pushed his way forward and grasped Frank's hand.
"I congratulate you, old man!" he said, in a most friendly manner. "Not many chaps could have done that. You're a hummer! If you want to back a company, here's one ready organized for you. I rather think we'll let you back us."
That was too much for Cassie Lee to stand. Her eyes glittered, and she surveyed Lawrence scornfully.
"You've changed your mind mighty quick!" she cried. "Little while ago you was saying we didn't want Merriwell anyhow, and now you are eager enough to get him in, when you find he's got a little money. But I don't guess you'll fool him that way. He ain't going to be the angel for this gang."
"Oh, you know I was joking, Cassie," laughed Lawrence, lightly and easily, not disturbed in the least. "I've always regarded Merriwell with the most friendly feelings."
"Your friendship is good just as long as the other feller's money holds out. When that's gone, your friendship gits cold in a hurry."
"You do me a great injustice, Cassie, but I have nothing more to say about it. Of course Merriwell will do as he pleases with his money."
Dunton and Sargent took pains to shake hands withFrank and appear very cordial, now that they had learned that Frank had some money.
The play went on, with Frank sitting in the wings as prompter.
Merry soon found the actors were up to their old tricks of "faking" lines and whole speeches, not having committed their parts properly. He was a good prompter, and he knew just when an actor was entirely off and in need of assistance.
The audience, however, was not critical, and there were few spectators present who could tell that an actor was "off," even when he was floundering helplessly, so the play passed off all right, with good bursts of applause at the strong situations and climaxes.
Frank paid attention to the audience, as well as to the play, for he wished to learn just what sort of a piece would strike the fancy of people out there in the country towns of Missouri.
Before the end of the play, Lawrence came to Merry, finding an opportunity when no person was near to hear him, and said:
"I hope you don't take stock in what Cassie said about me, old fellow? You know I was your friend when we were together on the road. You remember how I prevented you from giving away points to Delvin Riddle, King's advance man, when the fellow was trying to pump you."
"No," smiled Frank, "I do not remember that."
"Don't?" cried Lawrence, astonished. "Why, that'sstrange! Riddle had induced you to come down into the hotel card room at——"
"I know the time you mean perfectly well," said Frank; "but I do not remember that you kept me from giving anything away, for I had not the least idea in the world of giving anything away. It is possible, Mr. Lawrence, that I am not as new as you imagine, even though I did say I wanted to back a theatrical company with the small amount of money I have."
Lawrence was confused for a single instant, and then he laughed pleasantly.
"My dear boy," he murmured, "you quite misunderstand me. You have a right to do as you like with your money. Of course you might not have given anything away to Riddle, but you didn't know him, and the fellow is pretty clever, as you must acknowledge."
"Clever as he was, he did not get the best of me when he attempted to stick up King's play bills in the place of ours."
"That's right, Merriwell. You showed you could hustle when you were out ahead of the show. The notices you got into the papers were simply great."
Frank understood the flattery of Lawrence's words and manner.
"I think we understand each other pretty well," he said, quietly.
"Well, I don't suppose you will hold any hard feelings?"
"Why should I?"
"That's it, why should you?"
Dunton saw them and came up.
"Look here, Merriwell," he said, in a manner that was intended to be very candid, "I want you to know that I am glad you're back. I believe you and I had some trouble once, but you treated me white, and I was ready to acknowledge I was in the wrong. You never blowed on me."
"I had nothing to blow."
"Some fellows might have thought they had, though, to be sure, you could not have proved that I tried to do you up in that stage duel. Of course I didn't mean to kill you."
"Oh, of course not!" smiled Frank, and there was a bit of sarcasm in both words and voice.
"I thought I might just wound you a little, but you were too much for me. Where did you learn to handle a sword?"
"I took lessons at Fardale Military Academy when I was a mere boy, and then I received some instructions abroad. When I entered Yale, I placed myself under the best fencing instructor to be found in New Haven. I kept in form up to the time of leaving college."
"That explains it. Your wrist is all right, and you are like a cat on your feet. You made a holy show of me that night, though the audience thought it all in the piece. I hope you'll stay with us. We really need a man like you."
"I fancy you think you need my money far more thanyou need me, but that's all right. I shall not play the angel and lie dead afterward, be sure of that. If my money goes behind this show, I go at the head of it."
That was plain enough, and Frank had nothing more to say.
After the show that night the actors gathered in the office of the hotel and waited for Havener to appear. Havener had remained at the theater to settle up with the local manager.
After a while Havener came in, looking fairly well satisfied.
"How will we come out of this town?" asked Sargent.
"All right," was the answer. "We'll be able to get out ahead of the game, and we'll have something when we strike the next place, but we are sailing close to the wind. Bad weather will mean bad business, and that will mean bu'sted for us. If we had a little money in reserve, I believe we could keep going to the end of the season."
"Here is Merriwell, who wants to back a company," laughed Lawrence.
"If he's got some money, he'd better keep it in his pocket," declared Havener, much to the astonishment of everyone. "It will be much safer there."
Everyone stared at the speaker. They could not understand a person who would have any scruples about "catching a sucker" whenever the sucker was ready to bite, no matter who the sucker might be. Havener was the last person they had expected would object to letting Frank "blow his boodle" backing the company, if he really desired to do so.
"This is not a very good place to talk it over," said Frank, glancing around. "There are too many ears to hear. Can't we go up to somebody's room?"
"Who do you want to talk it over with?" asked Havener.
"The whole company, if this thing is being run on the commonwealth plan. Bring in the girls, everyone, and I'll tell you just what I'll do."
The manager hesitated. He had a friendly feeling for Frank, as Merry had done him more than one good turn. At one time Havener had been jealous of Merriwell, having discovered that there was some secret between the young man and Cassie, with whom Roscoe was in love; but he had been convinced that there was nothing really wrong in the secret, and he finally came to appreciate Frank's manliness and courage. He had been assured by Cassie that he should know everything about the secret in time, and that satisfied him fairly well, although he sometimes puzzled over it and wondered what it could be.
It had happened that Frank, as property man of the company, was sent to bring something from the dressingroom used by the soubrette, and he had entered abruptly, discovering the little actress in the very act of injecting morphine into her arm with a needle syringe.
Of course Cassie was overwhelmed, for she had kept her habit of using the dreaded drug a secret from everybody, deceiving even Havener, who believed her usual languidness and depression came from the effect of an injury she had sustained which had caused her to spend some weeks in a hospital.
Finding she was detected, the soubrette opened her heart to Frank and told him just how she had contracted the pernicious habit. The drug had been used on her to allay the pain while she was in the hospital, and she had continued to use it after being discharged, till at last she found she could not give it up.
She made Merriwell promise to keep her secret, but she had told him she should reveal it to Havener in time, if she found she could not break herself of it.
At first Cassie's regard for the stage manager had been kept secret, as Havener had a wife living somewhere, presumably, although he had not seen her or heard anything of her for four years. He had applied for a divorce for utter desertion, and expected to get it in the fall. Then he and Cassie were to be married.
"But I'll never marry him," the sad-faced little girl had said, "unless I can break myself of the habit. I won't tie myself up to any man the way I am. Ross Havener has used me white, and I'll use him white."
In vain she had struggled to break herself of the habit.She suffered tortures day after day depriving herself of the drug when her entire system craved it. She tried to act at night without its aid, but that she found impossible. She could not go on the stage and simulate a light-hearted, happy girl without the assistance of the dreadful stimulant. When she tried it her feet were like lead, and there was no vivacity in her manner. She found she must use it or lose her position.
That preyed on her mind, and it was a relief to have some person with whom she could talk about it.
Then came the time when Cassie began to believe she could never get rid of the habit without the aid of some power other than her own, and she thought of praying; but it seemed utterly blasphemous for a girl like her and an actress to pray.
She meditated over it a long time, not even speaking to Frank about it till she found he was going to leave the company to go out ahead of the show.
Then she talked to him about it, and he had encouraged her to pray. He had even said he would pray for her!
Cassie had tried it, and she began to believe there might be something in it, for it seemed that praying did her good. She even bought herself a little Bible, and took to reading it every night before going to bed.
Of course the girl who roomed with her—for it was necessary for the members of the company to "double up" at hotels—soon found her reading the little Bible, caught her on her knees beside the bed, and began to tease her about it.
But Cassie stood the teasing in silence, not once showing any resentment. Everyone observed a change in her. While she had ever been kind-hearted and generous, she became even more so, putting herself out in many ways to do favors for the other members of the company. A hopeful light came to her face at times, driving away the sad and wearied expression, and when her roommate told the others that she was reading the Bible and praying every night, it became rumored that Cassie was turning Christian or going daffy. There seemed a general doubt as to which was taking place.
She was the good angel of the company, and not one of them all was there who was not indebted to her for some kindness.
Frank looked at Havener in surprise when he saw the man was hesitating. Havener returned the look. He glanced at the others, and then abruptly said:
"I'm bound to tell you just what it is liable to mean if you put your money behind us."
"All right," smiled Frank. "You can tell me that up in the room. Come ahead."
"Well, if you say so. Cates, tell everybody to come to my room right away."
Fifteen minutes later the entire company was packed into Havener's room. Hans and Ephraim were also there.
"Mr. Merriwell asked me to have you called here," Havener explained. "He has some kind of a proposal to make."
Cassie caught him by the arm and pulled him round.
"You don't mean to say that you're going to let him throw his little roll away, do ye?" she hastily whispered, looking at him in surprise and reproval.
"I've told him what it means," muttered the manager, a bit resentfully. "If he's itching to blow his stuff, he'll blow it, and we might as well get the benefit of it."
"Well, he's goin' to know just what it means before he does anything of the kind. He can't be roped in blind. I won't stand for it, Ross!"
"You'll get the others down on you if you say too much."
"What do I care? He's worth more than all the rest of them. I'd rather have his respect than that of the whole gang."
Havener looked at her, knitting his brows.
"You're queer," he said, doubtingly. "I don't know what to make of you. If you didn't talk right out to me, I might think you was hard hit by the fellow."
"You know it's not that, Ross," protested the little soubrette. "I'm not in love with him, but I respect him, and I don't want to see him fooled. He's white, and he don't know everything about the tricks of people in the profession. He has a way of thinking everybody honest till he finds out they are crooked."
"Still he hasn't let anybody get ahead of him thus far, unless it was this chap Harris that he told us about. That fellow did him up by smashing his stuff."
"Well, I'm going to tell him something."
"Better keep still till you hear what he proposes. It's no use going off half cocked."
By this time Frank was ready to speak.
"It won't take me long to make my proposal," he said, in his quiet way. "You are running now on the commonwealth plan, without any backing, and you all know what it will mean if you strike a few days of frost. Companies in such a condition are always on the outlook for an angel. That's where I come in. I've got some money, about five hundred dollars, and I'm here to offer myself as the angel."
Surely Frank was not talking like a person who did not fully understand the danger into which he was plunging.
Right here Cassie spoke up.
"It's mighty good of you, Frank, to make such an offer, but I don't think we've got any right to accept it."
This brought a murmur from nearly everyone present, and, tossing back her head, Cassie went on swiftly:
"Every chance is against our making a go of this thing, and we have no right to rob you of your rocks. We couldn't fill the dates booked for the original company by Barnaby Haley, and we've got no regular route staked out far enough ahead to know where we're going to land if we manage to pull along. We've got to play small towns and make the most of our stands fer one night. We'll play in halls and almost any kind of an old place where we can git in, instead of reg'lar theaters. It's goin' to be a mighty rough knocking around,and there can't be much money in it if we manage to keep on our pins—not enough to warrant anybody putting his pile behind the show. There, that's just how the land lays, and I don't believe there's anybody here dirty enough to want to rope you in without letting you know it. If there is, I'm ashamed of being out in the same company with him!"
Cassie had expressed herself in language that was plain enough so not a word could be misunderstood.
And her finish had checked anybody who was on the point of protesting.
Leslie Lawrence looked mildly disgusted.
"She'll queer it," he muttered to Douglas Dunton.
"Sure thing," growled Dunton.
"She's too good since she got religion."
"Far too good."
"Think of losing the only opportunity we'll have to catch an angel!"
"It's tough."
"It's a shame!"
Cassie could not understand what they were saying, but she gave them a look that told them she knew they were expressing an opinion of her that was not at all complimentary.
Frank Merriwell laughed a little.
"I am not going into this thing to make a fortune," he said, quietly. "I know there can't be much money in it. I'm looking for experience."
"He can get lots of that," murmured Lawrence.
"I should smile!" chuckled Dunton.
"You'll pay dear for your experience, I'm afraid," said Cassie.
"Perhaps not. I'm willing to take the chances."
"Well," whispered Lawrence, rousing up and showing fresh interest, "he's bound to bite anyway. Somebody ought to muzzle Cassie!"
"What kind of chances are you willing to take?" asked Havener, who was growing more interested, now that Frank was so persistent.
"That depends on what sort of arrangements I can make with you."
"He shies a bit," whispered Dunton.
"Just trying to show that he's really shrewd," yawned Lawrence, lighting a cigarette without asking leave of anybody.
Lillian Bird, the leading lady of the company, a woman with a fine figure and a washed-out complexion, held out her hand toward Lawrence.
"Don't be so mean," she said. "You might blow off once in a while when you are wealthy."
He grinned and passed her the cigarettes. She took one and lighted it. Sitting on the top of the little table, which was pushed back against the wall, she puffed away at the cigarette in a manner that plainly indicated she did not fancy she was doing anything to attract particular attention or comment. She handled the cigarette in a familiar manner, inhaling the smoke, and the yellow stainson the fingers of her right hand completed the public confession of her habit.
"What sort of an arrangement are you expecting to make?" asked Havener of Merriwell.
"Well," said Frank, "if I put my money behind the company, I shall expect to manage it."
Lawrence whistled softly.
"You'll be taking considerable on your shoulders," said Havener.
"That is all right. I shall make contracts with everybody and stand by them as far as possible. The favors will not come entirely from me."
"Eh? What's that?" grunted Dunton, showing surprise. "Has he invented some kind of a game?"
"What'll he make out of it, if he has?" asked Lawrence, derisively. "There's no money in us. We'd better agree to anything he may propose."
"Let him become manager?"
"Sure. He won't last long—only till his boodle is used up. Then we'll get rid of him."
"Will Havener agree?"
"Don't know. He's a fool if he doesn't."
"In case we strike poor business," Merriwell went on, "I shall expect the members to accept a percentage of their salaries for the time, with the understanding that whatever is held back will be paid as soon as business picks up enough to enable me to do so."
Lawrence was straight and stiff in his chair.
"We might as well go along on the same old plan," heexclaimed. "Merriwell is looking for everything to favor him. What good will it do us to run that way?"
"Now you are dissatisfied because he isn't fool enough to go into this thing blind!" cried Cassie Lee. "His idea is all right."
"All right for him, but he can claim any time that he is not making enough to pay our full salaries."
"I will agree to show up the accounts at the end of each week to each and every member of the company," said Frank. "You shall see if I am using you square."
"That's fair," said more than one.
But Lawrence, who had expected to catch a sucker, was not at all pleased.
"What salaries do you propose to pay us, Mr. Merriwell?" he asked. "How are you going to settle that?"
"When you started out with Mr. Haley," said Frank, "you were playing to cities and large towns. You have come down from that to barnstorming in small places. The expenses of the show have been reduced, but the revenue cannot be a fourth as much. I have thought the thing over some, and have decided to offer you all exactly two-thirds as much a week as Mr. Haley agreed to pay you originally. You will bring copies of your contracts made with him to me, and we will make out new contracts. That is, we'll do so if you accept my offer."
Now there was an animated discussion of Frank's proposal, everyone taking part. While it was going on, Merry was asking Havener some questions.
"What pieces have you in your repertory?" asked Frank.
"Why, we have the parts of all the pieces Haley obtained."