## The Project Gutenberg eBook of Frank Merriwell's Own Company; Or, Barnstorming in the Middle West

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Title: Frank Merriwell's Own Company; Or, Barnstorming in the Middle West

Author: Burt L. Standish

Release date: December 24, 2020 [eBook #64123]
Most recently updated: October 18, 2024

Language: English

Credits: David Edwards, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRANK MERRIWELL'S OWN COMPANY; OR, BARNSTORMING IN THE MIDDLE WEST ***

Transcriber's Note:
A Table of Contents has been added.
Obvious typographic errors have been corrected.

[Pg 3]

# FRANK MERRIWELL'S
OWN COMPANY

OR,

Barnstorming in the Middle West

BY

BURT L. STANDISH

AUTHOR OF

"The Merriwell Stories"

STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS
238 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK CITY

[Pg 4]

Copyright, 1898
By STREET & SMITH
——
Frank Merriwell's Own Company

## CONTENTS

CHAPTER | PAGE
I. | THE DYING MAGICIAN. | 5
II. | FRANK'S OPPORTUNITY. | 11
III. | SNEEZING SILVER DOLLARS. | 18
IV. | CATCHING THE AUDIENCE. | 29
V. | THE MIRACULOUS WINEGLASSES. | 36
VI. | THE EDUCATED FLY. | 41
VII. | UNPLEASANT HAPPENINGS. | 54
VIII. | AFTER FRANK'S MONEY. | 64
IX. | HARRIS AGAIN VANISHES. | 70
X. | IN THE POWER OF HIS ENEMY. | 74
XI. | DEADLY PERIL. | 79
XII. | RASCALS FALL OUT. | 86
XIII. | A SURPRISE BY CASSIE. | 95
XIV. | UNCERTAIN FRIENDSHIP. | 104
XV. | MERRIWELL'S PROPOSAL. | 112
XVI. | HISSED. | 125
XVII. | DISPOSING OF A RUFFIAN. | 132
XVIII. | HAVENER'S DISCOVERY. | 139
XIX. | TROUBLE BEHIND THE SCENES. | 144
XX. | SARGENT FINDS A PARTNER. | 150
XXI. | TROUBLE FOLLOWS. | 157
XXII. | COMING TO TERMS. | 168
XXIII. | THE OLD ACTOR'S CURSE. | 172
XXIV. | THE POWER OF LOVE. | 178
XXV. | A TREACHEROUS TRICK. | 184
XXVI. | SYMPTOMS OF MADNESS. | 190
XXVII. | WARNING THE TRAITOR. | 196
XXVIII. | SAVING HIS ENEMY. | 201
XXIX. | THE WORK IS DONE. | 207

[Pg 5]

FRANK MERRIWELL'S OWN COMPANY.

## CHAPTER I. THE DYING MAGICIAN.

Manager Thaddeus Burnham, of the Keesport Opera House, was worried. Zolverein, the magician, was billed to play in his house that Wednesday evening. Zolverein was in town, stopping at the Midland Hotel, where he had arrived at noon. All the magician's apparatus was in the theater, and the stage was set for his appearance. The hour of opening the doors had arrived, the box-office man was selling tickets as fast as he could make change, and people were pouring in to witness the performance of the man of magic, who was famous all through that part of the country.

But Zolverein was in his room at the hotel, suffering from an attack of heart trouble, to which he was subject. He had assured Thaddeus Burnham that it was of no particular consequence, would soon pass away, and he would be able to appear at the time when the curtain should rise and give his regular performance, just as advertised.

[Pg 6]

However, the doctor who was attending the magician expressed grave doubts about Zolverein's immediate recovery, and, twenty minutes after the opening of the theater, Manager Burnham heard that the physician had sent in great haste for another prominent doctor of the place.

Frank Merriwell, the famous Yale athlete, now advance agent for the "Empire Theater Comedy Company," was talking with Thad Burnham. They were standing in the lobby of the opera house, watching the people come in.

"The house will be full," said Burnham, nervously. "It's a shame to have to refund so much money."

"You don't know that you will have to refund it," consoled Frank. "Zolverein has such spells frequently. He was telling me about them on the train."

"But Dr. Harte has summoned Dr. Gray, and Harte wouldn't do that for nothing. How did you happen to meet Zolverein?"

"I had the fortune to save him from what might have been a serious accident at Newton."

"How was that?"

"He was too late to take the train before it started, and he sprang aboard after the cars were under way. He slipped and would have fallen between two cars. I caught him by the collar and dragged him back to the platform. It gave him quite a shock, and he was afraid it might bring on an attack of his trouble. That's how we came to talk about it."

"Well, it brought on the attack all right."

[Pg 7]

"It seems so, but he thought all danger was past by the time we reached this place, for he was feeling much better."

"Something makes me certain he will not be on hand to-night. If he had not given me orders to open the doors, these people would not be coming in now. Of course I did as he directed, but it is going to cause no end of trouble."

"It has a bad effect to turn away an audience after a house is filled."

"Right. People go away sore. Hope nothing of this kind will happen in connection with your show, Mr. Merriwell."

"It's not likely to happen," declared Frank; but, if the manager had noted the youth's expression just then, he might have seen a shade of anxiety pass over Merriwell's face.

Within a day or two Merriwell had learned that Zenas Hawkins, the "angel" on which Barnaby Haley, the manager, had depended to keep the "Empire Theater Company" afloat, had refused to give up any more good money and had quit the organization.

As the company had been "up against bad business," the wind must change, or the end would come quickly, and Frank knew it. Hence his anxiety.

As Merriwell and the manager stood there, a boy came up hurriedly, saying to Burnham:

"Can you tell me where I can find Frank Merriwell? The magician has sent for him."

[Pg 8]

"Here he is," said the manager, indicating Merry.

"Come on, sir," urged the boy. "They told me to tell you to come in a hurry."

"What is the matter?" asked Burnham. "Is it——"

"I don't know. All I know is that they told me to get Mr. Merriwell in a hurry."

"Goodness!" muttered the manager. "I hope this don't mean that——"

He did not finish, and Frank followed the boy, wondering why he had been summoned by Zolverein.

The messenger was a bell boy from the hotel, and he piloted Frank up to the door of the magician's room.

Frank knocked lightly.

The door was opened at once by a tall man who wore a Vandyke beard. It was Dr. Gray.

"This is Mr. Merriwell," explained the bell boy.

"Come in," said the doctor, softly. "You are in time."

"In time!" echoed Merry, wonderingly. "In time for what?"

Then he saw another man bending over the bed, on which lay Zolverein, the great magician. One glance satisfied Frank that the man of magic was face to face with the mighty mystery which no human being has ever solved and lived.

Zolverein's face was ghastly gray, while his eyes were wide open and staring at the ceiling. It almost seemed that already he had solved the mystery.

But Merriwell's voice reached the man's ears, and, with[Pg 9] a great effort, he turned his head slightly, looking toward the door.

"Yes, you are in time," he said, and his voice was hollow and faint with a ghostly sound. "In time to see the end."

"He's dying!"

Merry did not utter the words aloud. Quickly, with light steps, he approached the bed.

"Young man," said that weary voice, "bend down—sit beside me."

Merry took the chair at the bedside, the doctor stepping back, but remaining near and watching the sinking man intently.

The pallor on Zolverein's face became even more marked, as if his few words had cost him too great an effort. His eyes left Merriwell and found the doctor.

"Brandy!" he whispered, pleadingly. "Something to give me a few minutes more of life!"

The doctor hastily mixed something in a glass and held it to the dying man's lips. The small quantity Zolverein was able to swallow seemed to bring a bit of brightness to his dimming eyes.

"There," he whispered, "that will do it."

The doctor straightened up, but not till he had breathed in Frank's ear:

"If there is anything you wish to hear from him, make haste. He has not many seconds more."

"Young man," said the dying magician, "you did me a turn to-day—you saved me from being mangled [Pg 10]beneath the train. It would have made but a few hours' difference, but I prefer to die here in bed. You grabbed me and held me up at the risk of being drawn down yourself. It—was—a—brave—act."

He stopped, gasping painfully.

"If you have anything in particular to say, do not talk of other things now," warned the doctor.

"All right," murmured the magician. "I understand what you mean. The end is near. I'm ready to go."

Again he looked at Frank.

"I like you," he declared. "I took a liking to you on the train. That's why I send for you. I have not a relative in the whole world that I care for. I have some friends, but they are far away. You are here. You befriended me—a stranger. My apparatus for performing my feats of magic is worth several thousand dollars. Here and now I express my desire that you shall have it when I am dead. If you sell it for what it is worth, it will—bring you in—a tidy—sum—of——"

His voice died in a gasping rattle, his breast heaved once and was still, his eyes were set, and the end had come.

Zolverein, the magician, had solved the great mystery.

[Pg 11]

## CHAPTER II. FRANK'S OPPORTUNITY.

It was Frank who carried the report of the magician's death to Thaddeus Burnham.

The manager looked disgusted.

"Why couldn't the fellow have waited till to-morrow!" he exclaimed. "Got the best house of the year. People will be terribly disappointed. It's so much cold cash out of my pocket."

"Death is something that cannot be postponed," said Frank. "When a man's time comes, he has to go."

"Now I must go in there and announce that there will be no performance," growled Burnham. "If there was somebody to take Zolverein's place——"

"Let me take his place."

"You?"

Burnham stared. Then he grinned in a sickly manner.

"What sort of a joke are you cracking?" he asked, harshly.

"No joke," assured Frank. "I am in earnest. I'd like to take his place."

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"Why, you're no magician."

"How do you know?"

"You're simply an advance man, and——"

[Pg 12]

"Still, I have studied magic, and I am a good ventriloquist. For instance——"

"Bow-wow-wow!" barked a dog in the box office, and the ticket seller gave a great jump and scrambled onto his stool, drawing up his feet and looking down for the dog.

"Me-e-e-e-ow!"

A cat seemed to utter a wild yowl, following which the dog barked again, and then a terrible clamor of sounds came from the ticket office, as if the dog and cat were engaged in a fearful combat.

"Well, how in blazes did they ever get in there?" gasped Thad Burnham, making a rush for the side door and flinging it open. "Get out of here, you——"

He stopped and stared.

"Where are they?" he asked, bewildered.

"You tell!" burst from the ticket seller. "Thought they were right here under my feet."

The sounds had ceased.

Frank was standing behind Burnham, looking in at the door and laughing.

"Why don't you drive them out?" he asked.

"Why, they're not in here," answered the manager.

"Where do you suppose——"

A cry came from the ticket seller—a cry of consternation and terror.

"The money!" he fluttered.

"What money?" asked Burnham.

"The bills in the tray!"

[Pg 13]

"What about them?"

"Gone!"

"Gone where?"

"Don't know! Disappeared!"

"How could they?"

"Somebody must have reached in and taken them while we were looking for the cat and dog. I've been robbed!"

"Nobody reached in," declared Burnham, at once. "No person has been near the window, Jones."

"But the money was there a few moments ago—I saw it just before the dog barked."

"Then it must be right here now. Perhaps you brushed the bills off onto the floor."

"Couldn't brush them out of the tray."

They looked on the floor, but the pile of bills was not found there.

"You must have put them in your pocket, Jones," said Burnham, sternly.

"On my honor——"

"Feel and find out. You will be held responsible."

The ticket seller was frightened, and he showed it.

"Of course, Mr. Burnham," he began, unsteadily, "you do not think I would take a dollar that does not belong to me? You have known me too long——"

"That money must be recovered," came furiously from the now excited manager. "I must refund it to those who have purchased tickets here to-night, for there will be no performance. Search in your pockets."

Jones felt through his pockets, but protested that he[Pg 14] could find nothing. His agitation and terror grew apace.

It seemed that the money had vanished into thin air.

"Perhaps you picked up the money when you rushed in, Mr. Burnham," suggested Frank Merriwell, from the door.

"Impossible!" exclaimed the manager. "Didn't do it."

"Better feel and see."

Burnham felt through all his pockets, but discovered nothing.

"Mr. Jones," he said, frigidly, "if you do not find that money, you'll sleep in the lock-up to-night."

"Don't be so hasty, Mr. Burnham," expostulated Frank. "There is one place you have not looked."

"Eh? What's that? Where?"

"In your hat."

"My hat? Why, it's——"

"On your head—exactly."

"But the money couldn't get into my hat. Don't joke, young man. This is serious."

"Not joking. Better take off your hat and look in it."

"It's folly, but I'll—— Good gracious!"

Thaddeus Burnham removed his hat, and out tumbled the roll of bills. He caught them up and stared at them.

"Is—is this the money?" he asked, bewildered.

Jones looked it over, they counted it, they compared accounts, and they found it was the correct amount.

"That is the money," declared the satisfied ticket seller. "I distinctly remember that torn five-dollar bill."

[Pg 15]

"But," murmured the puzzled manager, "it—it was in my hat!"

"That's right."

"How did it get there?"

"You must have caught it up and placed it there when you entered the office to look for the cat and dog."

"Never—never did any such thing! Why, it's ridiculous! I wouldn't put the money in my hat."

"You had your hat in your hand when you came in."

"Yes, I was going to shoo the dog and cat with it. But where are the dog and cat? Are things bewitched around here? There's something queer about this."

Frank Merriwell laughed quietly.

"I don't think you will find the dog or the cat if you search a long time," he said. "As for the money——"

He finished with another laugh, and a light began to dawn on Thaddeus Burnham.

"You rascal!" exclaimed the vexed manager, flushing as he realized he had been fooled. "You are responsible for all this! The dog and cat——"

"Ventriloquism," admitted Frank

"The money——"

"Sleight of hand."

"Why should you——"

"Wanted to show you what I can do. Those are little things. I assure you that I believe I can entertain an audience for an hour and thirty minutes and send every person away satisfied. I have studied magic, and, with[Pg 16] Zolverein's apparatus, I can do many things of interest. Give me a chance to try it."

"But the apparatus—you have no right to touch it."

"On the contrary, it belongs to me now."

"Belongs to you—how?"

"It was given me by Zolverein before he died. That was why he sent for me. He gave it to me because he was grateful for what I did for him in keeping him from falling beneath the wheels of the train."

Burnham looked doubtful.

"I have two witnesses that he gave me all his apparatus," said Merry. "They are Drs. Harte and Gray. Both heard him give the stuff to me. Let me look it over, give me twenty minutes' time, and, with the aid of his assistant, who is waiting on the stage, I will give a performance that will please and satisfy the audience."

The manager shook his head.

"It is barely possible," he admitted; "but I do not dare try it."

"Why?"

"The audience would not accept you in the place of a famous magician like Zolverein."

"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Frank, who was eager for the chance to try his hand at magic; "I will make a speech to the audience. I will tell them of Zolverein's sudden death. Then I will offer to entertain them for thirty minutes without charge. At the end of thirty minutes everyone who wishes will be given an opportunity to leave the theater and collect their money at the[Pg 17] box office. Those who wish to remain will see the rest of the entertainment for whatever price they have paid. Isn't that all right."

"It sounds all right; but I don't wish to make a farce of this affair. I am afraid to try it, young man."

"If twenty persons leave the theater at the end of thirty minutes," Merry proposed, "I will forfeit fifty per cent. of my share of the gate receipts. If forty persons leave, I will forfeit the entire gate receipts. What do you say to that?"

Thaddeus Burnham hesitated.

"I'd like to try it, but——"

There was a shrill whistle through the speaking tube that connected with the stage. Burnham stepped to the tube.

"Hello!" he called. "What is it?"

Then he listened. Pretty quick he turned to Frank, saying:

"The audience is growing impatient. I must dismiss them, or——"

"Give me a trial."

"Well, I will; but I'm afraid I'm a fool. Go ahead and see what you can do. If they throw eggs at you, don't blame me."

[Pg 18]

## CHAPTER III. SNEEZING SILVER DOLLARS.

At last the report had reached the theater that Zolverein, the great magician, was dead. It was beginning to spread among the impatient spectators, who had been clamoring for some time for the curtain to go up.

Just then a clean, bright, business-appearing young man stepped in front of the curtain and immediately began to speak:

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am here to impart to you the sad information that Gerard Zolverein, the magician billed to appear here this evening, died suddenly and unexpectedly at the Midland Hotel at five minutes to eight this evening. For a long time he has been the subject of a serious heart trouble, which he was perfectly aware would finally cause his death; but his recovery, on former occasions from the attacks led him to believe that he would be able to appear before you this evening, despite the fact that he felt the trouble coming on immediately after supper. He sent Manager Burnham an assurance that he would be able to give his regular performance to-night, and thus it happens that the doors were opened here at the time advertised. Of course Manager Burnham regrets that he opened the doors at all, and in order to satisfy everyone present, he has made arrangements whereby you will be able to witness free of charge an[Pg 19] entertainment thirty minutes in length, of modern magic and ventriloquism. At the end of thirty minutes all who desire may leave the theater, and their money will be refunded to them at the box office. Those who desire to remain will be able to witness the 'Spirit Mysteries,' 'Talking Head,' 'Educated Fly,' and other of the most wonderful things advertised as performed only by Zolverein himself. Remember that the first thirty minutes of this entertainment will be given entirely free of charge, and that due notice will be given so that all who may wish to leave may do so and collect their money at the box office. Please keep your seats while preparations for the free entertainment are made. Prof. Pombal will delight you with some choice selections on the piano."

This little speech was delivered easily and gracefully, and it won some applause, as the youth bowed himself off the stage and the "professor" took a seat at the piano.

Not a person left the theater, although there was a buzz of talk. Frank had not announced that he was the person who would give the entertainment, therefore there was considerable speculation among those present as to who would attempt to perform Zolverein's most difficult and marvelous feats.

Frank found the magician's costumes in a dressing room, and it happened that they fitted him very well, as Zolverein had been a well-built man, so he made haste to get into one of the suits.

The magician's assistant was present, and Frank had a talk with him. The man agreed to assist Merry that[Pg 20] evening, although he was thoroughly broken up by the knowledge of his employer's sudden death, having been sent to the theater by Zolverein to get everything ready for the evening performance, and not having entertained an idea that the magician would not recover and appear that night as advertised.

By the time Prof. Pombal had played two selections, Frank was ready to go on.

Naturally Merriwell was nervous, but he braced himself for the task before him. Having practiced amateur magic and studied the famous feats of noted conjurers and necromancers, he believed himself capable of amusing and pleasing the audience, even though not capable of giving such a finished performance as one who was practicing the feats night after night.

Frank walked out onto the stage immediately upon the rising of the curtain. He started in at once by telling a story about two Irishmen, one of whom was down in a well, into which he had fallen while looking at the reflection of the moon, which he had mistaken for a cheese, being slightly intoxicated. His friend at the mouth of the well was trying to get him out, and the talk of the two was very laughable. The voice of the intoxicated man in the well seemed to issue from deep down beneath the stage floor, and was a very clever piece of ventriloquism. A good portion of the audience was amused, but some pretended to be bored at the very start.

Merry told four stories in rapid succession, and the last one was the best of them all, giving him an [Pg 21]opportunity to imitate the sounds produced by fowls, birds, animals and so forth. At the finish the audience burst into a round of applause, and Frank saw he had them in a good humor at last.

Then he proceeded to do a number of his own tricks, beginning with the spinning of an egg on a shallow japanned tray. To do this trick it is necessary to use a hard-boiled egg, and, having started the egg spinning on its small end, the tray should be kept moving in a small circle in the opposite direction to that in which the egg is spinning.

Then Merry produced a short, sharp sword, which he passed round for the audience to examine, warning them to be careful not to cut themselves with it. The sword was very keen, as was easily ascertained.

When the sword was returned to him, Frank proceeded to slice some sheets of paper with it, to further demonstrate its keenness. Then he took a potato and passed it to the assistant.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I propose to cut this potato in two on the open hand of M. Mazarin with a single stroke of this sword, without leaving the slightest mark on his hand. I do this to prove to you that the magician should possess such skill that he can strike at a vital spot with a deadly weapon and check the stroke within a hair's breadth of where he may desire."

He then took the potato and sliced off a thin piece from one side, returning it to the assistant, who held his hand outstretched with the potato upon it.

[Pg 22]

Then Merriwell thrust back his cuff and carefully poised the sword, as if gauging the exact force he would put into the stroke. Then he made a savage feint, stopping short of touching the potato. Next time, however, he seemed to strike swift and hard, and the potato was divided in two parts upon the assistant's hand, and, as Merry had predicted, the keen edge of the sword left no mark on the man's flesh.

As this did not seem to impress the audience very much, Frank next proposed to divide a potato placed upon the neck of the assistant.

"You will realize, ladies and gentlemen," he said, "that I could quite as easily strike Monsieur Mazarin's head from his body. In fact, should I fail to check the descent of the sword at exactly the proper instant, I must inflict a fatal wound."

Now there was a rustling in the audience.

"Ach-ew! a-chew!" sneezed an old farmer in the front row. "Gol darn this cold!" he muttered, in a stage whisper. "I hev to sneeze ev'ry time jest at the p'int where he's doin' somethin' I want to see."

This caused a slight titter, and Frank spotted the possessor of the cold.

"I'll attend to your cold later, sir," he said. "Without doubt it is very annoying to you, but I will show you how to make it profitable. Whenever I catch cold, I retire from active life and do my best to cultivate that cold, for I find I can make more money sneezing than in any other way."

[Pg 23]

The old fellow was in a bad humor, and he promptly retorted:

"I didn't come here to be made fun of, young man! Yeou jest attend to your business, an' I'll attend to mine. Ker-chew! ker-chee-eew! ker-chee-ee-eew!"

Some of the audience laughed outright, while others showed sympathy for the afflicted farmer.

"I assure you, my dear sir," smiled Merry, from the front of the stage. "I have no thought of making fun of you. If I do not keep my word and show you how to turn every sneeze into good hard money, I will apologize to you before the audience. But first I must complete what I have started to do."

He picked up another potato and sliced off a thin piece from one side of it. Then he placed a chair, on which the assistant sat, leaning far forward and bowing his head, so the back of his neck was a horizontal plain.

Frank carefully placed the potato on the back of the man's neck. Then he stepped back and lifted the sword.

"Hold on, b'gosh!" cried the farmer, rising from his seat. "I want to—ker-chew! ker-chew! ker-chew!—see this here—ker-chew! ker-chew!—piece of business! An' I want to tell yeou that yeou had better—ker-chew! ker-chew!—go purty dad-dinged keerful, for if yeou cut that feller's head off. I'll—ker-chew! ker-chee-ew! ker-chee-ee-eew!"

The old fellow went off into such a violent fit of sneezing that he could not finish what he was trying to say.

"Too bad!" sighed Frank, in a drolly ludicrous [Pg 24]manner. "If I had that cold it would be worth a fortune to me. How I envy you, sir!"

The old fellow dropped into his seat, still sneezing and gasping.

Frank made a flourish with the sword, and out in the audience a nervous woman uttered a little cry. The bright blade glittered and flashed through the air, the keen edge struck the potato, and it seemed that it must cleave potato and sever Monsieur Mazarin's head from his body. But the potato simply dropped to the floor in two pieces, and the assistant straightened up, smiling and unscathed.

Some of the spectators clapped their hands. A voice cried "Fake!"

Frank simply laughed.

"In this world," he said, placidly, "fifty per cent. of the things we see are fakes. In modern magic about one hundred per cent. is a fake. That's what makes it interesting. Explain the fakes—if you can."

This was said so good-naturedly that Frank won the sympathy of the audience.

Indeed, the potato-cutting trick was a fake. A needle had been inserted crosswise in each potato, near one side. When the time came to do the trick, Frank sliced off the portion of the potato near the needle, pretending to do it so the potato would lay perfectly level. Then he struck with sufficient force to divide the potato, but when the edge of the sword struck the needle, which lay crosswise[Pg 25] to the sword, the keen weapon could go no further, and the potato fell apart.

It was a very simple little trick, but it looked like a rather remarkable feat.

"Ker-chew!" sneezed the old farmer in the front row. "That's purty good, but that air Zolverein could knock the spots offen that, an' he never made no bluffs abaout turnin' sneezin' inter money."

"Nor do I make any bluffs, sir," said Frank, pleasantly. "If you will come up here onto the stage, I'll show you how to make your cold pay you well."

"Oh, yeou ain't goin' to git me up there an' then make a gol darn guy of me for northin'."

"I have no idea of doing that, sir. If you are not well paid for your time and trouble, I will refund you the money you paid to get in here to-night, and you shall stay through the entire entertainment without paying."

"That's fair, b'gosh!" exclaimed the man, as he started to get up.

At this point, a quiet little woman who had been sitting at his side caught him by the coat-tail and pulled him back into his seat.

"Jo-si-ah!" she whispered, shrilly, "don't yeou go up there! Yeou can't tell whut he'll be doin' to ye."

"Waal, if he tried to—ker-chew! ker-chew!—do anything that I don't like, I'll jest mop up the platform with him! Let me 'lone, Nancy!"

"Yeou set still, Josiah!"

"See here, old lady, I usually let yeou do the bossin',[Pg 26] but I kainder guess I'll do as I darn please this—ker-chew!—time."

There seemed danger of a family row there in the front row, but Merry said:

"If I fail to satisfy you, sir, I will also refund the price of your wife's admission."

"Hear that, Nancy! Jeeminy! This is the chance to make a dollar, fer he'll hev a darn hard time satisfyin' me!"

That brought down the house. There was a roar of laughter, and, in the midst of it, the old farmer broke away and scrambled for the stage.

There were some steps at one end, and Frank assisted the man up those, grasping his hand and shaking it warmly as he led him to a seat in the center of the stage.

"Oh, sir!" sighed Merry, with apparent sincerity, "if I had your beautiful cold, I could sneeze out a barrel of money in a very short time."

"You're gassin'."

"Certainly not. After I made the discovery of how easy it is to turn sneezing into good money, I tried to keep a cold all the time. Before that I could not seem to get rid of a cold when I caught it. Since then I am not able to keep one after I have caught it. I used to have a cold in the fall, the winter, the spring, the summer. When I didn't have a cold, I had hay fever. I sneezed till I was sore and weary of life. Then I sat down and set to work on a plan to turn my sneezing into money. I studied over it for many moons, and finally I hit upon a[Pg 27] plan. I put it to the test, and the very first day of my experiment I succeeded in sneezing about a peck of copper cents. I was not satisfied with that, and I sought to improve the system. Before the end of the second day, I was able to sneeze five and ten-cent pieces, but my cold was getting better. On the third day I became sufficiently skillful to sneeze silver quarters, but, to my intense regret, I found I could not sneeze very often. The next day I only sneezed seven times, but every sneeze brought me a good new half dollar. When the fifth day came I sneezed just twice, but each time I got a silver dollar. And the following day I was unable to sneeze at all, so I ceased to advance in skill, but I am satisfied I should have been able to sneeze ten-dollar gold pieces within a few more days. Since then I have done everything in my power to catch a good, fat, sneezing cold, but fate is against me. I expose myself to all kinds of wretched weather, but I can't get a cold that will stay with me more than a couple of sneezes. It is a sad, sad fate for one who has made such an important discovery."

"Waal, I wisht you could have this cold. It keeps me jest—ker-chew! ker-chew——"

"Hold on! hold on!" cried Frank, bustling about; "don't waste such splendid sneezes! It is too bad!"

"Have to let 'em come when they come, b'jee!"

"Well, we'll soon turn them to account. Are you in favor of free silver?"

"I be, b'gosh!"

[Pg 28]

"I thought so. That will make it all the easier to turn those sneezes to account."

Frank borrowed a hat from a man in the audience.

"This will do to catch the money in," he said, showing that it was quite empty. "Of course there are no holes in it."

Then he proceeded to poke his index finger at the hat, and apparently thrust it through the crown.

"My! my!" he exclaimed, wiggling his finger and looking at it ruefully. "That's too bad! I'm afraid I have spoiled the hat. It was very tender, or I could not have thrust my finger through it so easily."

Then he seemed to pull his finger out, but when he looked for the hole the hat was not damaged in the least.

Of course this was a simple trick, done with a false finger, but Frank sandwiched it in with the rest, and it "went."

"I think this hat will do, after all," he observed. "Now, sir, as you are in favor of free silver, I want you to put your mind upon one thing. I want you to think constantly of silver dollars. When you feel that you must sneeze, keep repeating to yourself, 'Come, silver dollars—come, come, come!' I assure you that you will be astonished by the result. I see that you are about to—— Ah! there you go!"

Frank held one hand over the man's head, while the other hand held the hat inverted before him.

The old fellow caught his breath and threw back his[Pg 29] head. Forward he came, and a most explosive sneeze burst from him.

It seemed that four or five shining silver dollars burst from his mouth and nose and fell jingling into the hat!

## CHAPTER IV. CATCHING THE AUDIENCE.

"Great gosh!"

The man with the cold was so astonished that he stopped sneezing and stared down into the hat.

"Where did them come from?" he gurgled, dazed.

"Right out of your maouth an' nose, Josiah!" cried the little woman he had left in the front row, bobbing up excitedly to her feet and flourishing an old umbrella.

"Set down, Nancy!" commanded the man. "All the folks is laughin' at ye!"

"Let 'em laugh! Keep on sneezin', Josiah!"

"Why, I—— Ker-chew! ker-chew! ker-chew!"

Down into the hat fell more silver dollars, jingling right merrily.

"That is first rate," complimented Frank Merriwell. "You are doing finely, sir. We'll soon have a hat full."

"But where do they come from, that's whut I want to know?"

"Didn't I tell ye!" squealed the now thoroughly[Pg 30] aroused little woman, bobbing up again. "I see 'em when they flew aout of your maouth! Don't stop sneezin', Josiah!"

"I'd like to know when I swallered all them silver dollars!" muttered the "hayseed," craning his neck and pulling at his long beard, as he peered into the hat.

The audience literally shouted with laughter. At last, Frank had done something to catch the spectators.

At the back of the theater Manager Burnham was standing, and, for the first time, he rubbed his hands together and smiled, saying to himself:

"The boy is all right! If he keeps this up, he'll hold a good part of the audience. Didn't think he could do it. I am surprised."

"This process of sneezing silver dollars, ladies and gentlemen," smiled the young magician, "is distinctly my own invention. I have applied for a patent, and I shall prosecute all who infringe on my rights. I must protect myself at—— What, again!"

"Ker-chew! ker-chew! ker-che-eew!" sneezed the farmer, and silver dollars literally rained into the hat.

"Keep it up, Josiah—don't stop!" urged his wife, from her seat in the front row.

"Gol darned if I don't!" gasped Josiah. "It's a regl'er snap to see 'em fly inter the hat. Ker-chew! ker-chew!"

"We'll soon have the hat filled, sir," declared Frank.

"Waal, who be they goin' to b'long to?"

"To us."

"Us? Jest explain that."

[Pg 31]

"To you and me."

"Haow?"

"Of course you will be willing to divide with me, as you could not produce the money without my aid."

"Waal," said the farmer, slowly and reluctantly, "I s'pose I'll have to let ye hev part of it—say ten per cent."

Of course this was amusing to the audience.

"That is not at all satisfactory," said Frank, with a show of disappointment.

"But the money's mine, fer I sneezed it."

"With my aid—don't forget."

"Waal, I—— Ker-chew! ker-chew! ker-chew!"

No more silver fell into the hat.

"Say!" shouted the farmer, excitedly; "whut's happened? Why didn't any come then?"

"If I am to receive but ten per cent., I have decided not to assist you in producing any more," said Frank, grimly.

"Give him twenty, Josiah—give him twenty!" fluttered the farmer's wife from her seat, again waving the umbrella. "Yeou'd better do it! Yeou'll be makin' a big thing at that."

"I s'pose I'll hev to," said the man. "All reddy now! I kin feel some more sneezes comin'."

"But twenty per cent. does not satisfy me," asserted Merry.

Josiah groaned.

"Haow much do yeou want?" he asked. "Say quick!"

[Pg 32]

"You must divide equally with me, sir."

"Waal, if I must, I must. Git reddy! Here it comes! Ker-chew! ker-chew! ker-chew-eew!"

Once more there was a shower of silver, and the hat seemed well filled.

"I think we will stop with this," said the youthful magician. "Of course it would be very pleasant for us both to go on piling up money like this, but the audience would get tired, and my first duty is to carry out this performance and amuse them, as advertised."

He placed the hat on a small table, but the farmer's long arm shot out, and his fingers clutched the coveted receptacle of all that money.

A moment later Josiah was staring in open-mouthed dismay into the hat, which was——

Empty!

"Great smoke!"

The farmer managed to gasp forth the words.

"What is the matter, sir?" quietly asked Frank, without looking toward the man.

"It—it's gone!"

"What's gone?"

"The money!"

Merry whirled, threw up his hands, gave a cry of feigned consternation.

"What have you done?" he demanded, wringing his hands.

"Why, I jest took up the hat arter yeou put it onter ther table, and all the money was gone aout of it."

[Pg 33]

"What made you touch it? Why did you do it? That is why the money disappeared. You should have let me handle it."

"Look here, young man," said the farmer, trying to appear indignant, "yeou can't come this on me! Whut have yeou done with that money? Half of it b'longs to me, an' b'gosh! I want it. Yeou must hev took it frum the hat."

"I appeal to the audience. I simply placed the hat on the table, while I prepared to count and divide the money with you. You caught it up, and this is the result. You, sir, and you alone, must assume the responsibility."

"That's right, Josiah!" cried the farmer's wife. "You're alwus doin' some fool thing, an' naow you've done the biggest fool thing of your life! If yeou'd let things alone yeou'd be better off."

The audience shouted with laughter once more, and Frank congratulated himself on the outcome of his little piece of legerdemain.

But the old farmer seemed ready to shed tears.

"Say," he quavered, "can't we do that thing over ag'in? I'd like to sneeze aout a few more dollars an' divide even with ye. I'll let yeou do all the dividin', too."

"I don't know about it," said Merry, doubtfully. "I seldom repeat anything before an audience, but——"

"But——"

"This time——"

"Yeou will?"

[Pg 34]

"My time is limited, but we'll see what we can do."

Frank took the hat and held it before the farmer.

"Now, sir," he urged.

The man wrinkled up his face, stared into the hat, scratched his nose with his index finger, and then shook his head.

"Gosh!" he said, in great disappointment. "I don't seem to want to sneeze naow."

"That's jest like him!" squawked the little woman, bobbing up excitedly. "He never wants to do the right thing at the right time! Sneeze, Josiah—sneeze! If yeou don't, I'll hev a few words to say to yeou when we git hum!"

"Land, Nancy, how be I goin' to sneeze when I don't want to? Seems zif I'd never want to sneeze ag'in."

"I am very sorry," said Merry; "but my time is limited, and I can't wait. If you——"

"Ker-chew!"

Down jingled two silver dollars into the hat.

"That was rather weak," smiled Frank. "Can't you make it a trifle more explosive? Those heavy ones count the——"

"Ker-chew!"

Two more dollars dropped into the hat.

"Come again," urged the youthful magician.

In vain Josiah tried to draw forth a genuine sneeze. Finding he could not do so, he resorted to deception and feigned a sneeze.

No money fell into the hat.

[Pg 35]

Frank uttered a cry of pretended despair.

"Oh, why did you do that?" he fluttered. "The charm is broken! I should have told you!"

"Whut is it?" asked the farmer, in great agitation. "Whut hev I done?"

"You faked that sneeze. It was not genuine."

"Whut of that?"

"You broke the charm, and now you might sneeze your head off without sneezing out so much as a plugged nickel. It's all over."

"Josiah Doodle," came from the little woman, "yeou don't know so much as I thought ye did, an' I never thought ye knew anything! Git your sheer of whut there is in the hat an' come down often that air platform before yeou do something to etarnally disgrace yourself."

"Here, sir," said Frank, taking the money out of the hat, "is exactly four dollars. Two dollars belong to you. Here they are."

He gave them to the farmer, who clutched them eagerly. Frank led him to the steps, and he went down from the stage.

There was a great burst of applause. As the noise died down, Josiah was heard saying to his wife:

"Now don't sputter abaout it, Nancy! I got two dollars, an' I'd sneeze twice as much ev'ry day for that money."

That produced the greatest uproar yet, and, looking at his watch, when the noise subsided, Frank announced:

"The thirty minutes of free entertainment is over, [Pg 36]ladies and gentlemen, and now we come to the real show, for the following feats will include the most famous marvels performed by Zolverein himself. Those who wish may go now and collect their money at the box office, but I guarantee satisfaction for all who remain. If at the conclusion of the performance anybody is dissatisfied, he may call at the box office then and his money will be refunded. I shall begin the regular performance with the 'Miraculous Wineglasses,' which will be remembered as one of Prof. Zolverein's favorite feats. Prof. Pombal, something lively, please."

The pianist was ready, and he struck into a rollicking tune that was calculated to set the blood of the listeners dancing.

Not a person left the theater.

Frank had caught the audience all right.

## CHAPTER V. THE MIRACULOUS WINEGLASSES.

While the pianist was playing, Frank retired behind the scenes to change his coat and make arrangements for the trick he was about to attempt.

Manager Burnham came rushing in.

"I congratulate you, young man!" he exclaimed. "You[Pg 37] have done well so far, but you are going it a little too steep."

"How's that?" Merry asked.

"In guaranteeing satisfaction at the end of the show. Even Zolverein himself wouldn't do that, for there's always a few soreheads who are never satisfied, and when one man walks up and calls for his money others are encouraged to do the same."

"Don't let that worry you, Mr. Burnham. I'll stand for every dollar you have to refund."

That seemed to relieve the manager's apprehensions somewhat, but he went on:

"Then you made a mistake in promising so much in the performance to come. You can do your own tricks all right, but when it comes to Zolverein's——"

"Wait, Mr. Burnham. You are not competent to judge till you have seen what I can do. I shall have the assistance of Monsieur Mazarin in doing his most difficult feats."

"But I'm afraid you will bungle one of them, and that will ruin everything. One false move in this kind of a show spoils the whole business."

Frank simply smiled.

"I am not afraid of making any false moves," he said, carefully arranging his coat. "The little trick I am about to perform is not the simplest on the list. Go out in front and watch me."

Then he walked onto the stage, just as the pianist ceased playing.

[Pg 38]

"Now," said Merry, smiling on his audience and appearing perfectly at his ease, "I would like to borrow a handkerchief—a gentleman's handkerchief. Who will be good enough to let me have one a few moments? Some one, please."

He walked down the steps, while several gentlemen held up handkerchiefs. He passed two of them, selecting one that was pretty large.

"This one will do," he said, lightly, giving it a flirt and spreading it out.

Then he looked around inquiringly, asking:

"Are there any gentlemen in the audience who are good judges of wine? If so, let them call for whatever they prefer."

"Sherry," called one.

Instantly Frank produced a brimming glass of sherry from the handkerchief and passed it to the one who had called for it.

"I think you will find that all right," he said, blandly, giving the handkerchief a flirt. "Next."

"Port," called another.

Barely was the word spoken when Frank took another brimming glass of wine from the handkerchief.

"Rare old port," he smiled, passing it to the one who had called. "How is that sherry, sir?"

"It is sherry all right," was the answer; "and good sherry, at that. Thank you."

"And this is port," said the other, smacking his lips.

"Some one else, please," called Frank, looking around.

[Pg 39]

"Claret," said a voice.

Out of the handkerchief Frank drew a glass of claret.

"Tokay."

As the word was spoken Merry flirted the handkerchief to show there was nothing in it, but the following instant he took out a glass of tokay and passed it to the one who had called.

"Rhine wine," he said himself, pretending he had heard some person call for it. "Here it is, sir. Who asked for it? You?"

He placed it in an outstretched hand.

"Champagne," laughed a rather lively-looking lad.

Again the handkerchief was flirted, and then out from beneath its folds came the brimming glass of champagne, the glass being so full that a little of it was spilled as Frank passed it to the one who had called.

"Of course I am not able to treat everyone present," said Merry, apologetically. "I trust no one will be offended."

He gathered up the emptied glasses and started for the stage. Then, of a sudden, he turned about, looking around.

"What's that?" he said, pretending to overhear a remark. "Not satisfied? Think I am partial. Well, I don't like to seem partial to anyone. If you will wait, I think I can supply all present who wish something."

Then he passed the handkerchief to the one from whom he had borrowed it, thanking him for its use, and hastened upon the stage.

[Pg 40]

"I will bring out a bottle of wine, ladies and gentlemen," he said.

He left the stage for a moment.

Almost immediately he reappeared with a small bottle in his hand, an ordinary pint wine bottle.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Frank, "I have found this little bottle very handy in emergencies like the present. You see it is empty just now. I will rinse it out, in order that no one may fear to drink whatever comes from it."

The assistant brought on a dish of water and a towel. Frank proceeded to rinse out the bottle before the eyes of the spectators. Then he dried it with the towel.

When he had completed this task, M. Mazarin came on with a large tray which was literally covered with wine glasses, a hundred in all, at least.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen," said Merry, as he followed M. Mazarin from the stage to the center aisle, "I will supply port wine from this bottle for all present who may wish to drink."

With that he began pouring wine from the apparently empty bottle into the glasses, passing swiftly up the aisle. The glasses were given out as fast as they were filled, and the astonishment of the audience increased as Frank continued to pour wine from the originally empty bottle till he had filled every glass on the tray.

"There," he laughed, tripping back to the stage, while the assistant collected the emptied glasses, "I trust everyone is satisfied now."

[Pg 41]

"Zolverein never did it better!" cried a voice, and the applause was all that Merry could desire.

## CHAPTER VI. THE EDUCATED FLY.

While the glasses were being collected, Frank prepared for the next feat.

The wineglass trick had been cleverly performed, and yet it was done in a very simple manner.

The coat which Merry wore while doing this trick had three little inner pockets on either side, made to hold the six glasses of wine produced from behind the borrowed handkerchief. The glasses were filled, and then over the top of each a rubber cap was stretched, to prevent the wine from spilling. This done, the glasses were placed in the little pockets, and Merry knew which pockets contained the different kinds.

He was careful to secure a large handkerchief. When he performed the trick, he spread the handkerchief out over his breast, and, beneath its cover, reached in and took the glasses of wine from the pockets, deftly removing the rubber caps as he took them out. Then it was easy to pretend to draw the brimming glasses of wine from the handkerchief, and the very fact that the glasses[Pg 42] were full to the edge made the feat seem all the more marvelous.

Fortunately the audience had called for the very kinds with which he had provided himself, with the exception of the Rhine wine. No one called for that, but Merry pretended to hear some one call, and forced the wine on a spectator, getting rid of it in that manner.

When he went off the stage to get the trick bottle, he hastily took off his coat and hung under his right arm a rubber bag containing port wine. From this bag a rubber tube ran down his sleeve to his hand. There was a hole in the bottle near the bottom. When he rinsed the bottle in the presence of the audience, he kept his thumb over the hole. While drying the bottle with the towel, he inserted the rubber tube in the hole. Then it was an easy thing to go down into the audience and pour wine from the bottle, which seemed inexhaustible. Whenever he wished to pour out some wine he would press against the rubber bag with his arm, and the wine was forced out through the tube into the bottle.

The glasses were of special make and of very thick glass, making a bulky appearance, but holding a very little wine, so that the marvel was not nearly so great as it seemed.

The "Talking Head" trick was the next one Frank decided to perform. This illusion was made effective by means of a set of mirrors which made it seem that the audience could look right through beneath the table on[Pg 43] which the "severed head" seemed to rest, while, in fact, the mirrors hid the body to which the head was attached.

A clever assistant is much needed in performing this trick, and Merry had a good one in M. Mazarin. The business was carried through successfully.

Then came the "Spirit Mysteries," which were a series of cabinet tricks, none of them exactly new, but all of them performed well enough to satisfy the now thoroughly good-natured audience.

The final trick of the evening was announced—"The Educated Fly."

This was something new, and the audience was interested.

Frank had attempted none of the feats requiring extraordinary skill and a large amount of practice, thus escaping the pitfall into which Thaddeus Burnham had feared he would stumble.

Yet he had given an hour of genuine pleasure to the wondering audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Frank, "I will now show for the first time in this place Prof. Zolverein's wonderful 'Educated Fly.' Up to this time there have been plenty of educated cats, dogs, pigs, birds and mice, but I believe this is the first time on record that a genuine educated fly has been on exhibition. Of course this is not an ordinary fly. It is a native of South America, and was captured in Ecuador, near the headwaters of the[Pg 44] Amazon. There, far in the mighty tropical forests, the flies grow to an immense size, so that even the famous Jersey mosquito in his highest state of development is a mere pigmy beside them. These flies are not easily kept in captivity, as they almost invariably refuse to eat and pine away and die as soon as they are taken from the fastnesses of the wild forests where they abound. They love their native forests. These flies are possessed of a wonderful intelligence, and they might be readily trained if they did not almost invariably starve themselves to death when held in captivity. Prof. Zolverein was fortunate in securing one of the flies which had become accustomed to captivity, and he was able to teach the tiny creature many astonishing feats. Among other things, the fly is a ready reckoner, as you shall see. Prof. Pombal will entertain you while the stage is being made ready for the final exhibition."

As Frank finished, a voice in the back of the hall cried:

"Rats!"

Merry looked in the direction from whence the sound seemed to come.

"I have no educated rats," he said, quietly; "but if the person who called for them will come forward, I will show the audience an educated monkey."

This caused a laugh, and several persons in the rear of the theater turned to look toward the one who had uttered the cry, a flashily-dressed youth who had entered a few minutes before.

[Pg 45]

This person grinned a bit, but did not accept Frank's invitation to come forward.

Merry retired, and the curtain was dropped for a few moments.

When the professor finished playing on the piano, the curtain rose swiftly, showing on the stage an easel, against which rested a large mirror in a gilt frame. This mirror was about four and a half feet wide, and three feet high.

Frank walked out briskly upon the stage.

"You will see, ladies and gentlemen," he said, "that I have had this mirror placed in a position where the light falls strongly upon it, and I think you will be able to follow the movements of the fly from any part of the house. First, I wish to show you the mirror."

He then took the mirror down from the easel, and, having shown both sides to the audience, rested it on the floor, leaning it against the easel.

Next he took the glass from the frame and showed that to the audience.

"It is just an ordinary mirror, as you can all see," he said.

Having shown the glass, he rested that against the easel, and took up the frame, which had a wooden back, and showed that to the audience. Then the frame was placed on the easel in its proper position, while the glass still leaned against the bottom part, which it covered up as far as the lower edge of the frame.

As it stood thus, Frank talked glibly a few moments,[Pg 46] then he picked up the glass and returned it carefully to the frame.

"Now," he said, taking a piece of soap, "I am going to divide this mirror into twenty-eight even squares."

He proceeded to do so.

"Next," explained Merry, "I will number twenty-six of those squares in order as they come, like this."

He numbered them from one to twenty-six.

"The next square I will mark zero—thus. The last one I will leave blank. That shall be a starting point. Now we will letter those squares in the same manner from 'a' to 'z.'"

This was quickly done.

"At last," he smiled, "we are ready for the wonderful fly."

He stepped toward a small stand, on which rested something covered by a cloth. Removing the cloth, a small cage with very close wiring was seen.

Frank opened a door in one side of the cage, chirping and murmuring something. He put in his hand carefully, and took something from the cage.

By this time the audience was literally throbbing with interest and expectancy.

"What is it?" whispered one.

"It's the fly," said another.

"Fly! Never! Why, it was in a bird cage."

"Well, it's large."

"But not large enough for—— Great Scott!"

Merry had placed the fly in the blank corner of the[Pg 47] marked mirror, and everyone was astonished by its appearance.

"It's large as a humming bird!" shrilly hissed a boy. "My! but that's a corker!"

"That can't be a fly!" declared a man.

Then the amazing insect was seen to start to crawl across the face of the mirror.

"Here! here!" laughed Frank, gently catching it and restoring it to the blank place in the lower right-hand corner. "Don't be in a hurry to get to work."

"There is one amazing thing about this fly," he said, turning to smile on the audience. "It is never afraid of working overtime, and it really seems anxious to earn its salary."

The fly moved restlessly in the corner, starting several times as if to creep away, but turning back.

"It is a fly!" said a man's voice in the midst of the audience.

"Now," said Merry, "we are ready to give you one of the most astonishing exhibitions on record. Before you, ladies and gentlemen, you behold a fly that actually thinks and reasons."

"Rats!"

Again that voice from the rear of the hall.

Frank looked keenly in that direction, hoping to discover the person who uttered the derisive cry.

"I will prove to you that I am not making an unfounded claim," the young magician asserted. "Will[Pg 48] some person in the audience be kind enough to call one of the numbers marked on the mirror."

"Number one," cried a voice.

"Number one," repeated Frank. "Very well. Now, Solomon," addressing the fly, "will you please show the ladies and gentlemen where number one is located?"

Immediately the fly started and crawled across the face of the mirror to the upper left-hand corner, where it stopped on the number called.

All over the theater there was a flutter.

"Marvelous!" said one.

"Astonishing!" spoke another.

"There must be some trickery about it!" a little man in spectacles was heard to declare. "No fly could be taught to do such a thing."

"Fake!" cried the voice that had twice before shouted "rats."

Frank laughed as if amused.

"Wait," he said, quietly. "This is merely the beginning. What is to follow will astonish you still more. Back, Solomon."

Back to the unmarked square crept the huge fly.

"Some person call a letter, please, requested Frank.

"E," said a woman in the third row.

"E is the letter," said Frank. "Now, Solomon, find it."

The fly started to creep along the bottom of the mirror, hesitated, turned about, started back, stopped.

[Pg 49]

"Ha! ha! ha!" came a derisive laugh. "The old thing is off its trolley! It's lost."

"Come, Solomon, come," smiled the magician; "they are making sport of you. Are you going to stand that? Find the letter E, and hurry up about it."

Slowly the fly turned, and then it ran swiftly up the face of the mirror till it stopped on the letter E, directly under the figure five.

There was a burst of applause.

"It is the wonder of the age!" excitedly declared a big, fat man whose flushed face seemed to indicate that he had been indulging too freely in liquid refreshments.

"Good enough, Solomon," complimented Merry, in a caressing tone of voice. "You are all right."

"Fake!"

Again that hateful cry.

Now several of the audience were aroused. Men began to look for the disturbing person.

"Put him out!" exclaimed two or three, angrily.

"He has no right to disturb the show," declared a man in the right-hand proscenium box. "I am near enough to see, and this thing is all right."

It happened that the speaker was the mayor of the town, and his words made an impression.

"Whatever Mayor Durgin says is all right must be all right," was the general decision.

Frank ordered the fly back to the starting point.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen," he said, calmly, "I will show you that Solomon is able to reckon, as well as[Pg 50] think. Will some person call two of the numbers on the mirror, which added together will not amount to more than twenty-six? Anyone present. I wish you to understand that this is not arranged in advance. So I would like to have some well-known lady name the numbers."

"Mrs. Durgin! Mrs. Durgin!" called several.

The mayor in the box turned and bowed to his wife, smiling. The lady blushed and seemed confused, but she quickly recovered. Then she leaned on the rail of the box, distinctly calling:

"Seven and eleven."

"Come seben, come eleben," laughed a youngster, and that produced some amusement.

"Solomon," said Frank, slowly and distinctly, "I wish you to find the numbers seven and eleven, add them together, and indicate the sum acquired."

"That's getting into pretty deep water," whispered somebody.

Straight up the side of the board ran the fly, stopping on the figure seven.

"All right so far," assured Merry. "Go ahead."

The fly paused a moment, and then crept downward to the left till it rested on the eleven, where it stopped again.

There was a great hush of expectancy.

"Seven and eleven," said Frank. "That is correct. Added together, seven and eleven make how many?"

The fly slowly faced in several different directions, and[Pg 51] then it seemed to hop down one square, alighting on the eighteen!

It was not surprising that the audience burst into such a round of applause as had not been previously heard that evening.

Smiling triumphantly, Frank bowed in graceful acknowledgment.

When the applause was over, he ordered the fly back to the starting point.

"I will next show you that the fly can subtract as well as add," he said. "If any person will name two numbers, Solomon will deduct the lesser from the greater, and then will indicate the number that remains. All ready."

"Twenty-two and nineteen," said the red-faced man, arising so all could see him. "I think I am pretty well known here, and it will be evident that I am in no way connected with this show."

Then he sat down.

Frank gave his orders to the fly, which started out in a rambling way, pausing slightly several times.

"He's gettin' tired," piped a boy.

"This subtraction is too much for him," cried another.

"What do you think about it Solomon?" asked Merriwell, quietly. "Are you going to let them think you're about to throw up the job? Get down to business. Come, come!"

Thus urged, the fly started forward again, creeping directly to the twenty-two.

[Pg 52]

"That's the first one. Go on."

The fly turned about and crept upward at an angle till it rested on nineteen.

"Now show them how much is left when nineteen is taken from twenty-two."

Upward again at an angle in the opposite direction went the marvelous fly, and it finally stopped on three.

"Nineteen from twenty-two leaves three," called Merry, with satisfaction. "That is right!"

"Hooray!" shouted the red-faced man. "I'm going to start catching flies and teaching them to reckon! There's money in it!"

Next Frank had the fly do a sum in multiplication, following with one in division.

These feats were performed perfectly.

"If some person present will name a word containing not more than four letters, Solomon will spell it out for you," announced Frank.

"Yale."

It was the voice that had called "rats" and "fake."

"Yale it is," said Frank, who was not a little surprised. "Come on, Solomon."

From letter to letter the fly ran, swiftly spelling out the word.

"It is evident to me," said Merry, "that the person who gave that word knows me. I would like to know who the individual is. Will he please come forward?"

No one stirred.

[Pg 53]

There was a loud buzzing sound, and the fly was seen fluttering about excitedly.

"What is the matter, Solomon?" asked Frank.

"Buz-z-z-z! buz-z-zz!" came from the fly, so loudly that everyone in the theater could hear it.

"Are you trying to talk, Solomon?" laughed Merry.

"Buzz! buzz! buzz!"

"You do not know the name of the person, do you?"

"Buzz! buzz! buz-zz-zz-zz!"

Now the fly was greatly excited. It made short jumps in several directions.

"Don't be trying any of your nonsense," warned the young magician. "If you are fooling me, I shall be offended."

If possible, the insect buzzed louder than before.

"Well, if you know the name of the person, be good enough to spell it out, so I may know who has several times disturbed the performance. Go ahead, Solomon."

Now the spectators lifted themselves in their seats and stared, for the fly fairly darted out on the mirror. As the insect paused on each letter, Frank spelled out the name.

"S-p-o-r-t. That spells 'Sport,' Solomon. Are you making sport of me, or are you giving me a name? Go on. What is the rest of it?"

Away darted the fly, and Frank spelled:

"H-a-r-r-i-s—Harris! Why, that is 'Sport Harris!' A fellow by that name was my worst enemy at Yale College. Do you mean that he is here in this theater?"

[Pg 54]

Like a flash the wonderful fly spelled one word:

"Yes!"

## CHAPTER VII. UNPLEASANT HAPPENINGS.

Up at the rear of the house rose a person, who shouted:

"Yes, I'm here! Your old fly business is a fake, and I know it! You are imposing on the people!"

That person, who was no other than an old-time enemy of Merriwell's, Sport Harris himself, hurled something at the mirror.

That something was a set of brass knuckles, which the young tough carried with him constantly.

His aim was accurate.

Had the knuckles struck the mirror a smash would have followed that must have exposed the manner in which the trick was performed.

But Frank, like a flash, thrust out his left hand and caught the flying missile, preventing the catastrophe.

"The act of a ruffian!" he said, his eyes flashing. "It is exactly what I should expect from you, Harris!"

"Arrest him!" roared the red-faced man. "Where is a policeman? He'll stay in the lock-up to-night!"

The ushers started toward Harris.

"Keep away," warned the young ruffian. "If you chaps try to touch me, you'll get hurt!"

[Pg 55]

He reached toward his hip pocket, and the ushers stopped instantly.

"Call an officer!" directed Mayor Durgin, from his box. "Don't let him get away!"

"No, don't let him get away!" cried a number of voices.

There was a move toward the door.

Harris vaulted over the back row of seats and rushed to the door, where he paused, turned about, shook his fist at Frank, and shouted:

"I'll see you again! I've been wanting to see you ever since I found you had escaped my vengeance! Our account is not settled! I'll square with you!"

Dash—slam! Harris was gone.

Several hurried after him, crying for him to stop.

It was some moments before the excitement in the theater subsided.

Frank advanced to the front of the stage, and made a short speech, in which he said:

"I thank you all for your kind attention, and I trust you are satisfied with the performance given here. As announced in advance, the feats of the 'Educated Fly' will close the entertainment. All those who are not satisfied can recover their money by calling at the box office."

"Anybody who calls at the box office is too mean to live in this town," loudly declared the mayor. "Just to see the work of that fly was worth more than the price anyone paid for seats here to-night. We are satisfied with the performance, young man, and we hope you will [Pg 56]appear here again at some future time. If you do, you may be sure that you will have a full house."

"That's right!"

"Just so!"

"You bet!"

"He's a good one!"

Cries of approval came from all parts of the theater.

"Possibly I may appear again," said Merriwell, "for I have been given his entire apparatus by Prof. Zolverein, and it may be my fortune to travel as a professional magician."

"You're all right!"

"You're a winner!"

"Zolverein picked a good man!"

"Good-night! good-night!"

The curtain fell behind Frank, shutting out the marked mirror and the wonderful fly, now resting quietly in the blank corner.

Merriwell stood at the front of the stage, bowing, as the audience departed, while the pianist marched them out with his music.

Thaddeus Burnham remained in the box office until everyone had left the theater, and then he came panting and palpitating to the dressing room, where Frank was getting into his own clothes.

"Not a cent," jubilantly cried Burnham—"not a cent did I give back! Nobody called for money! It is amazing!"

Frank smiled quietly.

[Pg 57]

"But the performance was all right," averred the manager. "I didn't suppose you could do it. And that fly business—why, that was wonderful! How in the name of creation did you do that?"

"Magicians do not give away the manner in which they perform their feats," said Merry, quietly.

"I know it, but—well, never mind. You did it, and that's enough. Come into the office, and we'll settle. You have made a tidy sum to-night."

The assistant, M. Mazarin, was standing near, looking glum and dissatisfied.

"Of course I could not have carried the thing through successfully without M. Mazarin's aid," said Merriwell, who was bound to give credit where credit was due. "He must have a liberal share of the proceeds to-night."

Even this did not clear the cloud from the man's face.

"That is for you to settle between yourselves," said Burnham. "I don't care what you do, as long as I was not forced to refund money to such a house as this was to-night. The thought that I must do so galled me terribly."

He hurried back to the box office.

Frank completed dressing, and then he observed that Mazarin was still standing there, scowling and silent.

"What is the matter?" asked Merry. "Did anything go wrong?"

"Everything has gone wrong."

"How is that?"

"Oh, it's no use to talk it over!"

[Pg 58]

"Why not?"

"Because."

"What do you mean?"

"It wouldn't make any difference."

Frank was determined to know what the man meant.

"Have I offended you in any way, M. Mazarin?" he asked.

"No," shortly.

"Then I presume we will be able to make arrangements to travel together, in case I decide to go on the road as a professional magician?"

"No!"

"Can't? I will pay you well. You shall——"

The assistant made a gesture that checked Frank.

"I was a fool to help you to-night!" he exclaimed, angrily.

Frank whistled.

"A fool? Why?"

"I have not been used right."

"By whom?"

"Zolverein."

"Ah! How was that?"

"I have been with him constantly for three years."

"Yes?"

"Yes. I was faithful to him."

"I haven't a doubt of it."

"What has he done for me?"

"I don't know."

"Nothing."

[Pg 59]

"Hasn't he used you square in a business way?"

"In a business way, perhaps. But didn't I have every reason to expect something more?"

"It is possible you did."

"And I got—nothing."

"Is that the trouble?"

"Isn't it enough? Here he gave you, almost a stranger, this apparatus, which is worth a large sum of money. Why didn't he give it to me?"

"I can't answer that question."

"Why did he give it to you?"

"Because I was fortunate enough to save his life this morning."

"You saved his life then that he might die to-night. I was shocked by his sudden death, and that is how it happened that I consented to assist you this evening. Had I thought it over, I should have refused. I might have gone on and given a performance here to-night, and I was the one to do it. I have traveled with him so long that I am perfectly familiar with all his tricks."

"Yes; but without the aid of a trained assistant, you could not have given a good performance. Who could have assisted you?"

"I would have done well enough. Zolverein did not know you could go on and give a performance. How could you have carried out the 'Educated Fly' trick without me?"

"Couldn't," Merry immediately confessed. "And I want to compliment you on the way you made the fly[Pg 60] work. It was as natural as life. Now, even if you think you have not been used right by Zolverein, there is no reason why we should quarrel."

But Mazarin would not be pacified.

"I presume you actually mean to take the apparatus?" he asked.

"Why," said Frank, surprised, "of course! It was given to me, and, with its aid, I shall be able to go on the road and do a thriving business."

"I thought you were under contract to Barnaby Haley?"

"I am; but I have every reason to believe my engagement with him will not last much longer."

"How is that?"

"I am certain the 'Empire Theater Comedy Company' will not stay out another week."

"Well, what if it does?"

"I shall try to get Mr. Haley to let me off and fill my place with somebody else."

"Then you are determined to go on the road as a traveling magician?"

"I have about decided to do so."

"In that case, there is no chance for me to buy this apparatus from you?"

"No, I do not think there is."

Mazarin turned away, and Frank saw he was thoroughly angered.

Again Merry made an attempt to pacify the man and engage him to travel as an assistant, but it was fruitless.

[Pg 61]

"Go ahead!" cried the man. "I can't wish you good luck, and I do not believe you will have any, for you will be forced to engage another assistant. You have our ideas away up by your success to-night, but you will not duplicate it. I feel certain of that."

He was going away.

"Wait," said Frank. "I have not paid you for your aid to-night."

"And I will not take anything."

Mazarin departed.

"Well, that is unpleasant," muttered Frank; "but a fellow can't expect everything to come his way."

When he had finished dressing, he went up onto the stage to pack away the apparatus with which the "Educated Fly" trick had been performed.

The fly was placidly resting against the face of the mirror in the blank corner. Frank took it up and put it into the fake cage.

The fly was a perfect imitation of a real fly, but it was made of cork, and it had an iron core, which rested flat against the glass when everything was ready for the exhibition to begin.

In addition to a wooden back, the mirror had a cloth back, which was firmly fastened into the frame. The wooden back was hinged to the frame at the bottom, and was very strong.

When the frame was placed on the easel and the mirror rested on the floor, the space behind the easel from[Pg 62] the floor up was entirely hidden. This was done when Merry took the mirror apart to exhibit it.

At that moment M. Mazarin came up through a trap-door in the floor and let down the wooden back of the frame, which formed a shelf, and on that shelf he could rest with ease. When the mirror was returned to the frame, the audience could look through beneath it, and no one could suspect that a human being was concealed back of it.

The black cloth was divided off into squares to correspond with those afterward marked on the mirror with the soap. The squares were numbered and lettered precisely the same, so that the assistant knew where every character was located on the face of the mirror.

The assistant behind the mirror was provided with a strong electro-magnet, attached to a wire running down one leg of the easel to a powerful battery under the stage.

When the assistant heard the numbers called, he placed his magnet opposite the corner where the fly was resting, and then moved it along the back of the mirror to the required square. In that manner he was able to add, subtract, multiply and divide.

The buzzing of the fly was produced by Merriwell himself, who imitated the proper sound.

Frank located Sport Harris, and recognized the fellow. Then, standing near the mirror, he whispered to Mazarin the name he wished him to spell with the aid of the magnetized fly.

Thus it will be seen that this apparently marvelous [Pg 63]performance was in truth a "fake," and not at all difficult to give. But it was always successful when properly done.

Merry took care of the apparatus, and then looked over the other stuff, locking up such things as he did not wish to leave out to be inspected by curious eyes.

When this was done, he went to the box office, where he found Burnham waiting for him.

"What's the matter with Mazarin?" asked the manager of the opera house.

"Why?"

"He has been here growling like a dog with a sore ear."

"He thinks Zolverein did not use him right in giving the apparatus to me."

"I thought it must be something of the kind. The fellow is cranky. You had better look out for him."

"What makes you think so?"

"He says you'll never travel on the road and make a success of it. I told him I thought you would. Then he went into the air and swore he'd make sure you didn't. I believe he is so cranky that he's dangerous."

"I hardly think so," said Merry. "I trust he will get over it."

"And you have another enemy."

"Yes. That fellow is dangerous, and I know it. Last time I saw him, he tried to burn me to death in an old barn."

"He must have a strong reason for hating you."

"Well, I drove him out of college, but not till I had[Pg 64] given him every possible chance to straighten up and do right. Fellows said I was a fool to give him such a chance, but I never like to push anybody down."

"If he and Mazarin got together, they might make it rather warm for you. Here is the account. Seventy per cent. is your share. I think you will find it all right."

Frank ran the account over. It was straight, and he pocketed a roll of money that made him feel like a millionaire. Then he bade Burnham good-night and started for the hotel.

At the hotel a surprise awaited him.

## CHAPTER VIII. AFTER FRANK'S MONEY.

"Haow are ye, Frank?" cried Ephraim Gallup, a friend of Frank's, from Vermont, as Merry entered the office of the hotel.

The long, lank Vermonter came forward, followed by a short, fat lad, who exclaimed:

"Yaw, how you peen, ain'd id, Vrankie?"

The short lad was Hans Dunnerwurst, another friend.

"Ephraim! Hans!" gasped Frank.

"Yes, we're here, bag an' baggage, by gum!" declared the down-Easter.

[Pg 65]

"Dot peen a fact," nodded Hans, with owl-like gravity. "Der pag und paggages vos here mit us."

"Why, what does it mean?" Frank managed to ask.

"The jig's up, b'gosh!"

"Dot vos id," agreed the Dutch boy.

"I do not understand," confessed Frank. "You should be playing in Tornton to-night."

"Waal, we ain't there."

"Tornton don'd peen us in to-nighd," averred Hans.

"But why not? Has the company——"

"Busted—that's it."

"Gone der spoudt ub," further explained Hans.

"Is it possible?"

"Yas."

"Yaw."

"And you——"

"We managed to scrape together enough money to git here, an' we ketched a train that took us here all right. Jest got to this air howtel an' faound yeou was over to the theater. We was goin' right over there."

"But now you haf come ofer us to id safed us der droubles," said the Dutch boy.

Frank sat down on a chair and stared at them some seconds.

"Well," he murmured, "I thought the company would break up, but this is sooner than I expected. What's the matter?"

"Haley, the manager, skipped out."

"Haley did?"

[Pg 66]

"Yas; left ther hull craowd in ther lurch. They'd lynch him if they could git their paws onter him."

"How did he happen to skip?"

"Waal, we done a purty good business last night at Ivervale, an' the gang was shoutin' fer some dust, yeou bet. The ghost ain't walked for three weeks, an' we wanted some money to git some shirts an' collars an' things done up clean. Haley promised to cough when we got to Tornton. We all went on board the train, s'posin' he was along with the tickets. When the train started, he dropped off. That's abaout all there is to it, except me an' Hans had some stuff soaked, an' we didn't git chucked off at a little side deepoe, same's the rest of the gang did."

"Then the show is completely stranded?"

"Jest that."

"What's the name of the place?"

"Ballardvale, I believe."

"Hotel there?"

"Dunno. We didn't stop to see."

"Well, that was a miserable trick for Haley to play, but I guess most of the managers of traveling companies play it sometimes. Why did you chaps come here?"

"We knowed you'd be here."

"What of that?"

"Waal, we reckoned mebbe we'd be able to git up some kind of a three-cornered show an' keep from starvin'. That was aour scheme. I dunno haow it'll hit ye, Frank."

[Pg 67]

"I have just given a show at the opera house here."

"Yeou hev?"

"Yes."

"Whut kaind of a show?"

Then Frank explained just what had happened and what he had done, while his two friends listened in open-mouthed astonishment and admiration.

"Jest like ye, by gum!" shouted Ephraim. "Can't throw yeou down! Yeou alwus light on yeour feet!"

"Yaw," nodded Hans, "yer veet alvays lighd on you, Vrankie."

"Haow much money did ye make?" whispered Ephraim, eagerly.

Frank pulled out a large roll, on the outside of which was a fifty-dollar bill. Both lads stared at it, and then they leaned heavily against each other.

"Efy," whispered Hans, "I pelief I vos goin' to had a pad case uf heardt vailures!"

"Waal, I'm ruther dizzy myself!" gurgled the Vermonter. "Never saw so much money as that in all my life. Why don't yeou retire an' live on the intrust of it, Frank?"

"Yaw, why you don'd led der interest uf id life on you, Vrankie?" asked Hans.

"Here is just about enough to get us started on the road in good shape," said Merriwell. "We shall need every dollar of it."

"We!" squawked Ephraim.

"Us!" gasped Hans.

[Pg 68]

Merriwell nodded.

"We will go into partnership," he said. "It will take three of us to run the thing right."

The Yankee youth and the Dutch lad fell into each other's arms.

"Saved!" cried Ephraim.

"Dot's vot's der madder!" rejoiced Hans. "Oh, dot Vrank Merriwell vas a beach, you pet!"

They sat down and talked it over for a long time. Frank believed Ephraim could learn to assist him about his tricks, and he fancied Hans would be good for something. They were his old Fardale schoolmates, and he had no thought of leaving them stranded away out there so far from their homes.

By the time they had talked over their plans it was after midnight. Then Frank found himself unable to deposit his money in the safe, as the clerk had gone to bed and taken the key, and no one would assume the responsibility of awakening him.

Ephraim and Hans were given a room together.

As they went upstairs, the Vermonter said to Frank:

"Look aout for that air money, Frank. If yeou lose that, we're in the soup fer sure."

"Oh, I'll look out for it," assured Merry. "No one will think of molesting me to-night."

He little knew that these words were overheard by his worst enemy. From his own unlighted room Sport Harris peered forth, having the door slightly ajar.

"So he's taking the money to his room?" thought the[Pg 69] young scoundrel. "Well, he must have a pretty good pile of it, for that was a great house. I'm rather hard up, and I wouldn't mind lifting a fat roll off that fellow."

In his stocking feet he slipped out into the hall and followed Frank, locating Merry's room.

Frank went in, closed the door and locked it.

He was pretty tired, and he lost little time in undressing. He did not give Sport Harris a single thought. In a short time he was in bed and the light was extinguished.

Tired though he was, it was some time before Frank could get to sleep, for his brain was teeming with exciting thoughts.

At last, however, he dropped off.

Frank awoke with a consciousness of danger. It seemed that a slight rustling had aroused him. In a twinkling he was on the alert, although he kept perfectly still.

There was a sliding sound near the door. Turning his eyes, he saw a dark figure slowly slipping in through the transom, which was wide open.

"Hello!" thought Frank. "Somebody is after my boodle! Well, I'll give that chap a surprise."

He reached up near the head of his bed and pushed the button there, distinctly hearing the bell ring down in the office. Again and again he pushed it, determined to arouse somebody if possible.

The intruder dropped down from the transom, and Frank shot out of bed. A second later Merriwell and the burglar were locked in each other's grasp.

[Pg 70]

## CHAPTER IX. HARRIS AGAIN VANISHES.

The burglar uttered a gasp of astonishment as Merriwell precipitated himself on the fellow.

"Got you!" half laughed Frank.

"I don't know!"

The other twisted about like an eel.

"Hold still!"

"Not much!"

The voice was choked by the efforts of the unknown, but Frank believed he recognized it.

"So it's you, Harris!" he said. "Up to your old tricks! You are just as much a sneak as ever!"

"If I'd got in before you discovered me, you might have never called me that again!" panted Harris.

"By that I suppose you were bent on murder. Well, that is no worse than your record."

"Why don't you shout?" hissed Harris. "Why don't you arouse the hotel?"

"It isn't necessary."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear the bell ring in the office?"

"Yes."

"I pushed the button. Somebody is coming here even now. All I have to do is to hold onto you till they come."

[Pg 71]

Harris snarled and gnashed his teeth, which he tried to fasten in the back of Frank's wrist.

"Steady," said Merry. "It's no use. I've got you, and I'll hold you. I'll see that you go to prison for this."

"Never!"

"It's what you deserve, and you'll have to take your medicine at last."

Then Merry found his enemy was feeling in his bosom. Frank tried to hold his hand, but Harris succeeded in getting out a knife. With this he struck back at Merry.

"That will look all the worse for you when they come," said Merry, grimly. "You are putting yourself in a pretty bad place."

"Oh, I could kill you!" panted Harris. "You ruined my college career!"

"You are wrong."

"It is true."

"You ruined it yourself."

"No; you did it."

"I did nothing of the sort. I gave you several opportunities to brace up and become a man, but you have bad blood in you, and blood will tell. I never did anything against you that you did not force me to do."

"Oh, you will say that, but I know better. But for you, I'd be in Yale now."

"Yale is better off without you."

With a sudden twist, Harris broke Frank's hold. A cry of triumph escaped him.

"Now you get it!"

[Pg 72]

The knife was driven at Merriwell's throat.

Frank's hand caught his wrist, and the blade was stopped just as the point touched Merry's neck.

Frank gave a twisting wrench, and the bones in the wrist of the young rascal seemed to snap. A cry of pain was wrung from his lips, and the knife fell clanging to the floor.

There was a sharp knock on the door.

"Wait a minute," called Frank. "I'll let you in directly. Got my hands full now."

"What's the matter in there? What's this mean? Stepladder against the door out here."

"Caller used it to come in with," cried Frank.

Just then he found an opportunity to break away a bit from Harris, and he gave the fellow a terrible swinging blow.

Frank's fist struck Harris under the ear, and the fellow was stunned.

"Just lay there a moment," murmured Merry, as he dropped the baffled rascal on the bed and turned to open the door.

The night watchman came in. Harris tried to get up and dart out by the open door, but Merry caught him and flung him back on the bed.

"Just help me take care of him, will you?" said Frank. "He is pretty ugly, and——"

Over the foot of the bed went Harris, out of the half-open window he dived.

Frank leaped and clutched at his heels.

[Pg 73]

Too late!

"Gone!" gasped Merry.

"Well, it's more than even money that he won't go very far," said the watchman. "I'll wager something he's broken his neck by the fall to the ground."

They hurried out of the room and down the stairs, fully expecting to find Harris lying under the window.

But when they reached the spot both were amazed to discover that the fellow was not there!

Nor was he found at all, although a sharp search for him was made.

He had escaped again.

Zolverein's remains were shipped to the little Eastern town that he sometimes called home, there to be interred in the village cemetery. Frank took care that everything was properly attended to, as he felt it his duty and privilege.

M. Mazarin remained bitter toward Merriwell, and he disappeared almost as mysteriously as had Sport Harris.

Frank proceeded to fill Zolverein's engagements, taking Ephraim and Hans along with him.

"We're running a show of our own, now," he said, laughingly, "and we are out for fun, fame and fortune."

[Pg 74]

## CHAPTER X. IN THE POWER OF HIS ENEMY.

One eventful day Frank came alone to the theater for the purpose of getting something out of one of his trunks.

Entering by the stage door, he went up the stairs and onto the stage, which was dark, behind the drop curtain. He discovered a man lifting from the easel on which it had rested the large mirror which was used in the "Educated Fly" trick.

"Drop that!" shouted Frank.

"All right!"

The man promptly dropped the mirror at Frank's cry, smashing it into a thousand pieces!

"Scoundrel!"

Frank was aroused.

"Back!"

The unknown caught up a heavy Indian club, one of a set used by Merry each night in his exhibition of fancy club swinging. The club was raised aloft.

"Back, or I'll brain you!"

"Drop that!"

"On your head, if I do!"

The fellow made a threatening swing with the club. Frank ducked, dodged aside, leaped forward, caught his arm, grappled with him.

[Pg 75]

Now they were face to face, so close together that Merry could distinguish the features of the prowler.

"Sport Harris!" he shouted, astonished by the discovery.

"Yes!" snarled the other, trying to wrench his hand free.

"You here?"

"You bet!"

"What for?"

"Business."

"Deviltry, more likely! How did you get in here?"

"No matter."

"Well, you'll pay dearly for that mirror!"

"You'll never make me pay for it, you can gamble on that!"

Now Harris made a furious struggle to break away, but Frank forced him back against some scenery and pinned him there.

"It's no use, you rascal!" came from Merry's lips. "You are caught this time, and you won't get away."

"Don't be so sure," panted Frank's enemy. "I have given you the slip more than once, and now——"

He uttered a strange cry, and, a moment later, Merriwell realized there was danger behind him; but he was prevented from turning, and, all at once, a pair of small, strong hands encircled his throat, the fingers crushing into the flesh.

Frank was in a bad scrape, as he instantly understood.[Pg 76] Harris was not alone, and his companion had caught Merry unawares.

"Choke him! choke him!" hissed Sport, with a savage laugh of satisfaction. "Now we've got him!"

Frank twisted and squirmed. For some seconds a furious struggle took place on that stage, but Harris managed to keep Merriwell from breaking the choking grip of the unknown, and those small, strong hands were crushing the life and energy out of the young magician.

"Oh, we've got you!" exulted Frank's old Yale enemy. "You can't do it, Merriwell! You came here just in time to run your head into this trap!"

Frank could make no reply, for his tongue was protruding from his mouth. In his ears there was a roaring sound, and colored lights seemed bursting and changing before his eyes.

Frank knew the venom of Harris—knew the fellow was a brute who would hesitate at nothing to satisfy his evil desire for revenge. Alone he could have handled the young ruffian easily, but the attack from behind conquered him.

He wavered, swayed, and would have fallen. They dragged him to a chair.

"Ropes!" cried Harris. "Bring them quick! We'll tie him."

The other hustled away and quickly returned. Then the two tied the unfortunate magician to the chair.

"Something for a gag," called Harris.

[Pg 77]

The other looked about, but could not find anything that suited Sport.

"Oh, never mind," said the fellow, as he took a huge clasp knife from his pocket and opened it. "If he hollers, I'll cut his throat!"

This was spoken in a way that seemed to indicate the ruffian would actually do the deed without hesitation.

Harris drew up another chair and sat down facing the captive.

Slowly Merry's strength returned. At last he was able to sit up without the support of the binding ropes.

"Ha! ha!" laughed his bitter enemy. "How do you like it? I don't believe you fancy it much. I have you now."

Frank made no reply, but he peered through the gloom at the figure of Sport's companion and assistant. There was something familiar about the slight, supple form, but it was not till the man turned so the light reached him differently that Merry recognized him.

"M. Mazarin!" he gasped, incredulously.

The little man nodded.

"Yes," he said, coldly. "Are you surprised to see me?"

"Rather."

"I suppose you expected never to see me again. You thought I had gone to leave you forever. You thought I would give up everything and let you go about the country giving exhibitions with this apparatus that should have become mine at the death of Zolverein. You fancied[Pg 78] I was a fool. You robbed me of what should have been mine, and I do not love you for it."

"Very fortunately," said Sport Harris, in his sneering way, "we met, became acquainted, discovered our mutual hatred for you. We are here—here to get even."

"Right," nodded the little man. "If I can't take Zolverein's place on the road, I swear you never shall!"

"It is plain that you make a fine pair," said Frank, speaking huskily, for his throat still felt the effect of the terrible pressure it had received. "You will do well together. Harris should have been in jail long ago, and it is not improbable you'll both get there before a great while."

"We'll ruin you before we go!" grated M. Mazarin. "It will take you a long time to duplicate this apparatus. Some of it you'll never be able to duplicate."

"Are you going to steal it?"

"Oh, no."

"What——"

"We are not that foolish," said the little man. "You might recover it if we stole it."

"But you are going to do something?"

"That's easy guessing," sneered Harris.

"What is it?"

"I will soon show you," said Mazarin, with a cold little laugh. "But you must keep him still, Harris."

"If he utters a chirp, I'll slit his windpipe," promised the young ruffian.

Mazarin lighted a lamp, which he placed on a small[Pg 79] table. Then he took a heavy hammer, and before Frank's eyes he smashed at a single blow a box that served to enable Merry to do one of his most difficult and interesting feats.

"Now," said the malicious little man, "you know what I am going to do. I am here to destroy every bit of the apparatus you received from Zolverein. I can do it in twenty minutes."

## CHAPTER XI. DEADLY PERIL.

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."

[Pg 80]

"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't[Pg 81] it 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.

[Pg 82]

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 I[Pg 83] may 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.

[Pg 84]

"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 you[Pg 85] should 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!

[Pg 86]

## CHAPTER XII. RASCALS FALL OUT.

"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?"

[Pg 87]

"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.

[Pg 88]

"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 him[Pg 89] out 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 with[Pg 90] each 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, and[Pg 91] the 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'm[Pg 92] glad 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!"

[Pg 93]

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, found[Pg 94] his 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.

[Pg 95]

## CHAPTER XIII. A SURPRISE BY CASSIE.

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.

[Pg 96]

"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.

[Pg 97]

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."

Frank read that letter over twice, and then he sat meditating over it.

[Pg 98]

"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 country[Pg 99] did 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 in[Pg 100] the 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 as[Pg 101] soon 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, for[Pg 102] it 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 to[Pg 103] a 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 good[Pg 104] seats 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!"

## CHAPTER XIV. UNCERTAIN FRIENDSHIP.

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."

[Pg 105]

"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 Dunton[Pg 106] seldom 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.

[Pg 107]

"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's[Pg 108] stage-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 with[Pg 109] Frank 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's[Pg 110] strange! 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?"

[Pg 111]

"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 than[Pg 112] you 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.

## CHAPTER XV. MERRIWELL'S PROPOSAL.

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."

[Pg 113]

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 dressing[Pg 114] room 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.[Pg 115] 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.

[Pg 116]

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."

[Pg 117]

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."

[Pg 118]

"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,[Pg 119] 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.

[Pg 120]

"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 stains[Pg 121] on 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," he[Pg 122] exclaimed. "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.

[Pg 123]

"What pieces have you in your repertory?" asked Frank.

"Why, we have the parts of all the pieces Haley obtained."

"How many can we play if we come to an agreement?"

"About three of them, I think."

"That will fix it so we can stay three nights in one place, if we find any towns good enough for that."

"Yes."

"Who's out ahead?"

"Collins."

"Then you got him back?"

"After Haley jumped us, yes. King was satisfied as he had broken Haley up and driven us off his route, so Collins was able to go out ahead of us again. He's all right, and he has worked up business in worse towns than the ones we'll have to play."

"How about your paper?"

"We have the stuff Haley ordered, you know. We can get it shipped from the house in Chicago as fast as we need it, if we put up the dust for it. All we'll have to look out for is house programs, and we can get them printed as we go along."

"How are you making up your route?"

"Collins is finding out about the towns as he goes along, and is sending back information. We'll have to depend on him to a great extent, you see."

"Are you going to be satisfied to let me manage the company?"

[Pg 124]

"Well, I'm willing to let you try it, if the others are. I shall be mighty glad if you can do it, for that will take a load off of my shoulders. Just now I am business manager, stage manager and several other things. It's too much."

Merriwell and Havener came to an agreement without much trouble, but it was necessary to talk it over with some of the company for a long time before they were ready to accept the arrangement.

Lawrence fought against it. He tried to hold Dunton and Sargent with him. Sargent was the first to give in, and he influenced Dunton to follow his lead.

Then Lawrence was disgusted, and he showed it.

"All right," he cried. "Go ahead and do what you like, but count me out."

"You won't go with us?"

"No. Merriwell can get a new leading man. Perhaps he'll fill the place himself."

This was said in sarcasm, but Frank was not at all ruffled.

"We can get along without Mr. Lawrence, if forced to do so," he said, quietly; "but I trust he will change his mind."

"I'm afraid you've made a big mistake," Cassie whispered in Merry's ear; "but I guess we'll all pull for you as hard as we can. I'm sure Ross and I will."

"Thank you, little girl," smiled Merry. "I didn't go into it without counting the possible cost."

Then he told them to come to his room, which he would[Pg 125] engage right away, one at a time, that night, and he would make contracts with them, so everyone would be ready to start out under the new management in the morning.

They came, and it was nearly three o'clock before all the business was settled and Frank rolled his weary body into bed.

## CHAPTER XVI. HISSED.

A week later the reorganized company, under Frank Merriwell's management, was billed to play in a little town called Bransfield.

Frank was a great believer in paper, and he had wired Collins to see that it was stuck up "regardless," so, when the players arrived in Bransfield, they found every billboard and every dead wall pasted over with lurid advertising. The windows were full of posters, and one could not look in any direction without seeing something to remind him that there was to be a show in town at the public hall that night.

Merriwell was satisfied, but Havener shook his head.

"It's a waste of paper," declared the stage manager. "Half as much would have done as well."

"Don't think it," said Frank. "Not many shows come here, and it's doubtful if the people ever saw any of this paper before, even though it is stock stuff. If I am not[Pg 126] much mistaken they were astonished by the display, and they will be inclined to judge the merit of the show by the amount of advertising done. If there is any money afloat, we ought to pull a house here."

"Well, you are paying, so I'm not going to kick," said Havener.

Frank had not been at the hotel thirty minutes before a small, ragged boy brought him a note. The boy started to hurry away, but Frank caught him by the collar, saying:

"Hold on. I may want to answer it."

"Feller that sent it said there warn't goin' to be an answer," explained the boy, seeming anxious to get away.

"That's odd. Wait till I read it."

"I'm in a big hurry, boss."

"You can wait a minute."

"No, can't."

"Ephraim."

The tall Vermonter came forward at Frank's call.

"Just keep your hands on this youngster till I read this note," invited Merry.

"All right," grinned Gallup, getting hold of the boy. "Naow don't ye try to play any of yer gol darn pranks onter me, yeou little sarpint, or I'll shack ye right aout of yer duds."

The boy submitted, seeing it was useless to attempt to get away, and Frank opened the note. This is what he read:

[Pg 127]

> "The end is not yet. I am not done with you.

> "Harris."

Merry whistled softly.

"Well, this is very interesting!" he commented. "Now, my boy, who gave this to you?"

"Don't you wish you could find out?" returned the youngster, saucily.

"See this?"

Frank poised a silver half-dollar on the tips of his fingers.

The boy's eyes sparkled, and he moistened his lips with the end of his tongue.

"Just tell me all about who gave you that note, and where he was when he gave it to you, and that half-dollar is yours."

"That's all right, boss," said the boy, with a sickly grin; "but t'other feller give me a dollar not to say a word."

"And you promised that you wouldn't say a word?"

"Yep."

"Let him go, Ephraim."

Gallup was surprised.

"Whut fer? Ain't ye goin' to make him tell who sent him with the note?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because he has promised not to tell."

"Whut of that?"

"I should be inducing him to lie."

[Pg 128]

"An' ye won't make him tell fer that reason?"

"That is the reason."

"Waal, darn my punkins!"

Ephraim was bewildered more than ever.

"That's whut I call too much conscience," he growled. "I jest guess I'll make the chap talk. I ain't got no conscience to stop me like that."

"You will let him go," came quietly from Frank.

"Arter I take him aout inter the barn an' have a little set-daown with him."

"Now."

Ephraim hesitated. He did not want to offend Frank, but he did long to squeeze the truth out of the boy.

"Come, naow, Frank," he urged, "don't yeou be foolish abaout this. Ef I make him talk, it won't be northing to yeou."

"I shall allow it, and so, indirectly, I'll be responsible for making the boy lie. Let him go, Ephraim."

There was no mistaking Merriwell's resolve, and Ephraim said to the lad:

"All right, yeou kin go; but I'd tanned yer hide fer ye but I'd make ye talk, if I'd had the doin' of it. Skip."

Being released, the lad did skip in a hurry, quickly disappearing from view.

"Harris is in town," said Merry, speaking to the Vermonter.

"Whut? Not the feller that bruck up your stuff?"

"He helped the man that did the breaking. He is my old Yale enemy."

[Pg 129]

"Waal, let's go right aout and find him."

"That may be easier to say than to do, but we'll look for him. Keep your eyes open, Ephraim. He threatens to do me further injury."

It proved useless to search for Harris in that place. Nothing of the fellow could be found in the limited time given them to look for him.

It was necessary for the entire company to assemble at the hall to rehearse that afternoon.

Frank was playing the leading part in the society play, which was billed for that evening. He had been able to procure a dress suit in one of the towns through which they passed, so he was able to dress properly for the reception scene in the play. The other actors had managed to retain possession of their clothes, and all were fairly well supplied.

Lawrence really had left the company, refusing to go on with them under the new arrangement, so it was necessary for Merriwell to fill his place in playing leads, and, thus far, he had done so most successfully.

There was some hard work done at the rehearsal, as Havener was determined the play should go off smoothly, and the players were not at all well up in the business of the piece.

Frank's best scene was with Lillian Bird, the leading lady, in the third act of the play. It was a love scene, at the end of which, through a revelation by the villain, the lovers learn that they are brother and sister. Of course, at the end of the play, it is revealed that they[Pg 130] are not related in such a manner, and everything finished happily.

Havener was determined that the scene should be made effective, and he worked over it till he got every pose, every situation, every minor piece of business, to suit him.

He was greatly pleased by the readiness with which Frank took hold of the part and grasped the details of the business. Merry had a beautiful voice, and he governed it naturally so that it was most effective in his speeches.

There is no music sweeter than that of the human voice, and Frank Merriwell had been endowed by nature with a magnificent voice.

"Lawrence ought to see him play that scene," said Cassie, as she watched Frank in silent admiration. "Anybody could tell he is a gentleman, for never once does he make a move or a gesture that does not plainly speak of the gentleman. There's a heap of difference between his manners and the acquired gentlemanly air of Lawrence."

"That's right," agreed Collie Cates. "Merriwell's blue blood sticks out all over him, and yet he never seems to feel himself so much better than the rest of us."

"That's the very thing that marks him most as a perfect gentleman. It's only the cad that tries to show you all the time that he's a topnotcher and you ain't in his class."

Frank became so absorbed in his work that he completely forgot about Harris. Nor did a thought of the[Pg 131] fellow enter his head till just as he was ready to make his first entrance on the stage that evening. Then he remembered Harris, and wondered if the fellow was in the hall.

The rough benches and chairs were well filled by a decidedly rough-looking audience. The advertising had turned out a far better house than Havener had expected to see, and the stage manager confessed to Frank that there might be something in making a lavish display of paper in the right towns.

The stage was a poor affair, with just two sets of scenery, one of which could be used for a center door fancy by supposing that the audience would permit a broad stretch of imagination.

The footlights were plain kerosene lamps, as were the other lights in the hall.

The curtain rolled on a big heavy roller, and Havener had warned all the company not to get under it and permit it to come down on them at the finish of an act.

"There will be some sudden deaths if you do," he said. "It is heavy enough to finish a man if it struck him on the head."

When Frank came onto the stage there was a profound silence in the hall.

That silence was broken by a sound to stir the blood.

A hiss!

Where it came from no one could tell, but all heard it distinctly.

Frank was not rattled. He did not even glance [Pg 132]toward the audience to see if he could tell from what quarter the odious hiss came. It is possible there was a slight tightening of his nerves, and it is certain that a certain thought flashed through his head:

"That was Harris!"

## CHAPTER XVII. DISPOSING OF A RUFFIAN.

It is possible that Frank did not appear at his best at the outset, but he quickly got into the work.

He expected to hear that odious hiss again, but to his surprise, it was not repeated. The curtain fell on the first act, and the applause of the audience showed that the spectators were satisfied thus far.

Between the acts, Cassie came to Frank.

"Who was it hissed?" she asked, fiercely. "That was a measly trick, for you hadn't opened your mouth. If Lawrence was here——"

"I think it must have been one of the fellows who ruined my magician's apparatus," answered Frank. "He is in this town."

"How do you know?"

Merry explained.

"Well, he ought to be lynched!" declared the little actress. "Don't let him rattle you, if he tries it again,[Pg 133] Frank. He may be holding back to break you in one of your good scenes."

"I am on my guard now," assured Merriwell.

"I want to tell you something, Frank," said Cassie, glancing around to make sure no one was near enough to hear.

"I am listening."

"I'm playing to-night without using the needle."

"No?"

"Yes. First time I've ever been able to quit it entirely, though I have been tapering down on it. How am I doing?"

"First rate, Cassie. Never could tell any difference from your usual work."

"Well, it's hard, hard! I have to brace up fearfully to keep keyed to the right pitch, and I'll be all broke up when the show is over. But I am winning out."

"Brave little girl!"

"I ain't doing it all alone, Frank. Some one is helping me."

"Who?"

Without a word the little soubrette pointed upward.

Frank bowed his head.

"I am glad you feel that way, Cassie," he said, earnestly and softly.

"I have found in the Bible that He is just as ready to help the lowly as anybody," murmured the girl. "That's what makes me so sure He is helping me. Of[Pg 134] course I must do my best, but, if I haven't the strength, He will give me strength."

Frank looked at her, feeling his heart swelling in his bosom with a new, strange sensation. Had he by his advice led this girl to a rock to which she could cling and thus escape being swept down by the flood to the whirlpool of destruction?

"Don't give up, Cassie," he urged. "You can see that you are winning the fight. Stick to it to the end."

"I will, Frank."

She pressed his hand, and at that moment Havener came upon them. The man halted and turned about, his face flushing and his jaws hardening.

He had found them whispering together. Cassie had been looking up into Frank's face with an expression of admiration that was little short of adoration, and their hands had been clasped.

It might be all right, but there was something strange about it—something Havener could not understand. Once more he felt the demon of jealousy stirring uneasily in his heart. He tried to quiet the beast, but it refused to be soothed thus easily.

What was this secret between the two? Why had they refused to tell it to him?

He walked away.

"I'll keep my eyes open," he said. "Perhaps I am being made a fool of, after all!"

A man does not like to think that. Nothing galls him so much as to think that he is being fooled by some[Pg 135] one who is chuckling over the easy manner in which he is deceived.

The time came for the curtain to rise on the second act. It rolled up, and the play went on.

In this act Cassie seemed sprightlier than usual. Never before had the little soubrette seemed so buoyant and full of animal spirits. She had some good lines and a catchy song and dance. She was encored, and gave another song, ending with an eccentric dance that fairly set the audience in an uproar.

Havener was watching her, his brows lowering.

"Never saw her feeling better," he thought. "Is it because of something Merriwell said to her?"

Then he thought how she had defended Frank, and how eager she had been to get him back with the company.

The savage animal was gnawing at his heart. He could feel the pain of its sharp teeth.

"I am being fooled!" he told himself. "Well, if I am, they had better look out for themselves! If I catch them I'm liable to kill them both!"

Frank, also, played his part with a finish that was surprising, as he was nothing more than an amateur. The scowling stage manager confessed to himself that Lawrence could not have done it a whit better, if he could have done as well.

The third act came on, and everyone seemed getting into their parts splendidly.

Then there came an interruption.

[Pg 136]

Down in the middle of the hall sat a big, rough, bewhiskered man, who had gone out after the first and second acts. His flushed face and bloodshot eyes told that he had been drinking heavily, and now he began commenting on the actors and the play.

"A lot of doods in them swaller-tail coats," he said, loudly enough to be heard in his immediate vicinity. "They strut around, but they'd be scared to death at the pop of a gun."

Some of the spectators told him to keep still, but that aroused him all the more.

"Let somebody try to keep me still!" he invited. "I'm Bill Dyer, an' I've jest come in from Colerader. I don't reckon ther folks around here have fergot me."

No, they had not forgotten Bill Dyer. He was a bad man before he went out West to work on a ranch, and no person had cared to get him angry. Now, from his appearance, it seemed that his residence in the West had not improved him or his disposition.

So the play went on, interrupted now and then by the muttered words of Dyer.

At last came the act in which Frank made love to the leading lady. They were alone on the stage, and Merriwell was doing his best to win her consent to an immediate marriage. Just as he clasped her waist, Bill Dyer rose to his feet with a whoop, yelling:

"That's hot stuff, young feller; but you hadn't oughter do it in the light. Alwus make love in the dark. I'll jest give ye a little help by puttin' out the lights."

[Pg 137]

From some place about his person he produced a pair of revolvers, and, a second later, he began shooting at the footlights in a most reckless manner.

With every shot the ruffian smashed a lamp.

Men shouted, women screamed and there were symptoms of a panic.

Regardless of the danger from flying bullets, Frank Merriwell leaped to the front of the stage.

"Keep your seats, ladies and gentlemen!" he cried, clearly and distinctly. "That ruffian shall be taken care of at once."

"Whoop!" roared Bill Dyer, as he blazed away. "Who'll take care of me?"

"I will!"

Over the footlights Frank vaulted, striking in the aisle. Straight toward the desperado he bounded.

"Hold up!" shouted Dyer—"hold up, or by mighty, I'll perforate yer hide!"

But Frank did not hold up. He rushed upon the ruffian, clutched him, whirled him about, rushed him down the aisle.

Dyer tried to squirm round.

"I'll shoot ye full of holes!" he howled.

As Frank reached the rear of the hall, he found the man's clothes were beginning to give way. Dyer might twist about in a moment.

At one side was a window. Frank hustled the fellow toward it, lifted him off his feet, gave him a swing into the air, cast him headlong at it.

[Pg 138]

Crash—jangle!

Through the window the fellow plunged, uttering a howl of dismay and fear, and disappeared from view. The broken glass came rattling down, but Dyer was gone.

Frank hurried back to the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he cried, his voice ringing out clear and calm, "if you will resume your seats, I think the play will go on without further interruption. The party who made the disturbance has just gone out, and I do not think there is anyone else present who will try to fill his place and follow his example."

A moment of silence, and then a terrific burst of applause. Men shouted their admiration, stamping and clapping their hands. Women, also, showed in all possible ways their appreciation of this courageous act.

In a few moments all were seated again. Other lamps were brought to restore the broken ones, and the play continued.

And it seemed that Frank Merriwell played his part even better than before the interruption.

It is needless to say that he received an ovation and a curtain call at the end of the act. He came out with the leading lady, and they were cheered wildly.

But not a complimentary word did he receive from the lips of Roscoe Havener when it was all over.

[Pg 139]

## CHAPTER XVIII. HAVENER'S DISCOVERY.

That night, after the show, Frank had reached the office of the hotel when a man appeared and said:

"I want to see the feller that threw me out of the hall to-night.

"Won't somebody jest p'int him out to me?"

"Skip, Merriwell," advised Sargent. "He's come loaded for you, and there will be a hot time if he sees you."

But Frank did not skip.

"I am the one who threw you out of the hall, sir," he said, stepping forward.

Bill Dyer looked him over from his head to his feet.

"Waal," he said, slowly, "I'll be hanged ef I kin tell how ye done it so easy! You done it, all the same, an' done it well! I thought you was a dood, but I reckon there's some purty good stuff in ye. I'd like to shake hands with ye."

He extended his hand, which Frank accepted. The man attempted to give Merry a squeeze that would make him cringe, but Frank squeezed back in earnest, looking him straight in the eyes and smiling sweetly.

"Yes, you're all right," nodded Dyer. "I shan't monkey with you any more, an' the feller who paid me ten dollars to break up the show when you was on the stage[Pg 140] is out that much money. That's about the way I figger it."

Frank was interested now.

"Did somebody hire you to break up the show?" he asked.

"Sure thing."

"What sort of a fellow—how did he look?"

Dyer gave a rather incoherent description, but Frank immediately decided it must have been Harris.

"Do you know where that fellow can be found?"

"I reckon."

"I'll give you ten dollars to take me to him."

"Done!"

"All I want you to do is wait till I can swear out a warrant for his arrest and find a man to serve it."

Frank hustled. In a short time he had a warrant for Sport Harris, and he obtained the services of a deputy sheriff to serve it. Then Dyer took them straight to the house where Harris was stopping. The fellow was there, and he was taken into custody by the officer, who gave him no chance to escape and lodged him in the "cooler."

Of course Harris was furious.

"I was a fool to get a drunken lout to do my work!" he snarled. "I should have pasted you with good ripe eggs. But I'll get at you yet!"

"You'll rest in jail a while."

"Oh, I don't know! You can't afford the time to prosecute me."

"I don't have to afford it. Dyer is ready to swear you[Pg 141] hired him to do what he did, and there are a dozen citizens who will push you."

It was not difficult to find citizens of the place who were willing to take the case up, so Merriwell was not detained, for when Harris was released he was promptly rearrested on another warrant.

The new company went on its way, and it did seem that success was smiling on the organization now that Frank Merriwell had become manager of it. Although they were barnstorming and playing in out-of-the-way places, they seemed to have struck a good streak of business.

But there was a shadow hanging over the company. Havener was changed. He had grown sullen and touchy, and he treated Cassie with a mingling of cold contempt and burning love that was bewildering to the girl. He scarcely ever spoke to Merriwell, unless absolutely forced to do so.

Then the story got out that Havener had purchased a revolver. One night he sat in the office of a wretched little hotel and talked queerly. He said life had been an utter failure with him, and he was sick of it. He said that the world was full of deception and all women were liars. He had been fooled once by a woman, and he didn't mean to be fooled again.

"Havener is ill," declared those who heard his queer talk. "He's in need of a tonic."

The next morning Frank Merriwell rose early and went out to take a walk. He was surprised when he[Pg 142] came downstairs to find Cassie Lee dressed and prepared to go out also.

"Why, what does this mean?" he asked. "I thought you always stayed in bed as late as possible?"

"Used to," she laughed. "Don't now. Had to have something for a stimulant when I knocked off the other thing, so I've been going in for fresh air, morning walks, exercise and all that. I find it's doing me good, too."

"Of course it is! Nine actresses out of ten get too little good open-air exercise. If you're for a walk, come with me."

"All right. That will be jolly."

Away they went together.

And they were not the only ones who had risen early that morning. Roscoe Havener, unable to sleep, was up ahead of them and out of the hotel. He tramped fiercely out of the town to a little valley through which ran a brook. There was some timber about, and he sat down beside a brook. After a time he took out his revolver and looked it over. It was loaded.

"I can get out of the whole business here and now," he muttered. "A single shot planted in the right place will do it. If I hold on, I shall kill Cassie and Merriwell sure as fate!"

He heard voices and drew back a little, still remaining seated on the ground.

Two persons came down the road past him and stopped by the little bridge. They were Cassie and Frank. His[Pg 143] eyes blazed, and the revolver trembled in his hands. He half lifted it, thinking:

"I can get them both before I empty every chamber!"

Cassie was speaking.

"I owe it all to you, Frank," she was saying, and Havener heard her plainly. "I am sure I am getting rid of the awful habit now. You know I can play without using morphine at all, and it all comes because you encouraged me to pray. I didn't think it would do any good for a girl like me to pray, but it has."

"If I have helped you, Cassie, I am thankful. I discovered your secret by accident, and I have kept it faithfully, though I fear Havener suspects all is not right because there is a secret between us."

"I will tell him all at once. He is changed lately, but I love him just the same. He will be all right when he knows the truth. You know I told you I would never, never marry him till I got rid of the habit. It is you, Frank, who have made it possible for me to become his wife."

Havener rose to his feet as quietly as he could, drawing back and hiding himself by the bushes. He stole away from the spot, quivering in every limb.

"And I thought of committing suicide!" he whispered, as he hastened away. "I thought of committing murder! What a fool I have been! Thank God the discovery of my folly came in time! Thank God! thank God!"

Then he threw the loaded revolver as far from him as possible.

[Pg 144]

## CHAPTER XIX. TROUBLE BEHIND THE SCENES.

Havener's mind was now freed from all doubts and he threw himself into his business with a new zeal that ought to have made the fortunes of the company.

But fate has strange ways of rewarding industry, and instead of adding success to success Frank and his brother Thespians struck a number of dismal failures, and a heavy cloud was resting over the organization.

Matters came to a head at the Grand Theater, in the little town of Groton.

The Grand Theater was grand in name only. Its interior was more like a barn and its lack of scenery and stage accommodations were something disheartening.

The company billed to appear that evening in the society play called "Haunted Hearts" had dressed and made up to go on.

With one exception.

Arthur Sargent, who was to play the part of a country cousin on his first visit to the city, was still in his street clothes, and had refused to appear unless two weeks' salary due him was paid before the curtain rose on the first act.

Frank was trying to persuade him to change his mind.

"You are breaking your agreement with me, Sargent," said Merry, remonstratingly.

[Pg 145]

"Hang the agreement!" exclaimed the actor, snapping his fingers. "What do I care for that! I want my money!"

"But you made the agreement."

"I signed nothing but my contract with you."

"The agreement was verbal."

"And therefore doesn't amount to that!" snapping his fingers.

"But doesn't your word—your promise amount to more than that?"

Sargent flushed a bit, and then he grew angry.

"That's an insult, Mr. Merriwell!" he almost hissed. "I do not like it."

"It was not intended as an insult, Sargent; but you know you promised to stick by the company and take a share of the profits, in case business should become so poor that I could not pay salaries in full."

"Well, I have received nothing during the past two weeks—absolutely nothing. That's not a share."

"There have been no profits."

"Then I think that frees me from my agreement."

"I can't see it in that light. Wait a moment! You know very well that I can't pay you all that is due you, the same as the others know I can't pay them. They are not raising any kick, for they all know everyone will be used fair——"

Again the rebellious actor snapped his fingers.

"Oh, I don't know!" he said, in a manner that was[Pg 146] positively insolent. "I am not so sure that everyone will be used square."

Frank looked at him straight and hard for a few seconds, and then slowly asked:

"Do you mean to infer, Sargent, that I will deal crookedly with those who give me their loyal support?"

"Well, some of them get favors."

"No! You are mistaken, sir. In business I have no favorites."

"How about Cassie?"

"What about her?"

"Well, I know you have paid her money within a week."

"I have not paid her any money, Sargent."

"But Cates saw you give it to her in Hartland."

"Cassie has been ill."

"What of that?"

"She needed a little money to buy medicine."

"Ha! So you acknowledge it?"

"I loaned her a small sum of money."

"Loaned it?"

"Exactly. She understood very well that it was not paid as a portion of her salary."

Sargent laughed derisively.

"What a bluff!" he cried. "That wouldn't go with anybody! Managers do not loan money to actors when salaries are due."

"There was nothing due under the agreement, as you know."

[Pg 147]

"Oh, you'll twist it to suit yourself. But I've made up my mind, and you pay to-night, or I quit in advance of the show."

"Besides," pursued Merriwell, calmly, "you know as well as I that Cassie was threatened with a serious illness, and it would have broken us up had she been taken ill. All that averted the catastrophe was the prompt manner in which she obtained medicine to help her. That kept the show from going to pieces."

"That's nothing to me. She's had money, and I want mine."

"After the show——"

"Now!"

"Don't be unreasonable, man! We have a fair house here, and ought to make something clear. After the show I'll pay you something, so that you——"

"You'll pay me before the curtain goes up, or I'll not step on the stage to-night! That is business! I know all about promises to pay after the show. I've been fooled before with that kind of a bluff. It won't go."

Frank flushed.

"I wish you would not judge me by the dishonest parties with whom you have had dealings in the past," he said, just a bit sharply. "I have not been in this business long, and I may be a fool, but I keep my word."

"Perhaps so; but I take no chances."

"What do you wish to do—break us up?"

"I want money."

[Pg 148]

"If we stick together, we may pull out by a lucky streak. You know we are going to strike better towns next week. If the company goes up here, what will you do? You'll be stranded away out in this region, hundreds of miles from anywhere, and that'll not be a pleasant situation."

"If this company goes up, we'll reorganize and go ahead as we were before you took hold of it. You are not capable of managing anyhow, and so——"

"You are talking through your hat, Sargent!" broke in a sharp voice, as Roscoe Havener came up. "Merriwell has done as well as any living man could have done under the circumstances."

"What's the matter with you?" demanded the rebel, insolently. "You were the one who said before he took hold of the company that we'd quit him when his money was gone—throw him over."

Havener grew red and glared at Sargent.

"Never—never said that!" he gurgled. "Lawrence was the man who made that talk, and Lawrence——"

"You can't shift it onto Lawrence simply because he is not here. The very fact that he refused to go with Merriwell at all proves what you claim is not true. We've been up against hard luck long enough. Merriwell is a Jonah. I don't know how it happens that the whole gang seems ready now to let Merriwell do just as he likes and stick by him. They've changed wonderfully since the time they all said we'd use him while he had money and then drop him."

[Pg 149]

"They have found that Merriwell is a man. He uses us square, and we should do the same with him."

"Oh, I know—I know all about your reasons for sticking by him. Can't fool me! But I'm done!"

"You don't seem to have any reason about it."

"I'm not to be jollied along by a game of talk."

Sargent turned as if to walk away, but Havener caught hold of him and yanked him round.

"Wait!" he grated. "I've got something to say to you! I'm stage manager of this show. You know that."

"Yes."

"Well, you are under my orders now."

Sargent was silent.

"Go into that dressing room," commanded Havener, pointing, "and make up for your part."

"What if I refuse?"

"Then I'm blamed if I don't give you the thrashing you deserve!"

Havener was thoroughly aroused, as his scowling face and threatening manner showed. He was a large man, and Sargent was afraid of him.

"Go!" thundered the stage manager.

And, without another word, Sargent entered the dressing room.

[Pg 150]

## CHAPTER XX. SARGENT FINDS A PARTNER.

"Thank you, Mr. Havener," said Frank. "You took hold of the fellow at exactly the right time."

"He didn't get what he merited," growled the stage manager.

"I was surprised that he should kick. He has been quiet enough all along. Why, when I had that trouble with Dunton, Sargent refused to stand by Dunton, although they were chums."

"Simply because Sargent was afraid Dunton would do something to get them both jailed. He knew Dunton had a terrible temper. To-day I would trust Dunton further than Sargent."

"Perhaps you are right."

"Know it. Dunton isn't a sneak. If he hates anybody, he lets them know it. Sargent is two-faced, treacherous. He has a way of making people think he's decent, but he has shown his true character to-night."

"Is it true, Havener, that the company agreed to go out with me and stand by me till my money was gone, after which they intended to throw me over?"

Havener hesitated.

"Tell me the truth," urged Frank.

"Well, I believe some of them made that kind of talk," confessed the stage manager. "We were in desperate[Pg 151] need of a backer, you know, when you turned up with a roll. But, possibly with the single exception of Sargent, they are ready to stand by you now. They know you have done everything possible, and it is not your fault that we are in this hole. Money is scarce out here in this country, and so people can't afford to go to shows. Crops have been poor, and people are feeling blue. We've been unlucky in striking this section of the country."

"Anyhow, I am getting some experience for my money," smiled Frank. "If I ever take out another company, I shall know how to avoid some of the pitfalls we have run into this time. What's the prospect of a house to-night?"

"Pretty good, though the advance sale was light. Look out."

They went to the peep-hole in the curtain where they could look out and see the house.

In the meantime, Sargent had gone into the dressing room, where he found Douglas Dunton putting on the finishing touches of his make-up. Sargent sat down on a box and expressed himself in some very lurid language.

Dunton put in some lines to represent a heavy scowl on his forehead, then turned and surveyed Sargent.

"Why aren't you made up, Art?" he asked.

"Because I don't want to be!" grated Sargent. "I've quit."

"What?"

[Pg 152]

"Won't play to-night."

"Are you crazy?"

"No."

"You must be."

"You're a fool, Dug! The whole company are fools! What's the use to go on this way? Things are getting worse and worse. No money for two weeks; no prospect of any to come. Wash up, Dug, and we'll jump out of here."

"And leave Merriwell in the lurch?"

"Hang Merriwell!"

"He's not to blame for our hard luck."

"He's not fit to manage a company, and you know it. You have every reason for hating Merriwell; why are you sticking by him? You even tried to kill him once."

"When I was daffy. I was so mad I didn't know what I was doing."

"It would have been a good thing had you done it."

"Well, that beats!" gasped Dunton. "Why, you are the fellow who gave me all kinds of fits because I thought of such a thing! You threatened to quit me cold."

"Because of the danger, and not from any love of Merriwell."

"The danger?"

"Yes."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, you might have been arrested and hanged. I didn't want my neck stretched as an accomplice."

[Pg 153]

"Was that it?" said Dunton, slowly, looking hard at his companion, the scowl on his forehead making him seem very fierce. "It was not out of friendship for me that you urged me to desist! It was because you were scared—your heart failed you."

"Oh, put it that way, if you like!"

"I thought better of you, Sargent. Never mind. I suppose it is natural for any man to be selfish. Now I know you for just what you are."

"Don't be insulting, Dunton. We've been friends a long time. This case is different from yours. I am not doing anything that will get either of us into trouble. I simply refuse to be dragged along this way any further. Merriwell may fool the others, but he can't fool me."

"Fool you—how?"

"He's been letting a certain member of the company have money."

"What member?"

"Cassie Lee."

"How do you know?"

"Cates saw him do it!"

"When?"

"Before we left Hartland."

"Cassie was sick."

"Sick! Rot! She'd been using the needle again."

"The needle?"

"Sure thing."

"What needle?"

"The syringe."

[Pg 154]

"What are you driving at?"

"Don't you know?"

"I'm blessed if I do!"

"She is a morphine fiend."

"What?"

"Dead right. Injects it into her arm with a syringe. You know well enough there's something the matter with her. Her pale face, the dark rings round her eyes, her queer actions—all indicate something ails her. She had to have the stuff, and Merriwell forked over to her, that's all."

Dunton leaned against the little shelf.

"I'm blessed if I ever knew anything about this before, but I have known there was something the matter with Cassie. I wonder if Havener knows any——"

Sargent jumped up and paced the floor.

"Curse Havener!" he hissed. "Don't talk to me about him! If it hadn't been for him——"

"What?"

"Well, I wouldn't be in here now. Just told Merriwell I was done unless he forked some stuff. Havener came along and bullied me. But Havener doesn't know what I know. He doesn't know how thick Merriwell and Cassie are, though he must be blind not to see there is something between them. I'd open his eyes—I'd tell him, if I dared."

"I wouldn't do it, Sargent, if I were you."

"Oh, I won't—I know better! Havener's got an awful temper. He might kill me. Let him go on being[Pg 155] a fool. He'll find it all out sometime. When he does—well, I pity Merriwell."

"You will do well to keep yourself out of the muss. Merriwell isn't so soft. I believe he is dangerous, and I know he can fight. He's not afraid of anything. Go ahead and make up, Sargent. You'll have to go on to-night."

Muttering fiercely, Sargent began to change his clothes and get ready to play his part. He took off his coat and hung it up.

After watching him some seconds, Dunton looked at his watch and said:

"You'll have to hurry. Not much time."

Then he went out, leaving Sargent alone in the dressing room.

Outside the door Havener was standing.

"Is Sargent making up?" asked the stage manager.

Dunton assured him that he was, but Havener continued to stand before the door.

Left alone, Sargent paused and looked around. There was a door in the dressing room that opened into the next room. Sargent walked over and tried it. It opened beneath his hand. He looked into the adjoining room and saw it was empty.

Then Sargent walked back and hastily donned his street clothes. In a hurry he threw his costumes and other property into his trunk, which he closed and locked.

"We'll see!" he muttered—"we'll see if they can force me to play to-night!"

[Pg 156]

He slipped into the adjoining dressing room and made his way out by a side door. No one saw him leave the room, but on the stairs he encountered Collie Cates, the comedian.

Cates was minus his make-up.

"Where are you going?" asked Sargent.

"'Sh!" warned Cates. "I'm going to do the trick."

"What trick?"

"Attach the box office."

Sargent caught his breath.

"No?" he softly cried. "Is it worth while?"

"Sure thing! They've got a pretty good house up there. I heard your growl with Merriwell, and I made up my mind to jump."

"See here, Cates, let me in on this. We may be able to raise enough dust to get out of here and strike some place where there's a show for us. Perhaps we can make a team and do turns at the variety houses. What do you say? You can dance, and I can sing. Is it a go?"

"It's a go," grinned Cates. "If we can get enough dust from the box to get to St. Louis, we're all right. Come on."

"Ha! ha!" laughed Sargent. "We'll see who gets the best of this, Mr. Frank Merriwell!"

Then they hastily descended the stairs and left the building.

[Pg 157]

## CHAPTER XXI. TROUBLE FOLLOWS.

Cassie Lee found Frank looking through the peep-hole at the gathering audience.

"There," she said, "now I guess you'll believe Ross is your friend."

"Yes," Merry nodded; "he certainly did me a good turn in handling Sargent. I never expected that fellow would be the first to raise a kick."

"Knew it would be just like him," said the soubrette, leaning wearily against one of the wings and heaving a sigh.

Frank heard that sigh and faced about quickly.

"Cassie," he said, with anxiety, "you are not feeling well to-night. Your medicine has not cured you?"

She did not look him straight in the face, as she slowly answered:

"No, Frank, my medicine did not cure me, but it helped me go on and play. I was afraid I'd not be able to do that much."

"What is the matter, Cassie?"

"Oh, the same old trouble, Frank—just a lack of nerve and life. I'm discouraged, too."

"About what?"

She hesitated, and then of a sudden she answered:

"I may as well tell you. It's about pop."

[Pg 158]

"Your father?"

"That's right."

"What's the matter about him?"

"Haven't you noticed?"

"Well, I—that is—I have seen that—that, he——"

"That's he taken to drinking again—that's it."

Now, although old Dan Lee had been drinking for several days, Merry had fancied Cassie was not aware of the fact, and had done everything possible to keep the knowledge from her. Frank had hoped the old actor would stop without getting on one of the "howling sprees" for which he had made a record.

When he was not drinking, old Dan was one of the kindest and most loving of parents. He literally adored his daughter, guarding her with a jealousy that, at times, was rather troublesome to Cassie herself.

For her sake old Dan had done his best to leave off drinking. He had fought the demon with all his power, but it had fastened its iron grip upon him in such a manner that he was not able to fling it off entirely.

And now he was drinking again. He was trying to do it on the sly, promising himself that he would soon straighten up and would not get on one of the old-time sprees.

"Yes, Cassie," admitted Frank, "I know he has been drinking, but I don't think it will amount to anything this time."

She shook her head mournfully.

"You don't know him, Frank."

[Pg 159]

"How did you discover he was drinking?"

"How? Why, I can tell as soon as he takes the first glass. I can always tell. There is that in his manner, his voice, his eyes, that tells me."

"But he thinks you do not know."

"Yes, yes, he thinks so."

"You have kept it from him."

"Poor pop! I let him think he is fooling me."

"It is better. Perhaps he will straighten up without—without——"

"I know what you mean, but I'm afraid not. I can see that he is getting worse and worse, although he is doing his best to remain the master. When the stuff becomes his master, then—oh, Frank!"

She put her thin hands over her face and shuddered. He felt like taking the poor little soubrette, whose life had been so devoid of sunshine, in his arms and trying to soothe her.

Cassie was restless beneath Frank's gaze.

"Why do you look at me like that?" she asked, almost petulantly. "You look so queer, Frank! You almost seem to be accusing me with your eyes."

"Don't misunderstand me, Cassie," he quickly implored. "I would not accuse you. Don't think that—don't!"

"But——"

"What should I accuse you of, Cassie?"

"Oh, you might think—that I—you might think something," she answered, evasively.

[Pg 160]

Those words aroused a suspicion within him. He started, and the thought that flashed through his brain gave him a shock.

She noticed that start, and she turned away. He reached out quickly, gently grasping her arm.

"Wait a moment more, Cassie," he urged. "I want to talk with you a little longer."

She looked back at him with those sad eyes.

"Don't, Frank!" she entreated. "I'm afraid I know what you are going to say. I—I couldn't help it, Frank—indeed, I couldn't! It was for you that I did it!"

"For me!"

He actually staggered. Now his suspicion was swiftly becoming an assurance.

"Yes," she whispered, "for you. It was my duty to go on—my duty to play, no matter how I felt. I had to do it somehow. If I didn't feel like it, then I had to make myself feel like it, and so——"

"And so you—you——"

"I had to do it, I tell you!" she exclaimed, with something like real spirit. "I didn't think you—would—reproach me!"

"Oh, Cassie, Cassie! I am not reproaching you, my dear girl! But I thought you had gained strength through prayer—such strength that you no longer needed the dreadful drug, for I am led to believe you are using it again."

"Yes, I'm using it," she confessed, almost sullenly.

"Since when?"

[Pg 161]

"Since you gave me the money in Hartland."

Frank fell back.

"Was that it?" he gasped. "Was that why you wanted the money? You wanted it not to enable you to buy medicine, but——"

"Morphine's medicine for me now. I tell you I had to have it. I couldn't go on that night without it. I knew I'd ruin the play if I did. Don't look at me like that! Why, you look as if I'd committed a crime! I'm not hurting anyone but myself. What if I do hurt myself! I'm no good anyway! I'm only the daughter of a drunken actor, and I might as well be dead as alive! I wish I were dead—I do! I do!"

Then she buried her face in her hands and fell to sobbing, her small body quivering with emotion.

Every sob cut Frank Merriwell through and through.

"Don't, Cassie—please don't!" he entreated. "You hurt me! The others will see you, little girl!"

"I don't care!"

"Oh, yes, you do! What'll they think? They will get an idea that——"

"I tell you I don't care!"

"——there is something wrong between us," continued Frank, on the broken sentence. "They will think queer of me, and——"

Cassie braced up wonderfully.

"I didn't think of that," she said, trying to wipe her tears away without wiping off her make-up. "I don't want them to get a wrong idea of you, Frank."

[Pg 162]

For herself she did not care; but for him it was different.

"I am awfully sorry about it, Cassie," said Merriwell, soothingly; "but perhaps it is not so bad. You must try again to get rid of the habit."

"No use!"

"Why do you say that?"

"I can't do it a second time."

"I believe you can. Remember what prayer did for you. What it did once, it can do again."

"I shall never pray again!"

"What's that? Why, Cassie! you don't mean that——"

"That I am the wickedest girl in the world!" came passionately from her lips.

"What nonsense! How did you come to get such an idea into your silly little head?"

"It's not nonsense, Frank. I have done something that makes me a bad, bad girl—something that will prevent all my prayers from being heard and answered. Oh, it is dreadful!"

What in the world did the girl mean? What had she done? Frank was appalled by her words and manner. All sorts of conjectures ran riot through his head.

"What is this dreadful thing you have done?" he finally asked. "Tell me, Cassie. You know I am your friend, and you can trust me. Tell me. If it is a secret, you may be sure I'll never breathe it to a living being."

"Oh, I know that, Frank. I would trust you with any[Pg 163] secret. But it is so terrible that I—I'm ashamed to tell you."

She turned her head away, and the curly hair of her blond wig fell across her cheek and hid her painted face.

"Tell me!" he urged.

"Frank," she said, "I prayed for pop—prayed that he might stop drinking."

"Yes, Cassie, that was a good prayer."

"But he did not stop."

"He hasn't yet. He may."

"He will not till he has had his spree. When I found my prayer was not answered I did a dreadful thing."

A shiver ran over her.

"Tell me," urged Frank's gentle voice.

"Oh, how can I! You—you'll despise me!"

"Never, Cassie."

"I'll tell you, Frank! I wonder if I can ever, ever be forgiven! It is horrible! I lost my temper—I lost my head—Frank—oh, Frank! I—I swore at God!"

Those words were spoken in a manner that told the tale of the horror that possessed her when she fully realized what she had done. She wrung her thin hands, and her distress was pitiful to witness.

For a moment Frank Merriwell was dumb and speechless. She did not look at him, but she panted:

"Now you see—now you know—now you understand! You don't speak! I know you despise me now! I can feel your eyes on me! I can feel that you are [Pg 164]shrinking from me! I am a thing accursed! Oh, do you wonder I was forced to take the fiendish drug after doing that? All the strength God has given me left me in a moment! I felt as if His curse was on me! I have felt so ever since! I am lost—lost! Now you will turn from me!"

Frank caught her hand again and held it fast with a warm pressure.

"My poor little girl!" he whispered; "I understand your feelings now. It is terrible, but you must not give up hope."

"What have I to hope for now? It's no use, Frank—no use!"

"Do you read your Bible?"

"I did till—till then. I haven't since. I have not dared to look at it. I have hidden it in the bottom of my trunk. If I were to open it, I am sure I would read something that would curse me."

"Instead of that, I truly believe you would read something that would comfort you. Try it, Cassie—try it."

"What's the use! God will never forgive me for cursing Him after all He has done to help me!"

"You cannot limit His power of forgiveness. You are making a mistake, little girl."

She caught her breath, looking up eagerly.

"Then do you think it possible for Him to forgive me after—after that?"

"I do."

"Oh, Frank!"

[Pg 165]

"I am sure of it. Cassie, you are not as wicked as you think. You must try again and again. Have faith! Don't use that drug! Cast it away! It will ruin you!"

"Just to-night, Frank—I must use it to-night! See, we have a good house! I must do my best to-night—for your sake! This is your company, you know, and everything may depend on to-night."

"No, Cassie, not to-night. I had rather make a failure of this, my first venture on the road, than have you yield in the least to the tempter. I had rather lose everything I have in the world, which is precious little, than to let that habit get another atom of power over you. Even though you make a failure of your part to-night, do not touch the stuff. You deceived me when you said it was medicine you wished to buy with the money. Now I have a right to order you to throw the stuff away. I do order you to do that, Cassie, for your own good."

His earnestness impressed her, swayed her.

"If you—say—so——"

"I do!"

"All right, Frank! For you—for you!"

At that moment there was a cry, and Roscoe Havener came rushing out of the dressing room into which he had sent Sargent. He was enraged, and he showed it.

"Something has happened!" exclaimed Cassie, darting out through the wings, followed closely by Frank.

"What's the matter, Mr. Havener?" asked Merry.

[Pg 166]

"That confounded scoundrel!" grated the stage manager.

"Who?"

"Sargent."

"What of him?"

"Gone!"

"What?"

"That's what!"

"Why, I thought he was in there dressing."

"So did I, but he slipped into the other dressing room and got out that way. He has gone, and here it is time to—— Listen!"

There was a stamping of feet and burst of catcalls from the audience in the building.

"They're growing impatient," said Frank. "What are we going to do?"

The other members of the company gathered about in their various costumes.

"I'll shoot Sargent when I meet him!" grated Havener. "He deserves it!"

"And I left him dressing when I came out," said Dunton. "Hadn't any idea but he intended to play, although he was fearfully angry."

"We'll have to send out a man for him," suggested Basil Holt, who played "heavies."

"It's ten to one we don't find him," declared Dunton. "He'll lay low."

"We'll have to fill his place," said Frank, grimly.

"Fill his place!" gasped several. "How?"

[Pg 167]

"With another man, of course."

"What man?"

"There's only one man who can do it. The part is that of a hayseed visiting the city. I believe Ephraim Gallup can do it if he tries."

"It's possible," admitted Havener.

"Gallup's on the door. I'll send for him. He has prompted on this piece a number of times, and it is possible he can get through with Sargent's part somehow. It must be done."

The stage manager looked the company over quickly.

"Where's Cates?" he suddenly demanded.

Several had seen him making up, but no one knew where he was just then, nor could he be found. However, it was thought he would turn up all right in a few seconds, and a messenger was sent out for Ephraim Gallup.

While they were waiting for Gallup to appear, they excitedly discussed the situation. All seemed agreed that Sargent had acted in a reprehensible manner in leaving thus just when they had found their first good house in two weeks.

But another shock was coming.

In by the side door came rushing the tall Vermonter.

"Gosh all thutter, Frank!" cried Ephraim, the moment he saw Merry, "the Old Nick is up! The sheriff has attached the box-office receipts, by gum!"

[Pg 168]

## CHAPTER XXII. COMING TO TERMS.

There were cries of dismay.

"Attached the box-office receipts?" said Frank, in some surprise. "Is that right?"

"Yeou bet it is!"

"For whom did he attach them?"

"Sargent and Cates."

"Cates! Then he is in it, too?"

"Cates!" gasped Havener. "Has that fellow thrown up, too? Then we are done for!"

"The jig is up!" declared more than one, and it seemed to be the general opinion.

"Where are these fellows?" asked Frank.

"Aout in front," answered Ephraim.

Frank started for the door.

"I think I'll see them, too," muttered Havener, following him.

At the front of the theater the two rebellious actors were found, together with the sheriff of the town. They had gotten out an attachment, which had been served by the officer.

Havener felt like diving into them then and there, but Frank held him in check.

"Look here," said Merry; "how do you chaps expect to hold the gate receipts?"

[Pg 169]

"I rather think we can hold them," answered Sargent, insolently. "We've got them, and we'll keep them."

"Not if the show does not go on."

"Why not?"

"Because the money will be refunded to every person who has entered the house."

"You can't refund it now; you're too late," sneered Sargent.

"That's where you make a mistake. You cannot attach this money till it becomes mine."

"Well?"

"Well, it is not mine till we have given the play, just as advertised. If you have any sense, you will know that."

"That's right," growled Havener. "You have been rather too premature."

Sargent and Cates exchanged looks. They had not thought of this, but now they knew it was true.

"Oh, well," grinned Cates, "we've got the money, so we'll go on and play our parts. Eh, Sargent?"

"Not with this attachment on the receipts," said Frank, grimly. "Do you think the rest of the company would stand for that? Not much!"

"Then we won't go on at all," declared Sargent.

"In that case, you will get nothing, for the money will be refunded to those to whom it belongs."

Sargent flushed, for he now plainly saw they had been too hasty in making the attachment. They had baffled themselves.

[Pg 170]

"Anyhow, we'll bust up the old show," he snapped.

"Much satisfaction that will give you. You will be stranded here with the rest of us. If you go on and play to-night, we shall raise enough money to get out of town. You are playing against yourselves."

Cates began to see it, and he weakened. He whispered something to Sargent, but the actor who had made all the trouble shook his head and snarled an answer.

"Don't be a fool!" said Cates.

There was some more talk, and then Sargent said:

"We'll withdraw this attachment, but you, Merriwell, must sign a written pledge to pay us our salaries in full at the end of the third act."

"I shall do nothing of the sort," said Frank, with quiet determination. "As I have to play a part, I shall make no settlement with the manager of the theater till after the show is over. I will agree then to pay you whatever I can."

"That's no go. We're not bluffed that way."

"But," put in Cates, quickly, "we'll take half what is due us, if you'll agree to that."

Sargent muttered something, but both watched Frank to see what he would say to the comedian's proposal.

"That will not be treating the others fair," said Merry. "You will be receiving more than they, and that is not a square deal."

"Well, it's the best we'll do," snapped Sargent. "If[Pg 171] you won't agree to that, we'll break up the whole business."

"And I'll thrash both of you as soon as I can get you by yourselves," promised Havener, holding himself in check with difficulty. "I'd like to begin on the job now!"

After considerable parley, Frank found that was the best he could do with the fellows, and he said:

"I can't make such an agreement without letting the rest of the company know about it. I will tell them, and see what they say."

Then he hastened back behind the scenes, where the other members of the organization were waiting in great suspense to know how matters stood.

Frank called them together and told them just what had happened and what the rebellious actors demanded. He did not urge them to agree to anything, but left the matter for them to decide, explaining just what the result would be if they did not agree to the terms offered by Sargent and Cates.

All denounced the two fellows, but they expressed a willingness to let them have half the money due them from the box-office receipts. Then word was sent out to the rebels, while Frank went before the curtain and informed the audience that there had been an unavoidable delay, but the curtain would go up in a very short time.

Then the pianist banged away on the old piano, which was sadly out of tune, and Sargent and Cates came in[Pg 172] behind the scenes and hurried into a dressing room to make up.

## CHAPTER XXIII. THE OLD ACTOR'S CURSE.

At last the curtain rolled up and the play began; but there was anything but a good feeling among the actors, and not one of them seemed in first-class form, with the possible exception of Merriwell.

It was remarkable how Frank seemed to cast aside even the remembrance of what had happened and throw himself into the part he was playing.

Watching Merry, Havener observed:

"That chap has the making of a first-class actor in him. He will come out on top, if he sticks to the profession."

When Frank was not on the stage, however, he found enough to worry him.

Old Dan Lee was in no condition to play his part. The old man had proceeded to turn half a pint of whisky down his throat immediately on hearing the box office had been attached, and he was about as near drunk as he could be and keep on his pins.

Cassie came to Frank.

"Can't you do something to stop pop from drinking any more?" she fluttered. "He's got a quart of stuff in[Pg 173] his dressing room, and he takes a drink every time he comes off the stage. He'll never get through to the last curtain if he keeps it up."

"How do you know he has the stuff?"

"Why, I watched him—followed him—saw him drinking."

"Does he know you saw him?"

"Yes."

"Then——"

"I went into the dressing room just as he was taking a drink."

"What did he do?"

"Tried to hide the stuff at first."

"But didn't succeed?"

"No, for he was aware I had caught him."

"Then what?"

"He was dreadfully angry."

"He didn't touch you?"

"No; but he swore at me, Frank—he swore at me!"

"It is getting serious."

"Yes, yes, for pop would not think of swearing at me when he is all right. The old wicked glare was in his eyes—his red eyes! Frank, I'm afraid! I know something is going to happen! I've got the feeling—here!"

She pressed her hand to her breast.

Merriwell was more troubled than he showed.

"Don't worry, Cassie," he said. "I'll get after him."

"Find the whisky—take it away! It's the only thing you can do, Frank. Oh, everything is going wrong!"

[Pg 174]

"You are discouraged, little girl."

"But I know—I know! I have heard the others talking. They all think we'll break up here. It's too bad, Frank, after you put all your money into the company!"

"Don't worry about me, Cassie. I'll pull along all right. Can't throw me down and keep me down. It's the rest of the people I am thinking about. It will be tough for them."

She looked at him earnestly with her sad eyes, made to seem unnaturally large by the lining pencil.

"Do you ever think of yourself?" she whispered. "You always seem to be thinking about others, but never of yourself."

"Of course I think of myself, Cassie."

"Well, you don't seem to, Frank."

Merry watched the old actor. The next time Dan sneaked away to the dressing room, Frank followed. He entered suddenly, and found the old fellow just in the act of taking a drink.

With two swift strides Frank reached the spot where he could snatch the bottle from Lee.

"I am sorry about this, Mr. Lee," said the young manager, reproachfully.

Old Dan clutched at the bottle, choking with disappointment and surprise.

"It—it's mine!" he spluttered.

"Yes, I presume so, but it is bad stuff for you to have just now. You have taken too much already."

[Pg 175]

"Only just enough to brace me up," whimpered the old actor. "Only a little snifter."

"Only a number of little snifters. You are full now, Mr. Lee."

Old Dan braced up with an attempt to show indignation and dignity.

"Be careful, young man! Won't shtand it! No, shir! Got a right to take a little snifter!"

"I will take charge of this."

"Give it back!" panted the old fellow, advancing on Merry, his trembling hands outstretched. "Let me have it!"

"After the show—perhaps."

"Now, now! I must have it! I'm shick! It's med'cine!"

"It's bad medicine."

"Who told you I had it? I know—I know! She shaw me take a little snifter. She blabbed!"

"Everyone could see you had taken too much. We all knew you had some of the wretched stuff somewhere."

"Not wretched stuff! 'Sgood whisky! I know poor shtuff when I taste it. Tha's all ri'."

"If you don't make a big brace, you'll get down without taking another drop," declared Merry, in great concern.

"Who shays so?" cried the old man, again stiffening up. "I know how much I can hol'. Gimme that bottle!"

"No, sir: you shall not have it."

An angry glare came into Dan's red eyes.

[Pg 176]

"Will have it!" he fumed. "Gotter have my med'cine! No ri' to take it 'way from me! Cussid girl had to blab! I'll fix her!"

"Don't you dare lay a hand on Cassie!" warned Frank, instantly. "If you do——"

"What 'f I do?"

"You'll be sorry for it!"

"Gimme back shtuff 'n' I won't touch her."

"No! You must play this piece through without another drink. Have a little sense. If you take any more whisky, you will get down, and that will wreck the play. Do you want to do that? Haven't I always treated you right, Mr. Lee?"

The inebriate hesitated, and then he slowly said:

"Yesh, always treated me fine—fine. Gen'leman, Mr. Merriwell—'swhat you are! Never misushed me till now."

"I am not misusing you now, Mr. Lee; I'm simply keeping you from ruining the play to-night. You have cast reason to the winds, and you are proceeding to get drunk as quickly as you can. If you have the least consideration for me, you will hold up here and now."

"All ri'; I'll hold up. Gimme shtuff."

"I will keep that, just to make sure. You can't object, if you really mean to stop drinking."

"Might need just one little snifter more."

"You do not need it, and you must not take it. Come, come, Mr. Lee; I am your friend, and you know it. My[Pg 177] head is clearer than yours just now. Trust to me. Let me have this stuff."

"On condishun you'll give it back after show."

"We'll talk about that then. No time to talk now. I must go on again in a minute. Brace up. You are not very steady on your feet. The audience will tumble to the fact that you have been taking something, and I'll be held responsible for giving such a show. They will blame me."

That appealed to the man more than anything else Frank could have said.

"No business to blame you," said the old man, puckering his lip. "You're all ri'; everybody elsh all wrong. I shtick by you, Mr. Merriwell. You gen'leman—'swhat you are! No business to be 'soshyating with lot of bum hamfatters. They ain't 'n your class. Anybody can shee that."

"Then it's all right, Mr. Lee; I'll take care of this whisky."

"Just gimme one more little drop now," pleaded the old man. "You broke me ri' off in middle of drink. Didn't get 'nough to wet my throat. Loshin' my voice. Need something to clear it up."

He was talking huskily, but Frank knew better than to let him get his hands on the bottle again.

"You can show what you are good for by bracing without taking another drink, Mr. Lee," said Frank.

"Not good for anything."

[Pg 178]

"You may feel that way now, but you are all right. I must go on right away."

Without saying anything more, Merry hurried out of the dressing room and soon hid the bottle of stuff behind some scenery packed in a corner at the back of the stage.

He was not aware that his movements were watched by a pair of treacherous eyes.

## CHAPTER XXIV. THE POWER OF LOVE.

Old Dan did keep on his pins till the play was over. In some manner he played his part fairly well, although he got tangled in his lines once or twice. In one place it was necessary for him to say to the villain of the piece:

"Now, Hubert Bancroft, the prison door that once closed on me opens to receive you."

Instead of saying that, he twisted it after this fashion:

"Now, Bubert Hancroft, the prison door that once opened to close on me now closes to open to close on you."

Then, thinking some one else was wrong, he turned to one of the other people on the stage and demanded, sotto voce:

"What in thunder are you saying, anyway?"

[Pg 179]

Of course that broke up the actor spoken to for a moment, and he was forced to turn his back on the audience to keep them from seeing that he was laughing.

It was all over at last, and Frank breathed a deep sigh of relief when the final curtain fell.

The audience had not expected too much, and they departed fairly satisfied.

Sargent was not on the stage at the close of the play, and it was found that he had removed his make-up and departed before the piece was over.

"It's a good thing for him!" declared Havener. "I've been getting hotter and hotter, and I'm just longing to punch that fellow. I'll get at him too!"

Then he went away somewhere to look for Sargent.

Two minutes later there came a sudden scream from one of the dressing rooms, followed by the sound of a hoarse, excited voice.

Everyone gasped and turned toward that room.

The scream was repeated.

"Don't, pop—please don't hit me again! Oh—oh, pop!"

Then came old Dan's voice:

"Blab, will ye—blow on me! You hussy—you ungrateful girl! Take that, dern ye!"

Then there was a blow and a fall.

Frank Merriwell made a rush for the door of the dressing room.

It was fastened on the inside.

From within the room came groans and sobs.

[Pg 180]

"Oh, pop—don't kick me, pop! You are killing me! Oh, Heaven! Oh, oh, oh!"

Frank backed off, leaped forward, planted his shoulder against the door.

Crash!—it fell before him, and he burst into the room.

On the floor lay Cassie, face downward, while over her stood her father, the picture of insane rage, his foot lifted to kick her again.

Forward shot Merriwell, catching the mad actor by the neck, snatching him aside, pinning him against the partition.

"You miserable old devil!" grated Frank, quivering with such emotion as he had not felt before in many months. "You sodden old brute! You deserve to be hanged!"

Old Dan gasped for breath.

The rest of the company, with the exception of Sargent and Havener, came pouring into the little room, or crowded to the door to look in.

"She's an ungrateful hussy!" snarled old Dan. "She deserved it! She told you I was drinking! You took the stuff away, but I got it back. I had a friend, and he told me where you put it."

On a shelf the empty bottle was standing.

"Who did it?" demanded Frank. "Who told you?"

"A friend."

"Give me his name—give me his name, or by the eternal skies, I'll choke it out of you! Who was the miserable cur who told you where I placed that stuff?"

[Pg 181]

"Don't—don't!" whined old Dan. "You—you hurt!"

"His name!" thundered Frank, his eyes blazing, his face showing such fury that the intoxicated man trembled and cowered.

"It—it was Sargent," faltered the old actor.

"I thought so!" came from Merriwell. "It was what I might expect of him! The wretch! See what he has done! See what you have done! Look at that poor girl!"

"She blabbed!"

"Silence! You struck her, knocked her down, kicked her! You should spend the rest of your days in prison for that! Oh, what devilish stuff whisky is!"

"That's right—that's right!" fluttered the father, eagerly catching at Frank's words. "It was the whisky did it! Why, I wouldn't strike my girl—my poor little girl! It was the cursed whisky did it!"

Cassie had not stirred; she still lay face downward, curled in a position of pain. She did not seem to breathe.

"She's badly hurt!" said the leading lady, bending over the little soubrette. "Somebody bring water. She's fainted!"

Outside the door of the dressing room there was a shout.

"What's this? Cassie hurt? Back—let me in! Get away!"

Roscoe Havener tore a way through to the door and came panting into the room. In a moment he was kneeling on the floor, and had gathered the little soubrette in[Pg 182] his arms. Her head hung back, the blonde wig falling off and showing her black hair beneath. Her eyes, lined along the lashes with a black pencil, were closed. The paint on her cheeks hid the pallor of her face, but she looked ghastly even then.

A great groan broke from Havener's heart.

"She is dead," he cried. "Oh, my darling—my own little sweetheart!"

Old Dan stared at them with red eyes.

"Eh?" grunted the old man. "What's that. What'd he call her? He ain't no right to——"

The old actor struggled as if he'd jump on the stage manager, but Frank held him in check.

"Steady!" Merry commanded.

"See—can't you see!" panted old Dan. "Havener—he's got her in his arms! He's callin' her his darling! Can't you see?"

"Yes."

"He's married! He ain't no right to touch her! I'm the one to hold her!"

"You should be placed where you could never see her again, you old brute!" declared Frank, his feelings getting the best of him. "There is no manhood left in your old body when you have been drinking."

Before them all, Havener kissed Cassie's painted lips again and again, sobbing like a child.

"Oh, my dear little girl—my own little girl! Dead! dead! dead!"

[Pg 183]

"She ain't dead!" cried old Dan, hoarsely. "She can't be dead! I know better! I won't have it!"

"Keep still!" ordered Frank. "See what you have done!"

"I didn't mean to—I didn't mean to do it!" whimpered the miserable old actor, beginning to tremble. "It was the whisky—you know it was the whisky! Why, my little pet, I wouldn't hurt her for the world! I love her so—love her so! She's the sunshine of my life—she's all I have left to live for! Oh, you all know how much I love her!"

"You have shown your love!"

"I swear I didn't know what I was doing!"

"That won't save you from the gallows if you have killed her!"

"The gallows!" whispered old Dan, his eyes, bloodshot, wide and staring. "The gallows!"

"It will be what you deserve."

"The gallows! Oh, God! not that—not that! She can't be dead! I won't believe it! Let me take her in my arms! Let me talk to her! I'll bring her back to life!"

"Back, old man!" came fiercely from Havener, as old Dan tried to kneel beside the girl. "You have done your work! Here it is! Now she is mine!"

"By what right?" weakly asked the wretched father.

"By the right of my love for her! Let everybody know—who cares! Once she forgave you when you had nearly murdered her; she'll not do it again, if she lives."

[Pg 184]

"She'll not forgive me!" muttered old Dan. "My girl will not forgive me, do you say? She'll hate me—she'll curse me! And she's all I have in the world. Oh, God! then I'll be ready to die!"

Cassie opened her eyes, looked up at him, faintly whispered:

"Pop—poor old pop! He didn't mean to do it! Don't—don't be too hard on him!"

Frank could hold old Dan no longer. With a wild cry he tore himself free, flung himself on his knees, snatched Cassie from Havener's arms, and strained her to his bosom.

## CHAPTER XXV. A TREACHEROUS TRICK.

They looked on, not even Havener venturing to take her from him.

"They said ye wouldn't forgive me!" came thickly from the old man. "They said I'd killed you, my sunshine—my little bird! And even if I hadn't killed you, they said you'd hate me!"

"No, no, pop! It wasn't you—it was the whisky! I know, pop—I know!"

"I won't touch it any more, girl—I swear I won't! I've broken my word a hundred times, but I'll keep it this[Pg 185] time! Oh, my little pet! What did I do? I was crazy! A devil was in me!"

"Yes, pop, a devil that causes no end of misery in this world. Oh, oh, my side! How it hurts! Oh, pop—such dreadful pain!"

The old man began to weep.

"Get a doctor!" he entreated, looking up, tears streaming from his eyes and making tracks down his painted cheeks. "Somebody go for a doctor!"

"Give her to me!" ordered Havener. "I'll take her out and put her on the couch."

"Can't I? I will! Get away! Let me!"

Then, to the amazement of all, old Dan rose to his feet, lifting Cassie in his arms.

She moaned with pain.

"Room!" cried old Dan, hoarsely.

He marched out by the door, carried her to the couch, placed her on it, and knelt beside her.

The others followed and gathered about.

Cassie continued to moan with pain.

"What can be done for her?" asked Havener, great beads of perspiration standing out on his forehead.

"Frank!"

Cassie called.

Merry quickly bent over her, and she whispered:

"The morphine—I must have it! It will help me some. It is in my make-up box in the dressing room. Bring it."

Frank did not hesitate, but hastened to get what she[Pg 186] required. However, before allowing her to use it, he called everyone away, except old Dan and Havener.

Then it was that, for a second time that evening, Ephraim came rushing behind the scenes, showing great excitement.

"Say, Frank," he cried, "b'gosh, they've done it!"

"Done what?" said Merriwell, puzzled.

"They have."

"Done what?"

"Got the money, by thutteration!"

"What money?"

"All the money taken at the door."

"What's that? What do you mean? Who's got it?"

"Them two sneaks—same ones, Sargent and Cates."

"Sargent and Cates? Why——"

Then Frank remembered that he had seen nothing of Cates since the play was over. This was not very strange, considering all that had occurred.

"Why, you must be mistaken, Ephraim!" he said. "They made an agreement with me that they would not——"

"What's their agreements good fer, Frank? I tell yeou it was a trick, an' they've got all the money. They had the sheriff ready ter make the grab the minute the show was over."

Frank followed Ephraim out to the box office, and there he found the Vermonter had told the truth. He had been deceived by the two actors, and they had attached the receipts.

[Pg 187]

Sargent and Cates were there. Frank looked them over, intense scorn in his manner.

"So this is the way you fellows keep promises!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, you're easy, Merriwell!" said Cates, attempting to carry it off with a laugh. "If you stay in the business, you'll sprout your pin-feathers after a while. With us it was a case of do you or get left, and we do not fancy getting left."

"And so you did me."

"Well, we made a strike for our money, and we've got it. You'll have something left after settling with us."

"I shall not be able to settle with you in full to-night," said Frank, grimly.

"You can't help it," sneered Sargent.

"As far as the money goes, I shall make a settlement," came from Frank; "but that will not square the bill. I shall still owe you something, and I trust the time will come when I'll be able to square the account."

They could not misunderstand him.

"Oh, is that what you are driving at?" grinned Cates. "Well, we won't let that worry us. We'll take our chances of getting anything else you may fancy you owe us after we receive our money."

"I presume you'll not need our services any more?" said Sargent, also resorting to sarcasm.

"No!" exclaimed Frank. "I am done with you."

"Thanks!" murmured both actors, together.

[Pg 188]

"You can fill our places with the Dutchman and the Yankee," snickered Cates. "They will make great actors."

"You have shown your incompetence by carrying them around with the company," declared Sargent. "What have they done? The Dutchman has passed around a few bills and looked after the baggage, while the Yankee has taken tickets at the door. They have been a needless expense. You don't know how to run a show!"

"Hardly!" agreed Cates.

"I hardly think it is necessary for you to make any comments on my management of the company."

"Oh, it isn't necessary, but it may do you some good."

"You are very anxious to do something to benefit me, I see!"

"As long as it won't harm us."

Frank reckoned up with the manager of the theater, and he found there would be something like thirty dollars left over after paying Sargent and Cates what was due them and making the proper dividend with the manager of the house.

"Oh, you'll be able to settle hotel bills," laughed Cates.

Frank said nothing, and the two actors took their money and departed.

Yes, there would be enough to settle hotel bills, but not enough to carry the entire company to the next town. Looking the affair squarely in the face, Merriwell realized that they were stranded at last!

[Pg 189]

He did not know how badly Cassie was injured, but now he hastened back to see if anyone had been sent for a doctor. He was astonished to find the girl sitting up.

"Why, Cassie!" he cried; "you are all right!"

She smiled weakly, held out her hand, and drew him down.

"It's the morphine," she whispered in his ear. "I can feel the pain now, but the stuff helps me bear it. I'll have to keep full of the drug till the pain goes away, and then the stuff will have a firmer hold than ever on me. I reckon this is the thing that does me up. I can see my finish!"

Havener was near.

"What is it I hear?" he asked. "They're saying Sargent and Cates attached the box office after all."

"It's right," confessed Frank. "They have received every dollar I owed them."

"It's my fault we didn't look out for them," declared the stage manager. "I should have known what they would do. And Sargent—it was that skunk who told old Dan where you hid his whisky!"

"Yes."

"Then he is responsible for what happened to Cassie! Let him keep out of my way!"

"Oh, Ross!" cried the girl.

"Let him keep out of my way!" repeated Havener, his face working with passion. "I'll kill the cursed whelp if we meet!"

[Pg 190]

"Ross! Ross!"

"It's what he deserves! He ought to be hanged!"

"That's right," muttered Frank.

## CHAPTER XXVI. SYMPTOMS OF MADNESS.

Cassie was taken to her room in the hotel. It was necessary to carry her over on a stretcher, for she found she could not walk. Havener carried one end of the stretcher, while Frank was at the other. Old Dan walked at the side, holding the girl's hand, and mumbling his shame, his regret, his love.

Occasionally Havener ground his big teeth together and muttered something under his breath. At the hotel he took her in his arms. As he lifted her from the stretcher she cried out with pain.

"My side, Ross—my side!" she gasped.

"Oh, that miserable whelp!" grated the stage manager.

She lay on her bed, looking white and weak when the paint had been removed from her face by the aid of cocoa butter, soap and water. With folded arms, Havener stood and gazed down at her, his bosom heaving.

The other women of the company came and did all they could for her. The men came to the door to ask some questions.

[Pg 191]

"How did it happen?" they inquired.

"A brute did it!" answered Havener, and old Dan shrank and cowered in a corner.

"A—a brute?" faltered the physician. "A—a man?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you have him arrested? Why don't you have him punished?"

"Oh, he shall be punished!" declared the stage manager. "He shall get what he merits!"

Old Dan trembled.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

The old actor looked up in surprise.

"But you know him—you know his name?"

"Yes; his name is Sargent."

Cassie's father half started up, and then dropped back on his chair, gasping.

The doctor said it was impossible to tell how much Cassie was hurt, but he left some medicine to be taken internally and some liniment to be applied to the bruises.

When he was gone, old Dan came and grasped Havener by the hand.

"It was' kind of you—kind of you!" burst from the lips of the old actor. "I thought—I thought——"

"I know what you thought," said Havener. "You are Cassie's father. For her sake I shielded you, but if you ever lift your hand to her again, I'll——"

"Ross, Ross," cried the girl, "stop! Don't threaten him! He is my father!"

[Pg 192]

"Oh, my little sunshine—my poor child!" sobbed old Dan, falling on his knees at the bedside. "Can you forgive me? Can you forgive your miserable old father?"

"There, there, pop!" she said, reaching out her thin hand and putting it on his gray hair. "Don't you know I forgive you? It wasn't you; it was the whisky."

"And he gave it to me—he told me where Merriwell had hid it!" said the old actor, glad to shift the responsibility.

"He did it to hurt Merriwell," said Havener, grimly; "but that makes him none the less responsible."

Lillian Bird came in and sat beside the bed, and, as soon as possible, Havener made an excuse to go out. Five minutes later Frank found the stage manager in his room.

Havener was loading a revolver!

"What are you doing?" asked Merry, in surprise.

"Getting ready," was the grim answer, as the man slipped the cartridges into the cylinder.

"Getting ready?" repeated Frank, wonderingly.

"Yes."

"For what?"

"Trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"I'm going gunning."

Frank understood now.

"Oh, come, Havener!" he cried, "you can't mean that——"

[Pg 193]

"Just that!" said Havener, grimly. "I'm going gunning for a man!"

"That is folly, man! You must know what it means!"

"It means that Sargent gets what he deserves!"

"It means that you wreck your own life—that you may be hanged for murder!"

"Oh, what's the odds! My life doesn't amount to anything! The girl is done for. I know it. She'll never recover from this."

"What makes you think that?"

"I feel it—I know it! The morphine—she is using it again. It will kill her in the end, if she doesn't die from the treatment she received to-night."

"She won't die from that."

"You don't know. You didn't see the look on that doctor's face. I understood his meaning when he said he could not tell just how bad she was hurt. He knows, but he would not say."

"He knows what?"

"That she is injured internally—that she will not recover."

Frank was shocked.

"Havener, Havener!" he cried, "you can't be right about this! You must be mistaken! You have imagined what is not true."

The desperate man shook his head gloomily.

"No," he declared, "it is not imagination. I feel it in my heart. I shall not let that whelp get away! His life[Pg 194] shall pay for her life! For it was he who murdered her!"

Frank looked into Havener's eyes, and what he saw there made him shudder. It seemed that the man was insane for the time.

"Wait," Merry urged—"wait and see. Cassie may be all right in the morning."

"I'll take no chance of letting him get away. It is useless to talk to me, Merriwell. My mind is made up. I shall shoot him on sight!"

"And be arrested within the hour. Do you know what that will mean for Cassie?"

"What will it mean?"

"You, Havener, will be the one to kill her. The bullet you fire at Sargent will go straight to her heart!"

The wild light in the stage manager's eyes turned to a look of horror. He sank down on a chair and sat there, staring at Frank—staring, staring, staring.

"Now you see it, Havener," Merriwell went on. "You must hold your hand—you must not do this thing."

"Perhaps you are right," came huskily from the half-crazed man. "I had not thought of it that way. I must wait till she is dead. Till she is dead!" he moaned. "Ah, Merriwell, you do not know how I have loved that girl! And now she is going to die!"

"We'll hope not—we'll pray that she does not, Havener."

"We'll pray! No! I've never prayed in my life! I don't know how. But you—Cassie told me you prayed.[Pg 195] Merriwell, pray for her—pray for me! There is hell in my heart to-night! I never felt this way before. When I came in there and found my little girl so still and limp—gods! it seemed that something snapped in my head! Since then there has been a buzzing and ringing in my ears. Sometimes it seems that I can hear a great river of blood rushing through my head. I don't know what ails me!"

"You are all wrought up over this affair, Havener; you need time to cool down."

"To cool down! Ha, ha! As if I could cool down if I thought of it! My little sweetheart knocked down and beaten in a most brutal manner! Why, the thought is enough to make a devil of anybody! I won't search for Sargent, but let him keep out of my sight! Let him beware! I shall shoot him on sight!"

Havener was on his feet now, pacing wildly up and down the small room, his eyes blazing, his face flushed.

Looking at him, Frank wondered if the seeds of madness were not sprouting in his system.

Again Merry talked to him; again he did his best to soothe the man.

"Go to Cassie," he urged. "Stay by her a while."

"Not now—not now!" breathed Havener, hoarsely. "The sight of her will stir me up again. I must not see her for a time."

Then he flung himself at full length on the bed, and Frank slipped out, leaving him there.

[Pg 196]

## CHAPTER XXVII. WARNING THE TRAITOR.

Frank felt that it was his duty to warn Arthur Sargent of his danger, for he could not doubt that Havener really meant to shoot the man on sight. The stage manager never blustered or made needless talk about anything. In fact, he was a man of few words. His likes and dislikes were strong and pronounced. He was just the sort of a person to make up his mind to shoot a man and then go straightway and do it.

But what troubled Frank most was Havener's singular actions and his wild words. Never before had the man appeared like that. Frank had seen a light in the stage manager's eyes that appalled him.

"Just the look I saw in the eyes of the maniac who was hunting Darius Conrad down," thought Merriwell.

Was it possible that there was something of insanity in Havener and the occurrences of the night had served to arouse it? Merry remembered the man had said something seemed to snap in his head when he saw Cassie on the floor of the dressing room.

"No telling what freak may seize him. I will find Sargent without delay."

Down in the office of the hotel Cates was writing a letter. Frank went straight up to him.

"Where is Sargent?" he asked.

[Pg 197]

Cates looked up with a start.

"Eh?" he exclaimed. "Oh, is it you, Mr. Merriwell? Sargent? Now, what do you want of him?"

"I want to see him about an important matter."

Cates grinned.

"I can guess," he said. "What's the use to fight? It won't give you any satisfaction."

"I haven't the least idea in the world of fighting," assured Frank. "But Sargent is in great danger."

"Of what?"

"Losing his life."

"Come off! You don't mean to kill him?"

"No; but somebody else does."

"Oh, what a bluff!"

"It's no bluff."

"Who is this somebody else?"

"I'll tell Sargent that when I find him."

"Well, you're not liable to find him."

"Why not?"

"Because he's left this hotel."

"It's a good thing for him that he has. You won't tell me where he has gone?"

"No."

"Then tell him to get out of Groton without delay, for less than five minutes ago I left a man who had a loaded revolver for him. That is straight goods. I have no love for Sargent, but I don't wish to see him shot, nor do I wish to see the other man arrested for murder. I am giving you straight stuff, as you must see."

[Pg 198]

Cates began to be impressed.

"All right," he said; "I rather think Sargent will be out of Groton early in the morning. I am writing now for an engagement for both of us. We don't hold any feelings against you, Mr. Merriwell."

"That is more than I can say to you, sir. You broke your promise to me, and——"

"Oh, you'll get used to little things like that by the time you have been in the business a while. Promises don't amount to much, anyway."

"Not with such men as you, that is plain."

"What's the use of holding a grudge, old man?" smiled the comedian, familiarly. "It won't do any good. The company was bound to go up anyhow, and we did no more than anybody else would have done. We simply made a break for our money—and got it."

"At the expense of the others. With that money we could have made the jump to the next town."

"And been stranded there."

"You don't know that."

"It was sure enough. There's no business out here. Crops have failed, and money is wanting. If you ever go out with another company, keep out of this region."

"Thank you for your very kind advice! If I ever go out with another company, I shall take care to have all promises made in writing."

"A very good scheme," grinned Cates, and Frank turned away, feeling his pulses throbbing with anger, and[Pg 199] fearing he might have trouble with the insolent fellow if he talked with him longer.

Merry continued his search for Sargent.

"If he thinks of getting away in the morning, it must be that he'll get his trunks out of the theater to-night," thought Frank.

He started for the theater, where he knew Ephraim and Hans were at work packing things.

The stage door was open, and he entered, ascending to the stage.

Hans met him there, and hoarsely whispered:

"Der dressin' rooms vas in him!"

"What's that?" asked Merry, puzzled.

"Der dressin' rooms vas in him," repeated the Dutch lad.

"The dressing room? Do you mean some person is in one of the dressing rooms?"

"Yaw."

"Who?"

"Sargent."

"What?"

"Dot vas right."

"The very man I am looking for? Which room?"

Hans pointed out the room, and Frank walked straight to the door, which he thrust open, entering without hesitation.

Sargent was there, just in the act of starting to drag his trunk toward the door. He stopped and straightened up quickly, showing signs of alarm.

[Pg 200]

Frank closed the door, placing his back against it, while Sargent showed symptoms of great alarm.

"I have been looking for you," spoke Merriwell.

Sargent fell back a step.

"What—what do you want?" he asked, rather huskily, and it was plain he feared an immediate attack.

"I want to warn you."

"Warn me? About what? What is the matter?"

"Your life is in danger."

"How?"

"You told old Dan where I hid his bottle of whisky."

"Perhaps I did."

"There is no perhaps about it; old Dan says you did. Well, the old man got wretchedly drunk, and he nearly killed Cassie in the next room after the show was over. He knocked her down and kicked her. It was the whisky that made him do it. You gave him the whisky, and so you are responsible for all that happened."

"No such thing! The old fool was drunk anyhow, and what I did made no difference. In fact, he would have been uglier if he hadn't recovered the whisky. Don't try to make out that I am to blame because he beat the girl!"

"Whether you are to blame or not, there is one man who believes you are."

"What man?"

"Ross Havener."

"Him?"

"Yes; and you know the kind of a man Havener is.[Pg 201] To-night he loaded a revolver for you, and but for me he would have started on a hunt for you, intending to shoot you on sight. I persuaded him to hold up for a while, but even now he says he will shoot you if he sees you. You must get out of Groton before another morning."

"I don't know."

"I do know! If you stay, you take your life in your hands. Havener believes Cassie is seriously injured, and he is like a crazy man. If Cassie should die before morning, your life would not be worth a pinch of snuff!"

Sargent turned pale.

"Havener's a fool!" he snapped. "I am going anyhow—I shall get away early, but it's not because of Havener. I want you to understand I am not afraid of Roscoe Havener——"

Frank had stepped away from the door! Bang!—it flew open.

Havener stood in the doorway!

## CHAPTER XXVIII. SAVING HIS ENEMY.

Havener saw Sargent, and the wild light leaped into his eyes.

"You!" he hoarsely cried.

[Pg 202]

Sargent shrank and cowered, for he saw in the face of the stage manager that which filled him with deadly horror.

"So you are here!" burst from Havener. "And you killed Cassie, you dog!"

"Killed her?" gasped the frightened actor. "Is she dead?"

"She's dying!"

"Good gracious!"

"You—you did it when you showed old Dan where Frank hid that whisky! You put the devil into the miserable old father who is wailing and tearing his hair at the bedside of his dying girl! You are responsible for it all!"

"I—I didn't think!" stammered Sargent. "I—I didn't mean to—to do anything wrong!"

"You lie!" roared Havener, pointing one finger at the terrified fellow—"you look like the dog you are! You did mean to do something wrong!"

"No, no!"

"Silence! You were trying to injure Frank Merriwell; you can't deny that. You knew old Dan was drunk, and you hoped to get him down, so he would break up the play. You knew Frank had taken the whisky from him."

"But—but I never dreamed——"

"It makes no difference; you are responsible, and nothing can save you!"

[Pg 203]

"Save me? Why—why, what do you mean? It can't be——"

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Havener, and that laugh turned the cowering actor's blood to ice water. "I kept my word to Frank Merriwell. I did not search for you. I found you here by accident. I said I would shoot you on sight if I found you like this!"

"But you were joking! You——"

"Joking!" roared Havener, furiously. "Joking about that? No! I was in deadly earnest! Arthur Sargent, get ready for eternity!"

His hand went back to his hip pocket, and out flashed a revolver.

With a scream of terror, the imperiled actor dropped on his knees, clasping his hands and crying:

"Don't do it, Havener—please don't shoot! I didn't mean to! I can't die! I'm not fit to die! Oh, please, please, please!"

"My ears are deaf," declared the man with the revolver. "Say your prayers!"

"Mercy!"

"Say your prayers!"

There was no sign of relenting in Havener's face.

"Oh, Mr. Merriwell!" cried Sargent, appealingly, "speak to him—do something to save me! Don't let him murder me in this cold-blooded way!"

"It is useless for you to appeal to him," declared Havener. "He can't save you now!"

[Pg 204]

But Frank had no idea of standing still and seeing murder done in that little room.

"Hold, Havener!" he cried. "Drop that revolver!"

"Keep back! Don't try to interfere with me!"

Havener took aim at Sargent, who covered his face with his hands, and, uttering a scream, fell forward on his face upon the floor.

With a bound, Frank Merriwell was before the madman, having placed his body in front of Havener's revolver at the very moment when the stage manager was liable to fire!

Thus Frank imperiled his life to save that of his enemy.

"Stop!" he cried, advancing on the stage manager.

"Get out!" snarled Havener, and the hammer of the self-acting revolver quivered under the pressure of his finger on the trigger. "Stand aside!"

"No!"

"Stand aside!"

"You shall not shoot!"

"Stand aside, or by the living gods! I'll shoot through you to reach him!"

"You will do nothing of the kind!"

Straight up to the muzzle of the revolver Frank walked. Then he grasped the man's hand, thrust it aside, and tried to take the weapon from him.

For a moment Ross Havener seemed dazed by Merriwell's nerve, and then, uttering a furious cry, he struggled to retain the revolver and get a shot at Sargent.

[Pg 205]

Crack!—the weapon was discharged, but the bullet tore harmlessly through the partition and buried itself in the wall of another room.

"Let go!" ordered Havener, almost foaming at the mouth in his mad rage.

"Give up that pistol!"

"Not till I have killed him!"

"That you shall not do!"

"I swear I will!"

It was a furious struggle, for Havener was big and strong, and he did his best to retain the weapon and break away from Frank. But Merry, once the champion all-round athlete at Yale, finally pinned the man to the wall, large and strong though he was, and held him there. Never for a moment had Frank relaxed his hold on the revolver, and now he broke Havener's grip, taking the weapon from him, despite all his efforts.

The stage manager was astounded, for never had he dreamed that Frank Merriwell possessed such strength.

Having secured the weapon, Frank suddenly leaped backward, setting Havener free.

For a moment the man remained motionless, and then he cried:

"All right, you have the revolver, but you can't keep me from killing the cur! I'll strangle him! I'll—— Why, where is he?"

Sargent was gone!

"Gone!" cried the disarmed man, amazed.

[Pg 206]

"Yes," said Frank, with satisfaction.

"When? How?"

"While we were struggling for the revolver."

"The coward! He ran away! But I'll find him yet!"

Havener dashed from the room, looking around for Sargent. As he could see nothing of the man, he went leaping toward the stairs that led to the stage door.

"I'll find him!" he shouted, as he bounded down the stairs. "I'll avenge her yet!"

Slam—he was gone.

With the revolver in his hand, Frank turned back, unheeding a weak cry:

"Vat's all der madder apoudt, Vrankie? I peliefed me a slycone hat sdruck der blace, und I got me cofer under to peen oudt der vay uf id."

The head of the Dutch lad popped up from behind a sofa, where he had been hiding.

Frank knew Ephraim Gallup was not there, for the Vermonter would have forced his way into the dressing room to learn what was taking place there.

Merry did not believe Sargent had left the building. He entered the dressing room, and then passed through by connecting door into the adjoining room, taking a light with him.

There he found Sargent, shivering with fear, trying to hide behind some trunks.

"Now is your time to get out of here," said Frank.[Pg 207] "Havener believes you have left the building, and he has gone to look for you."

Sargent was so frightened that it was with difficulty he could stand on his feet.

"The man is mad!" he whispered. "I could see it in his eyes."

"Yes. He is crazed by what has happened. You must not be seen by him. You have the money to get away, and you must lose no time in doing so."

"I won't lose a minute."

"Your trunk——"

"Hang the trunk! If I get off with a whole skin I'll let that go."

"Tell me where to send it, and——"

"I'll wire you. Will you send it?"

"Yes."

"All right."

Then, without one word of thanks for what Frank had done, the ungrateful actor hurried out of the building.

## CHAPTER XXIX. THE WORK IS DONE.

Havener did not find Sargent, much to Frank's relief. It was near morning when the stage manager came into the hotel again, looking weary and worn. The wild[Pg 208] light was gone from his eyes, and, when he saw Frank, he crept up to him almost timidly, falteringly asking:

"Cassie?"

"Sleeping."

That one word seemed to give Havener untold relief. He covered his eyes with his hands for a moment, and then, again peering doubtfully at Merry, he questioned:

"Is there—is there any hope?"

"We all hope for the best."

"May I see her—just for a moment? If she is asleep she will not know. May I see her?"

"I think so. Miss Bird is with her."

"Where is her father?"

"No one knows."

"How is that?"

"He left the hotel shortly after you went out, and has not been seen since."

Together Frank and Havener went up to Cassie's room. Softly Merry tapped on the door, which was soon opened by the leading lady of the company.

"Cassie?" whispered Havener. "I want to look at her—just a moment. I won't disturb her."

Lillian Bird stepped aside to let him come in. Softly he advanced to the bedside, and there he stood looking down at the pale face of the little soubrette. It was then that a faint smile stole over the sad face of the sleeping girl, and she murmured:

"Ross!"

He started, and then he stretched his arms toward her.

[Pg 209]

She stirred, awoke, saw him, and gladly cried out his name.

An instant later his arms were about her.

"Come away," whispered Frank, drawing Lillian Bird from the room and gently closing the door. "Leave them together a little while."

* * * * * * * *

In the morning Cassie was somewhat better, and old Dan was missing. They searched for the old actor, but did not find him. It was necessary to tell Cassie little falsehoods to keep her from worrying about her father.

The company was stranded at last. Sargent and Cates were gone, and Cassie was ill in bed. They were out of money and could not go on.

Some of the good people of the town heard of their plight, and several ladies visited the sick girl. There was that about her which won their sympathy, and they talked of starting a subscription paper. Frank objected to that.

"It is not charity we need so much as a fair chance to earn some money," he said. "If you will lend us your aid and support, I rather fancy we might get up a benefit performance that would net us something."

The idea seemed all right. It was talked over and plans for such a performance were hurriedly made. Frank got the members of the company together and found out just what they could do, so that a program could be made out.

[Pg 210]

A quartet was formed, consisting of Merriwell, Dunton, Havener and Holt. Lillian Bird was advertised to "render" some of the popular songs of the day. Hans Dunnerwurst was put down as the great whistling soloist, while Ephraim Gallup was advertised as a trombone soloist. He borrowed an instrument in town. There were fourteen numbers on the program.

Then, to make it all the more effective, a local singer of considerable renown and great popularity volunteered to appear.

All this was advertised as a benefit, under the auspices of the Groton Ladies' Benevolent Society, and the members of the society did all they could to arouse the citizens and make them promise to come out to the "show."

That night the Grand Theater, the use of which was donated free of charge by the manager, was packed, every seat being taken and not a few spectators being forced to stand.

Behind the scenes were gathered a delighted lot of actors and actresses, for their fortune far exceeded their greatest hopes.

"It's all on account of Cassie," said Frank. "Those ladies came and saw her. They are doing this for the poor child. There are some good hearts in this town."

"And money is said to be scarce out here!" exclaimed Basil Holt.

"It is scarce," declared Merry. "Without doubt half those people out there could not afford the price of seats,[Pg 211] but the ladies knew how to touch their hearts and their sympathies, and they are here. We get the benefit."

"But where is old Dan?" questioned Dunton.

No one knew. The old actor had not been seen since he left the hotel the night before.

"If Sargent and Cates were here to see this!" exclaimed Lillian Bird. "It would make them sore. And all this comes in to us—every dollar of it! There is no dividend."

"Not with the manager of the house," smiled Frank. "There will be a dividend between us. All shall share alike."

The curtain rolled up and the entertainment began. The first number on the program proved a success, and the audience applauded heartily, making it evident they had come there to be pleased and were determined to be pleased.

As the entertainment progressed the spectators waxed more enthusiastic. They greeted the quartet with a perfect thunder of applause, they gave Dunnerwurst an ovation when he had rendered his imitation of the mocking bird, and they clapped Ephraim Gallup till the Vermonter was crimson in the face and nearly bursting with pride.

"Gosh all hemlock!" spluttered the Yankee, as he came behind the scenes after being called out the fourth time. "Never struck northing like this! Them folks is jest like hum folks! I'd like to settle right daown in this taown if the land wasn't so gol dern flat."

[Pg 212]

Then Merriwell went out and sang one of the sweetest of the old college songs. His beautiful voice thrilled every listener, and it seemed that the audience scarcely drew a breath. Frank was absorbed by the dear old song, and his handsome face showed intense feeling. His eyes were misty with unshed tears as the memories of the old days—the dear old days—came overwhelmingly upon him.

It was finished, but it seemed that every person in that theater rose and cheered as he bowed himself off. They called him on, and he sang again. Again they called him out. He bowed and retired, but they were not satisfied, and they thundered and stormed till he came out and sang "Stars of the Summer Night." When that was over it seemed that the enthusiasm was even greater that at any time before, and nine times was Frank Merriwell called out before the audience would be satisfied.

It was all over at last, and everyone was declaring it the greatest success ever known in Groton.

The receipts of the evening were heavy, and the hearts of the stranded actors were happy.

But where was old Dan?

* * * * * * * *

The following morning they found him in the river, one mile from town. His arms were clasped in a death lock about the body of another dead man.

"Sargent!" cried Havener, in a thrilling voice, as he looked down at that horror-stricken face. "He has paid[Pg 213] the penalty! I could not have done the work, for Cassie will get well, but old Dan has avenged her!"

Havener was right; Cassie did get well, but not as speedily as he wished.

With the proceeds of the benefit Frank and his friends started for St. Louis and thither we will follow them in the next volume of the series, entitled "Frank Merriwell's Fame."

Cassie was taken to the City Hospital in St. Louis for treatment. Here she was given the very best attention, and with Frank and Havener to cheer her there was every reason to expect that she would be on the way to recovery.

"If she gets well," said Havener, "it will be due to your kindness, Merriwell. Since you took hold here you have shown us all an example of forbearance and unselfishness that will do us more good than a hundred sermons."

And if the sad-faced little soubrette had heard his remarks her eyes would probably have filled with tears of gratitude and she would have said:

"Frank is the best fellow in the world."

A sentiment which all our readers will surely indorse.

THE END.

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