A STARTLING SITUATION.
Everyone in the house stared at Al, and Mr. Wattles whispered in his
ear:
"Why, he means you! What have you been up to? I tell you, this is a
great night for Boomville."
Evidently Maj. Duncan expected some acknowledgment of his compliment
from Al, for after a moment's silence he added:
"I repeat, I refer to the young gentleman yonder, Mr. Allen Allston."
"Get up and bow," whispered the manager, in our hero's ear.
Scarcely knowing what he was doing, Al obeyed.
The entire audience applauded, although there were not three persons
among them who knew why they did it.
"Will the young gentleman kindly step upon the stage?" went on the
major.
Without speaking, Mr. Wattles seized the boy by the arm, and fairly
dragged him through a narrow door in the rear of the box.
"This is the easiest way of getting on the stage," he said. "I wonder
what they have got on foot. They ought to have told us. In a case like
this it is always the proper caper to have a witty impromptu speech
ready, and they ought to have given you a chance to prepare one at your
leisure--they really ought. But this is not New York. Now, then, my boy,
step out on the stage. Don't you hear them shouting for you?"
But Al held back.
"I don't understand all this," he said. "What do they want with me?"
"Go and find out."
"But----"
"Allston! Allston!" came from all parts of the theater.
"Go on!"
And Mr. Wattles fairly pushed his companion upon the stage.
It is not necessary to say that Al was greatly embarrassed as he
confronted the sea of faces. His appearance was greeted with wild
cheers, though the audience did not know what they were cheering about.
In a few moments silence was again restored through the efforts of Maj.
Duncan, who then cleared his throat and began:
"It may not be known to many of you that we have a hero, a genuine hero,
among us, but it is a fact. And that hero now stands blushingly upon the
stage before us. Ladies and gentlemen, picture to yourselves this
scene--a team of maddened horses rushing at a terrible rate of speed
directly for a spot where a defenseless child has fallen on the highway.
Apparently the little girl is doomed to a horrible death. The spectators
stand spellbound--all save one, a youth. He rushes forward and, at the
risk of his own life, saves the child from the fate that a moment
before seemed inevitable. That youth, ladies and gentlemen, was Allen
Allston; the little girl he rescued was the child of our mayor."
The major's rather theatrical speech was here interrupted by frantic
applause, much to the orator's gratification and Al's embarrassment.
When silence once more reigned the major went on:
"It is not necessary that I enlarge upon the heroism displayed by this
noble youth; it is evident to all of you, and the performance has
already, perhaps, been delayed too long. I will close by requesting the
acceptance by Mr. Allston of this token of esteem and appreciation from
Mayor Anderson, who has delegated to me the most agreeable duty of
making the presentation speech. Take it, my young friend; and always
wear it in remembrance of those whom you have placed under so heavy a
debt of gratitude."
As he spoke Maj. Duncan extended a diamond ring to the boy.
Al was obliged to cross the stage to receive it. By this time he had
partially regained his usual self-possession. He took the ring with a
graceful bow, and attempted to speak.
But the effort proved a total failure. The words stuck in his throat; he
could only give utterance to an inaudible murmur.
"Speech, speech!" cried a dozen or more persons, but Al was unable to
gratify their wishes. In great confusion he retired to the comparative
seclusion of the stage, where Mr. Wattles met him and grasped his hand.
"I had no idea you were a hero," he said. "But why didn't you make a
speech? Oh, I understand--stage fright. Well, never mind, you're the
hero of the hour, anyway. Isn't that ring a sparkler! Just completes
your outfit as advance agent; they always wear a diamond ring, you know.
Well, this is a great night, and no mistake."
By this time the performance had been resumed. It was brought to a
successful conclusion two hours later, Mrs. Anderson having been called
before the curtain no less than ten times.
"I'm glad everything went off so well," said Mr. Wattles to Al, when the
audience had dispersed. "I was a little afraid that fellow, Farley,
would try to make some trouble for us. He's just about crazy enough from
drink to do something desperate if the idea occurred to him. Look out
for him, Allston."
"I'm not afraid of him," said Al.
"Nevertheless, be on your guard. Well, didn't everything go off in great
shape? That presentation alone will be worth a good many dollars to the
show. Accounts of it will be published all over the country."
"I wish they had given me the ring in private," said Al.
"You do? Well, I don't! You must get over some of that modesty of yours;
you won't need it in your career as advance agent. Going now? Well,
good-night. You'll be ready to start for the next town at noon
to-morrow?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Look out for Farley on your way home."
"I'm not worrying about him," laughed Al. "I guess you're more afraid of
him than I am, sir. Good-night."
Al lived a little way out of the town. To get home it was necessary for
him to ride for half an hour in a horse car, and then to walk some
distance along a lonely country road.
Singular to say, the subject that engrossed his thoughts during the ride
was not the events of the day, not the new career that he was about to
begin. One face was constantly before his mental vision, the face of the
beautiful young girl--Miss Gladys March, the bills called her--who had
played the part of _Ethel Darlington_.
Why did her face haunt him so persistently? he asked himself. She was a
complete stranger to him, yet, somehow, he felt as if he had known her
all his life.
His thoughts were still on her when he left the car and began his lonely
walk.
So absorbed was he in meditation that he did not notice that from the
moment he alighted from the car he was followed at a short distance by a
man whose face was concealed by a high coat collar and a slouch hat.
The full moon was shining brightly, but Al's pursuer lurked in the
shadows of the trees and shrubbery that lined the road on either side.
For half an hour this pursuit of the boy continued; then the man gave a
shrill whistle.
As Al turned, three masked men sprang from a clump of bushes on his
left and seized him. Before he could cry out a gag was thrust into his
mouth. A few moments later he was bound hand and foot.
Then one of his assailants lifted him in his arms and bore him up a side
road, near which the assault had been committed. A covered wagon stood
in waiting here. Al was placed in it; then his captors and the man who
had followed him from the car, entered, and the vehicle was driven
rapidly away.
At the expiration of, perhaps, half an hour the wagon was brought to a
standstill, and Al was lifted out.
It was a strange sight that met his gaze.
Half a dozen masked men were assembled under a tree, over one of the
boughs of which was flung a stout rope.
One of the strange party stepped forward and removed the gag from the
boy's mouth, saying:
"If you have any last remarks to make, make 'em now, and be quick about
it. We don't propose to fool away any time on this job."
"What does all this mean?" gasped Al. "What are you going to do?"
"We're going to string you up in just about two minutes at the outside,"
was the reply; "so if you have anything to say you'd better hurry."