TRAPPED.
There was an uproar in the theatre, which the ushers and the police were
unable to quell for some time.
The curtain was rung down, and then, after a short wait, the manager
came out and said the show would go on, if the audience would behave. He
threatened to have the persons who were using the pea-shooters arrested,
and this threat was greeted by hisses and catcalls.
After a while, however, the curtain went up once more, and the play
proceeded in a tangle of "real Siberian bloodhounds," _Gumption Cutes_,
_Marks_, _Topsies_, _Little Evas_, escaping slaves, slave hunters and
general excitement and confusion.
It was plain that the actors feared further trouble, and they were
rushing through their lines, eager to get off the stage as soon as
possible.
The bloodhounds were cheered by the students and peppered with peas.
When _Topsy_ declared she "nebber was born, but jes' growed," some one
inquired the name of the fertilizer used in her rearing. When the
jackass appeared, a solemn voice from some uncertain part of the theatre
called the attention of the audience to the "leading actor of the
colossal aggregation." _Little Eva_ was invited to exhibit her wings.
The college boys were irrepressible, and yet they did not do anything to
absolutely break up the show, although Joe Gamp's haw-haws came near
proving disastrous several times.
A policeman came down to the box and threatened to arrest Joe, but he
was pacified by Creighton, who had a decidedly smooth way of "fixing
things."
Frank Merriwell remained quiet until near the end of the play, enjoying
the sport the other fellows were making. At last, however, he decided to
produce some amusement himself.
Frank was a very good amateur ventriloquist, although he seldom
practiced the art. Now, however, he saw his opportunity.
_Little Eva_ was on her deathbed, and the mourners were assembled about.
All at once one of the mourners seemed to say:
"This business is on the bum."
Every one started and stared. The actors were astounded, and the
audience amused. Then the death agony went on until another of the
watchers by _Eva's_ side observed:
"It makes me sick!"
The manager was heard to hiss from the shelter of the wings:
"I'll make you sick when you come off!"
"Oh, go fall on yourself, you old cheat!" the actor seemed to fling
back.
Then _Little Eva_, in her death agony, apparently remarked:
"Give it to the old duffer! He owes me six weeks' salary, and I'll quit
dying right now if the ghost doesn't walk immediately!"
This brought laughter and hearty applause from the college lads.
When the applause had subsided _Uncle Tom_ apparently observed:
"He can't get ahead of me. I've put an attachment on the jackass."
This was more than the excitable manager could stand, and he rushed
onto the stage, shaking his fist at _Uncle Tom_ and crying:
"Confound you! I don't owe you a cent! You obliged me to pay up before
you would go on to-night!"
And then he nearly collapsed when he realized what his anger had led him
to do and say.
The college lads arose from their seats and cheered.
Standing in the front of the box, Charlie Creighton shouted:
"This is the best part of the show, fellows. Let's give 'em one!
Now--all together!"
Then the Yale yell pealed forth, and _Little Eva_ came near dying in
reality from heart failure.
This broke up the show entirely, and the curtain came down with a rush,
while the frightened orchestra made haste to disappear. From behind the
curtain the manager shouted that the show was over, and the laughing,
tumultuous students hurried out of theatre.
"Well, Merriwell," said Charlie Creighton, "how have you enjoyed the
evening?"
"Immensely," laughed Frank.
"It was a regular sus-sus-sus-circus," declared Joe Gamp. "Never had so
much fuf-fuf-fuf-fuf-fun in all my bub-born days!"
"We had them on a string, like a kite," murmured Bruce Browning.
"And that's what made them soar," chuckled Griswold.
Just as the street was reached, Frank gave a slight exclamation, and
quickly forced his way through the crowd toward a man who was near at
hand.
That man was the mysterious stranger.
The unknown seemed to be watching Merriwell, for he whirled about and
hastened away the moment Frank started in his direction.
"Oh, I want to get my hands on that fellow!" grated Frank.
The man did his best to escape, but Merriwell was close after him. The
stranger hurried along a street, and Frank broke into a run. Then the
unknown glanced over his shoulder, and started to run himself.
"Hold on!" commanded Frank.
That made the stranger run the faster.
Frank followed, but could see nothing of the person he was pursuing.
"He must have dodged into a doorway," decided the lad. "No--here is
where he went, down this alley."
The mouth of a dark alley was before him, and he plunged into it. He did
not go far before he decided that further pursuit was folly, and he
turned back.
"He's slippery," muttered the boy; "but I'll catch him some time, if he
continues to shadow me."
Dark forms appeared at the mouth of the alley, and a hoarse whisper came
to Merriwell's ears:
"He went in here, and the alley is blind, so he can't get out. Do
him--and do him dirty!"
For all that Frank had been often in desperate peril, something about
this situation chilled him to the heart. The uncanny darkness, the
unknown alley, his creeping foes coming down upon him, possibly with
deadly intent, all served to make him feel weak and helpless for the
moment.
There are times when the bravest heart shrinks with dread, and, for all
that Frank was a lad with remarkable nerve, it is not strange that he
felt a thrill of fear at that moment.
It is claimed that men have lived who "never knew the meaning of the
word fear," and it is possible that this may be true; but in case they
ever were placed in situations of extreme peril, such persons must have
been lacking in some of the essential elements that compose a human
being. We think of them as deficient in certain ways, wanting in the
finer qualities, and naturally coarse and brutish.
It is the person who experiences fear and conquers it by his own
determination to do so who is the greatest hero.
One of the bravest generals America has produced, a man who had the
reputation of being utterly fearless, once was asked if he ever had been
afraid while in battle. "No, sir," was his reply, "never in battle; but
sometimes just before going into an engagement, I have felt it necessary
to keep my teeth clinched to prevent my heart from jumping out of my
mouth."
Still the men whom he commanded never knew that he experienced a single
thrill of fear. He conquered his trepidation by his wonderful will
power, and always in battle he appeared perfectly unaware that there was
the least danger. Indeed, he was sometimes criticised for his apparent
recklessness in exposing himself to deadly peril.
Frank Merriwell never courted peril, and he avoided danger when he could
do so in a manly way and without lowering his own sense of dignity.
Once engaged in a dangerous encounter, or forced into a position of
peril, Frank's blood arose, and he seemed to be seized by a reckless
disregard of his personal safety. Then it was that he laughed in a
singular manner, and his enemies had learned that he was the most
dangerous when that laugh sounded from his lips.
As he heard those unknown foes creeping down upon him in the darkness of
the alley, Frank crouched close to the ground, and felt about with his
hand for some weapon of defense.
Fear suddenly gave place to anger, and he longed to retaliate on his
enemies. He knew well enough that the men creeping down upon him were
hired tools, chosen by his foes to do him severe bodily injury.
"Oh, for a club--a stone--anything!" he thought.
But his hand found nothing that suited his need at that moment.
The cautiously advancing men came nearer and nearer. He could hear them
whispering to each other, and they seemed to block the entire width of
the narrow alley. He could not make out their number, but he was sure
there must be several of them.
"Can yer see him, Jake?"
"No, an' I can't hear him neither."
"But he's here somewhere, and they say he'll fight. Look out fer him."
Frank heard these whispered words, and then, without realizing that he
was about to do so, he laughed!
There were hoarse cries, curses and blows. A savage struggle suddenly
was begun in the dark alley.
Frank had hoped to break through the line of his foes by his sudden
rush, but he was not successful, although his hard right fist knocked a
man down with his first blow.
Then he received a shock that seemed to cause a thousand bright lights
to flash before his eyes, and he knew he had been struck on the head
with some sort of weapon.
The boy staggered. Uttering hoarse exclamations, his assailants, like
beasts of prey, sprang upon him.
"Give it to him!" cried a voice.
With new strength, Frank twisted and squirmed. In doing so, he threw his
head from side to side, and it chanced that he succeeded in saving it
from the blows which were intended to render him helpless.
Those blows, many of them, at least, fell on his shoulders and his back
with benumbing force.
He forgot that his left hand was not yet well, but he used it as freely
and as vigorously as his right.
And, once more, something like a laugh came from his lips.
"Hear him!" hissed one of the ruffians. "Why, he's a perfect young
fiend!"
But Frank could not long hold his own against such odds. Some of the
blows aimed at his head fell glancingly, but they were enough to rob him
in a measure of his strength. He tried to tear away, and then he was
felled to the ground.
Merriwell felt that "the jig was up" with him. They had him at their
mercy, at last.
Then it was that a surprising thing happened. With encouraging cries,
two men came through the darkness and attacked the boy's assailants.
That the new arrivals on the battlefield were armed with heavy clubs was
apparent, and they used them mercilessly on the ruffians.
This attack was unexpected by Frank's assailants, and they could not
meet it. Immediately they turned and fled, pursued by one of the men who
had set upon them.
Just then, apparently disturbed by the sounds of the fight, some person
came to a nearby window with a lighted lamp.
The light shone out into the alley, and fell on Frank Merriwell and one
of the men who had saved him.
"Plug Kirby!" gasped Frank, sitting up.
"Dat's wot, me boy!" cried the bruiser, cheerfully. "An' I kinder t'ink
we didn't git round any too quick neider."
"You came just in time."
"Be yer hurt much, youngster?" asked Kirby, anxiously, assisting Frank
to arise.
"I think not. Got a few cracks and was upset, but that is all. Where is
the man who was with you?"
"He whooped it along after der gang. Kinder t'ink he wanted ter ketch
one of der blokes an' hold him fer der perlice ter pinch."
"Who was he?"
"Dunno."
"What?" cried Frank, astonished--"don't know who was with you when you
came to my aid?"
"Well, I dunno his name, youngster, and that's on der level."
Frank was eager to ask more questions, but Plug said:
"We'd best push outer dis. Dunno wot'll happen if we stays here too
long. Der gang might come back."
So they hurried out of the alley, Frank receiving some assistance from
Kirby, as he was rather dizzy when he tried to walk.
When the street was reached no one seemed to be in the immediate
vicinity.
"Shall we wait for your friend?" asked Merriwell.
"Naw," answered Plug. "He ain't likely ter come back."
A short time later they were seated at a table in a nearby resort, and
Frank was treating Kirby.
Frank had examined his own injuries, and discovered they were not
serious, although it was likely that he would be sore about the head and
shoulders from the bruises he had received.
"Now tell me," urged Frank, "who was with you when you came to my
assistance? I am eager to know."
"I tole yer dat I don't know der cove's name, but I do know dat he is
all right an' on der level."
"Well, how is that you do not know his name?"
"Never asked him."
"How do you happen to know him?"
"Well, yer see, it was dis way: I was inter Jackson's der odder evenin'
takin' me nightcap. Dere was some fellers in dere wot was college chaps,
and dey was talkin' about races and t'ings. Pretty soon dey said
somet'ing about you. Some of 'em was hard on you, an' dat got me mad up.
I jes' waded inter der gang an' offered ter lick anybody wot didn't
t'ink you was der clean stuff."
Frank smiled a bit, realizing that he had, indeed, made a firm friend of
this bruiser who had once tried to whip him, but had received a severe
drubbing, instead.
"Dey didn't want ter shove up against me," Kirby went on, "an' dey got
out right away. Den a man walks up ter me, and he says I was all right,
an' he blows me. He continues ter blow me, an' ask me questions about
you. Arter a while, he asks me if I would fight fer you if I had der
chance. 'Would I!' says I, jes' like dat. 'Well, old sport, show me der
chance!' Den he says dat you has some enemies wot is plannin' ter do
yer, an' he might be able ter give me a chance ter put in a few licks
fer yer.
"Well, dis evenin', as I was inter Jackson's, who should come in an'
call me aside but dis same cove. He says ter me, 'Kirby'--he had found
out me name--'Kirby,' says he, jes' like dat, 'I'm goin' ter give yer
dat chance ter put in some licks fer Frank Merriwell.'
"Den he tells me dat he were in a place an' heard a scheme ter put some
toughs onter yer ter-night w'en yer was goin' home from der t'eeter. Dey
had heard some feller say dat he was goin' ter invite yer ter be in er
box wid him at der t'eeter, an' so dey knew yer was goin'.
"Dat's all, 'cept dat me an' der bloke wot was wid me went ter der
t'eeter, him payin' all expenses, an' we kept watch of yer. W'en we came
out, you started fer him, an' he hooked it. I was s'prised, but I
follered. Den I found dere was odders follerin', an der gang run yer in
here. Der feller I was wid, as was in a doorway nigh der alley all der
time, skipped back fer me, an' we jumped right down inter der alley,
takin' some heavy canes, wot we had wid us all der time. You know wot
happened arter dat."
Frank was puzzled and mystified. He asked Plug to describe the
mysterious man, and Kirby did so. This added to Frank's wonderment, for
the description tallied with that of the stranger who had tried to bribe
him to throw a ball game to Harvard; but that it could be the same man,
even though everything indicated that it must be, Frank could not
believe.
That night, after going to bed, Frank lay awake for hours, thinking of
the stranger and the mystery which surrounded him.