THE ENEMY’S POWER.
Neka found the wound on his head an ugly one, and consequently the
remainder of the journey to Lock Haven took much longer than either
had anticipated. Both kept a keen lookout for the party who had
robbed them, but met no one to whom the slightest suspicion could be
attached.
Arriving at their destination, Neka made his way to a drug store and
here had his wound fixed up. This cost him a dollar, leaving him only
the small sum of twenty-two cents.
In the meanwhile, Longfellow Wadsworth went off to see what could be
done toward giving an entertainment for the benefit of some local
organization.
In this quest he was unsuccessful. No one cared to go into the
matter, at least not at once, and the elocutionist came back in a
couple of hours thoroughly disheartened.
“If we show at all, we must do it on our own account,” he said.
“Will that pay?” asked Neka.
“It must pay. It is our only chance. Come, we will hunt up the owner
of Bard’s Hall, as the sole hall in the place is called.”
They soon learned that Mr. Bard kept a large grocery store, the hall
occupying the second floor of the building in which the place of
business was located.
He was a tall, angular man, with a thin, shrewd face.
“Want to hire the hall, eh?” he said. “What for?”
“To give an entertainment consisting of readings and recitations
and wonderful tricks with fire,” replied the elocutionist, drawing
himself up to his full height.
“Fire tricks? Don’t want ’em. You might burn down the building.”
“The tricks are perfectly safe,” said Neka. “I have performed them
for years, and never started a fire yet.”
Mr. Bard seemed only half-convinced. Yet he was a close man, and he
hated to see the chance of making some money out of his hall slip by.
He asked a number of questions about the show, and finally said
they might have the hall that night providing they agreed to leave
everything as it was and paid the rent, twenty dollars, in advance.
This last proposition was a dismaying one, as to pay in advance was
totally out of the question.
“We have--ah--been unfortunate in receiving money due us,” said
Longfellow Wadsworth. “Suppose you let us take the hall, and we will
settle as soon as we open our entertainment?”
“No, I must have the money in advance,” replied Mr. Bard, decidedly.
“Last winter I let a lot of show actors have the place, and they went
away without paying a cent.”
“We are--ahem--not so dishonest,” protested the elocutionist.
“Maybe not; but them is my terms. You can take the hall or leave it,
just as you please.”
“I wonder is there another hall in town?” said Neka.
“No, there ain’t,” replied the grocer, in ill-concealed tones of
satisfaction.
“You will be perfectly safe in taking the money for tickets sold,”
persisted Longfellow Wadsworth; but Mr. Bard would not listen, and
turned away to wait on several customers.
Much chagrined at their failure to secure the hall, Neka and the
elocutionist walked out of the store.
“I must confess I am what is poetically called stumped,” admitted
Longfellow Wadsworth, when they were out of hearing. “I don’t know
what is best to do.”
“It is getting late,” replied Neka. “Even if we get the hall it is
too late to properly advertise an entertainment.”
“We might sell some tickets and get the money for immediate use,
and then postpone our show until to-morrow,” said the elocutionist,
easily. “I had that in view from the start. But now our cake is
dough, in the language of a Bowery Shakespeare.”
The pair walked aimlessly up the one street of the town. It is not
pleasant to have a set-back with so little money in one’s pocket.
Under his arm, tightly rolled up, Longfellow Wadsworth carried the
richly embroidered skate bag he had picked up in the woods. He now
shook it out and examined it.
“This is by no means a common bag,” he said, as he turned it over.
“It is embroidered in silk, and, by Jove, Neka! here are a lot of
pearls as sure as you live!”
The boy took the bag. The elocutionist was right; on one side was a
wreath in red silk, and in the center a dozen pearls.
“A rich find, my son!”
“What in the world was it doing in the woods?” asked Neka.
“That I can’t propose to answer. But the pearls are valuable, beyond
a doubt. I wonder----”
Longfellow Wadsworth stopped short.
“We must look for the owner.”
“What, the owner of a skate bag found in the woods? My son, don’t be
crazy. The bag must have been lost last winter, or perhaps winter
before last.”
“It looks as if it had just been dropped,” said Neka.
“No, no, it has been out in rain, for here is a spot. I’ll tell you
what we’ll do. I’ll take these pearls and leave them with that owner
as security for the rent. Probably he will take them, or, if not, no
doubt the jeweler who keeps the store opposite will let us have a
loan on them.”
“Well, there will be no harm in getting a loan on the pearls,” said
Neka. “I don’t think I would bother that Mr. Bard to take them for
security.”
“I agree with you. He is a most disagreeable personage, truly,”
responded Longfellow Wadsworth.
He took out his penknife, and with great care removed the pearls from
the skate bag, after which he rolled up the bag and thrust it into
his pocket.
“Perhaps I had better make the visit to the jeweler’s alone,”
suggested the elocutionist.
“Just as you think best,” replied Neka.
“I will meet you at the grocery corner.”
With this understanding, Longfellow Wadsworth hurried off. It took
him but a couple of minutes to reach the jeweler’s establishment.
It was a modest place kept by an old man named Samuel Cordley. When
the elocutionist entered he found Cordley at the work-bench fixing a
tall clock. Neka’s partner was not long in coming to the point.
“We have been unfortunate in receiving money due us,” he said, “and I
wish to raise money on some pearls I have in my possession.”
And he handed over the pearls for inspection.
The old jeweler’s eyes lighted up as he surveyed the pearls.
“May I ask where they came from?” he asked, slowly.
“They--ahem--once belonged to my wife,” replied Longfellow Wadsworth,
without a blush. “I kept them in--ah--remembrance of her, dear soul!”
and he wiped away an imaginary tear.
“What do you wish me to loan you on them?”
“Only thirty dollars. You see, my dear sir, we are to give an
entertainment across the way, and I shall redeem them to-morrow, and
pay you for your favor.”
The jeweler asked a few more questions, and then handed over the
desired amount and placed the pearls away in his safe.
“Thanks,” said Longfellow Wadsworth, warmly. “Here are a couple of
passes to our entertainment. Trust we see you there,” and he scrawled
something on a sheet of paper lying on the counter.
“Thank you; I’ll come if I can,” replied Samuel Cordley, and put the
slip in his show-case.
“Victory!” cried Longfellow Wadsworth, as he rejoined Neka. “Thirty
dollars--just enough to pay for the hall, advertising and extras.
Come, let us hustle, for now every moment counts.”
They at once entered the grocery, and the elocutionist began to
dicker for the hall, finally beating Mr. Bard down to eighteen
dollars. Then he and Neka hunted up a printer and somebody to furnish
them with music. A wagon was also procured, with a banner on each
side announcing the entertainment, and this was driven all around the
district, while the pianist who had been engaged blew long and loudly
on a bugle while seated in the rear.
It must be confessed that Neka was rather nervous over the result of
this, their first real venture. The night before they had been backed
up by a club; now they were going it entirely alone.
They had placed the regular admission at twenty-five cents, with a
few seats higher and a few seats lower, so in order to make expenses
they must have at least one hundred and twenty people present.
Longfellow Wadsworth was to sell tickets, and Neka was to take them,
until it was time to go on, and after that a man who had helped them
was to take in the money and pass folks in alone.
[Illustration: “Look out, the scene is coming down!” See page 27.]
At half-past seven o’clock the people who had come to see the show
began to arrive. A colored boy was the first to enter, and Neka
laughingly called him their mascot. Then followed three gawky farm
lads, and a crowd of ladies and gentlemen.
By ten minutes to eight Neka had passed in the one hundred and twenty
people, and he felt much elated. The crowd was still coming, and
every admission now meant just so much clean profit.
By eight o’clock a few over two hundred people had entered and only
a few stragglers remained. Neka left the door in charge of the hired
man, and went back of the stage, where he was soon joined by the
elocutionist.
“We are twenty-three dollars ahead of the game,” said Longfellow
Wadsworth, joyfully. “We are winners, my son, beyond a doubt.” And he
jingled the cash in the skate bag.
The pianist was already pounding out a selection on the tiny piano
with which the hall was furnished, and the elocutionist lost no time
in preparing to make his appearance.
Neka busied himself with his chemicals, and donned his robe of red
and yellow. Soon Longfellow Wadsworth left him behind the scenes
alone.
A burst of applause told Neka that the elocutionist had finished, and
it was now time for him to make his appearance. He lighted a taper
for use in the first of his fire tricks.
Suddenly a side door opened, and three men came in.
“There is the boy!” cried one, pointing to Neka. “He ran away from
me, and I am his lawful guardian!”
“And that is the man who said he owned the pearls which belong to
Miss Fordham!” cried a second man, and he pointed through the wing to
Longfellow Wadsworth.
The first speaker was Daniel Bambo, the second Cordley, the jeweler.
The third man, the one they addressed, was the Lock Haven constable.
No wonder Neka was greatly startled.