Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
BOOKS FOR YOUNG MEN
MERRIWELL SERIES
Stories of Frank and Dick Merriwell
PRICE FIFTEEN CENTS
_Fascinating Stories of Athletics_
A half million enthusiastic followers of the Merriwell brothers will
attest the unfailing interest and wholesomeness of these adventures of
two lads of high ideals, who play fair with themselves, as well as with
the rest of the world.
These stories are rich in fun and thrills in all branches of sports and
athletics. They are extremely high in moral tone, and cannot fail to be
of immense benefit to every boy who reads them.
They have the splendid quality of firing a boy's ambition to become a
good athlete, in order that he may develop into a strong, vigorous
right-thinking man.
_ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT_
1--Frank Merriwell's School Days By Burt L. Standish
2--Frank Merriwell's Chums By Burt L. Standish
3--Frank Merriwell's Foes By Burt L. Standish
4--Frank Merriwell's Trip West By Burt L. Standish
5--Frank Merriwell Down South By Burt L. Standish
6--Frank Merriwell's Bravery By Burt L. Standish
7--Frank Merriwell's Hunting Tour By Burt L. Standish
8--Frank Merriwell in Europe By Burt L. Standish
9--Frank Merriwell at Yale By Burt L. Standish
10--Frank Merriwell's Sports Afield By Burt L. Standish
11--Frank Merriwell's Races By Burt L. Standish
12--Frank Merriwell's Party By Burt L. Standish
13--Frank Merriwell's Bicycle Tour By Burt L. Standish
14--Frank Merriwell's Courage By Burt L. Standish
15--Frank Merriwell's Daring By Burt L. Standish
16--Frank Merriwell's Alarm By Burt L. Standish
17--Frank Merriwell's Athletes By Burt L. Standish
18--Frank Merriwell's Skill By Burt L. Standish
19--Frank Merriwell's Champions By Burt L. Standish
20--Frank Merriwell's Return to Yale By Burt L. Standish
21--Frank Merriwell's Secret By Burt L. Standish
22--Frank Merriwell's Danger By Burt L. Standish
23--Frank Merriwell's Loyalty By Burt L. Standish
24--Frank Merriwell in Camp By Burt L. Standish
25--Frank Merriwell's Vacation By Burt L. Standish
26--Frank Merriwell's Cruise By Burt L. Standish
In order that there may be no confusion, we desire to say that the books
listed below will be issued, during the respective months, in New York
City and vicinity. They may not reach the readers, at a distance,
promptly, on account of delays in transportation.
To Be Published in January, 1922.
27--Frank Merriwell's Chase By Burt L. Standish
28--Frank Merriwell in Maine By Burt L. Standish
To Be Published in February, 1922.
29--Frank Merriwell's Struggle By Burt L. Standish
30--Frank Merriwell's First Job By Burt L. Standish
To Be Published in March, 1922.
31--Frank Merriwell's Opportunity By Burt L. Standish
32--Frank Merriwell's Hard Luck By Burt L. Standish
To Be Published in April, 1922.
33--Frank Merriwell's Protege By Burt L. Standish
34--Frank Merriwell on the Road By Burt L. Standish
To Be Published in May, 1922.
35--Frank Merriwell's Own Company By Burt L. Standish
36--Frank Merriwell's Fame By Burt L. Standish
37--Frank Merriwell's College Chums By Burt L. Standish
To Be Published in June, 1922.
38--Frank Merriwell's Problem By Burt L. Standish
39--Frank Merriwell's Fortune By Burt L. Standish
FRANK MERRIWELL'S NEW COMEDIAN
OR,
THE RISE OF A STAR
BY
BURT L. STANDISH
Author of the famous Merriwell Stories.
STREET & SMITH CORPORATION, PUBLISHERS
79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York
Copyright, 1899 By STREET & SMITH
Frank Merriwell's New Comedian
(Printed in the United States of America)
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign
languages, including the Scandinavian.
FRANK MERRIWELL'S NEW COMEDIAN
CHAPTER I.
"NEVER SAY DIE!"
It is not a pleasant experience to wake up on a beautiful morning to the
realization that one has failed. There seems a relentless irony in
nature herself that the day that dawns on a night when our glittering
hopes have become dead, dull ashes of despair and ruin should be bright
and warm with the sun's genial rays.
So Frank Merriwell felt this fine morning in Puelbo, Colorado. The night
before, with high hopes, he had produced his new play, "For Old Eli." He
recalled the events of that first production with almost a shudder. "For
Old Eli" had been a failure, a flat, appalling, stupefying failure. From
the rise of the curtain everything and everybody had gone wrong; lines
were forgotten, Ephraim Gallup had had stage fright, his own best
situations had been marred.
How much of this was due to the lying handbills which had been scattered
broadcast, asserting that he was not the real Frank Merriwell, but an
impostor, a deadbeat and a thorough scoundrel, Frank could not tell. He
believed that these efforts to ruin him had little effect, for when, at
the close of the performance, he had made a speech from the stage,
assuring the audience that he would bring his play back and give a
satisfactory performance, his reception had been cordial.
But the play had failed. Parker Folansbee, his backer, had acted
queerly, and Frank knew that, after the company had reached Denver, the
relations between him and his backer would cease. "For Old Eli" had been
well-nigh ruinous, and when they got back to Denver, Merry and his
friends would be without funds.
Then the thought came to him of the prejudice expressed against a poor
black cat he had allowed to travel with the company. He could not
restrain a smile as he perceived that the superstitious members of the
company would feel that the cat had hoodooed them. As if a cat could
affect the fortunes of men!
The thought of the cat gave a pleasant turn to his reflections, and he
cheered up immensely.
He had failed?
No!
He would not acknowledge failure, defeat, disaster. He would not lie
down and abandon the struggle, for he was not built of such weak
material.
Where was the fault? Was it in the piece, or in the way it had been
played?
He realized that, although the piece was well constructed, it was not of
a high, artistic character, such as must appeal by pure literary merit
to the best class of theater patrons.
It could not be ranked with the best productions of Pinero, Jones,
Howard, Thomas, or even Clyde Fitch. He had not written it with the hope
of reaching such a level. His aim had been to make a "popular" piece,
such as would appeal to the masses.
He fell to thinking over what had happened, and trying to understand the
cause of it all. He did not lay the blame entirely on the actors.
It was not long before he decided that something about his play had led
the spectators to expect more than they had received.
What was it they had expected?
While he was thinking of this alone in his room at the hotel, Bart
Hodge, his old friend and a member of his company, came in. Hodge looked
disgruntled, disappointed, disgusted. He sat down on the bed without
speaking.
"Hello, old man," said Frank, cheerfully. "What's the matter with your
face? It would sour new milk."
"And you ought to have a face that would sour honey!" growled Bart. "I
should if I were in your place."
"What's the use? That wouldn't improve things."
"If I were in your place, I'd take a gun and go forth and kill a few
stiffs."
"I always supposed a 'stiff' was dead. Didn't know one could be killed
over again."
"Oh, you can joke if you want to, but I don't see how you can feel like
joking now. Anybody else would swear."
"And that would be foolish."
"Perhaps so; but you know, as well as I do, that your play was murdered
and mangled last night."
"That's so, b'gosh!" drawled a doleful voice, and Ephraim Gallup,
another of the company, Frank's boy friend from Vermont, came stalking
into the room, looking quite as disgusted and dejected as Hodge. "An'
I'm one of the murderers!"
Frank looked Ephraim over and burst out laughing.
"Why," he cried, "your face is so long that you'll be hitting your toes
against your chin when you walk, if you're not careful."
"Whut I need is somebuddy to hit their toes against my pants jest where
I set down, an' do it real hard," said Ephraim. "I wisht I'd stayed to
hum on the farm when I went back there and giv up the idee that I was an
actor. I kin dig 'taters an' saw wood a darn sight better'n I kin act!"
"You're all right, Ephraim," assured Merry. "You had to fill that part
in a hurry, and you were not sure on your lines. That worried you and
broke you up. If you had been sure of your lines, so that you would have
felt easy, I don't think there would have been any trouble as far as you
were concerned."
"I dunno abaout that. I never felt so gosh-darn scat as I did larst
night. Why, I jest shook all over, an' one spell I didn't think my
laigs'd hold me up till I got off ther stage. It was awful!"
"You had an attack of stage fright. They say all great actors have it
once in their lives."
"Waal, I never want to feel that air way ag'in! An' I spoilt that scene
in the dressin' room of the clubhaouse. Oh, jeewhillikins! I'm goin'
aout of the show business, Frank, an' git a job paoundin' sand. It don't
take no brains to do that."
"Cheer up! You are going to play that same part in this play, and you'll
play it well, too."
"Whut? Then be yeou goin' to keep right on with the play?" asked the
Vermonter, in astonishment.
"No," said Merry, "I am not going to keep right on with it. I am going
to put it into shape to win, and then I'm going out with it again. My
motto is, 'Never say die.' You heard what I told the audience last
night. I promised them that I would play in this town and would make a
success. I shall keep that promise."
Hodge shook his head.
"You are smart, Frank, but there's a limit. I'm afraid your luck has
turned. You are hoodooed."
Just then a coal-black cat came out from under the bed and walked across
the room.
"And I suppose you think this is my hoodoo?" smiled Merry, as the cat
came over and rubbed against his leg. "That's where you are away off.
This cat is my mascot, and she shall travel with me till the piece wins.
She has stuck to me close enough since she walked onto the stage where
we were rehearsing in Denver."
"The cat is not the hoodoo," said Bart, shaking his head. "I know what
is."
"You do?"
"Sure."
"Name it."
"I am!"
"You?"
"Yes."
Frank stared at Bart in surprise, and then burst out laughing.
"Well, how in the world did you happen to get such a foolish notion into
your head?" he cried.
"It's not foolish," declared Bart, stubbornly. "It's straight, I know
it, and you can't make me think differently."
Frank rose and walked over to Hodge, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Now you are talking silly, old man," he said. "You never were bad luck
to me in the past; why should you be now. You're blue. You are down in
the mouth and your head is filled with ridiculous fancies. Things would
have happened just as they have if you had not joined the company."
"I don't believe it."
"You always were superstitious, but I believe you are worse than ever
now. You have been playing poker too much. That's what ails you. The
game makes every man superstitious. He may not believe in luck at the
beginning, but he will after he has stuck to that game a while. He will
see all the odd things that happen with cards, and the conviction that
there is such a thing as luck must grow upon him. He will become
whimsical and full of notions. That's what's the matter with you, Hodge.
Forget it, forget it!"
"I think you are likely to forget some things altogether too early,
Merriwell. For instance, some of your enemies."
"What's the use to remember unpleasant things?"
"They remember you. One of them did so to an extent that he helped ruin
the first presentation of your play."
"How?"
"It isn't possible that you have forgotten the lying notices circulated
all over this city, stating that you were not the real Frank Merriwell,
accusing you of being a fake and a thief?"
Something like a shadow settled on Merry's strong face.
"No, I have not forgotten," he declared, "I remember all that, and I'd
like to know just who worked the game."
"It was a gol-dinged measly trick!" exploded Ephraim.
"You thought it would not hurt you, Frank," said Hodge. "You fancied it
would serve to advertise you, if anything. It may have advertised you,
but it did you damage at the same time. When the audience saw everything
was going wrong, it grew angry and became convinced that it was being
defrauded. Then you had trouble with that big ruffian who climbed over
the footlights with the avowed purpose of breaking up the show."
"Oh, well," smiled Merry, in a peculiar way, "that fellow went right
back over the footlights."
"Yes, you threw him back. That quieted the audience more than anything
else, for it showed that you were no slouch, even if you were a fake."
"Oh, I suppose I'll find out some time just who did that little piece of
advertising for me."
"Perhaps so; perhaps not."
Tap, tap, tap--a knock on the door.
"Come!" Frank called.
The door opened, and Billy Wynne, the property man, looked in.
"Letter for you, Mr. Merriwell," he said.
Frank took the letter, and Wynne disappeared, after being thanked for
bringing it.
"Excuse me," said Merry, and he tore open the envelope.
A moment later, having glanced over the letter, he whistled.
"News?" asked Bart.
"Just a note from the gentleman we were speaking of just now," answered
Frank. "It's from the party who gave me the free advertising."
"Waal, I'll be kicked by a blind kaow!" exploded Gallup. "An' did he hev
ther gall to write to ye?"
"Yes," said Frank. "Listen to this."
Then he read the letter aloud.
"Mr. Frank Merriwell.
"Dear Sir: By this time you must be aware that you are
not the greatest thing that ever happened. You received it in
the neck last night, and I aided in the good work of knocking
you out, for I circulated the 'warning' notice which denounced
you as an impostor, a deadbeat and a thief. The public swallowed
it all, and, in disguise, I was at the theater to witness your
downfall. It was even greater than I had dared hope it would be.
I understand the managers in other towns have canceled with you,
Folansbee has declined to back your old show any longer, and you
are on the beach. Ha! ha! ha! This is revenge indeed. You are
knocked out at last, and I did it. You'll never appear again as
the marvelous young actor-playwright, and the name of Frank
Merriwell will sink into oblivion. It is well. Yours with
satisfaction,
LESLIE LAWRENCE."
"I knew well enough it was that dirty rascal who did the job!" cried
Hodge, springing up. "The cur!"
"Waal, dinged if he hadn't oughter be shot!" burst from Gallup. "An' he
knows Folansbee's gone back on ye."
"It's no use, Frank," said Hodge, disconsolately; "you are done for. The
story is out. Folansbee has skipped us, and----"
"He has not skipped us. He's simply decided to go out of the theatrical
business. It was a fad with him, anyhow. As long as everything was going
well, he liked it; but I see he is a man who cannot stand hard luck. He
is changeable and that makes him a mighty poor man to back a venture. It
takes a man with determination and a fixed purpose to win at anything.
Changing around, jumping from one thing to another, never having any
clear ideas is enough to make a failure of any man. Folansbee doesn't
need to follow the show business for a living. He went into it because
it fascinated him. The glamour is all worn off now, and he is ready to
get out if it. Let him go."
"It's all right to say let him go, but what are you going to do without
him? You are talking about putting your play out again, but how will you
do it?"
"I'll find a way."
"That is easier said than done. You have been lucky, Frank, there is no
question about that. You can't be that lucky all the time."
"There are more ways than one to catch an angel."
"I rather think you'll find that angels are not so thick. Once in a
while there is a soft thing who is ready to gamble with his money by
putting it behind a traveling theatrical company, but those soft things
are growing scarcer and scarcer. Too many of them have been bitten."
"Still, I have a feeling that I'll find a way to succeed."
"Of course you can advertise for a partner to invest in a 'sure thing,'
and all that, but those games are too near fraud. Rascals have worked
those schemes so much that honest men avoid them."
"I shall not resort to any trickery or deception. If I catch an 'angel'
I shall get one just as I obtained Folansbee, by telling him all the
risks and chances of failure."
"Well, you'll not get another that way."
"Darned if I ain't afraid now!" nodded Ephraim. "But Mr. Folansbee's
goin' to take keer of this comp'ny, ain't he? He's goin' to take it back
to Denver?"
"He has agreed to do so."
At this moment there was another sharp rap on the door, which, happening
to be near, Frank opened.
Cassie Lee walked in, followed by Roscoe Havener, the soubrette and the
stage manager of "For Old Eli," Cassie showed excitement.
"Well, what do you think of him?" she cried.
"Of whom--Havener?" asked Merry,
"No, Folansbee."
"What about him?"
"He's skipped."
"Skipped?"
"Sure thing. Run away."
"Impossible!"
"It's a straight fact," declared the little soubrette.
"There's no doubt of it," corroborated Havener.
"Waal, may I be tickled to death by grasshoppers!" ejaculated Gallup.
"This caps the whole business!" burst from Hodge.
"I can't believe that," said Merriwell, slowly. "How do you know,
Havener?"
"His baggage is gone. Garland and Dunton traced him to the station. They
were just in time to see him board an eastbound train as it pulled out.
He has deserted us."