WELCOME LETTERS.
Frank Merriwell was determined to give a performance of his revised play
in Denver for advertising purposes. He had the utmost confidence in
"True Blue," as he had rechristened the piece, but the report of his
failure in Puelbo had spread afar in dramatic circles, being carried
broadcast by the Eastern dramatic papers, and managers were shy of
booking the revised version.
Some time before, after receiving the fortune from the Carson City Bank,
Merry had made a fair and equal division, sending checks for their share
to Browning, Diamond and Rattleton. Toots' share he had been unable to
forward, not knowing the address of the faithful darky, who had been
forced to go forth into the world to win his way when Frank met with the
misfortune that caused him to leave Yale.
And now came three letters from three Yale men. Diamond's was brief.
"Dear Old Comrade: It is plain you are still a practical
joker. Your very valuable (?) check on the First National of
Denver received. I really do not know what to do with so much
money! But I am afraid you are making a mistake by using a check
on an existing bank. Why didn't you draw one on 'The First Sand
Bank of Denver'? It would have served your purpose just as well.
"Can't write much now, as I am making preparations for vacation,
which is only a month away. I'm afraid it will be a sorry
vacation for me this year; not much like the last one. Then we
were all together, and what times we did have at Fardale and in
Maine! I'm blue to-night, old friend, and do not feel like
writing. I fancy it has made me feel bluer than ever to read in
the _Dramatic Reflector_ of your unfortunate failure in
Puelbo and the disbanding of your company after your backer
deserted you. Hard luck, Frank--hard luck! All the fellows have
been hoping you would make money enough to come back here in the
fall, but all that is over now.
"What are you doing? Can't you find time to write to us and let
us know? We are very anxious about you. I will write you again
when I am more in the mood. Hoping your fortune may turn for the
better, I remain,
"Always your friend,
"Jack Diamond."
Frank read this aloud to Hodge and Gallup in his room at the Metropole
Hotel.
"Waal, by ginger!" exploded Ephraim. "What do yeou think of that?"
"Now you see what your reputation as a practical joker is doing for you,
Merry," said Hodge.
"Well, I'll be hanged if I don't believe Diamond considers it a joke!"
laughed Frank.
"Of course he does," nodded Bart.
"Well, he is putting a joke on himself. He'll be somewhat surprised when
he discovers that."
Ephraim began to grin.
"That's so, by thutter!" he cried.
"Here is a letter from Rattleton," said Merry, picking up another from
the mail he had just received. "I wonder how he takes it?"
"Read it and find aout," advised Gallup.
"A wise suggestion," bowed Frank, with mock gravity, tearing it open.
This is what he read:
"Dear Merry: Cheese it! What do you take us for--a lot of
chumps? We're onto you! Eight thousand fiddlesticks! I'm going
to have the check framed and hang it in my room. It will be a
reminder of you.
"Say, that was tough about your fizzle in Puelbo! It came just
when we were hoping, you know. The fellows have been gathering
at the fence and talking about you and your return to college
since Browning came back and told us how you were making a
barrel of money with your play. Now the report of your disaster
is spread broadcast, and we know you cannot come back. It's
tough.
"Diamond is in a blue funk. He hasn't been half the man he was
since you went away. Hasn't seemed to care much of anything
about studying or doing anything else, and, as a result, it is
pretty certain he'll be dropped a class.
"But Diamond is not the only one. You know Browning was dropped
once. He is too lazy to study, but, in order to keep in your
class, he might have pulled through had you been here. Now it is
known for an almost certain thing that he will not be able to
pass exams, and you know what that means.
"I'm not going to say anything about myself. It's dull here.
None of your friends took any interest in the college
theatricals last winter, and the show was on the bum. The whole
shooting match made a lot of guys of themselves.
"Baseball has been dead slow, so far this season. We are down in
the mud, with Princeton crowing. It takes you, Merry, to twist
the Tiger's tail! What was the matter? Everything. All the
pitchers could do for us was to toss 'em up and get batted out
of the box. The new men were not in it. They had glass arms, and
the old reliables had dead wings. It was pitiful! I can't write
any more about it.
"I'd like to see you, Frank! Would I? Ask me! Oh, say! don't you
think you can arrange it so you can come East this summer? Come
and see me. Say, come and stay all summer with me at my home! We
won't do a thing but have a great time. Write to me and give me
your promise you will come. Don't you refuse me, old man.
"Yours till death,
"Rattles.
"Here's another!" cried Frank. "If that doesn't beat! Why, they all
think those checks fakes!"
"As I said before," said Hodge, "you see what your reputation as a
practical joker is doing for you."
"I see," nodded Frank. "It is giving me a chance to get a big joke on
those fellows. They will drop dead when they learn those checks actually
are good."
"Waal, I should say yes!" nodded Ephraim. "Jest naow they're kainder
thinkin' yeou are an object fer charity."
"Here's Browning's letter."
"Mr. Frank Merriwell, Millionaire and Philanthropist.
"Dear Sir: I seize my pen in my hand, being unable to seize
it with my foot, and hasten to acknowledge the receipt of
your princely gift. With my usual energy and haste, I dash off
these few lines at the rate of ten thousand words a minute, only
stopping to rest after each word. After cashing your check with
the pawnbroker, I shall use the few dollars remaining to settle
in part with my tailor, who has insisted in a most ungentlemanly
manner on the payment of his little bill, which has been running
but a short time--less than two years, I think. The sordid greed
and annoying persistence of this man has much embarrassed me,
and I would pay him off entirely, if it were not that I wish to
get my personal property out of my 'uncle's' safe-deposit vault,
where it has been resting for some time.
"It is evident to me that you have money to burn in an open
grate. That is great, as Griswold would say. And it was so kind
of you to remember your old friends. The little hint
accompanying each check that thus you divided the spoils of our
great trip across the continent was not sufficient to deceive
anyone into the belief that this was other than a generous act
on your part and a free gift.
"There is not much news to write, save that everybody is in the
dumps and everything has turned blue. I suppose some of the
others will tell you all about things, so that will save me the
task, which you know I would intensely enjoy, as I do love to
work. It is the joy of my life to labor. I spend as much time as
possible each day working on a comfortable couch in my room; but
I will confess that I might not work quite so hard if it was not
necessary to draw at the pipe in order to smoke up.
"When are you coming East? Aren't you getting tired of the West?
Why can't you make a visit to Yale before vacation time? You
would be received with great _eclat_. Excuse my French. I
have to fling it around occasionally, when I can't think of any
Latin or Greek. Why do you suppose Latin and Greek were
invented? Why didn't those old duffers use English, and save us
poor devils no end of grinding?
"Unfortunately, I have just upset the ink, and, having no more,
I must quit.
"Yours energetically,
"Bruce Browning."
"Well, it's simply marvelous that he stuck to it long enough to write
all that!" laughed Frank. "And he, like the others, thinks the check a
fake."
Hodge got up and stood looking sullenly out of the window.
"What's the matter, Bart?" asked Merry, detecting that there was
something wrong.
"Nothing," muttered the dark-faced fellow.
"Oh, come! Was there anything in those letters you did not like?"
"No. It was something there was not in the letters."
"What?"
"Not one of those fellows even mentioned me!" cried Hodge, fiercely
whirling about. "I didn't care a rap about Diamond and Rattleton, but
Browning would have showed a trace of decency if he had said a word
about me. He made a bad blunder and was forced to confess it, but I'll
bet he doesn't think a whit more of me now."
"Oh, you are too sensitive, old man. They did not even write anything in
particular for news, and think how many of my friends at college they
failed to mention."
"Oh, well; they knew I was with you, and one of them might have asked
for me. I hope you may go back to Yale, Merry, but wild horses could not
drag me back there! I hate them all!"
"Hate them, Hodge?"
"Yes, hate them!" Bart almost shouted. "They are a lot of cads! There is
not a whole man among them!"
Then he strode out of the room, giving the door a bang behind him.
Of course Frank made haste to reply to the letters of his college chums,
assuring them that the checks were perfectly good, and adding that,
although he had some reputation as a practical joker, he was not quite
crazy enough to utter a worthless check on a well-known bank, as that
would be a criminal act.
Frank mentioned Hodge, and, without saying so in so many words, gave
them to understand that Bart felt the slight of not being spoken of in
any of the letters from his former acquaintances.
One thing Frank did not tell them, and that was that he was on the point
of starting out again with his play, having renamed it, and rewritten
it, and added a sensational feature of the "spectacular" order in the
view of a boat race between Yale, Harvard and Cornell.
Even though he was venturing everything on the success of the piece,
Merry realized now better than ever before that no man was so infallible
that he could always correctly foretell the fate of an untried play.
It is a great speculation to put a play on the road at large expense.
The oldest managers are sometimes deceived in the value of a dramatic
piece of property, and it is not an infrequent thing that they lose
thousands of dollars in staging and producing a play in which they have
the greatest confidence, but which the theater-going public absolutely
refuses to accept.
Frank had been very confident that his second play would be a winner in
its original form, but disaster had befallen it at the very start. He
might have kept it on the road as it stood, for, at the very moment when
he seemed hopelessly stranded without a dollar in the world, fortune had
smiled upon him by placing in his hands the wealth which he had found in
the Utah Desert at the time of his bicycle tour across the continent.
But Merry had realized that, in the condition in which it then stood, it
was more than probable that the play would prove an utter failure should
he try to force it upon the public.
This caused him to take prompt action. First he brought the company to
Denver, holding all of them, save the two men who had caused him no
small amount of trouble, namely, Lloyd Fowler and Charlie Harper.
Calmly reviewing his play at Twin Star Ranch, Frank decided that the
comedy element was not strong enough in the piece to make it a popular
success on the road; accordingly he introduced two new characters. It
would be necessary, in order to produce the effect that he desired, to
employ a number of "supers" in each place where the play was given, as
he did not believe he would be warranted in the expense of carrying
nonspeaking characters with him.
On his return to Denver Frank had hastened at once to look over the
"mechanical effect" which had been constructed for him. It was not quite
completed, but was coming on well, and, as far as Frank could see, had
been constructed perfectly according to directions and plans.
Of course, one man had not done the work alone. He had been assisted by
carpenters and scene painters, and the work had been rushed.
Merry got his company together and began rehearsing the revised play.
His paper from Chicago came on, and examination showed that it was quite
"up to the mark." In fact, Havener, the stage manager, was delighted
with it, declaring that it was the most attractive stuff he had seen in
many years.
But for the loss of one of the actors he had engaged to fill one of the
comedy parts, Merry would have been greatly pleased by the manner in
which things moved along.
Now, however, he believed that in William Shakespeare Burns he had found
a man who could fill the place left vacant.
Although Hodge had been ready enough to defend Burns from the young
ruffians who were hectoring him on the street, he had little faith in
the man as a comedian. Hodge could see no comedy in the old actor. To
tell the truth, it was seldom that Hodge could see comedy in anything,
and low comedy, sure to appeal to the masses, he regarded as foolish.
For another reason Hodge felt uncertain about Burns. It was plain that
the aged tragedian was inclined to look on the wine "when it was red,"
and Bart feared he would prove troublesome and unreliable on that
account.
"I am done with the stuff!" Hodge had declared over and over. "On that
night in the ruffians' den at Ace High I swore never to touch it again,
for I saw what brutes it makes of men. I have little confidence in any
man who will drink it."
"Oh, be a little more liberal," entreated Frank. "You know there are men
who drink moderately, and it never seems to harm them."
"I know there are such men," admitted Bart; "but it is not blood that
runs in their veins. It's water."
"Not all men are so hot-blooded and impulsive as you and Jack Diamond."
"Don't speak of Diamond! I don't think anything of that fellow. I am
talking about this Burns. He is a sot, that's plain. Drink has dragged
him down so far that all the powers in the world cannot lift him up.
Some night when everything depends on him, he will fail you, for he will
be too drunk to play his part. Then you will be sorry that you had
anything to do with him."
"All the powers in this world might not be able to lift him up,"
admittted Frank; "but there are other powers that can do so. I pity the
poor, old man. He realizes his condition and what he has missed in
life."
"But the chances are that the audience will throw things at him when he
appears as a comedian."
"Instead of that, I believe he will convulse them with laughter."
"Well, you have some queer ideas. We'll see who's right."
Frank kept track of Burns, dealing out but little money to him, and that
in small portions, so that the old actor could not buy enough liquor to
get intoxicated, if he wished to do so.
The first rehearsal was called on the stage of the theater in Denver.
Merry had engaged the theater for that purpose. The entire company
assembled. Frank addressed them and told them that he was glad to see
them again. One and all, they shook hands with him. Then Burns was
called forward and introduced as the new comedian. At this he drew
himself up to his full height, folded his arms across his breast, and
said:
"Ay! 'new' is the word for it, for never before, I swear, have I essayed
a role so degraded or one that hath so troubled me by night and by day.
Comedy, comedy, what sins are committed in thy name!"
Granville Garland nudged Douglas Dunton in the ribs, whispering in his
ear:
"Behold your rival!"
"Methinks he intrudeth on my sacred territory," nodded Dunton. "But he
has to do it on the stage, and on the stage I am a villain. We shall not
quarrel."
Burns proved to be something of a laughing-stock for the rest of the
company.
"He's a freak," declared Billy Wynne, known as "Props."
"All of that," agreed Lester Vance.
"I don't understand why Merriwell should pick up such a creature for us
to associate with," sniffed Agnes Kirk. "But Merriwell is forever doing
something freakish. Just think how he carried around that black tramp
cat that came onto the stage to hoodoo us the first time we rehearsed
this piece."
"And there is the cat now!" exclaimed Vance, as the same black cat came
walking serenely onto the stage.
"Yes, here is the cat," said Frank, who overheard the exclamation. "She
was called a hoodoo before. I have determined that she shall be a
mascot, and it is pretty hard to get me to give anything up when I am
determined upon it."
"Well, I haven't a word to say!" declared Agnes Kirk, but she looked
several words with her eyes.
The rehearsal began and progressed finely till it was time for Burns to
enter. The old actor came on, but when he tried to say his lines the
words seemed to stick in his throat and choke him. Several times he
started, but finally he broke down and turned to Frank, appealingly,
saying, huskily:
"I can't! I can't! It is a mockery and an insult to the dead Bard of
Avon! It's no use! I give it up. I need the money, but I cannot insult
the memory of William Shakespeare by making a burlesque of his immortal
works!"
Then he staggered off the stage.