AN ASTONISHING SHOT.
The overture was finished, and the orchestra played a “riser” for the
curtain to go up.
“True Blue” began.
It was an audience to make any actor do his best. Gallup in the part of
_Reuben Grass_ soon put the audience in a good humor. He strolled onto
the stage in his jay make-up, singing the song with which he had made
such a hit in Merriwell’s first play:
“I alwus mind what dad says ter me
Sense fust he tuck me uver his knee;
But when I’m away ’way outer his sight
I do jest abaout as any boy might;
Fer then I know that he’ll never see
That I don’t mind what he says ter me.”
The audience received him with a burst of applause, and Ephraim
responded by getting off several country gags that delighted everybody.
No, not everybody. Down near the front sat a man who scowled and
glowered at the stage. It was Sam Hooker, and he was there to make
trouble. He was handling something which Gallup could not see. Ephraim
paused and winked at the ruffian in a most tantalizing manner.
The audience was waiting for the appearance of the star. The whole town
had heard of the manner in which Frank had treated the terror of the
place, and everybody seemed anxious for a look at the boyish actor who
had dared face the ruffian.
Granville Garland, as _Carius Dubad_, came on and carried things with a
high hand, everything leading up to an effective enter for Merriwell.
_Dubad_ was terrorizing _Grass_ when the moment came for Merry to make
his appearance. As he entered there was a great burst of applause and a
voice from the gallery cried:
“That’s him! That’s Frank Merriwell hisself, and he’s a lollypalooser!”
Then about fifty boys jumped up in the gallery and yelled like a lot of
wild Indians.
Immediately after his enter, Frank’s lines caused him to threaten to
fling the villain of the piece out of the house, whereupon the villain
drew a revolver.
This was the weapon Frank had loaded with bullet-bearing cartridges.
Merry sprang on Garland and wrested the revolver from his hand, while
Ephraim looked on in apparent terror.
While this brief struggle was taking place, Sam Hooker rose to his feet,
roaring:
“Whoop! He’s a purty lively maverick, but I’m ther puncher ter put my
brand on him. First I’ll rope him, same as I would a steer. Hyar goes!”
Round and round his head he swung a lariat, and then he quickly made the
throw.
The man’s words had warned Merry that the time for action had come. With
the loaded revolver in his hand, he sprang back from Garland.
The noose of the lasso came shooting through the air.
Quick as thought, Frank lifted the revolver and fired a single shot. The
bullet cut the rope, and the noose fell harmlessly at the feet of the
young actor!
It was over in the twinkling of an eye, and the ruffianly cowboy stood
there with the useless end of the cut rope in his hands, dazed and
bewildered by what had happened.
The audience was startled, and Frank saw that the people must be calmed
at once, so he immediately stepped to the footlights and began to speak:
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “there is no real cause for alarm.
Please keep your seats. The attempt of this ruffian with the rope to
break up the performance has proved a failure. This is his third attack
to-day upon me. I fancied I had taught him a lesson, but he does not
seem to have sense enough to know it. Now, if there is an officer
present, I wish he would remove the man from the house. The performance
will then go on.”
“Waal, dern my eyes!” muttered Sam Hooker, having drawn in the rope and
examined the severed end. “Ther critter shot it in two with a bullet!”
“Is there an officer present?” asked Frank, from the stage.
“You needn’t call fer an officer,” said Sam Hooker. “I’ll go right out
without no trouble. You say I ain’t got sense enough ter know when I’m
beat. Mebbe not, but I’ve got sense enough ter know you froze me out on
this yar game without half tryin’.”
Then the dejected ruffian turned and made for the door, hissed on every
hand by the angry audience.
When Hooker had disappeared, the performance continued as if nothing had
happened.
There was not a little excitement among the actors. They bombarded
Merriwell with questions at the end of the act. They wanted to know how
it happened that he had been aware of Hooker’s intention. On this point
he did not enlighten them, but he assured them he had been prepared for
any move the ruffian had contemplated.
The time between the acts gave the audience a chance to buzz about the
remarkable thing that had happened. Some could not believe it possible
Frank had cut the rope with a bullet. Not a few insisted that it was
impossible, because actors never used weapons loaded with bullets on the
stage.
But all had witnessed what had happened, and it was plain the star had
defeated Sam Hooker’s purpose in some manner.
There was no further attempt to interrupt the performance, although some
timid ones expected Hooker to return with a gang of roughs and create
disturbance.
The performance was over at last, and Frank breathed easy. Although he
had been on his guard for anything that might happen, he could not help
feeling relieved when the curtain fell on the last act without
witnessing another effort to break him up or molest him.
“Waal, by gum!” said Ephraim Gallup, as he met Frank behind the curtain,
“yeou’ve made a new record ter-night. If yeou don’t use that fer
advertising in ther Chicago papers, yeou are dead slow.”
“Use what?”
“Shootin’ that rope in tew. It’d be a great story for yeour press agint.
Yeou oughter git it sworn to by reliable parties who saw it, an’
telegraph it to yeour agint right off.”
“Well, I haven’t thought of that. I’m afraid it would seem too much like
a fake to be swallowed by the people who read the theatrical columns in
the papers.”
“Not by a darn sight! Yeou kin git it sworn tew.”
“Well, I think we can draw houses in Chicago without the use of that
yarn. It may be all right, but I don’t fancy we need it.”
“Say, Frank!”
“What?”
“Let me ’tend to that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let me git reliable persons to swear ter whut they saw.”
“Oh, if you want to——”
“An’ let me telegraph it to Riddle.”
“I don’t care.”
“All right!” exclaimed Ephraim. “I bet yeou four dollars I git aout a
yarn that packs your theatur in Chicago.”
He made a run for his dressing room to get off his stage dress and
make-up, eager to carry out his plan.
Hodge was in the sulks and would have nothing to say to anybody. As soon
as possible he left the theater and went to the hotel.
Ephraim, hot to get reliable citizens of Carrolton to swear to the
remarkable happening of that night, had also left.
Those who were not required to remain behind and handle scenery did not
lose much time in getting their make-up off and their effects together,
after which they departed for the hotel.
Frank lingered to watch the packing of the special scenery. He was not
supposed to do this, but his anxiety that everything should be done
right led him to do so.
When the last of it was nearly packed, Frank put on his light coat and
left the theater by the side door.
He had not gone twenty steps from the door before he fancied he heard a
light step behind him.
Instantly Frank whirled about.
Too late!
Something settled over his head and entangled him in muffling folds. At
the same moment he received a blow that knocked him down.
Although thus attacked from behind and taken by surprise, Frank made a
desperate fight.
He realized he had been set upon by several assailants, and they were
trying to beat him into nonresistance. For a time the blanket protected
him from the force of their blows, but it smothered him, and he grew
weaker and weaker. He did not give up, however, as long as he had the
least strength left to resist.
At last he was beaten into a state of helplessness, and then, still
enfolded by the smothering blanket, he was hurriedly lifted and carried
away by strong hands.
When Merry came to himself he found himself in a small room that was
poorly lighted by a single kerosene lamp.
Five men were in that room, all wearing masks that completely hid their
faces.
In a stove a fire was burning, while on the stove sat a big pan, which
contained some substance that gave out a peculiar odor.
The odor that came to Merry’s nostrils was that of tar.
The men seemed waiting for him to recover.
“He’s comin’ round,” said one.
Another of the masked gang uttered an exclamation of satisfaction.
“I’m glad the critter ain’t hurt much,” he said, in a voice which Frank
instantly recognized. “I didn’t want ter crack his head, fer that ’ud
spoil ther fun we’re goin’ ter have with him.”
“He won’t make much spread on the stage for a long time after we get
through with him,” said the first speaker.
“Not onless he does so as a curiosity,” chuckled the other, hoarsely.
Then this one stepped up to Merry and kicked him in the ribs.
“Come, my pritty dude actor,” he said, roughly. “We’re goin’ ter give ye
a new suit o’ clothes.”
At this the other masked ruffians laughed.
“Thank you, Sam Hooker,” said Frank, quite coolly. “You are becoming
exceedingly generous.”
“Who ye callin’ Sam Hooker?”
“You.”
“Waal, yer needn’t.”
“That is your name. You can’t fool me, even if your face is hidden. I
know you. I know your voice.”
“Waal, what ther blazes do I care!” cried the man, stripping the mask
from his face and casting it aside. “I want yer ter know me! I want yer
ter know I’m gittin’ even with yer. I am Sam Hooker.”
“You would look better if you kept on the mask,” said Merry. “Anything
to hide that villainous face of yours.”
“Drat ye! Do you dast talk ter me like that now!”
Again Hooker kicked Merry in the ribs.
“It’s a good time for you to do that!” exclaimed Frank, scornfully. “You
wouldn’t dare if my hands were free! You are a coward—a miserable
coward!”
“Hold yer tongue!”
“Oh, you can’t keep that still, unless you gag me.”
“Can’t? Waal, you may git another rap on ther head that’ll keep it
still!”
“It is a wonder to me that a ruffian of your stamp has hesitated at
murder. Go ahead with your dirty work!”
“Oh, we ain’t goin’ ter kill ye! Not much! We’ve got somethin’ better
fer ye! We’ve got somethin’ you’ll like—I don’t think!”
“That’s right,” laughed one of the others. “It’ll keep ye good an’ warm,
an’ you’ll be a pretty picture.”
“So both Hookers are in this little business. Joe, if you follow in the
tracks of your brother, I’ll guarantee you will land in prison. He’ll be
there within a year.”
Joe Hooker followed his brother’s example and tore off his mask.
“I want ye ter know I’m in this business, too!” he snarled. “If ye swear
to it afterward, your word’s no better’n ourn, and we’ll swear you lie.”
“Now,” said Merry, “if the rest of the fine gentlemen will kindly
uncover, we’ll be able to talk this matter over face to face.”
But the remaining three ruffians declined to show their faces.
“They jest come erlong to see ther fun,” said the cowboy. “We’re goin’
ter do ther business. Eh, Joe?”
“You bet!”
“What is your game?”
“Oh, ye’re anxious ter know! You’ll find out soon enough. Is ther tar
hot, Joe?”
“Well, I reckon it’s hot enough for our requirements.”
“Then we’d better prepare the gent for his new suit o’ clothes. Bring in
ther feathers.”
Now Frank understood the foul purpose of the gang, and his rage knew no
bounds. However, he realized it would be useless to give vent to his
anger, and he held himself in check.
“Tar and feathers, eh?” he said, apparently quite cool, for all of the
seething fury in his heart.
“Ye’ve struck it,” chuckled Sam Hooker, as Joe hurriedly left the room.
“You’ve made me ther laughin’-stock o’ ther town, an’ now I’m goin’ ter
disgrace you.”
Joe returned with an old pillow, which he quickly ripped open, crying:
“There are yer feathers, Sam.”
“Now,” said the cowboy, “we’ll ondress ther gent.”
“Wait a minute,” said Frank. “I have a few words to say to you before
you begin your dirty work.”
“Speak lively, fer we ain’t got no time ter waste. All the same, ye may
as well spare yer breath, fer nothin’ you kin say will make any
difference.”
“I do not expect it will, but I wish to make you a little promise, Mr.
Hooker. It is this: If you adorn me with a coat of tar and feathers, I
promise you that I will make you regret the day you ever saw me. I
promise you I will make you weary of life! I will not rest in carrying
out my promise. I will hound you down, and I’ll make you such an object
of scorn and contempt that you will long for death! I swear it!”
This vow had no effect on the men.
“Go ahead!” cried Sam Hooker. “You’ve made me ther laughin’ stock o’
Carrolton now, an’ I’m bound ter git even with yer! Now, we’ll strip
him, Joe.”
“Stop!”
Through the door bounded a girl. With all her strength she pushed Sam
Hooker aside. Over Frank Merriwell she stood, with a hardwood baseball
bat raised aloft.
“I’ll brain the first man who touches him!” she almost screamed.
It was Daisy Blaney!