MURDEROUS REALISM.
Jack, the lame boy, succeeded in getting Bob to keep shop for him that
evening, and so he was able to attend the theater with his sister and
Frank.
Ephraim Gallup kept his word and secured a box for them.
Little Nell was in raptures when they were seated in the box and
“Haley’s Mammoth Gold Band” played the overture in the place of an
orchestra.
The band was made up of an odd collection of human beings, but they had
practiced on a few pieces till they could “tear them off” in a style
that was pretty sure to please the uneducated ear and catch the fancy of
the crowd.
Ephraim Gallup sat up proudly and puffed out his cheeks as he blew away
at his horn. He was aware that Frank Merriwell must be regarding him
with interest, and he was determined to do his best.
“Isn’t it lovely!” murmured little Nell, as she sat with one hand
clasped in her brother’s.
Despite the age of the play, the house was filled with spectators. It
was a “popular price” theater, and its patrons were the common people.
The gallery was packed with youngsters who were there to sympathize with
“Uncle Tom,” applaud “George Harris,” laugh with “Topsy” and “Gumption
Cute,” and hiss “Simon Legree.”
When the band had finished playing, the gallery broke into a roar, amid
which could be distinguished cat calls, screams and shrill whistles.
The footlights flashed, and the musicians played a “riser” as the
curtain rolled swiftly up.
The play was on, and little Nell was enchained, enraptured, enchanted.
For the first time in her life she saw a genuine “theater show,” and,
within three minutes, everything happening on the stage was true as life
for her.
It was a great satisfaction for Frank to watch the face of the girl. He
saw how keenly she was enjoying everything, and her enjoyment gave him
the greatest pleasure.
Merry soon saw that this “All-Star Combination” was made up of
“ham-fatters,” among whom were two or three fairly good people. Haley
knew how to catch the crowd with specialties, and he had introduced
singing and dancing into every act.
Frank watched for Hans. The Dutch lad appeared at last, blackened with
burnt cork, representing one of the negro laborers. He did not have any
lines, which was fortunate, as his dialect would not have corresponded
with his color.
Hans was one of the slaves on sale at the auction at which “Simon
Legree” obtained possession of “Uncle Tom.”
Before the play was half finished little Nell was greatly wrought up
over it. The escape of “Eliza” over the floating ice, with the
bloodhounds in pursuit, was well done, and it caused the gallery to go
wild.
When the curtain went down after that climax, little Nell fell back in
her chair, crying:
“Oh, Frank, isn’t it wonderful! I never knew anything could be so real
and still a play.”
From where he sat, Merry could see through one of the open stage
entrances at the opposite side. Several times he saw some of the actors
pause there and watch what was taking place on the stage. It happened
that he was looking through that entrance when one of them stopped
there, glanced quickly around, and produced a bottle from one of his
pockets. The man quickly uncorked the bottle and took a long drink from
it.
He was the one who played the part of “Legree.”
When the man next appeared on the stage, Merry saw he was drunk. Frank
watched him closely.
“That fellow acts to me as if he is out for trouble,” he thought. “I
believe he is well cast in the piece, for he seems to be a ruffian by
nature.”
Frank sat so near the stage that he was able to see bits of by-play that
the audience did not catch. Thus it happened that he saw “Legree” give
“Uncle Tom” a look of genuine hatred and make a menacing gesture toward
him.
Merry instantly “tumbled.”
“Trouble between them,” he decided.
A little later, when both these characters were off the stage, Frank saw
“Legree” again prepare to take a drink in the wings. Just as he tipped
the bottle to his lips, a hand reached out and caught it from his grasp.
Crash!—it was smashed on the floor.
“Uncle Tom” was there, and he started in to remonstrate with the
intoxicated actor.
“Legree” was furious, and he tried to grasp the other by the throat. He
was held off some seconds, a sharp struggle taking place. Then he
succeeded in getting one hand fastened on the throat of the man who was
impersonating the leading character of the play.
“Uncle Tom’s” fist was lifted, and he struck his assailant fairly
between the eyes.
Down went “Legree!”
Frank Merriwell felt like applauding the little drama behind the scenes.
“Uncle Tom” departed, and, after a time, some of the players came and
assisted “Legree” to his feet.
Frank Merriwell now knew there were two men in the company who were
bitter enemies.
Both Jack and Nellie had been so absorbed in what was taking place on
the stage that they had not observed the encounter behind the scenes.
Frank watched for the two men when they should next appear on the stage.
“Uncle Tom” was calm as ever when he came on. He was a fairly good
actor.
“Legree” came on.
Watching them closely, Merry heard some low-spoken words pass between
them while the action of the piece was being carried on by other
characters.
“Oh, I’ll fix you for that!” hissed “Legree.”
“You’re drunk!” declared the other, contemptuously.
“Am I? Well, it’s none of your business! I’ll soak you before the night
is over!”
“Try it!”
“I will! I’ll kill ye!”
Then they went on playing their parts as if nothing unusual had
happened.
“There is bad blood between them,” decided Frank, “and the fellow with
the rum in him is dangerous.”
He did not realize how dangerous till the scene was being played where
“Legree” lashes “Uncle Tom” to death with a heavy whip.
“Simon” came on with the whip, and there was a strange glitter in his
dark eyes. With his first blow at the old slave, he caused “Uncle Tom”
to collapse, uttering a yell of pain.
For the whip had whistled through the air, wielded by a powerful arm,
and the hissing lash had curled about the body of “Uncle Tom.”
The audience looked on spellbound, rather astonished by the realism of
this whipping scene.
Grinding his teeth together, “Legree” bent over and pitilessly cut the
writhing man with the whip.
Cries of pain broke from the fallen man.
“Curse you!” Merry heard “Legree” hiss. “Here is where I fix you!”
“Help!” cried “Uncle Tom.”
It was a genuine appeal for aid. This was not acting.
Frank Merriwell started to his feet.
“Oh!” gasped little Nell—“oh, Frank, he is really murdering ‘Uncle
Tom’!”
“Hanged if it doesn’t look that way!” Merry admitted to himself.
The whip dropped from “Legree’s” hand. It struck the floor heavily, but
the man caught it up in a twinkling, reversing it.
Then, with the loaded butt, he struck “Uncle Tom” a savage blow on the
head.
The stricken man straightened out, quivering in every limb.
With the expression of a fiend on his face, “Legree” lifted the heavy
whip again to bring the butt down upon the man’s head. It seemed to be
his purpose to smash the skull of the actor he hated.
As one man, the audience rose and stood, uttering a cry of horror, for
everyone seemed to realize that this was not acting.
It was murder!
“Stop!”
The word shot like a bullet from the lips of a handsome youth who went
flying over the rail of the right-hand proscenium box and alighted on
the stage.
“Drop it!”
Frank Merriwell dashed at the murderous actor, caught the whip, tore it
from his hand, flung it aside.
Then they grappled!
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