AN ENGAGEMENT OFFERED.
The patrons of the Thalia Theater had been given a surprising sensation
that evening, and they did not think of demanding their money back when
they were forced to file out without seeing the final scene of the play.
The name of Frank Merriwell seemed to be on every tongue.
Barnaby Haley was quick to see the advertising value of the affair,
which, at first, he had regarded as most unfortunate. He perceived that
Frank Merriwell was well known and popular with the common people, such
as patronized that house.
It had not proved necessary to remove Roscoe Havener, the injured actor,
in an ambulance. Havener was carried to a dressing room, where he soon
recovered consciousness, and his injury was dressed by a physician, who
pronounced it a mere scalp wound.
Haley had taken Frank down into the dressing room, where he was profuse
in the expression of his thanks.
“Mr. Havener,” he said, “I believe you owe your life to the prompt
action of this young man.”
“Yes?” said the actor, staring at Frank.
“Yes,” assured the manager. “He was in a proscenium box, and he sprang
onto the stage and grappled with Storms in time to keep the fellow from
hitting you again with the heavy end of the whip.”
“Well, I am sure I am much obliged, Mr. Merriwell,” said Havener,
holding out his hand, which Frank took.
“Don’t mention it,” said Merry. “I happened to be watching Storms, for I
saw he had it in for you.”
“Yes, he was dead nuts on me. I’m the stage-manager, you know, and I
have been calling him down lately for drinking. He got so he hated me.”
“I heard him tell you he would ‘fix’ you.”
“Yes, he did that, but I did not dream he would try anything on the
stage. I wasn’t prepared at all. The first cut he gave me with that whip
seemed to take all the strength out of me.”
“Saw it,” nodded Frank. “Hardly thought he was in the habit of putting
it on that way every night.”
“Guess not!”
“The way you cried out told me it was a genuine surprise to you.”
“I should guess yes.”
“That made me ready for what followed, but was not quite quick enough to
keep him from hitting you the first time with the butt of the whip. I
stopped the blow he intended for a finisher, just the same.”
“And earned my everlasting gratitude, Mr. Merriwell.”
“They were ready to arrest me for interrupting the play,” laughed Frank.
Haley flushed.
“You must forget that, Mr. Merriwell,” he said. “I didn’t see Storms hit
Havener, so I could not understand why you jumped on the stage and
grappled with him.”
“But I understood it, b’gosh!” broke in Ephraim Gallup, who was on hand;
“an’ yeou kin bet I was goin’ to stan’ by Mr. Merriwell if it took a
wing off me.”
“Yaw,” came gravely from the Dutch boy, who was likewise there, “Vrank
Merrivell nefer made a misdake your life in.”
“You seem to know Mr. Merriwell,” insinuated Haley.
“Waal, I guess we do!” cried the Vermonter.
“You petter pelief we do!” exclaimed the Dutch youth.
“We was old chums at skule,” explained Ephraim.
“Yaw, we peen shums at Vardale,” elaborated Hans. “Dot peen vere he hadt
der bleasure our aguaintance uf makin’ alretty then.”
“It seemed rather remarkable that you took sides with him so promptly,
but it’s all right. The papers will be full of it to-morrow, and we
ought to get a good run here the next two nights. I’ll have to get a man
to fill Storms’ place.”
“That’s right,” quickly said Havener. “I’ll never play with him again.
If he’s arrested, I am going to push him for what he did.”
“If you do that, you’ll have to stay in this place some time,” declared
the manager; “and you can’t stay here without breaking your contract. I
can’t spare you, for you know the loss of Storms will make me two men
short. I need a prompter and property man, and need him bad.”
Ephraim nudged Frank, whispering:
“There’s your chance.”
“I guess not,” smiled Merry.
But the Vermonter said:
“Why don’t you make Mr. Merriwell an offer, Mr. Haley? He’s a gol darn
hustler, an’ he’s aout of a job jest naow. Mebbe yeou could git him.”
“It’s not likely he knows anything about the business,” said the
manager, looking Frank over.
“Waal,” declared Gallup, “yeou’ll find he kin l’arn ther quickest of
anybody yeou ever see. I’ll reckermend him.”
“Und I vos anodder,” put in Hans.
“Are you looking for an opening, Mr. Merriwell?” asked the manager.
“I am looking for some kind of a job,” confessed Frank. “Must do
something, you know.”
“You seem like a bright young man. Perhaps we might agree, if you are
willing to take hold and do not expect too much money at first.”
Somehow the idea of going on the road with a show appealed to Frank. Had
he been working at anything steady just then he would not have thought
of giving up his job to take such an engagement; but he was doing
nothing, and any kind of a job was preferable to idleness.
“I don’t know,” he said, slowly. “I haven’t thought about going into
such work, but——”
“You might think about it?”
“Possibly.”
“All right. I’ll be ready to make you an offer to-morrow, if you are
ready to come right away. I’ll be in the box office of the theater at
eleven in the morning. Will you call?”
“I think I will.”
“Do so. It won’t do any harm, even if we don’t agree. I shall be glad to
see you, anyhow.”
Frank was ready to go. He knew Jack and Nellie would wonder what had
become of him.
Hans and Ephraim accompanied him, and they found the brother and sister
waiting near the entrance of the theater.
“Oh, Frank!” cried little Nell. “We didn’t know where you had gone.”
“I told her you would turn up all right,” asserted Jack, “but she was
nervous after that fight on the stage.”
“It was dreadful!” shuddered the girl. “I was so frightened! I saw that
wretch was really and truly hurting ‘Uncle Tom,’ but I didn’t expect you
would jump right onto the stage, Frank.”
“Had to do it,” smiled Merry. “Case of necessity.”
“You did it so quick, and you handled that ruffian! I never saw a fight
before in my life, and it frightened me. But I was so proud of you when
all the crowd was shouting your name and cheering. They all seemed to
know you, Frank.”
“That’s right, by gum!” cried Ephraim. “Yeou seem to be purty nigh as
well known here as yeou was at skule. Guess yeou’re bound to be pop’ler
wherever yeou go.”
“I pet a dandy goot actor vould make him,” said Hans.
“Yes, I ruther think he’d make a good actor,” agreed Ephraim. “He will
hev a chaince before he’s bin with Haley long, if he goes with the show.
Better do it, Frank. We’ll hev heaps of fun.”
“Yaw, dot’s vot’s der madder!” cried Hans. “You’d petter took dot shob
uf he don’d pay a goot lot.”
Little Nell showed her alarm.
“What job is that?” she asked, flutteringly.
“P’r’aps he’ll hev a chaince to go aout on the road with aour show,”
explained Ephraim.
“And he’ll have to leave us!” cried Nellie.
“Waal, little gal, it’s too bad, but he can’t stay here an’ live on
wind. That’s sartin sure.”
“Oh, we don’t want to lose him like that!”
“Folks hev to make a livin’. He ain’t got money to burn, same as he had
once.”
“If I had, I should be very careful how I burned it,” asserted
Merriwell. “I have learned the value of money, and it will be precious
little that I shall throw away foolishly in the future. Must be going
home now. Good-night, fellows. See you to-morrow.”
“Yeou’d better engage with Haley,” cried Ephraim, as Frank moved away
with Jack and Nellie.
“Yaw,” shouted Hans. “Uf you don’d you vill peen sorry all mein life.
Goot-night.”
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