FRANK PUTS UP PAPER.
A surprise awaited Frank in Salacia. Of course, the first thing he
looked for on striking the town was the billboards, expecting to find
the “Empire Theater Comedy Company’s” paper up everywhere.
Not a piece of that paper was in sight.
But every billboard in town was covered with Julian King’s paper, and
the show windows were filled with his lithographs!
Without waiting for anything Frank sought the manager of the opera
house, for Salacia had but one first-class theater.
The manager was not at home, but his assistant, the janitor of the
building, was easily found, and he acknowledged that he had charge of
everything during Manager Fuller’s absence.
“Then,” said Merriwell, “you may be able to explain to me why Julian
King’s paper is on your billboards.”
“Eh? Who are you?”
“My name is Frank Merriwell.”
“Well, what in——”
“I am in advance of the ‘Empire Theater Comedy Company.’”
“The deuce you are!”
“Here’s a letter from Mr. Barnaby Haley that may convince you.”
The janitor glanced over the sheet Frank spread before him.
“But—but a man by the name of Collins is their advance agent.”
“Was, you mean.”
“He isn’t now?”
“No.”
“Well, I don’t understand——”
“Neither do I. We have the opera house engaged for the eighteenth, and
King is to play here the nineteenth, yet his paper covers every board in
town, and I can’t even find one of our lithographs in a window. What
does it mean?”
“Why, your company has gone up.”
“Gone up?”
“Yes, bu’sted.”
“Who told you that?”
“Dispatch from King said so.”
“It’s a malicious falsehood, and Mr. King should be made to smart for
it!”
Frank was aroused, as his flashing eyes indicated.
“But—but,” stammered the janitor, “Collins, your man, he said it was no
use to put up the rest of the paper. He said so himself.”
“Then he was here?”
“Yes.”
“And put up some of our paper?”
“Yes, about half of it. He went round with me. I do the bill-posting
sometimes.”
“How did he happen to quit so suddenly?”
“Don’t know. He received a telegram, and it seemed to knock him all out.
He just said it was no use to put up any more paper, and stopped. I
tried to get something out of him, but he wouldn’t say a word. Next
thing we knew he was gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Don’t know. Just disappeared.”
“What next?”
“We had a telegram from King.”
“Saying the ‘Empire Theater Company’ had gone up?”
“Yes.”
“And where is this paper you put up for us?”
“Under King’s. That was put up over it right away.”
“Well, that was a fine trick! Why didn’t you dispatch to Mr. Haley and
find out if King’s report was true?”
“Why should we, after Collins acted so queer? Of course, we thought it
was true.”
“It was untrue, and it was a rascally piece of business, for which King
should be made to pay dearly. Where is our paper that you hadn’t put
up?”
“I think it’s here somewhere, if it hasn’t been sent away.”
“Sent away where?”
“With the rubbish. Man was here taking rubbish away this morning.”
“Well, now I want you to find out in a hurry if he has taken that paper
away.”
“Why, what are you going to——”
“Don’t stop to ask questions. Find that paper!”
Frank’s tone made the janitor jump.
“All right, sir!” he exclaimed. “Wait here a minute and I’ll find out
about it.”
The man was gone about two minutes, and then came back, looking alarmed.
“It’s gone!” he declared.
“Then follow it!” shot from Frank Merriwell’s lips. “Find it—recover
it—bring it back! You must do it in a hurry. That paper is going up
right after dinner, and I’ll be on hand to see that it goes up right.
We’ll block Mr. King’s little game right away. Now don’t make any
mistake, you must recover that paper, and you must be ready to start
with me at one o’clock to put it up. Have everything ready then. Do you
understand?”
“I—I think so.”
“All right. I’ll be here on the dot.”
Then Frank hustled away.
He inquired the way to the office of the local newspaper, and went there
direct, finding the editor just preparing to go home to dinner.
Merry introduced himself and chatted with the editor a short time. He
found the manager of the opera house had brought in some notices of the
Julian King Company, but had furnished none of Haley & Hawkins’ Company.
Frank told just what sort of a trick King had attempted to play, and the
editor became somewhat interested.
While they were talking there was a commotion on the street, and,
looking out, Frank saw a runaway horse tearing along, with a little
child, scarcely more than a baby, clinging to the seat of the rocking
carriage.
Like a flash, the ex-Yale athlete shot out of the door, took a run in
the same direction the frightened horse was going, caught the animal by
the bit, and stopped the creature in less than six rods, by a wonderful
display of strength and skill.
The owner of the turnout, who was also the father of the child, came
rushing up, pale and trembling, and caught the uninjured little one in
his arms, kissing and caressing her.
A crowd gathered and showered compliments on Merriwell.
“Young man,” cried the father, “you saved my Bessie’s life! How can I
pay the debt?”
“I’ll tell you,” smiled Frank; “take your family and come see the
‘Empire Theater Comedy Company,’ which plays here the evening of the
eighteenth. You’ll see a good show and get your money’s worth. Bring
along your friends.”
“I’ll do it!” exclaimed the man. “I’ll bring everybody I can. Are you in
the show?”
“I’m connected with it. Take this horse, somebody. I’ve got some
business with Mr. Jesper.”
Jesper was the editor of the paper, and he walked back to the office
with Merriwell.
“You’re a rattler,” he said, admiringly. “You made a good hit in
stopping Sam Henson’s horse. He thinks the world of his child, and he’s
got money to feed to the dogs. If he took a fancy, he could buy up every
seat in the opera house and not feel it. It would be just like him to do
it, too. I’ll have to make a good item of your stopping his horse.”
“That’s all right,” laughed Frank, “as long as you wind the item up by
mentioning the ‘Empire Theater Comedy Company.’ You mustn’t fail to do
that. And here is some other stuff I’d like to get into your column of
locals.”
He brought out the three news items he had written but had forgotten to
submit for Haley’s inspection.
Jesper looked them over and smiled.
“Why, this is good stuff!” he declared. “It’s different from the stuff
usually brought in here.”
“Can you use it all?”
“Well, that is crowding us, but——”
“How many seats do you wish?” asked Merry, bringing out his passes.
“Will six be enough?”
The editor thought six might do, and he got them. Then Frank made him
promise to have the items set up the first thing after dinner and a
number of proofs taken of them.
“You see, I have no copies to furnish other papers,” Merry explained;
“and a dozen proofs of each one of these will be a great help to me.”
“You shall have them,” assured Jesper.
When Frank left that office, he was satisfied he had done as well as any
person could.
Then he went to the hotel where theatrical people usually stopped, and,
before dinner, he made arrangements for the accommodation of the “Empire
Theater Comedy Company” when it arrived in town, getting a liberal
reduction on the regular rates.
Riddle was in the dining room when Frank entered, and Merry took pains
to get a seat at a table as far as possible from the fellow. He observed
that Riddle surveyed him curiously, and he knew the fellow was wondering
just what he had been doing.
Merry had hustled since striking town, accomplishing a great deal in a
remarkably short space of time.
Frank ate heartily, for he had a good appetite.
Riddle finished first, and he was waiting for Frank in the office,
smoking a good cigar.
“You seem full of business, Merriwell,” he observed.
“Yes,” answered Frank, shortly, and tried to move on.
“What are you doing?”
“Attending to my business.”
“Don’t be crusty, old fellow. We’re in the same line, and there’s no
reason why we should snarl at each other. I don’t see where you are
going to get board room for your paper in this town. Our stuff is up on
everything.”
“I’ll find room enough,” declared Frank, grimly.
“Then you’ll have to put up new boards.”
“Oh, I think not.”
“I don’t see how you’ll get round it.”
“You may find out later on.”
Riddle was puzzled, as he plainly showed. He could not get anything out
of this remarkable young man who had been sent out in advance of Haley &
Hawkins’ show, and, as a rule, he was most successful in pumping
anybody.
“Where are you going now?” he asked, desperately.
“About my business, sir; hadn’t you better go about yours?”
Riddle flushed.
“Oh, keep it up!” he said, beginning to show anger. “You give me pains!
You’re altogether too new!”
“And you are altogether too nosey, Mr. Riddle.”
Frank walked out of the office and made straight for the opera house.
Just as he reached the stage door, the janitor came up with a
wheelbarrow, on which was piled the missing paper of the “Empire Theater
Comedy Company.”
“I found it!” he exclaimed, with satisfaction.
“I see you have,” nodded Frank, beginning to feel relieved himself.
“Now, we must make a hustle to get it up.”
“But where shall we put it?”
“On every billboard in town belonging to this opera house.”
The janitor gasped.
“But—but Julian King’s paper is up on those boards!”
“What of that?”
“It’s all the paper he sent us.”
“What of that?”
“We—we can’t cover his paper!”
“Can’t we? Well, get your paste and brush, and we’ll see if we can. Be
lively, now, for I must catch a train to-night, and I’ve got some
hustling to do.”
The janitor seemed dazed. He got his paste bucket and brush, and then he
and Frank started out. They began with the board on the side of the
opera house.
“Gracious!” gasped the janitor, as they prepared to put the paper on.
“What will King do?”
“He has done what he had no right to do now, and he can’t do anything
about this. Our paper is going up on these boards to stay till the night
we play here.”
“That’ll give King only one day of advertising on the billboards.”
“That’s not my concern. If he makes a date to play in a town one day
behind another show, he must take his chances on the advertising he can
secure. You can see that he is a scoundrel, or he would not have
resorted to the trick to obtain these boards.”
“But how do you explain the action of Collins?”
“Don’t explain it. Haven’t time.”
They were fairly at work when the janitor looked up the street and saw
Delvin Riddle rushing in that direction, exhibiting unmistakable signs
of wrath.
It was plain Riddle had been in Salacia before, and was known to the
janitor, for that individual dropped his brush, gasping:
“Good Lord! Now there’ll be a muss!”
Frank caught up the brush and continued the work of putting up the sheet
of paper.
Riddle came up panting.
“Here!” he shouted, as he approached; “what in thunder are you doing?”
Frank made a skillful swipe up the middle of the sheet with his brush,
securing the paper at one stroke, then swiftly stroked it to the right
and left, affixing it in its proper place.
“You seem to be excited, Mr. Riddle,” he coolly observed, as King’s
advance man came tearing up.
“I want to know what in blazes you are doing!” roared Riddle,
wrathfully, his face fairly purple.
“Putting up paper!”
“But you’re putting it over our paper.”
“I know it.”
“How do you dare do such a thing?”
“That’s easy.”
“I forbid it.”
Frank smiled placidly.
“Look out, Mr. Riddle,” he said, with mock concern, “or you will choke
yourself with excitement.”
“I forbid you to put on another piece of paper!” roared Riddle, shaking
his fist at Merry.
“Forbid and be—blessed! It goes up just the same.”
“You’ll get yourself into trouble!”
“Julian King will get himself into trouble, if he telegraphs any more
lies about the ‘Empire Theater Company.’ He got this paper of his up
here through misrepresentation and fraud. Now let him put some more up
when we are through with the boards.”
Frank prepared to go on with his work.
“Pass me up the next sheet, Mr. Hobbs,” he said, speaking to the
janitor.
“Don’t you do it!” ordered Riddle. “You are getting yourself into
trouble.”
The janitor seemed doubtful.
“You’ve already gotten yourself into trouble, Mr. Hobbs,” declared
Merry, “if Barnaby Haley sees fit to make trouble about it. You know you
had no right to cover such of our paper as was up, and you also know
that we own these boards till ten o’clock on the night of the
eighteenth. Pass up that sheet.”
Frank had won.
“He’s right, Mr. Riddle,” said the janitor. “The boards belong to Haley,
and we’ll have to put his paper up.”
Riddle saw his game of bluff was called, and, furious at his defeat, he
lifted his foot and kicked over the bucket of paste.
Quick as a flash, Merry turned and gave the brush a slash across the
fellow’s face, filling his mouth, nose and eyes with the sticky stuff.
Riddle swore, spitting, blowing, rubbing at his eyes with a
handkerchief.
“Put down that brush, and I’ll fight you!” he snarled.
“Go away,” advised Frank. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
“You don’t dare to fight! You’re a coward!”
Merriwell did not fancy being called that.
“Go away, Riddle,” he again advised. “You will be sorry if you don’t.”
The fellow fancied Merry was afraid of him.
“What you deserve is a good thrashing, to take some of the freshness out
of you!” he shouted, having mopped the most of the paste off his face.
“Don’t be so stuck up,” said Frank, with a bit of a smile. “What you
need is some good soap and water to use on your face.”
“You confounded fresh!”
Riddle started toward Frank.
“Wait!”
That one word fell sharply from Merry’s lips. He leaned the long-handled
brush against the billboard and turned to meet his angry enemy.
“All right, now,” he said, gently. “Come ahead, and I’ll make it
interesting for you.”
Riddle hesitated a single instant, and then he saw something like a grin
on the face of the watching janitor. That decided him. He made a spring
for Frank.
Out shot Merriwell’s arm.
Crack!
The blow sounded almost like a pistol shot.
Delvin Riddle was knocked down on the instant, and struck sprawling in
the overturned mass of paste. In that he sprawled around for a moment,
and, when he got up, he was a sight to behold.
Riddle looked at himself, then looked at Merriwell.
“You shall pay for this!” he grated. “I’ll see you again.”
A number of spectators had gathered, and they were laughing openly over
Riddle’s ludicrous appearance as he hurried away. The fellow was
thoroughly crestfallen, but in his heart he swore vengeance.
“There seems to be enough paste in the bottom of the bucket for this
board, Mr. Hobbs,” said Merriwell, calmly. “Now we will go on with our
work.”
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