HISSED.
A week later the reorganized company, under Frank Merriwell's
management, was billed to play in a little town called Bransfield.
Frank was a great believer in paper, and he had wired Collins to see
that it was stuck up "regardless," so, when the players arrived in
Bransfield, they found every billboard and every dead wall pasted over
with lurid advertising. The windows were full of posters, and one could
not look in any direction without seeing something to remind him that
there was to be a show in town at the public hall that night.
Merriwell was satisfied, but Havener shook his head.
"It's a waste of paper," declared the stage manager. "Half as much
would have done as well."
"Don't think it," said Frank. "Not many shows come here, and it's
doubtful if the people ever saw any of this paper before, even though
it is stock stuff. If I am not much mistaken they were astonished by
the display, and they will be inclined to judge the merit of the show
by the amount of advertising done. If there is any money afloat, we
ought to pull a house here."
"Well, you are paying, so I'm not going to kick," said Havener.
Frank had not been at the hotel thirty minutes before a small, ragged
boy brought him a note. The boy started to hurry away, but Frank caught
him by the collar, saying:
"Hold on. I may want to answer it."
"Feller that sent it said there warn't goin' to be an answer,"
explained the boy, seeming anxious to get away.
"That's odd. Wait till I read it."
"I'm in a big hurry, boss."
"You can wait a minute."
"No, can't."
"Ephraim."
The tall Vermonter came forward at Frank's call.
"Just keep your hands on this youngster till I read this note," invited
Merry.
"All right," grinned Gallup, getting hold of the boy. "Naow don't ye
try to play any of yer gol darn pranks onter me, yeou little sarpint,
or I'll shack ye right aout of yer duds."
The boy submitted, seeing it was useless to attempt to get away, and
Frank opened the note. This is what he read:
"The end is not yet. I am not done with you.
"HARRIS."
Merry whistled softly.
"Well, this is very interesting!" he commented. "Now, my boy, who gave
this to you?"
"Don't you wish you could find out?" returned the youngster, saucily.
"See this?"
Frank poised a silver half-dollar on the tips of his fingers.
The boy's eyes sparkled, and he moistened his lips with the end of his
tongue.
"Just tell me all about who gave you that note, and where he was when
he gave it to you, and that half-dollar is yours."
"That's all right, boss," said the boy, with a sickly grin; "but
t'other feller give me a dollar not to say a word."
"And you promised that you wouldn't say a word?"
"Yep."
"Let him go, Ephraim."
Gallup was surprised.
"Whut fer? Ain't ye goin' to make him tell who sent him with the note?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because he has promised not to tell."
"Whut of that?"
"I should be inducing him to lie."
"An' ye won't make him tell fer that reason?"
"That is the reason."
"Waal, darn my punkins!"
Ephraim was bewildered more than ever.
"That's whut I call too much conscience," he growled. "I jest guess
I'll make the chap talk. I ain't got no conscience to stop me like
that."
"You will let him go," came quietly from Frank.
"Arter I take him aout inter the barn an' have a little set-daown with
him."
"Now."
Ephraim hesitated. He did not want to offend Frank, but he did long to
squeeze the truth out of the boy.
"Come, naow, Frank," he urged, "don't yeou be foolish abaout this. Ef I
make him talk, it won't be northing to yeou."
"I shall allow it, and so, indirectly, I'll be responsible for making
the boy lie. Let him go, Ephraim."
There was no mistaking Merriwell's resolve, and Ephraim said to the lad:
"All right, yeou kin go; but I'd tanned yer hide fer ye but I'd make ye
talk, if I'd had the doin' of it. Skip."
Being released, the lad did skip in a hurry, quickly disappearing from
view.
"Harris is in town," said Merry, speaking to the Vermonter.
"Whut? Not the feller that bruck up your stuff?"
"He helped the man that did the breaking. He is my old Yale enemy."
"Waal, let's go right aout and find him."
"That may be easier to say than to do, but we'll look for him. Keep
your eyes open, Ephraim. He threatens to do me further injury."
It proved useless to search for Harris in that place. Nothing of the
fellow could be found in the limited time given them to look for him.
It was necessary for the entire company to assemble at the hall to
rehearse that afternoon.
Frank was playing the leading part in the society play, which was
billed for that evening. He had been able to procure a dress suit in
one of the towns through which they passed, so he was able to dress
properly for the reception scene in the play. The other actors had
managed to retain possession of their clothes, and all were fairly well
supplied.
Lawrence really had left the company, refusing to go on with them under
the new arrangement, so it was necessary for Merriwell to fill his
place in playing leads, and, thus far, he had done so most successfully.
There was some hard work done at the rehearsal, as Havener was
determined the play should go off smoothly, and the players were not at
all well up in the business of the piece.
Frank's best scene was with Lillian Bird, the leading lady, in the
third act of the play. It was a love scene, at the end of which,
through a revelation by the villain, the lovers learn that they are
brother and sister. Of course, at the end of the play, it is revealed
that they are not related in such a manner, and everything finished
happily.
Havener was determined that the scene should be made effective, and he
worked over it till he got every pose, every situation, every minor
piece of business, to suit him.
He was greatly pleased by the readiness with which Frank took hold of
the part and grasped the details of the business. Merry had a beautiful
voice, and he governed it naturally so that it was most effective in
his speeches.
There is no music sweeter than that of the human voice, and Frank
Merriwell had been endowed by nature with a magnificent voice.
"Lawrence ought to see him play that scene," said Cassie, as she
watched Frank in silent admiration. "Anybody could tell he is a
gentleman, for never once does he make a move or a gesture that does
not plainly speak of the gentleman. There's a heap of difference
between his manners and the acquired gentlemanly air of Lawrence."
"That's right," agreed Collie Cates. "Merriwell's blue blood sticks out
all over him, and yet he never seems to feel himself so much better
than the rest of us."
"That's the very thing that marks him most as a perfect gentleman. It's
only the cad that tries to show you all the time that he's a topnotcher
and you ain't in his class."
Frank became so absorbed in his work that he completely forgot about
Harris. Nor did a thought of the fellow enter his head till just as he
was ready to make his first entrance on the stage that evening. Then he
remembered Harris, and wondered if the fellow was in the hall.
The rough benches and chairs were well filled by a decidedly
rough-looking audience. The advertising had turned out a far better
house than Havener had expected to see, and the stage manager confessed
to Frank that there might be something in making a lavish display of
paper in the right towns.
The stage was a poor affair, with just two sets of scenery, one of
which could be used for a center door fancy by supposing that the
audience would permit a broad stretch of imagination.
The footlights were plain kerosene lamps, as were the other lights in
the hall.
The curtain rolled on a big heavy roller, and Havener had warned all
the company not to get under it and permit it to come down on them at
the finish of an act.
"There will be some sudden deaths if you do," he said. "It is heavy
enough to finish a man if it struck him on the head."
When Frank came onto the stage there was a profound silence in the hall.
That silence was broken by a sound to stir the blood.
A hiss!
Where it came from no one could tell, but all heard it distinctly.
Frank was not rattled. He did not even glance toward the audience to
see if he could tell from what quarter the odious hiss came. It is
possible there was a slight tightening of his nerves, and it is certain
that a certain thought flashed through his head:
"That was Harris!"