Frank Merriwell's Races Part 43

A policeman came down to the box and threatened to arrest Joe, but he was pacified by Creighton, who had a decidedly smooth way of "fixing things."

Frank Merriwell remained quiet until near the end of the play, enjoying the sport the other fellows were making. At last, however, he decided to produce some amus.e.m.e.nt himself.

Frank was a very good amateur ventriloquist, although he seldom practiced the art. Now, however, he saw his opportunity.

_Little Eva_ was on her deathbed, and the mourners were a.s.sembled about.

All at once one of the mourners seemed to say:

"This business is on the b.u.m."

Every one started and stared. The actors were astounded, and the audience amused. Then the death agony went on until another of the watchers by _Eva's_ side observed:

"It makes me sick!"

The manager was heard to hiss from the shelter of the wings:

"I'll make you sick when you come off!"

"Oh, go fall on yourself, you old cheat!" the actor seemed to fling back.

Then _Little Eva_, in her death agony, apparently remarked:

"Give it to the old duffer! He owes me six weeks' salary, and I'll quit dying right now if the ghost doesn't walk immediately!"

This brought laughter and hearty applause from the college lads.

When the applause had subsided _Uncle Tom_ apparently observed:

"He can't get ahead of me. I've put an attachment on the jacka.s.s."

This was more than the excitable manager could stand, and he rushed onto the stage, shaking his fist at _Uncle Tom_ and crying:

"Confound you! I don't owe you a cent! You obliged me to pay up before you would go on to-night!"

And then he nearly collapsed when he realized what his anger had led him to do and say.

The college lads arose from their seats and cheered.

Standing in the front of the box, Charlie Creighton shouted:

"This is the best part of the show, fellows. Let's give 'em one!

Now--all together!"

Then the Yale yell pealed forth, and _Little Eva_ came near dying in reality from heart failure.

This broke up the show entirely, and the curtain came down with a rush, while the frightened orchestra made haste to disappear. From behind the curtain the manager shouted that the show was over, and the laughing, tumultuous students hurried out of theatre.

"Well, Merriwell," said Charlie Creighton, "how have you enjoyed the evening?"

"Immensely," laughed Frank.

"It was a regular sus-sus-sus-circus," declared Joe Gamp. "Never had so much fuf-fuf-fuf-fuf-fun in all my bub-born days!"

"We had them on a string, like a kite," murmured Bruce Browning.

"And that's what made them soar," chuckled Griswold.

Just as the street was reached, Frank gave a slight exclamation, and quickly forced his way through the crowd toward a man who was near at hand.

That man was the mysterious stranger.

The unknown seemed to be watching Merriwell, for he whirled about and hastened away the moment Frank started in his direction.

"Oh, I want to get my hands on that fellow!" grated Frank.

The man did his best to escape, but Merriwell was close after him. The stranger hurried along a street, and Frank broke into a run. Then the unknown glanced over his shoulder, and started to run himself.

"Hold on!" commanded Frank.

That made the stranger run the faster.

Frank followed, but could see nothing of the person he was pursuing.

"He must have dodged into a doorway," decided the lad. "No--here is where he went, down this alley."

The mouth of a dark alley was before him, and he plunged into it. He did not go far before he decided that further pursuit was folly, and he turned back.

"He's slippery," muttered the boy; "but I'll catch him some time, if he continues to shadow me."

Dark forms appeared at the mouth of the alley, and a hoa.r.s.e whisper came to Merriwell's ears:

"He went in here, and the alley is blind, so he can't get out. Do him--and do him dirty!"

For all that Frank had been often in desperate peril, something about this situation chilled him to the heart. The uncanny darkness, the unknown alley, his creeping foes coming down upon him, possibly with deadly intent, all served to make him feel weak and helpless for the moment.

There are times when the bravest heart shrinks with dread, and, for all that Frank was a lad with remarkable nerve, it is not strange that he felt a thrill of fear at that moment.

It is claimed that men have lived who "never knew the meaning of the word fear," and it is possible that this may be true; but in case they ever were placed in situations of extreme peril, such persons must have been lacking in some of the essential elements that compose a human being. We think of them as deficient in certain ways, wanting in the finer qualities, and naturally coa.r.s.e and brutish.

It is the person who experiences fear and conquers it by his own determination to do so who is the greatest hero.

One of the bravest generals America has produced, a man who had the reputation of being utterly fearless, once was asked if he ever had been afraid while in battle. "No, sir," was his reply, "never in battle; but sometimes just before going into an engagement, I have felt it necessary to keep my teeth clinched to prevent my heart from jumping out of my mouth."

Still the men whom he commanded never knew that he experienced a single thrill of fear. He conquered his trepidation by his wonderful will power, and always in battle he appeared perfectly unaware that there was the least danger. Indeed, he was sometimes criticised for his apparent recklessness in exposing himself to deadly peril.

Frank Merriwell never courted peril, and he avoided danger when he could do so in a manly way and without lowering his own sense of dignity.

Once engaged in a dangerous encounter, or forced into a position of peril, Frank's blood arose, and he seemed to be seized by a reckless disregard of his personal safety. Then it was that he laughed in a singular manner, and his enemies had learned that he was the most dangerous when that laugh sounded from his lips.