CHAPTER XIV.
FRANK'S NEW COMEDIAN.
The day came for the great dress rehearsal of "True Blue," to which thetheatrical people of Denver, the newspaper men, and a great number ofprominent people had been invited.
Frank had determined on this course at great expense, but he believed hewould be repaid for the outlay.
His chief object was to secure good newspaper notices andrecommendations from the theater managers in the city.
It was to be an afternoon performance, so that it would not interferewith any of the regular theatrical attractions to play in town thatnight.
Early in the day Hodge advised Frank to keep a sharp watch on Burns.
"Don't let him have any money, Merry. He fancies he will have to gothrough a terrible ordeal this afternoon, and he wishes to brace up forit. If he gets all he wants to drink, he will be loaded to the muzzlewhen the time comes to play."
Frank feared this, and so, when Burns appealed to him for money, herefused the old man, telling him he could have some after theperformance.
Then Merry set Gallup to watch the tragedian.
Frank was at work in the theater, where various members of the companywere practicing specialties, and the stage hands were arrangingeverything so that there would be no hitch about the performance.
Within thirty minutes after Gallup was set to watch the old actor, hecame to Frank in a hurry, saying:
"If you want to keep Mr. Burns sober, I advise yeou to come with me an'git him aout of a grog shop daown the street, Merry."
"What's that?" exclaimed Frank. "Why, he hasn't the money to buy liquor,even if he has gone into a saloon."
"He won't hev to buy it, I guess."
"Why not?"
"Well, I saw two men pick him up an' take him inter the gin mill. Theyaxed him would he come in an' have somethin' with them."
"Did he know them?"
"Didn't seem ter. He looked kainder s'prised, but he accepted the invitein a hurry."
"Then it is time that we looked after him," nodded Merry, grimly. "Showme where he has gone, Ephraim."
Hodge followed them. They left the theater and hurried along the streetto a saloon.
"He went in here," said Ephraim.
Without a word, Frank entered.
The moment Merry was within the place he saw Burns standing near thebar, while a crowd had gathered around him. The old man had placed hishat on the bar, tossed back his long, black hair, which was streakedwith gray, struck a pose, and was just beginning to declaim fromShakespeare.
"Go it, old chap!" cried a half-intoxicated man. "We'll put up the redeye for you as long as you will spout."
The old man's voice rang out clear and strong. His pronunciation wasperfect, and his enunciation clear and distinct. Involuntarily Merrypaused a moment to listen. At that moment it came to Frank that Burnsmight, beyond a doubt, have been an actor of no small merit had heeschewed drink and followed his ambition with unswerving purpose. Forthe first time Merry fully appreciated the outraged feelings of the oldfellow who was compelled to burlesque the tragedian on the stage.
Frank strode forward into the crowd, followed by his friends.
"Burns," he said, quietly, interrupting the old man, "I want you to comewith me."
The aged actor stopped speaking, all the dignity seemed to melt from himin a moment, and he reached for his hat, murmuring:
"I merely came in for one small bracer. I needed it, and the gentlemenwere good enough to invite me."
"Here!" coarsely cried a man. "What's this mean? Who's this that'scomin' here to spoil our fun?"
"Throw the feller out!" cried another.
Growls of anger came from the others gathered about, and they crowdednearer.
"Look out for trouble!" whispered Hodge, in Frank's ear.
"Get out of here," ordered the first speaker, confronting Merry. "We'rebein' entertained."
"I beg your pardon--gentlemen," said Merry, smoothly, hesitatingslightly before the final word. "There are reasons why I come here totake Mr. Burns with me. I am sorry to spoil your entertainment, but itis necessary."
"Is the old fellow bound out to you?" sneeringly, asked one. "Do you ownhim?"
"No man owns me!" cried the tragedian, drawing himself up and staringround. "I am my own master."
"I'll bet you don't dare take another drink," said the man, quicklythrusting a brimming glass of whisky toward Burns. "You're afraid of theyoung gent."
"I'm afraid of nobody," declared Burns, eagerly reaching for the glass."I have drunk all I could get, and I always shall, for all of anybody."
"That's the talk!"
"Down with it!"
"Take your medicine!"
"You're the boy!"
The crowd shouted its approval.
Burns lifted the glass.
Frank's hand fell gently on his arm.
"Mr. Burns," he said, swiftly, "I ask you as a particular favor not todrink that liquor. I ask you as a gentleman not to do it."
Merry knew how to appeal to the old man in a manner that would touch theright spot. Burns looked straight into Frank's eyes an instant, and thenhe placed the glass on the bar.
"If you ask me that way," he said, "ten thousand fiends cannot force meto touch the stuff!"
There was a groan from the crowd.
"The old duffer caves!" sneered one man. "He hasn't any backbone."
"Oh, say!" sibilated Hodge, in Merry's ear; "get him out of here in ahurry! I can't stand much of this! I feel like thumping a few of theseruffians."
"Steady!" cautioned Frank. "We do not want to get into a barroom brawlif we can avoid it."
"They're a purty darn tough-lookin' craowd," muttered Ephraim.
"Why wouldn't it be a purty good thing fer ther young chaps all ter takea drink?" suggested somebody.
"That's right!" cried the leader. "I'll stand for them all, and theactor shall drink with them."
"Don't let them git out, gents, till they've taken their bitters."
The rough men hemmed them in.
"I fear you are in an unfortunate predicament," said Burns. "You willhave to drink with them."
"I never drink," said Merry, quietly.
"Yer can't refuse here," declared the man who had offered to buy thedrinks. "It's a mortal insult ter refuse ter drink hyar."
"I never took a drink in my life, gentlemen," said Merriwell, speakingcalmly, and distinctly, "and I shall not begin now. You will have toexcuse me."
He started to force his way through the crowd. A hand reached out toclutch him, and he wheeled like a flash toward the man, at whom hepointed squarely, crying:
"Take off that false beard! If you are a man, show your face! You are indisguise! I believe you are a criminal who does not dare show his face!"
His ringing words drew the attention of the crowd to the man whom heaccused.
Merry improved the opportunity and hurried his friends and Burns towardthe door. Before the gang was aware of it, they were out of the saloon,and Frank breathed his relief.
Not till they had reached the theater did a thought come to Frank thatmade him regret his hasty departure from the saloon.
"Heavens!" he exclaimed. "I believe the man who wore the false beard wasthe same one who entered my room at the hotel by means of the rope!"
He dashed back to the saloon, followed by Hodge and Gallup; but when hereached the place nearly all the crowd had left, the man he soughthaving departed with the others.
Frank was disappointed. He learned at the saloon that the accused manhad not removed the beard, but had sneaked out in a hurry after Frankwas gone.
Returning to the theater, Merry was informed that Burns was behavingstrangely.
"He seems to be doped," declared Hodge. "I think he has been drugged."
Burns was in a dressing room, and Havener was working to keep the manawake, although the old actor was begging to be allowed to sleep.
As soon as Frank saw him he dispatched one of the supers for
aphysician.
The doctor came and gave Burns a powerful emetic, following that with adose of medicine that seemed to brace the man up. Thus Burns was pulledinto shape for the afternoon performance, although Frank realized thathe had very nearly wrecked everything.
Burns remained in the theater, and lunch was brought him there.
"Mr. Merriwell," he said, "I will surprise you by the manner in whichI'll play my part this afternoon. It shall be burlesque of a kindthat'll satisfy you."
The performance was to begin at two o'clock. Some time before thatpeople began to arrive, and they came fast. At two o'clock there werenearly five hundred persons in the auditorium.
The company was all made up and waiting behind the scenes.
Cassie Lee started to find Frank to ask him how he liked her make-up. Ina corner behind the scenes she saw a man stopping near a mass ofpiled-up scenery. Something about the man's appearance and his actionsattracted her attention. She saw him pick up a can and pour some of thecontents on the scenery. Then he crouched down there, taking a matchsafe from his pocket.
In a moment it dawned on Cassie that the fellow was up to deviltry. Hehad saturated the scenery with oil, and he was about to set it on fire!
Cassie screamed, and Frank Merriwell, who was near at hand, heard her.He came bounding to the spot, just as the startled man lighted hismatch.
"Quick, Frank!" cried Cassie. "He's setting the scenery afire!"
Frank saw the fellow and leaped at him. The scenery flared up where thematch had touched it. Then the fire bug turned to run.
Merriwell was on him, had him, hurled him down.
"No, you don't, you dog!" grated Frank. "You shall pay for thisdastardly trick!"
Cassie, with rare presence of mind, caught up a rug, which happened tobe near, and beat out the fire before it had gained much headway.
A terrible struggle was going on between Frank and the man he hadcaptured. The fellow was fighting with all his strength to hurry off andescape.
"No, you don't!" came through Merriwell's teeth. "I know you! You arethe chap who entered my room! You it was who attempted to drug Burns sothat this performance would be ruined! And now you have made a fatalmistake by attempting to fire the theater. I have you, and I shall holdyou. You will be safely lodged behind prison bars for this trick."
"Curse you!" panted the man.
"That does not hurt me," said Merry. "Now, be quiet."
He pinned the fellow to the floor and held him till others came up. Thenthe man's hands were tied.
"Now, we'll have a look at him," said Merry, rolling the captive over onhis back and pulling the old hat from his head.
Then he gave a cry of amazement, staggering back.
Hodge was there, and he was no less astounded.
Gallup was speechless with astonishment and incredulity.
"The dead alive!" cried Frank.
The man he had captured was the one he believed beneath the quicksandsof Big Sandy River, Leslie Lawrence!
"I'm not dead yet!" grated Lawrence. "Fowler went down in thequicksands, but I managed to float away. I hid under the river's bank,and there I stayed, like a hunted wolf, till you gave up looking for me.I swore to settle the score with you, but----"
"You tried hard enough. You were the one who entered my room at thehotel."
"Was I? Prove it."
"I don't have to. The job you tried to do here is enough. That will putyou safely away. Somebody call an officer."
An officer was called, and Lawrence was taken away.
The audience in front had heard some of the commotion behind the scenesand had grown rather restless, but they were soon calmed. An orchestrawas on hand to play, and everything was carried out as if it had been aregular performance.
The first act went off well, and it received mild applause. The secondact seemed to take full better, but still, the audience had not beenaroused to any great show of enthusiasm.
Then came the third act. The first surprise was Burns. He literallyconvulsed the audience by the manner in which he burlesqued theShakespearian tragedian. He astonished Frank, for Merry had not dreamedthe old actor could be so intensely funny. Even Hodge was seen to smileonce!
When Burns came off after doing an exceptionally clever piece of work,which caused the audience to applaud most heartily, Frank met him andgrasped his hand, saying:
"My dear Mr. Burns, you have made the comedy hit of the piece! Yoursalary shall be fifty dollars a week, instead of forty."
But William Shakespeare Burns burst into tears, sobbing brokenly:
"The comedy hit of the piece! And I have broken my own heart!"
It was impossible to cheer him up.
The boat race followed swiftly, and it wrought the audience up to a highpitch of enthusiasm and excitement. When the curtain came down, therewas a perfect shout of applause, such as an enthusiastic Westernaudience alone can give.
"Frank Merriwell! Frank Merriwell!" was the cry that went up from allparts of the house.
Frank was obliged to come before the curtain and make a speech, which hedid gracefully and modestly. When he was behind the curtain again,Havener had him by the hand, saying:
"You will get some rousing press notices to-morrow, Merriwell! This playwill be the hit of your life!"
A manager of one of the local theaters came behind the scenes andoffered Frank three thousand dollars for the piece. When Frank declined,the man promptly made it five thousand, but even that sum was notaccepted.
Then came the fourth act, in which Burns again appeared as the burlesquetragedian. In this he was to repeat a parody on _Hamlet's_ soliloquy,but, apparently, before he was aware of it, he began to give thesoliloquy itself.
In a moment the man had flung off the air of the clown. He straightenedto his full height, his eyes gleamed with a strange fire, his chestheaved, and his voice sounded clear as the ring of steel. He electrifiedevery person who heard him. With all the dramatic fire of a Booth, heswung into the soliloquy, and a hush fell over the audience. He heldthem spellbound, he swayed them at his will, he thrilled them as neverhad they been thrilled. At that moment William Shakespeare Burns was thetragedian sublime, and it is probable that he reached such heights as hehad never before attained.
He finished. It was over, and then, realizing what he had done, hetottered off the stage.
Then the audience applauded long and loud, trying to call him backagain; but behind the scenes he had fallen into Frank Merriwell's arms,faintly murmuring:
"It is finished!"
Frank bore the man to a dressing room. The play went on to the endwithout a break, but it was not necessary for Burns to enter again.
When the curtain fell on the final act, Havener came hurrying to Merry:
"Burns wants to see you in the dressing room," he said. "You had bettercome at once."
Frank went there. The moment he saw the old actor, who was reclining onsome rugs, his face ashen, his eyes looking dim and sunken still deeperinto his head, Frank said:
"Somebody go for a doctor at once!"
He knelt beside the man, and the old actor murmured:
"It is useless to go for a doctor. I heard you tell them, but it is--nouse. I told you--my heart--was broken. I spoke the--truth. It broke myheart when I--had to--burlesque----"
His words died out in his throat.
"He's going!" somebody whispered, for the company was gathered around.
There was a brief silence, and then the old man seemed to draw himselfup with pride, as they had seen him do in life.
"Yes, sir," he said, distinctly, "my name is Burns--William ShakespeareBurns--tragedian--at liberty."
The old eyes closed, a faint sigh escaped his bloodless lips, and theold actor was "at liberty."