CHAPTER XVII.
A CALL TO THE "FLOCK."
Protected from arrest by the pity of Berlin Carson, whose love for herwas as dead as was the man she had acknowledged as her husband, Bessieleft behind her the home which, for several hours, she had plunged ingrief and anxiety. An examination of the infant which had been kidnapedshowed that it had sustained no injury, and, filled with a spirit ofthankfulness, Frank and Inza Merriwell resolved that the littlefoundling which had been substituted for their baby son should be placedin a more worthy home than was afforded by the asylum from which it hadbeen taken. In a few days such a home was found, and the infant whichhad inspired Frank and Inza with such feelings of consternation whenthey had discovered that it was not their own, was committed to thekindly care of a prosperous and honest young farmer and his wife, whowere childless, and who lived only a few miles from the Merriwell home.
But it did not take long for the sympathetic eyes of Frank and Inza tosee that the ardent love of Berlin Carson for the young woman, who hadproved herself to be unworthy of him, though now extinguished, had lefthim moody and disinterested in the future.
And so one evening, Inza, laying a hand on one of the arms of herhusband, said gently:
"We must do something for Berlin, Frank. It is wrong for a man to broodso over a misfortune as he is doing. Is it not possible for us to domore to enliven him and cause him to think less of his disappointmentand the shock he has received?"
Frank shook his head thoughtfully.
"I scarcely see what more we can do, Inza," he replied. "Men are unlikewomen. The grief of a woman may yield to the sympathetic words andactions and cheerful influence of friends, but when a man has some greattrouble--especially if he be a strong man--it is best that he shouldhave an opportunity to make his fight against depressing influencesalone. He must have time to think it out. All references to his sorroware likely to irritate him, and evidence of the pity of others galls hispride. No, no, Inza, there is little that you and I can do, I fear. Letus do our best to surround him with a cheerful atmosphere, and----"
"That is precisely what I mean, Frank. Now, I have a plan. Several weeksago I heard you say that one day you might find it possible to havearound you here many of the members of what you are so often wont tocall your 'old flock'--your old school and college mates, and some ofyour old friends from the Southwest. Why do you not make an effort nowto get them here?"
Frank gave a little start, and then smiled thoughtfully.
"I will think it over, Inza," he said.
Early the next morning Frank sent out a number of telegrams to his oldfriends. To these telegrams he received replies in the course of thenext twenty-four hours.
And thus it came to pass that the pilgrimage to Merry Home began.
Several days later, in a parlor car of the eastbound express were fouryoung people who had traveled far. They were Ephraim Gallup; his wife,Teresa; Barney Mulloy, and a charming and vivacious Spanish girl,Juanita Garcia, Teresa's bosom friend. The men were old friends of FrankMerriwell.
All wore sensible traveling suits, and, in spite of the long journey,they appeared to be little fatigued. There was an expression ofeagerness and impatience on the face of Gallup, and Mulloy seemed in asimilar mood.
"By gum, we're gittin' back into God's country ag'in!" exclaimed thelanky Vermonter. "Arter bein' buried down there in Mexico so long itseems jest like heaven."
"Do they be afther callin' this a fast expriss?" burst from Mulloy."Faith, but it crawls loike a shnail, so it does. Will we iver reachBloomfield? It's itchin' Oi am to put me hands on Frankie Merriwell."
"Eet ees so glad I shall also be to see Senyor Merriwell," laughedTeresa.
"Hey?" cried Gallup, giving her a look of mock reproof. "Naow yeou bekeerful, young woman! I ain't fergut that you was kinder smashed on himonce."
At this his wife laughingly protested her innocence.
"Nevvier, nevvier after I knew you loved me, Ephraim," she declared."One time I theenk you do not care. Then I geet so very angry. Then Imake eyes at ze handsome Senyor Merriwell. I do eet to see how you likethat. Eet make you geet to your job on. Eet make you set your tongueloose and say the word I want you to say. Senyor Merriwell he not careone snap for me. I know eet. Do you theenk Teresa ees the foolish girl?"
"Not a hanged bit of it!" chuckled Gallup. "She was the slickest littlearticle I ever run up ag'inst. I guess yeou're right, Teresa. I guessyeou kinder waked me up when you flung them goo-goo eyes at Frank. Fusttime in my life I ever felt that way, but, by ginger! I wanted to swathim on the jaw. Great Hubbard squashes, wasn't I in love then!"
His wife frowned.
"Een love then?" she exclaimed. "You not be so much so now, ah?"
"Thunder! I'm ten times wuss now than I was then, and you know it,Teresa. Didn't I coax and beg and hang on like a dog to a bone to gityou to come East with me to visit Frank?"
"It was the baby," breathed Teresa. "The question was to breeng the babyor to leave eet with eets grand-fathaire. I know he take the mostsplendeed care of eet. He have the nursees watch all the time, and hewatch heemself. He know how to care for the baby most beautiful."
"That's right," nodded Gallup, "the old don is a rappin' good baby nuss.It's the funniest thing in the world to see him doddling round with ababy in his arms. And to think that he used to be a red-hotrevolutionist, and called the Firebrand of Sonora! As a fighter, he wasa rip-tearer. As a baby nuss he's the greatest expert that ever woremen's trousers."
"Begob, the don is all roight, all roight," agreed Barney. "The onlygint who iver downed him was Frankie Merriwell. Instid av layin' it upagainst Frankie, and lookin' for revinge, the way people ginerallysuppose Mexicans and Spaniards do, the don shook hands, and became wanav Frankie's bist friends."
Ephraim leaned forward to pat his wife's cheek.
"Your old dad is a jim-hickey, Terese," he said.
Juanita had been smiling, and now she laughed outright in a rippling,musical manner.
"What ees eet you laugh at, Juanita?" demanded Teresa.
"Oh, eet ees the way the Yankee man he keep on making love," answeredthe girl. "One time I theenk I despise every gringo. One time I theenkmaybe perhaps if I find one who have the great likeeng for me--eef he behandsome, eef he be good--I theenk maybe--perhaps----"
"Oh! oh! oh!" cried Mrs. Gallup laughingly. "Eet ees the great change ofthe mind. Maybe you meet lots of good-lookeeng young man at SenyorMerriwell's. We make the marriage for you."
"Oh, no," protested Juanita. "That ees the way they do in Mexico. I likethe way the American girl do. She make her own marriage. She catch theman she want. She not have to take the one her people say she mustmarry. No one for me ees to make the match."
"Hooroo for you!" cried Barney. "Thot's the stuff! It's a diclaration ofindepindince! Oi wonder who'll be at the reunion, Ephie?"
"I dunno," answered Gallup, shaking his head. "Merry's telegram saidthere'd be a lot of the old flock there. I'll be all-fired glad to see'em. Wonder how the fellers have prospered. I hope they've all done aswell as we have, Barney."
"Av they have," nodded Mulloy, "the most av thim should be satisfied.It's a clane little pile av money we made in thot railroad business,Ephraim."
"You bate!" chuckled the Vermonter. "Take us together, Barney and wemake a hull team, with a little dog under the wagon."
"As a business partner," said the Irishman, "Oi'll take a down-eastYankee ivery toime. Begobs, Ephie, ye know how to do business allroight, all roight!"
"And as a railroad construction boss," grinned Gallup, "yeou're right upto date, Barney. Yeou handled your end of the business slick as awhistle while I was lookin' arter my end. I wonder what they're stoppin'here for?"
The train was pulling up at a junction. On questioning the porter, theylearned that there would be a stop of nearly twenty minutes while othercars were taken on from another route.
Gallup proposed that they should step out on the platform and get someair. Neither Teresa nor
Juanita seemed anxious to do this, so Ephraimand Barney left them in the car.
The junction was a bustling little town, and there was a great dealgoing on in the vicinity of the station.
Mulloy and Gallup lighted cigars and promenaded the platform.
At the far end they observed a group of men and boys surrounding aperson who stood on a small square box, making a speech. This personwas bareheaded, and his hair was unusually long and disheveled. He wasdressed in a loose suit of light-colored clothes, wore a negligee shirt,with a soft turndown collar, and had no vest. His back was toward Barneyand Ephraim as they approached.
"Begorra! it's natural he looks," muttered the Irishman.
"Gol-dinged if that ain't right!" agreed Gallup. "Somehow his voicesounds kinder nateral, too."
They paused at the edge of the group to listen.
"Friends and brothers," cried the speaker, in a clear, sad voice, "Ipresume many of you heard me speak on your public square last evening.Still it is possible that some of you were not there to listen to mywords, to hear my warning of the great coming clash of the classes. Itis as inevitable as the sinking of yonder sun to-night and its riseagain to-morrow. With a prophetic eye I look into the future and beholdthe day when labor shall have its rights. That day is coming as surelyas the sun continues to rise in the east. The iron hand of Capital wouldhold it back, but that cruel iron hand cannot, Joshua-like, stay thecourse of the sun nor stem the tide of human progress.
"Every intelligent person within the sound of my voice knows it is truethat the rich are growing richer and the poor are becoming poorer. Theaccumulation of stupendous fortunes in the hands of individualsthreatens the very foundations of our government. Time was when a manworth a million was supposed to be immensely rich. To-day the possessorof a single million is looked on with scorn and contempt by ourmultimillionaires. Ten millions, twenty millions, fifty millions--aye,even a hundred millions are now accumulated by individuals. This moneybelongs to the masses, the laborers who have earned it by the sweat oftheir brows."
"Hear! hear!" "That's right!" "Hooray!" cried the crowd.
Mulloy had gripped Ephraim's arm.
"Ivery word av thot has a familiar sound to me," muttered the Irishman."Oi've heard thot talk before and from the same lips."
"My friends," continued the speaker, "we are all brothers. Justice toone and all of this great human family should be our motto.Unfortunately for me I was not born of the masses, as the royal knightsof labor are now called by the American aristocrats of boodle. By birthI was supposed to be exalted above the lower strata of humanity. Myparents were wealthy. My father gave me an education to be a slavedriver over the common people. His blood runs in my veins, but my heartis not of his heart. In his eyes I have become disgraced because I daredboldly claim the street laborer, the man with the hoe, the man with thepick and shovel, the man with the sweat of honest toil on his brow--Ihave dared to claim him as a fellow man and brother.
"I have traveled from coast to coast, and I have lived in the poorestquarters of New York, Chicago, and other great cities. My heart has bledat the sufferings of the poor people who are wearing their wretchedlives away in toil for a most wretched sustenance. The friends I onceknew have turned from me and called me a socialist, an anarchist. Theycall us anarchists because we sympathize with the downtroddenmasses--because we prophesy the coming of the great struggle that shallemancipate these masses. We are not anarchists, but we are proud to becalled socialists. Anarchy is disorder and ruin. Socialism is order andequal rights for all. Let them point the finger of scorn at us. Whatcare we? But let them beware, for the great earthquake is coming."
Mulloy and Gallup had forced their way through the crowd, and even asthe speaker uttered these words Barney gave him a terrible slap on theback, while Ephraim kicked the box from beneath his feet.
"The earthquake do be come, begorra!" shouted Mulloy. "Greg Carker, yebloody old socialist raskil, Oi have yez in me hands, and Oi'm going tohug yez till ye holler!"