Frank Merriwell's New Comedian Part 28

Where was Scudder? Was he in Denver? If so----

"If so, he is the man!" decided Frank.

Merry resolved to be on his guard, for something told him another attempt would be made against him.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE RACE.

All that forenoon he worked in the theater setting up the new mechanical arrangement, which had been completed, and preparing for the rehearsal that afternoon.

Rehearsal time came, and the members of the company a.s.sembled.

All but Burns.

He was missing.

"What do you think about it now?" asked Bart, grimly.

"The same as I thought before," declared Frank. "Burns was almost broken-hearted at rehearsal yesterday. It is possible he may not come to-day, for you know he wished to be released."

"Ah," said a sad voice, as the person in question appeared; "it is necessity that brings me. I fain would have remained away, but I need the money, and I must do that which my heart revolts against."

"I believed you would come," said Frank, greeting the old tragedian.

"You will get used to the part after a while. It is better to make people laugh than to make them weep."

"But it is too late for me to turn myself into a clown."

"Where did you stay last night?" asked Merry.

"At my humble lodgings," was the answer.

"A man by your name registered at the hotel where I stop, and had the room next to mine. Is it possible there are two William Shakespeare Burns in the city of Denver?"

The old man drew himself up, thrusting his hand into the bosom of his coat, with his familiar movement of dignity.

"There is but one," he said--"but one real William Shakespeare Burns in the whole world! I am he!"

"But you were not at the hotel last night?"

"Of a certainty I was not. To that I will pledge mine honor. If another was there under my name, he is an impostor."

Frank was satisfied, but Bart was not; or, if Hodge was satisfied, he would not confess it.

The rehearsal began. Frank had engaged some people to work the mechanical arrangement used in the third act, and they had been drilled and instructed by Havener.

The first act went off well, the storm at the conclusion being worked up in first-cla.s.s style. Scarcely a word of that act had Frank altered, so there was very little trouble over it.

The second act was likewise a success, Havener finding it necessary to interrupt and give instructions but twice.

Then came the third act, which Merry had almost entirely rewritten. In that act the burlesque tragedian was given an opportunity, and Burns showed that he had his lines very well, although he ran over them after the style of the old-time professional who disdains to do much more than repeat the words till the dress rehearsal comes.

The third act was divided into three scenes, the second scene being an exterior, showing the river in the distance, lined by a moving, swaying ma.s.s of people. Along the river raced the three boats representing Yale, Harvard and Cornell. Keeping pace with them on the sh.o.r.e was the observation train, black with a ma.s.s of spectators. As the boats first came on, Harvard had a slight lead, but Yale spurted on appearing, and when they pa.s.sed from view Yale was leading slightly.

All this was a mechanical arrangement made to represent boats, a train, the river, and the great crowd of spectators. The rowers in the boats were inanimate objects, but they worked with such skill that it was hard to believe they were not living and breathing human beings. Even the different strokes of the three crews had been imitated.

This arrangement was an invention of Merriwell's own. In fact, it was more of an optical illusion than anything else, but it was most remarkable in its results, for, from the front of the house, a perfect representation of the college boat race appeared to be taking place in the distance on the stage.

Havener was a man who said very little, but he showed excitement and enthusiasm as this scene was being worked out.

When the boats had disappeared, the stage grew dark, and there was a quick "s.h.i.+ft" to the interior of the Yale boathouse. The entire front of the house, toward the river, had been flung wide open. Behind the scenes the actors who were not on the stage at the moment and the supers hurrahed much like the cheering of a vast mult.i.tude. Whistles shrieked, and then the three boats shot into view, with Yale still in the lead.

The characters on the stage proper, in the boathouse, had made it known that the finish was directly opposite the boathouse, and so, when the boats flew across with Yale in advance, it was settled that the blue had won.

Then Frank Merriwell, who had escaped from scheming enemies, and rowed in the race for all the attempts to drug him, was brought on by his admirers, and with the Yale cheer of victory, the curtain came down.

Roscoe Havener came rus.h.i.+ng onto the stage and caught Frank Merriwell by the hand, crying:

"Merriwell, you are a genius! I want to say right here that I have doubted the practicability of this invention of yours, but now I confess that it is the greatest thing I ever saw. Your sawmill invention in 'John Smith' was great, but this lays way over it! You should make your fortune with this, but you must protect it."

"I shall apply for a patent on the mechanism," said Frank. "I am having a working model made for that purpose."

"That's right. You have your chance to make a fortune, and I believe you can make it with this piece."

"It is a chance," agreed Frank, gravely; "but I shall take it for better or worse. I am going into this thing to make or break. I've got some money, and I'll sink every dollar I'm worth in the attempt to float this piece."

Frank spoke with quiet determination.

Hodge stood near and nodded his approval and satisfaction.

"It's great, Merry," he said, in approval. "It's something new, too. You will not have any trouble over this, the way you did about the sawmill scene."

"I hope not."

Ca.s.sie Lee, the little soubrette, who was engaged to Havener, found an opportunity to get hold of Frank's hand. She gave it a warm pressure.

"I'm so glad!" she whispered, looking into his eyes. "If Ross says it will go, you can bet it will! He knows his business. I've been waiting for him to express himself about it, and, now that he has, I feel better. You are right in it, Frank! I think you are a dandy!"

"Thank you, Ca.s.sie," smiled Frank, looking down at her.

And even though he liked Ca.s.sie, who had always been his friend, he was thinking at that moment of another little girl who was far away, but whom he had once hoped would create the part in "True Blue" that had been given to Ca.s.sie.

In the fourth act Frank had skillfully handled the "fall" of the play, keeping all in suspense as he worked out the problem, one of the chief arts of successful play constructing. Too often a play falls to pieces at once after the grand climax is reached, and the final act is obviously tacked on to lengthen it out.

This one fault Frank had worked hard to avoid, and he had succeeded with masterly skill, even introducing a new element of suspense into the final act.