CHAPTER XIII. A SURPRISE BY CASSIE.
Of course Merriwell notified the authorities, swore out a warrant for the arrest of both Harris and Mazarin, and did everything he could to bring the rascals to justice.
He was obliged to give up his project of filling Zolverein's dates and cancel all engagements.
That night, sitting amid the ruins of his apparatus, he held a council with his two friends and assistants, Ephraim Gallup and Hans Dunnerwust.
Hans seemed overwhelmed and stunned by what had happened, while Ephraim was "so gol dern mad" he occasionally gave vent to his feelings in violent outbreaks of lurid language.
"I never was much of a hand to fight," said the Vermonter, "but I'll be swuzzled if I wouldn't jest like to knock sixteen kainds of stuffin aout of them critters whut bruk us up in business! I could do it, too, by chaowder!"
"Yaw," nodded Hans; "you could done it, Efy!"
"Well, boys," said Frank, "we've got to do something to make a living. Here we are out here in Missouri, a long distance away from home, and it's a case of hustle."
"How we peen goin' to donet dot, Vrankie?"
"We'll hev to start up a three-cornered variety show," suggested Ephraim, with a sickly grin.
"If I had the old company here now," mused Merriwell, "I'd put what money I've made in the past week into backing it."
"An' lose it, same as t'others did."
"Perhaps so. Nothing venture, nothing have, you know."
"Waal, yeou ain't got the comp'ny."
"No, I haven't anything but this broken stuff."
Frank did not say that dejectedly. Indeed, he did not seem crushed by what had happened, somewhat to Ephraim's surprise, for the Vermonter could not understand how anyone could help being downcast by such misfortune.
Indeed, one of Merriwell's secrets of success was his sanguine and hopeful temperament. He did not believe in worrying over anything, and so, no matter how dark the future looked, he remained cheerful and confident, knowing the clouds must clear away in time.
People who worry much over things that may happen make a big mistake, for in more than fifty per cent. of the cases the things they dread the most never occur.
Be cheerful and hopeful. That is a good motto.
The three talked a long time, and at the end they had not decided on what course they would pursue.
The following morning Merriwell received a letter. It proved to be from Cassie Lee, the soubrette of the company with which Frank had originally started on the road.
The letter was brief. It ran as follows:
"Dear Friend Frank: Your note received, and you bet we're all glad to know you are making such a hit as a magician. The press clippings you sent show you were not giving me a game of talk, but how in the world you can do it is what puzzles me. When did you learn to do magic? It seems to me that you are a kind of wonder, for you do everything you attempt, and you do it well.
"I write to tell you that we are on the road again with a patched-up company, playing small towns—just barnstorming, that's all. How long it will last nobody knows, for there ain't a blessed dollar behind us, and Ross is doing the whole thing on pure bluff. We may keep it up all right, but if we strike three nights of bad business it will give us the final knockout. If we had a few hundred dollars behind us to tide us over a bad streak, I guess we'd be able to keep going till hot weather sets in.
"There's something I want to write you about, Frank. You know the last time we talked together we had something to say about praying, and you told me you reckoned the prayers of an actress would be heard same as the prayers of anybody else. You told me to pray for strength to help me leave off using the drug that has been pulling me down lately. Well, Frank, I took your advice and prayed all alone in my room. You said you would pray for me, too. I guess you did. I honestly believe I'm going to be able to quit it without going to a sanitarium. If I do so, I shall owe it all to you.
"Hoping to hear from you again soon, and wishing you all the luck you deserve, I am always your friend,
"Cassie Lee."
Frank read that letter over twice, and then he sat meditating over it.
"She doesn't know what has happened to me," he said. "Cassie has a good heart, and I hope she will get free from that dreadful habit. Here is their route."
It was written across the top of the sheet, and gave the towns the company expected to play in for the next five days.
Looking it over, Frank found they would play that night in a place seventy-five miles away.
"How surprised they would be if I should turn up there to-night!" he laughed. "And I might as well do that as anything else."
Then he thought that he would not leave Hans and Ephraim behind, and it would cost money to take them along.
"Never mind," he muttered. "I've made four hundred dollars in the time I've been out for myself, and I shall look out for the boys. We'll all go over to Blueburg."
He looked up the railroad time-table, and found he could reach the place by taking a train at one o'clock. So he told Ephraim and Hans to pack up and get ready to leave right after dinner.
Of course they wondered where he was going, but his manner betrayed no intention of saying anything about that, and so even Hans had sense enough not to ask questions.
That afternoon they took the train, which was an accommodation and stopped at every little shanty station.
The monotonous scenery of that portion of the country did not interest Merriwell, so he busied himself with paper and pencil as the train crept snaillike along.
"Whut be yeou doin' of, Frank?" asked Ephraim, curiously.
"Plotting," was the short answer.
"Hey? Plottin'?"
"Yes."
"Plottin' whut?"
"A play."
"Whut's that? Plottin' a play? Whut kind of a play?"
"A comedy-drama."
"Great gosh!"
The Vermonter gazed at Merry in astonishment.
"Yeou don't mean that yeou're goin' to write a play, do ye?"
"Why not?" smiled Frank.
"Waal, I be darned! When will yeou git time to do it?"
"In my spare moments."
"An' yeou really mean to write a play?"
"I'm going to try it."
"I dunno whut yeou won't try next. Do yeou s'pose yeou kin write a good play?"
"Well, that is something I don't know," laughed Merry. "Not even an experienced playwright can tell if his piece will be good or bad till after it is written and tried on the dog. Even then it is sometimes difficult to tell what there is in it, and many failures have been rewritten and become successes. There is nothing more uncertain in the world than the fate of an untried play. The very pieces that managers are most sanguine about often prove the greatest fizzles, while those pieces that do not promise very much, and are rushed on as 'stop-gaps,' often prove winners from the word go. Some playwriters produce one or two great successes, and are never again able to construct anything that will go. It is a great gamble, with the chances mainly in the favor of losing."
"You seem to know all about it."
"I've been studying up about it."
"Studyin'?"
"Yes."
"Haow?"
"By observation, by reading, and by the aid of books."
"Is there any books whut will help a feller abaout writin' plays?"
"Yes, several. I have one called 'The Art of Playwriting,' and it has been a wonderful aid to me. Of course experience is what a fellow needs in writing good plays, like anything else, although it is said that some persons have made successes out of their very first pieces."
"Yeou beat any feller I ever saw! When yeou go to do any kind of work, yeou set about readin' up an' studyin' over it with all yeour might."
"That is the way to succeed. The fellow who does any kind of work must take an interest in it in order to do it well. He who simply does his work mechanically, without taking any interest in it, and gets away from it as soon as possible, can never be successful. There are lots of boys who work on that plan in offices and stores, and they wonder how it is that their salaries are never raised and other boys get ahead of them. Often bright boys and men are outstripped by those they consider slow-witted and dull, and all because the dull ones work hard and earnestly to get ahead, while the others think they ought to get ahead anyhow."
"Say," said Ephraim, nudging Hans; "ain't he a reg'ler filoserfer?"
"Yaw," grunted the Dutch boy, who had not the least idea in the world what a "filoserfer" could be.
"It takes a heap of time to write a hull play, Frank," said Ephraim. "I've heerd haow some of them fellers that write 'em take a hull year on one single play."
"That is right; but there are others."
"Whut, do it in less time?"
"Yes."
"An' make good ones?"
"Yes; some successful plays have been written in a very few days. All the same, I do not expect to accomplish such a feat. I believe I have hit on a fine plot for a good society comedy-drama, and now I am working up the situations and climaxes. I have all the central characters named and their peculiarities jotted down opposite their names. See, here is a mass of notes on the piece. I shall not be able to work in all that stuff. Much of it will be thrown away or altered. Some of these situations that now seem so good I shall have to abandon, I suppose, for it is not likely I can work them all into the piece in a consistent manner."
"Waal, I don't s'pose yeou're goin' to give up everything else an' set daown an' go to writin' plays, be ye?"
"Not much!" laughed Frank. "I am not quite daffy, Ephraim. Lots of fellows have done that—and been sorry for it afterward. A man is foolish to give up any kind of steady paying work and attempt to make a living out of playwriting till he knows his ground and has plenty of money to live on comfortably for a good long time. Some fellows have given up good jobs after making a success of their first play, but in four cases out of five they regretted that they did not stick to their jobs and write plays on the side."
"On der vich side?" asked Hans, thickly.
"On the right side," smiled Frank. "No one wants to be left."
"Darned if I don't hope yeou'll do somethin' with yeour play, Frank," said the Vermonter. "That is, if yeou ever git it wrote, which I don't see haow yeou're goin' ter."
"Oh, I don't expect to make a fortune out of it. Of course I've had some foolish dreams about having my own company and playing the leading part, but I realize those are all dreams. All the same, I'm going to write it when I can, and somebody may produce it sometime."
Merry went to work again, and Hans and Ephraim left him alone.
It was supper time when the train pulled into Blueburg, after a tedious journey. The trio went direct to a restaurant and ate supper. By inquiry they found the reorganized company was in town and would play in the "town hall" that evening.
"We'll be there," said Frank; "but I think we'd better give them a surprise. We'll keep quiet till it is time for the curtain to go up, and then we'll walk into the hall."
This they did. It was exactly eight o'clock when Merry presented himself at the box office and asked if he could obtain three passes.
The local manager was selling tickets, and he immediately asked why he should give up three passes to three strangers.
Frank explained that he had at one time been connected with the company. The manager asked for his name so that he could send back to Havener to find out about him, but Frank saw a familiar face at the door.
"Hello, Dan!" he cried. "I think you'll vouch for us."
Old Dan Lee, Cassie's father, gave a cry of surprise.
"Merriwell?" he exclaimed. "What in the world does this mean? How do you happen to be here?"
"Just thought we'd drop down and see how you are getting along," Frank explained. "Can we get passes, or do we have to plank down for seats?"
"Well, I rather think you can pass any time. I'll stand responsible for them, Mr. Crisper," he said, to the man in the box office.
He shook hands warmly with Frank, and then greeted Ephraim and Hans. The three were given some good seats in the second row, and they entered just as the curtain was going up on the first act.
Barely were they seated when Cassie came romping onto the stage in one of her favorite parts, that of a tomboy, and her three friends in the second row started a "hand" that surprised her. She opened her mouth to speak, saw Frank, stopped, stared, and then exclaimed:
"Well, I never!"