No, they had not forgotten Bill Dyer. He was a bad man before he went out West to work on a ranch, and no person had cared to get him angry. Now, from his appearance, it seemed that his residence in the West had not improved him or his disposition.
So the play went on, interrupted now and then by the muttered words of Dyer.
At last came the act in which Frank made love to the leading lady. They were alone on the stage, and Merriwell was doing his best to win her consent to an immediate marriage. Just as he clasped her waist, Bill Dyer rose to his feet with a whoop, yelling:
"That's hot stuff, young feller; but you hadn't oughter do it in the light. Alwus make love in the dark. I'll jest give ye a little help by puttin' out the lights."
From some place about his person he produced a pair of revolvers, and, a second later, he began shooting at the footlights in a most reckless manner.
With every shot the ruffian smashed a lamp.
Men shouted, women screamed and there were symptoms of a panic.
Regardless of the danger from flying bullets, Frank Merriwell leaped to the front of the stage.
"Keep your seats, ladies and gentlemen!" he cried, clearly and distinctly. "That ruffian shall be taken care of at once."