Frank Merriwell shot out the first and last words; a local sceneshifter and stage hand of the Wilcoxson Opera House asked the question.
Several days had elapsed and Merriwell’s company had reached Carrolton, Missouri, and Frank was watching the men who were bringing the special scenery for “True Blue” onto the stage.
The local stage hands were assisting in this work, and one of them, a rather fresh young chap, began to tear off some of the cleats that held the sets together. To do this, he used a hammer, and he began knocking them apart in a reckless manner.
Then came Frank’s command.
The young fellow seemed astounded.
“What’s the matter with you?” he demanded. “We can’t take care of this stuff in this shape.”
“Let it alone,” ordered Merry. “I’ll have somebody look out for that who knows how to do it without staving it to pieces.”
“What do ye suppose I’m hired for?”
“You are not hired to smash my scenery. If you are, I’ll not allow it.”
“Your scenery!” sneered the fellow, who did not know Merry, and fancied he might be the property man of the company, as he was a beardless youth. “Why, you talk as if you owned the old show! You make me tired! Some chaps like to show off when they get a little authority, and I reckon you’re one of that kind.”