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CHAPTER III. – MERRIWELL’S GENEROSITY
Mr. Hobson departed, and then Frank rang for a bell boy and sent for Bart and Ephraim. Merry’s two friends came in a short time.
“I have called you up,” said Merry, “to talk over the arrangements for putting ‘For Old Eli’ on the road again without delay. I have decided on that. It will take some little time to manufacture the costly mechanical effect that I propose to introduce into the third act, and we shall have to get some new paper. I believe I can telegraph a description to Chicago so a full stand lithograph from stone can be made that will suit me, and I shall telegraph to-day.”
Hodge stared at Frank as if he thought Merry had lost his senses.
“You always were a practical joker,” he growled; “but don’t you think it’s about time to let up? I don’t see that this is a joking matter. You should have some sympathy for our feelings, if you don’t care for yourself.”
Merry laughed a bit.
“My dear fellow,” he said, “I assure you I was never more serious. I am not joking. I shall telegraph for the paper immediately.”
“Paper like that costs money, and the lithographers will demand a guarantee before they touch the work.”
“And I shall give them a guarantee. I shall instruct them to draw on the First National Bank of Denver, where my money will be deposited.”
“Your money?” gasped Hodge.
“Jeewhillikins!” gurgled Gallup.
Then Frank’s friends looked at each other, the same thought in the minds of both.
Had Merry gone mad? Had his misfortune turned his brain?
“I believe I can have the effect I desire to introduce manufactured for me in Denver,” Frank went on. “I shall brace up that third act with it. I shall make a spectacular climax on the order of the mechanical horse races you see on the stage. I shall have some dummy figures and boats made, so that the boat race may be seen on the river in the distance. I have an idea of a mechanical arrangement to represent the crowd that lines the river and the observation train that carries a load of spectators along the railroad that runs beside the river. I think the swaying crowd can be shown, the moving train, the three boats, Yale, Harvard and Cornell, with their rowers working for life. Harvard shall be a bit in the lead when the boats first appear, but Yale shall press her and take the lead. Then I will have the scene shifted instantly, so that the audience will be looking into the Yale clubhouse. The rear of the house shall open direct upon the river. There shall be great excitement in the clubhouse, which I will have located at the finish of the course. The boats are coming. Outside, along the river, mad crowds are cheering hoarsely, whistles are screeching, Yale students are howling the college cry. Here they come! Now the excitement is intense. Hurrah! Yale has taken the lead! The boats shoot in view at the back of the stage, Yale a length ahead, Harvard next, Cornell almost at her side, and in this form they cross the line, Yale the victor. The star of the piece, myself, who has escaped from his enemies barely in time to enter the boat and help win the race, is brought on by the madly cheering college men, and down comes the curtain on a climax that must set any audience wild.”
Hodge sat down on the bed.
“Frank,” he said, grimly, “you’re going crazy! It would cost a thousand dollars to get up that effect.”
“I don’t care if it costs two thousand dollars, I’ll have it, and I’ll have it in a hurry!” laughed Merriwell. “I am out for business now. I am in the ring to win this time.”
“Yes, you are going crazy!” nodded Hodge. “Where is all the money coming from?”
“I’ve got it!”
Bart went into the air as if he had received an electric shock.
“You – you’ve what?” he yelled.
“Got the money,” asserted Frank.
“Where?” shouted Bart.
“Right here.”
“May I be tickled to death by muskeeters!” gasped Gallup.
“Got two thousand dollars?” said Hodge. “Oh, come off, Merriwell! You are carrying this thing too far now!”
“Just take a look at this piece of paper,” invited Frank, as he passed over the check he had received from Horace Hobson.
Bart took it, he looked at it, he was stricken dumb.
Gallup looked over Bart’s shoulder. His jaw dropped, his eyes bulged from his head, and he could not utter a sound.
“How do you like the looks of it?” smiled Merry.
“What – what is it?” faltered Bart.
“A check. Can’t you see? A check that is good for forty-three thousand seven hundred and thirty-eight dollars.”
“Good for that? Why, it can’t be! Now, is this more of your joking, Merriwell? If it is, I swear I shall feel like having a fight with you right here!”
“It’s no joke, old man. That piece of paper is good – it is good for every dollar. The money is payable to me. I’ve got the dust to put my play out in great style.”
Even then Bart could not believe it. He groped for the bed and sat down, limply, still staring at the check, which he held in his hand.
“What’s this for?” he asked.
“It’s for the Fillmore treasure, which I found in the Utah Desert,” exclaimed Frank. “It was brought to me by the man who came in here a little while ago.”
Then Gallup collapsed.
His knees seemed to buckle beneath him, and he dropped down on the bed.
“Waal, may I be chawed up fer grass by a spavin hoss!” he murmured.
Hodge sat quite still for some seconds.
“Merry,” he said, at last, beginning to tremble all over, “are you sure this is good? Are you sure there is no crooked business behind it?”
“Of course I am,” smiled Frank.
“How can you be?” asked Bart.
“I received it from the very man with whom I did the business in Carson when I made the deposit. In order that there might be no mistake he came on here and delivered it to me personally.”
“I think I’m dyin’!” muttered Ephraim. “I’ve received a shock from which I’ll never rekiver! Forty-three thousan’ dollars! Oh, say, I know there’s a mistake here!”
“Not a bit of a mistake,” assured Merriwell, smiling, triumphant.
“And all that money is yourn?”
“No.”
“Why – why, ther check’s made out to yeou.”
“Because the treasure was deposited by me.”
“And yeou faound it?”
“I found it, but I did so while in company with four friends.”
Now Hodge showed still further excitement.
“Those friends were not with you at the moment when you found it,” he said. “I’ve heard your story. You came near losing your life. The mad hermit fought to throw you from the precipice. The way you found the treasure, the dangers you passed through, everything that happened established your rightful claim to it. It belongs to you alone.”
“I do not look at it in that light,” said Frank, calmly and positively. “There were five of us in the party. The others were my friends Diamond, Rattleton, Browning, and Toots.”
“A nigger!” exclaimed Bart. “Do you call him your friend?”
“I do!” exclaimed Merry. “More than once that black boy did things for me which I have never been able to repay. Although a coward at heart so far as danger to himself was concerned, I have known him to risk his life to save me from harm. Why shouldn’t I call him my friend? His skin may be black, but his heart is white.”
“Oh, all right,” muttered Hodge. “I haven’t anything more to say. I was not one of your party at that time.”
“No.”
“I wish I had been.”
“So yeou could git yeour share of the boodle?” grinned Ephraim.
“No!” cried Hodge, fiercely. “So I could show the rest of them how to act like men! I would refuse to touch one cent of it! I would tell Frank Merriwell that it belonged to him, and he could not force me to take it. That’s all.”
“Mebbe the others’ll do that air way,” suggested the Vermont youth.
“Not on your life!” sneered Bart. “They’ll gobble onto their shares with both hands. I know them, I’ve traveled with them, and I am not stuck on any of them.”
“I shall compel them to take it,” smiled Frank. “I am sorry, fellows, that you both were not with me, so I could bring you into the division. I’d find a way to compel Hodge to accept his share.”
“Not in a thousand years!” exploded Bart.
“Waal,” drawled Ephraim, “I ain’t saying, but I’d like a sheer of that money well enough, but there’s one thing I am sayin’. Sence Hodge has explained why he wouldn’t tech none of it, I be gol-dinged if yeou could force a single cent onter me ef I hed bin with yeou, same as them other fellers was! I say Hodge is jest right abaout that business. The money belongs to yeou, Frank, an’ yeou’re the only one that owns a single dollar of it, b’gosh!”
“That’s right, Ephraim,” nodded Hodge. “And there isn’t another chap in the country who would insist on giving away some of his money to others under similar circumstances. Some people might call it generosity; I call it thundering foolishness!”
“I can’t help what you call it,” said Frank; “I shall do what I believe is right and just, and thus I will have nothing to trouble my conscience.”
“Conscience! conscience! You’ll never be rich in the world, for you have too much conscience. Do you suppose the Wall Street magnates could have become millionaires if they had permitted their conscience to worry them over little points?”
“I fancy not,” acknowledged Merry, shaking his head. “I am certain I shall never become wealthy in just the same manner that certain millionaires acquired their wealth. I’d rather remain poor. Such an argument does not touch me, Hodge.”
“Oh, I suppose not! But it’s a shame for you to be such a chump! Just think what you could do with forty-three thousand dollars! You could give up this show business, you could go back to Yale and finish your course in style. You could be the king-bee of them all. Oh, it’s a shame!”
“Haow much’ll yeou hev arter yeou divide?” asked Ephraim.
“The division will give the five of us eight thousand seven hundred and forty-six dollars and eighty cents each,” answered Frank.
“He’s figured that up so quick!” muttered Hodge.
“I snum! eight thaousan’ dollars ain’t to be sneezed at!” cried the Vermonter.
“It’s a pinch beside forty-three thousand,” said Bart.
“Yeou oughter be able to go back to college on that, Frank.”
“He can, if he’ll drop the show business,” nodded Bart.
“And confess myself a failure! Acknowledge that I failed in this undertaking? Would you have me do that?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t confess anything of the sort. What were you working for? To go back to Yale, was it not?”
“Sure.”
“Well, I don’t suppose you expected to make so much money that you would be able to return with more than eight thousand dollars in your inside pocket?”
“Hardly.”
“Then what is crawling over you? If you are fool enough to make this silly division, you can go back with money enough to take you through your course in style.”
“And have the memory of what happened in this town last night rankle in my heart! Hardly! I made a speech from the stage last night, in which I said I would play again in this city, and I promised that the audience should be satisfied. I shall keep that promise.”
“Oh, all right! I suppose you’ll be thinking of rewarding the ladies and gentlemen who called here a short time ago and attempted to bulldoze you?”
“I shall see that the members of the company, one and all, are treated fairly. I shall pay them two weeks salary, which will be all they can ask.”
Hodge got up, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and stared at Frank, with an expression on his face that was little short of disgust.
“You beat them all!” he growled. “I’d do just like that – I don’t think! Not one of those people has a claim on you. I’d let them all go to the deuce! It would be serving them right.”
“Well, I shall do nothing of the sort, my dear fellow.”
“I presume you will pay Lloyd Fowler two weeks salary?”
“I shall.”
Bart turned toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going out somewhere all alone by myself, where I can say some things about you. I am going to express my opinion of you to myself. I don’t want to do it here, for there would be a holy fight. I’ve got to do it in order to let off steam and cool down. I shall explode if I keep it corked up inside of me.”
He bolted out of the room, slamming the door fiercely behind him.
Frank and Ephraim went up to the room of Stella Stanley, which was on the next floor. They found all the members of the company packed into that room.
“May we come in?” asked Merry, pleasantly.
“We don’t need him,” muttered Lloyd Fowler, who was seated in a corner. “Don’t get him into the benefit performance. Let him take care of himself.”
“Come right in, Mr. Merriwell,” invited Stella Stanley. “I believe you can sing. We’re arranging a program for the benefit, you know. Shall we put you down for a song?”
“I hardly think so,” smiled Frank.
“Ah!” muttered Fowler, triumphantly. “He thinks himself too fine to take part in such a performance with the rest of us.”
“I rather think you’ve hit it,” whispered Charlie Harper.
“And I know you are off your trolley!” hissed Cassie Lee, who had not missed the words of either of them. “He’s on the level.”
“Really!” exclaimed Miss Stanley, in surprise and disappointment. “Do you actually refuse?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because there will be no performance.”
“Won’t?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I refuse to permit it,” said Frank, a queer twinkle in his eyes.
Then several of the company came up standing, and shouted:
“What!”
“That beats anything I ever heard of in my life!” said Fowler.
“For genuine crust, it surely does!” spoke up Harper.
Cassie Lee looked surprised, and Havener was amazed.
“Surely you are not in earnest, Merriwell?” the stage manager hastened to say.
“Never more so in my life!” answered Frank, easily.
“Then you’re crazy.”
“Oh, I guess not.”
“Well, you are,” said Garland. “You have gone over the limit. We are not engaged to you in any way. You said so. You explained that we could not hold you responsible. You cannot come here and dictate to us. We shall carry out this performance. If you try to prevent it, you will make a great mistake.”
“Be calm,” advised Merry. “You are unduly exciting yourself, Mr. Garland.”
“Well, it’s enough to excite anyone!”
“Meow!”
Out of the room trotted Frank’s black cat, which had followed him up the stairs.
“Put that cat out!” cried Agnes Kirk. “It has caused all our bad luck!”
Frank picked the cat up.
“I told you the cat was a mascot,” he said. “It has proved so!”
“I should say so!” sneered Fowler.
“Let him take himself out of here, cat and all!” cried Charlie Harper.
“Let him explain what he means by saying we shall not give a benefit performance,” urged Havener, who really hoped that Frank could say something to put himself in a better light with the company.
“Yes,” urged Cassie. “What did you mean by that, Frank?”
“Such a performance is quite unnecessary,” assured Merry.
“We’ve got to do something to raise money to get out of this city.”
“I will furnish you with the money, each and every one.”
“You?” shouted several.
“Yes.”
“How?” asked Havener. “You said a short time ago that you hadn’t enough money to amount to anything.”
“At that time I hadn’t. Since then I have been able to make a raise.”
Now there was another bustle of excitement.
“Oh!” cried several, “that’s different.”
“I knew there was something behind it!” exclaimed Cassie, with satisfaction. “Have you been able to raise enough to take us all back to Denver, Frank?”
“I think so, and I believe I shall have a few dollars left after we arrive there.”
“How much have you raised?” asked Havener.
“Forty-three thousand dollars,” answered Frank, as coolly as if he were saying forty-three dollars.
For a moment there was silence in the room, then expressions of incredulity and scorn came from all sides.
Fowler set up a shout of mocking laughter.
“Well, of all the big bluffs I ever heard this is the biggest!” he sneered.
“Say, I don’t mind a joke,” said Stella Stanley; “but don’t you think you are carrying this thing a trifle too far, Mr. Merriwell?”
“I would be if it were a joke,” confessed Frank, easily; “but, as it happens to be the sober truth, I think no one has a chance to ask. I will not only pay your fare to Denver, but each one shall receive two weeks salary, which I think you must acknowledge is the proper way to treat you.”
“I’ll believe it when I get my hands on the dough,” said Fowler. “Forty-three thousand fiddlesticks!”
“Any person who doubts my word is at liberty to take a look at this certified check,” said Merry, producing the check and placing it on the little table.
Then they crushed and crowded about that table, staring at the check.
Fowler nudged Harper, to whom he whispered:
“I believe it’s straight, so help me! I’d like to kick myself!”
“Yes, it’s straight,” acknowledged Harper, dolefully. “I am just beginning to realize that we have made fools of ourselves by talking too much.”
“What can we do?”
“Take poison!”
“We’ll have to eat dirt, or he’ll throw us down.”
“It looks that way.”
Thus it came about that Fowler was almost the first to offer congratulations.
“By Jove, Mr. Merriwell,” he cried, “I’m delighted! You are dead in luck, and you deserve it! It was pretty hard for you to be deserted by Folansbee, in such a sneaking way. I have said all along that you were a remarkably bright man and merited success.”
“That’s right,” put in Harper; “he said so to me last night. We were talking over your hard luck. I congratulate you, Mr. Merriwell. Permit me!”
“Permit me!”
Both Harper and Fowler held out their hands.
Frank looked at the extended hands, but put his own hands in his pockets, laughing softly, somewhat scornfully.
“It is wonderful,” he said, “how many true friends a man can have when he has money, and how few true friends he really has when he doesn’t have a dollar.”
“Oh, my dear Mr. Merriwell!” protested Fowler. “I know I was rather hasty in some of my remarks, but I assure you that you misunderstood me. It was natural that all of us should be a trifle hot under the collar at being used as we were. I assure you I did not mean anything by what I said. If I spoke too hastily, I beg a thousand pardons. Again let me congratulate you.”
Again he held out his hand.
“You are at liberty to congratulate me,” said Merry, but still disdaining the proffered hand. “I shall pay you the same as the others. Don’t be afraid of that. But I shall give you your notice, for I shall not need you any more. With several of the others I shall make contracts to go out with this piece again, as soon as I can make some alterations, get new paper, and start the company.”
Fowler turned green.
“Oh, of course you can do as you like, sir,” he said. “I don’t think I care to go out with this piece again. It is probable I should so inform you, even if you wanted me.”
Harper backed away. He did not wish to receive such a calling down as had fallen to the lot of Fowler.
Cassie Lee held out her hand, her thin face showing actual pleasure.
“You don’t know how glad I am, Frank!” she said, in a low tone. “Never anybody deserved it more than you.”
“That’s right,” agreed Havener.
Douglas Dunton had not been saying much, but now he stood forth, struck a pose, and observed:
“Methinks that, along with several of me noble colleagues, I have made a big mistake in making offensive remarks to you, most noble high muck-a-muck. Wouldst do me a favor? Then apply the toe of thy boot to the seat of me lower garments with great vigor.”
Frank laughed.
“The same old Dunton!” he said. “Forget it, old man. It’s all right. There’s no harm done.”
While the members of the company were crowding around Merriwell, Fowler and Harper slipped out of the room and descended the stairs.
Straight to the bar of the hotel they made their way. Leaning against the bar, they took their drinks, and discussed Frank’s fortune.
Another man was drinking near them. He pricked up his ears and listened when he heard Merriwell’s name, and he grew excited as he began to understand what had happened.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, after a time. “I do not wish to intrude, but I happen to know Mr. Merriwell. Will you have a drink with me?”
They accepted. They were just the sort of chaps who drink with anybody who would “set ’em up.”
“Do you mind telling me just what has happened to Mr. Merriwell?” asked the stranger, who wore a full beard, which seemed to hide many of the features of his face. “Has he fallen heir to a fortune?”
“Rather,” answered Harper, dryly. “More than forty-three thousand dollars has dropped into his hands this morning.”
“Is it possible?” asked the stranger, showing agitation. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am sure. I saw the certified check on a Carson City bank. He was broke this morning, but now he has money to burn.”
The stranger lifted a glass to his lips. His hand trembled somewhat. All at once, with a savage oath, he dashed the glass down on the bar, shivering it to atoms. As he did so, the hairs of his beard caught around the stone of a ring on his little finger, and the beard was torn from his face, showing it was false.
The face revealed was black with discomfiture and rage.
It was the face of Leslie Lawrence!
Frank’s old enemy was again discomfited!
