Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Prosperity; or, Toil Has Its Reward - Burt L. Standish - Страница 5

Table of Contents

The scene was the stage of the Star Theater in Atchison, Kansas, and the occasion the rehearsal of Frank Merriwell’s company in his new play, “True Blue.” From the first night “True Blue” had been a success; the playgoers of Puleob, Colorado, who had witnessed the failure of its first version, welcomed “True Blue” enthusiastically and assured Frank, as Roscoe Havener, his stage manager, had put it, that he had a “winner.”

Frank had chosen to turn back toward the East, instead of continuing on to the Pacific coast, for it was late in the season and business was on the decline. It would be better for the members of his company if the play closed its run in the East, leaving them on the ground when the time came to make engagements for the coming season. Besides that consideration, Frank had other reasons in turning Eastward. The failure to keep the dates made for “John Smith” and the partial failure of “For Old Eli” had made it difficult for him to secure theaters for “True Blue” on the Western route, while it was comparatively easy to secure good bookings on the way Eastward.

So it happened that the “True Blue” company had jumped from Puleob straight across Colorado and Kansas to Atchison, where they were to open that night.

All the actors, except Frank, were on the stage carefully rehearsing, as Havener was determined that only by constant drill could slips be avoided, and he aimed to have a perfect performance.

As the afternoon waned, more than one glance of comment had been exchanged by the other players as they witnessed Bart Hodge’s repeated acts of insubordination. Bart seemed to be in a very unpleasant frame of mind, favoring everybody with savage glances and paying absolutely no attention to the directions of the stage manager. In the eyes of actors there is no more unpardonable offense than to treat the stage manager thus.

And Havener was not the man to overlook such offenses. Obviously he was incensed. But he understood how close to Frank Bart was, how strong were Frank’s feelings of friendship and loyalty to the dark-haired youth, and he controlled his wrath until finally he could tolerate the behavior of Hodge no longer.

He called out sharply:

“Hodge!”

“Sir?”

“Come back!”

“Well?”

“Now, make your exit properly, please.”

Bart Hodge gave Roscoe Havener an angry, resentful look.

“Did you call me back for that?” he asked.

“I certainly did,” answered the stage manager, grimly.

“Why, sir?”

“Because you took the wrong exit. I have told you repeatedly to use the right upper at the close of that scene, and you persist in leaving the stage by the right tormentor.”

“It is the most convenient,” came sullenly from Bart.

“That makes no difference.”

“It makes considerable difference to me.”

Havener was angry, but he held himself in restraint. He did not curse, after the manner of most stage managers, but he showed that he meant what he said when he spoke again.

“You will do as I tell you at rehearsals, Mr. Hodge.”

“Oh, will I?” said Bart, in a manner that was decidedly insolent. “Oh, I don’t know!”

“I know. Further than that, I will have no further back talk from you.”

“I don’t see how you will prevent it.”

“You are fined ten dollars.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. Now you will make your exit in the proper manner.”

Instead of that, Hodge walked off the stage by the tormentor.

Havener did not call him back again, but his face turned pale with anger.

Frank was in a dressing room, and did not hear what took place on the stage between Havener and Hodge.

Deep in his heart Bart felt that he was wrong, but he smothered the feeling, refused to pause to reason, and hurried to the dressing room, where he knew he would find Merriwell.

Frank was laying out his costumes and preparing for the evening performance.

Hodge entered without knocking, and Merry knew in a moment, on looking up, that something was wrong.

“Look here, Merriwell!” he flared.

“What’s the matter, old man?”

“I’ve stood enough of this! It’s the limit!”

“What are you talking about, Bart? What’s the limit?”

“Havener is the limit.”

“I don’t think I understand you, my dear fellow.”

“Don’t ‘dear fellow’ me! I am in no mood to take it now.”

Plainly enough something serious had happened, for Bart was not in the habit of talking that way. Frank straightened up and looked at him steadily without speaking. Bart’s eyes dropped before that gaze, but the sullen look did not leave his face, and he stared at the floor as if glaring at a deadly enemy.

“What is this, anyway?” Merry asked, after some moments. “What has gone wrong between you and Havener?”

“I am tired of being bulldozed by him.”

“Havener is not in the habit of bulldozing anybody, Hodge, as you very well know.”

“I know he is in the habit of trying it on me. He doesn’t like me, and he doesn’t miss an opportunity to try to call me down. I’m dead sick of it!”

“You are altogether too sensitive, old man. Havener is the stage manager, and a good one he is, too. He has aided me immensely in getting the play into shape.”

“Oh, you’re inclined to give other people too much credit. I’ll guarantee there is not another playwriter who is starring in his own piece who will say that his stage manager has done much of anything for him.”

“I am not patterning my actions on those of others, Bart. I detest chaps who ape others. I believe in individuality. Be what you are. That is the maxim I go by. If others are selfish and ungrateful, it is no reason why I should be so.”

“Gratitude! gratitude! gratitude! It makes me tired! Has a fellow got to go through the world being grateful to everybody who is decent to him?”

“You know I did not mean that. You have a way of distorting what I say so that it does not mean what I intended.”

“Oh, yes; of course I do something I shouldn’t do! I’m always doing something I shouldn’t do! It’s been the way all my life! At home I was forever doing something I shouldn’t do! At school it was the same. At college it was no better. And now, in trying to be an actor, I am still doing something I should not do. Oh, what’s the use to try to do anything! A fellow might as well bump along and not give a rap what he does or what happens to him.”

“You are getting in a bad way, Hodge,” said Merriwell, seriously. “I believe your liver is out of order.”

“This is no joking matter!” Bart snarled. “Don’t poke fun at me, Frank Merriwell! It doesn’t go with me for a cent!”

“If you had been given a sense of humor it might be better for you. Unfortunately, you never see the humorous side of anything. You take everything seriously, much to your own discomfort. Happy is the man who can see and understand the humor in everyday life.”

“Well, I’ll guarantee there is nothing humorous in what just happened on the stage.”

“You haven’t told me what happened.”

“Havener gave me a call down.”

“Did he?”

“Did he! did he!” panted Bart. “You say that as if it were of no consequence.”

“Havener is not in the habit of giving anybody a call down unless they deserve it.”

“Oh, it’s plain you think that fellow knows it all. But I’m going to tell you now that I can’t stand his insolence, and I won’t stand it!”

Frank sat down on the lid of his trunk.

“We’ll have to talk this matter over, Bart,” he said. “If Havener has given you a call down without cause, you may be sure I shall have something to say to him. Now, tell me just how it came about.”

But, of a sudden, Hodge did not feel like telling. He began to realize that the truth would not put him in a very favorable light. Instead of quieting his anger, however, this made him feel still more angry.

“Oh, I haven’t anything to say about it!” he exclaimed, turning away. “I’ll pay the fine.”

“What fine?”

“Ten dollars.”

“Then it is rather serious, for he fined you.”

“Oh, you are just beginning to realize there is something serious about it, are you!”

“I wish you wouldn’t blaze at me like that, Hodge. Anyone would imagine we were the bitterest of foes, instead of the firmest friends.”

“Friends! Ha, ha! Are we?”

“Are we?” echoed Merry, in amazement.

“Yes, are we?”

“Why, of course we are!”

“I don’t know about that. I have no friends. I wasn’t built to have friends. I believe I was intended for an Ishmael.”

“Now, drop that, Hodge!” commanded Frank, not a little shocked. “You were built for just what you choose to make yourself. If you select to become an outcast, you can do so.”

“That is what you believe. I don’t believe anything of the sort. I believe a fellow must be what he becomes. I believe everything is predestined, and, try as he may, no man can change the course that it has been destined that he must follow.”

“You are getting into a bad way, Hodge, for that is the argument of every evil-doer and criminal since the days of Cain.”

“And it’s an argument that cannot be refuted!” shouted Bart, fiercely. “I suppose that you claim God is all-wise—that He knows everything?”

“Of course.”

“Then, if He knows everything, He must know before a man is born just what that man will become, what he will do, every act he will commit. You can’t deny that. If He knows just what a man will do, then it must be that the man’s actions are foreordained. You can’t deny that. Every act that man does he was compelled to do because God knew what he would do, and he could not do differently.”

“And you would argue that a man should not attempt to make himself better and nobler because he cannot be any better if he tries? As I said before, that is the argument of bad men and criminals for centuries.”

“That’s enough!” Bart hissed. “I understand you, Frank Merriwell. You—you, who have pretended to be my friend—you have called me a criminal to my face. Ha, ha, ha! I didn’t think it would come to that. Never mind. I understand it all now. For all of our apparent friendship, I know now that you have doubted me deep down in your heart. You have not wanted to doubt me, but you could not help it, and so——”

Frank started toward Bart, his hand outstretched protestingly, crying:

“Stop! Has it come to this between us?”

“Yes, it has come to this!” snarled the angry, unreasoning youth. “Didn’t you know it would? Didn’t you know I was a worthless fellow? Oh, yes, you knew it.”

“Have you forgotten——”

“Nothing. I have not forgotten what you have done for me, but I am sorry you ever did it. You have chosen between me and Havener.”

“You are wrong in——”

“I will not take a call down from any man living!” shouted Bart. “Havener called me down. Havener is your stage manager. He fined me. If you do not stand by him, go out there and tell him he must apologize to me—tell him he must retract that fine.”

Hodge had not thought of making such a demand when he entered the dressing room, but his anger had led him on blindly till now reason was quite smothered by passion.

“I do not know the facts of the case,” said Frank.

“Confound the facts! You say you have not chosen between us? Then you must stand by me. I tell you I cannot take this call down from Havener. If you stand by me, go out at once and inform him that he must apologize.”

“When you are cooler you will look at this matter in a different light. I’ll have a talk with you, then. I’ll learn what has happened, and you may be sure I’ll not uphold Havener if he is in the wrong.”

“That’s not what I want. You have said you would stand by me, even though you knew I might be in the wrong. You are put to the test.”

“Again you distort the meaning of my words. If you were charged with a wrong deed, I would stand by you—defend you—do everything in my power for you. This is different, and——”

Hodge cut Frank short with a bitter laugh.

“You have been put to the test,” he again declared, “and you have failed. It’s no use, Merriwell. I am an Ishmael. Every man’s hand is against me, and my hand is against all mankind. I don’t care what happens to me now.”

He flung himself out of the dressing room before Frank could say another word.

Frank was not left in a pleasant mood. He realized that his arguments had been rather weak against those made by Hodge, for he had been overwhelmed for the moment by a tempest of angry words, and his modesty had not permitted him to speak of the many instances of his unswerving fidelity to the passionate, erring fellow in the past. He had not been able to recall the many times he had stood by Bart alone, even when the proof had seemed overwhelming that Hodge had committed an evil action or a crime.

Frank had been astounded by the seeming burst of ingratitude from Bart, but he quickly decided that the dark-faced youth would come to his senses if given time to cool down and think over all the events that had transpired since their first meeting on the little platform of the railway station at Fardale.

Hodge, hot-blooded, passionate, unreasoning, had become his enemy on their first meeting. In various ways he had tried to injure and disgrace Merriwell, but he had failed in all his efforts. When they had both become cadets at the military academy, Hodge’s enmity had continued till, being charged with a disgraceful deed of which he was not guilty, Frank Merriwell had defended him and proven his innocence.

Then these singularly assorted lads had become roommates and chums, and time after time since had Frank proved his loyalty by standing true to Hodge under the most trying circumstances. In his calm reasoning moments, Bart knew this and was grateful. He had been ready enough to show his gratitude, but now anger had overcome everything, and, in his burst of passion, he had spoken words Frank had never expected to hear from his lips.

At first Merry felt like following him. His own blood was throbbing hotly in his veins on account of the injustice with which he had been treated, but he had held himself in check with a firm hand. Frank had learned that the man who can master himself can master others, and his self-control was something remarkable.

He quickly decided that it would be best to give Bart a chance to cool down somewhat. In the meantime, he would learn exactly what had happened on the stage. Merry hoped Bart’s sense of justice would reassert itself and would bring the hot-blooded fellow back with a desire to retract.

As for Bart, he was so blind with passion that he actually stumbled against Stella Stanley as he hurried across the stage behind the rear setting.

“Look out!” she exclaimed, with a short laugh. “Do you want to kill me?”

“I feel like killing somebody!” panted Bart, glaring at her; “but not you—not you, Miss Stanley,” he quickly added.

“Oh, you don’t want to take it that way,” she said. “You’ll get used to it after you have been in the business longer. We don’t get many call downs from Havener. I’ve been in companies where the stage manager would swear and tear around, and no member of the cast escaped being hauled over the coals.”

“No man can call me down that way!” exclaimed Bart. “I won’t stand for it!”

“What will you do?”

“Quit.”

“When?”

“Now.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Your contract.”

“Haven’t any.”

“How’s that?”

“Never had one.”

“Why, I supposed every member of the company had a contract with Mr. Merriwell. How is it that you have none?”

“Never made any with him.”

“That’s queer; but you are friends, and I suppose he thought it was not necessary. You are bound by——”

“Bound by nothing! Do you think I’ll stay to take such bullying? No! What difference did it make at rehearsal whether I made the exit by the tormentor or right upper?”

“You know Havener insists on every member going through rehearsal exactly as he will play so far as entrances, exits and business are concerned. He is a stickler for that. He may allow some of us to chew our lines at rehearsal, but the business must be correct. Merriwell has given him entire charge of the stage, and——”

“And he has chosen me to bully. That’s the size of it, Miss Stanley.”

“Nonsense!”

“There is no nonsense about it.”

“Now, look here, Mr. Hodge, I like you——”

“Do you?” exclaimed Bart, in mingled eagerness and doubt.

“Of course I do, and I don’t want to see you make a bad break. What are you going to do if you quit the company?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care.”

“Oh, yes, you do care. Don’t make a mistake. We need you.”

“No; I am not an actor—never was meant for one.”

“You play the part you have been given.”

“Because it does not require acting. It is a part that comes natural to me.”

“Well, there’s nobody to fill your place now.”

“It won’t be hard work to get somebody.”

“I’m afraid it will.”

“Oh, is that it!” muttered Bart, suddenly growing fierce again. “You take such an interest in me because you think it may be difficult to find somebody to fill my place!”

She laughed a little.

“No, it is not that, my dear fellow—really it isn’t, I told you I liked you, and it is true. I didn’t like you much at first. I’ll confess that, but there’s something about you that makes me take to you. I rather like your way of getting hot under the collar when somebody rubs you against the grain. I’m pretty independent myself, but I don’t blaze up as you do.”

“Look here, Miss Stanley,” said Hodge, seriously. “I want to know something.”

“What is it?”

“Are you throwing a bluff when you say you like me?”

“Not a bit of it.”

“And you want me to stay with the company?”

“I do.”

“I’ll stay on one condition.”

“What is that?”

“You must give me a promise.”

“What promise?”

“That you will throw over Lester Vance and Billy Wynne.”

Stella Stanley was astonished.

“Throw them over?” she exclaimed. “What are you talking about, my dear fellow?”

“I am talking what I mean,” breathed Hodge, hurriedly. “One thing you will acknowledge, Miss Stanley—I have not been very forward.”

“Indeed, not. You have always acted as a gentleman toward me, Hodge.”

“I have not forced my presence. I have not flung myself in your way?”

“No.”

“No!” exclaimed Hodge. “I am going to tell you something, Stella Stanley. I am something of a woman hater, although I do not go round prating about it and making myself offensive. I believe all women are treacherous—not to be trusted.”

The leading lady laughed again.

“Well, I must say you are frank, to speak the least!” she exclaimed, showing her handsome, white teeth.

“I am truthful,” asserted Bart. “Others might lie about it; I tell you the simple truth.”

“And not so simple at that!”

“I have come to believe what I do about women through what I have seen of them. They have disgusted me.”

Stella stood smiling. She was two or three years older than Bart, and inwardly she was thinking that he was very young, indeed, to have and utter such opinions.

“My dear boy!” she exclaimed; “I’m sorry for you!”

“Don’t call me a boy!” panted Bart. “I don’t like it. Don’t be sorry for me. I don’t like that.”

“Well, what do you like?”

“You, you, you!” he hoarsely whispered, leaning toward her, so that she retreated a bit in sudden surprise.

“But I thought you were a woman hater?” she said, maliciously. “What is the matter with you? Why aren’t you consistent?”

“Don’t ask me to be consistent!” he exclaimed. “I tried to hate you, like all the others. I tried not to pay any attention to you. I tried to avoid you. I couldn’t do it.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.”

“Don’t be either, Miss Stanley. I am not trying to flatter. I hope I shall not offend. I didn’t mean to say this to you. Oh, I meant to keep my mouth shut, but I can’t.”

“That’s what ails lots of us,” she observed, with a flippancy that jarred on his nerves.

He went on:

“Despite myself, I would think of you when you were not near. Despite myself, I would be watching you when you were in sight. I saw you laughing and talking with that addle-pated boy, Wynne, and I wanted to spank him. I saw you smiling on Lester Vance, and I wanted to knock his head off.”

“And all the while I never dreamed of this. Oh, say, Hodge, don’t get sentimental now. I don’t like it, my boy. I didn’t stop you to have you tell me all this, but——”

“I am going to tell it just the same!” he shouted, his eyes blazing. “I did not mean to, but I’ll not be stopped now. I am going to tell it, and, by Heaven, you must listen.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s a pretty bad case with you, that’s plain; but you’ll get over it, my dear fellow.”

Again Hodge ignored her words and manner.

“I have seen you walking with Vance,” he said. “You went to church with him in Puleob. You have permitted him to show you all kinds of attentions.”

“I’ve simply been polite to him, in return for his kindness to me.”

“Polite! Kindness! I tell you I can’t stand it. That’s what ailed me to-day. That’s why I would not obey Havener. It has gnawed on me—gnawed, gnawed. I have felt like kicking that fellow. Sometimes I have found it hard to keep my hands off him. Stella—Miss Stanley, you must quit him.”

“Really! Well, now, Hodge, you are going beyond the limit.”

Still he did not heed. He paid no attention to the flush that rose to her cheeks. The words continued to pour from his lips:

“You have said you liked me. Prove it! Now is your chance! You want me to stay with the company. I’ll stay if you throw both Vance and Wynne over—give them the cold shoulder. I’ll stay for all of the call down Havener gave me. I’ll swallow my pride and let the matter drop.”

“That will be sensible of you, but you must not be foolish about me, my boy—really you mustn’t. I am older than you, and it is my place to give you advice. You have lost your head, not your heart, my dear fellow.”

Bart’s hands clinched and unclosed.

“Don’t talk to me that way!” came hoarsely from his lips. “Don’t talk to me as if you regarded me as a stripling! Answer me, Stella Stanley—will you drop those fellows?”

“I couldn’t think of giving them the marble heart, Hodge. It wouldn’t be right, you know.”

“And you’ll go on laughing and chatting with them! You will walk with Vance! You’ll eat at his table! Do you think I can stay and stand that? No! Oh, you are like all the others, and I hate you—hate you!”

He caught her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. She was startled by his sudden fierce action and cried out.

A man came springing forward.

“What’s this?” he cried. “Hands off, Hodge!”

It was Vance.

Bart straightened up, still with an arm about the actress, who seemed to hesitate whether to laugh or be angry. His eyes met those of Lester Vance, and they were filled with the most deadly hatred. He did not speak, but suddenly he stooped and kissed Stella once more.

Vance sprang forward.

“Why, you insulting dog!” he shouted.

Quickly Bart swung the woman behind him, and squarely he met Vance. His arm shot out, his fist landed with a crack and Vance lay stretched on the floor.

Then, without a word, with simply a look of unspeakable scorn and contempt toward the fallen actor, unmindful of the others of the company who came rushing to the spot, Bart walked down the stairs and out of the theater by way of the stage door.