Transcriber's Note:
A Table of Contents has been added.
Obvious typographic errors have been corrected.

FRANK MERRIWELL'S
OWN COMPANY

OR,

Barnstorming in the Middle West

BY

BURT L. STANDISH

AUTHOR OF

"The Merriwell Stories"

STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS
238 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK CITY

Copyright, 1898
By STREET & SMITH
——
Frank Merriwell's Own Company

CONTENTS

FRANK MERRIWELL'S OWN COMPANY.

CHAPTER I. THE DYING MAGICIAN.

Manager Thaddeus Burnham, of the Keesport Opera House, was worried. Zolverein, the magician, was billed to play in his house that Wednesday evening. Zolverein was in town, stopping at the Midland Hotel, where he had arrived at noon. All the magician's apparatus was in the theater, and the stage was set for his appearance. The hour of opening the doors had arrived, the box-office man was selling tickets as fast as he could make change, and people were pouring in to witness the performance of the man of magic, who was famous all through that part of the country.

But Zolverein was in his room at the hotel, suffering from an attack of heart trouble, to which he was subject. He had assured Thaddeus Burnham that it was of no particular consequence, would soon pass away, and he would be able to appear at the time when the curtain should rise and give his regular performance, just as advertised.

However, the doctor who was attending the magician expressed grave doubts about Zolverein's immediate recovery, and, twenty minutes after the opening of the theater, Manager Burnham heard that the physician had sent in great haste for another prominent doctor of the place.

Frank Merriwell, the famous Yale athlete, now advance agent for the "Empire Theater Comedy Company," was talking with Thad Burnham. They were standing in the lobby of the opera house, watching the people come in.

"The house will be full," said Burnham, nervously. "It's a shame to have to refund so much money."

"You don't know that you will have to refund it," consoled Frank. "Zolverein has such spells frequently. He was telling me about them on the train."

"But Dr. Harte has summoned Dr. Gray, and Harte wouldn't do that for nothing. How did you happen to meet Zolverein?"

"I had the fortune to save him from what might have been a serious accident at Newton."

"How was that?"

"He was too late to take the train before it started, and he sprang aboard after the cars were under way. He slipped and would have fallen between two cars. I caught him by the collar and dragged him back to the platform. It gave him quite a shock, and he was afraid it might bring on an attack of his trouble. That's how we came to talk about it."

"Well, it brought on the attack all right."

"It seems so, but he thought all danger was past by the time we reached this place, for he was feeling much better."

"Something makes me certain he will not be on hand to-night. If he had not given me orders to open the doors, these people would not be coming in now. Of course I did as he directed, but it is going to cause no end of trouble."

"It has a bad effect to turn away an audience after a house is filled."

"Right. People go away sore. Hope nothing of this kind will happen in connection with your show, Mr. Merriwell."

"It's not likely to happen," declared Frank; but, if the manager had noted the youth's expression just then, he might have seen a shade of anxiety pass over Merriwell's face.

Within a day or two Merriwell had learned that Zenas Hawkins, the "angel" on which Barnaby Haley, the manager, had depended to keep the "Empire Theater Company" afloat, had refused to give up any more good money and had quit the organization.

As the company had been "up against bad business," the wind must change, or the end would come quickly, and Frank knew it. Hence his anxiety.

As Merriwell and the manager stood there, a boy came up hurriedly, saying to Burnham:

"Can you tell me where I can find Frank Merriwell? The magician has sent for him."

"Here he is," said the manager, indicating Merry.

"Come on, sir," urged the boy. "They told me to tell you to come in a hurry."

"What is the matter?" asked Burnham. "Is it——"

"I don't know. All I know is that they told me to get Mr. Merriwell in a hurry."

"Goodness!" muttered the manager. "I hope this don't mean that——"

He did not finish, and Frank followed the boy, wondering why he had been summoned by Zolverein.

The messenger was a bell boy from the hotel, and he piloted Frank up to the door of the magician's room.

Frank knocked lightly.

The door was opened at once by a tall man who wore a Vandyke beard. It was Dr. Gray.

"This is Mr. Merriwell," explained the bell boy.

"Come in," said the doctor, softly. "You are in time."

"In time!" echoed Merry, wonderingly. "In time for what?"

Then he saw another man bending over the bed, on which lay Zolverein, the great magician. One glance satisfied Frank that the man of magic was face to face with the mighty mystery which no human being has ever solved and lived.

Zolverein's face was ghastly gray, while his eyes were wide open and staring at the ceiling. It almost seemed that already he had solved the mystery.

But Merriwell's voice reached the man's ears, and, with a great effort, he turned his head slightly, looking toward the door.

"Yes, you are in time," he said, and his voice was hollow and faint with a ghostly sound. "In time to see the end."

"He's dying!"

Merry did not utter the words aloud. Quickly, with light steps, he approached the bed.

"Young man," said that weary voice, "bend down—sit beside me."

Merry took the chair at the bedside, the doctor stepping back, but remaining near and watching the sinking man intently.

The pallor on Zolverein's face became even more marked, as if his few words had cost him too great an effort. His eyes left Merriwell and found the doctor.

"Brandy!" he whispered, pleadingly. "Something to give me a few minutes more of life!"

The doctor hastily mixed something in a glass and held it to the dying man's lips. The small quantity Zolverein was able to swallow seemed to bring a bit of brightness to his dimming eyes.

"There," he whispered, "that will do it."

The doctor straightened up, but not till he had breathed in Frank's ear:

"If there is anything you wish to hear from him, make haste. He has not many seconds more."

"Young man," said the dying magician, "you did me a turn to-day—you saved me from being mangled beneath the train. It would have made but a few hours' difference, but I prefer to die here in bed. You grabbed me and held me up at the risk of being drawn down yourself. It—was—a—brave—act."

He stopped, gasping painfully.

"If you have anything in particular to say, do not talk of other things now," warned the doctor.

"All right," murmured the magician. "I understand what you mean. The end is near. I'm ready to go."

Again he looked at Frank.

"I like you," he declared. "I took a liking to you on the train. That's why I send for you. I have not a relative in the whole world that I care for. I have some friends, but they are far away. You are here. You befriended me—a stranger. My apparatus for performing my feats of magic is worth several thousand dollars. Here and now I express my desire that you shall have it when I am dead. If you sell it for what it is worth, it will—bring you in—a tidy—sum—of——"

His voice died in a gasping rattle, his breast heaved once and was still, his eyes were set, and the end had come.

Zolverein, the magician, had solved the great mystery.

CHAPTER II. FRANK'S OPPORTUNITY.

It was Frank who carried the report of the magician's death to Thaddeus Burnham.

The manager looked disgusted.

"Why couldn't the fellow have waited till to-morrow!" he exclaimed. "Got the best house of the year. People will be terribly disappointed. It's so much cold cash out of my pocket."

"Death is something that cannot be postponed," said Frank. "When a man's time comes, he has to go."

"Now I must go in there and announce that there will be no performance," growled Burnham. "If there was somebody to take Zolverein's place——"

"Let me take his place."

"You?"

Burnham stared. Then he grinned in a sickly manner.

"What sort of a joke are you cracking?" he asked, harshly.

"No joke," assured Frank. "I am in earnest. I'd like to take his place."

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"Why, you're no magician."

"How do you know?"

"You're simply an advance man, and——"

"Still, I have studied magic, and I am a good ventriloquist. For instance——"

"Bow-wow-wow!" barked a dog in the box office, and the ticket seller gave a great jump and scrambled onto his stool, drawing up his feet and looking down for the dog.

"Me-e-e-e-ow!"

A cat seemed to utter a wild yowl, following which the dog barked again, and then a terrible clamor of sounds came from the ticket office, as if the dog and cat were engaged in a fearful combat.

"Well, how in blazes did they ever get in there?" gasped Thad Burnham, making a rush for the side door and flinging it open. "Get out of here, you——"

He stopped and stared.

"Where are they?" he asked, bewildered.

"You tell!" burst from the ticket seller. "Thought they were right here under my feet."

The sounds had ceased.

Frank was standing behind Burnham, looking in at the door and laughing.

"Why don't you drive them out?" he asked.

"Why, they're not in here," answered the manager.

"Where do you suppose——"

A cry came from the ticket seller—a cry of consternation and terror.

"The money!" he fluttered.

"What money?" asked Burnham.

"The bills in the tray!"

"What about them?"

"Gone!"

"Gone where?"

"Don't know! Disappeared!"

"How could they?"

"Somebody must have reached in and taken them while we were looking for the cat and dog. I've been robbed!"

"Nobody reached in," declared Burnham, at once. "No person has been near the window, Jones."

"But the money was there a few moments ago—I saw it just before the dog barked."

"Then it must be right here now. Perhaps you brushed the bills off onto the floor."

"Couldn't brush them out of the tray."

They looked on the floor, but the pile of bills was not found there.

"You must have put them in your pocket, Jones," said Burnham, sternly.

"On my honor——"

"Feel and find out. You will be held responsible."

The ticket seller was frightened, and he showed it.

"Of course, Mr. Burnham," he began, unsteadily, "you do not think I would take a dollar that does not belong to me? You have known me too long——"

"That money must be recovered," came furiously from the now excited manager. "I must refund it to those who have purchased tickets here to-night, for there will be no performance. Search in your pockets."

Jones felt through his pockets, but protested that he could find nothing. His agitation and terror grew apace.

It seemed that the money had vanished into thin air.

"Perhaps you picked up the money when you rushed in, Mr. Burnham," suggested Frank Merriwell, from the door.

"Impossible!" exclaimed the manager. "Didn't do it."

"Better feel and see."

Burnham felt through all his pockets, but discovered nothing.

"Mr. Jones," he said, frigidly, "if you do not find that money, you'll sleep in the lock-up to-night."

"Don't be so hasty, Mr. Burnham," expostulated Frank. "There is one place you have not looked."

"Eh? What's that? Where?"

"In your hat."

"My hat? Why, it's——"

"On your head—exactly."

"But the money couldn't get into my hat. Don't joke, young man. This is serious."

"Not joking. Better take off your hat and look in it."

"It's folly, but I'll—— Good gracious!"

Thaddeus Burnham removed his hat, and out tumbled the roll of bills. He caught them up and stared at them.

"Is—is this the money?" he asked, bewildered.

Jones looked it over, they counted it, they compared accounts, and they found it was the correct amount.

"That is the money," declared the satisfied ticket seller. "I distinctly remember that torn five-dollar bill."

"But," murmured the puzzled manager, "it—it was in my hat!"

"That's right."

"How did it get there?"

"You must have caught it up and placed it there when you entered the office to look for the cat and dog."

"Never—never did any such thing! Why, it's ridiculous! I wouldn't put the money in my hat."

"You had your hat in your hand when you came in."

"Yes, I was going to shoo the dog and cat with it. But where are the dog and cat? Are things bewitched around here? There's something queer about this."

Frank Merriwell laughed quietly.

"I don't think you will find the dog or the cat if you search a long time," he said. "As for the money——"

He finished with another laugh, and a light began to dawn on Thaddeus Burnham.

"You rascal!" exclaimed the vexed manager, flushing as he realized he had been fooled. "You are responsible for all this! The dog and cat——"

"Ventriloquism," admitted Frank

"The money——"

"Sleight of hand."

"Why should you——"

"Wanted to show you what I can do. Those are little things. I assure you that I believe I can entertain an audience for an hour and thirty minutes and send every person away satisfied. I have studied magic, and, with Zolverein's apparatus, I can do many things of interest. Give me a chance to try it."

"But the apparatus—you have no right to touch it."

"On the contrary, it belongs to me now."

"Belongs to you—how?"

"It was given me by Zolverein before he died. That was why he sent for me. He gave it to me because he was grateful for what I did for him in keeping him from falling beneath the wheels of the train."

Burnham looked doubtful.

"I have two witnesses that he gave me all his apparatus," said Merry. "They are Drs. Harte and Gray. Both heard him give the stuff to me. Let me look it over, give me twenty minutes' time, and, with the aid of his assistant, who is waiting on the stage, I will give a performance that will please and satisfy the audience."

The manager shook his head.

"It is barely possible," he admitted; "but I do not dare try it."

"Why?"

"The audience would not accept you in the place of a famous magician like Zolverein."

"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Frank, who was eager for the chance to try his hand at magic; "I will make a speech to the audience. I will tell them of Zolverein's sudden death. Then I will offer to entertain them for thirty minutes without charge. At the end of thirty minutes everyone who wishes will be given an opportunity to leave the theater and collect their money at the box office. Those who wish to remain will see the rest of the entertainment for whatever price they have paid. Isn't that all right."

"It sounds all right; but I don't wish to make a farce of this affair. I am afraid to try it, young man."

"If twenty persons leave the theater at the end of thirty minutes," Merry proposed, "I will forfeit fifty per cent. of my share of the gate receipts. If forty persons leave, I will forfeit the entire gate receipts. What do you say to that?"

Thaddeus Burnham hesitated.

"I'd like to try it, but——"

There was a shrill whistle through the speaking tube that connected with the stage. Burnham stepped to the tube.

"Hello!" he called. "What is it?"

Then he listened. Pretty quick he turned to Frank, saying:

"The audience is growing impatient. I must dismiss them, or——"

"Give me a trial."

"Well, I will; but I'm afraid I'm a fool. Go ahead and see what you can do. If they throw eggs at you, don't blame me."

CHAPTER III. SNEEZING SILVER DOLLARS.

At last the report had reached the theater that Zolverein, the great magician, was dead. It was beginning to spread among the impatient spectators, who had been clamoring for some time for the curtain to go up.

Just then a clean, bright, business-appearing young man stepped in front of the curtain and immediately began to speak:

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am here to impart to you the sad information that Gerard Zolverein, the magician billed to appear here this evening, died suddenly and unexpectedly at the Midland Hotel at five minutes to eight this evening. For a long time he has been the subject of a serious heart trouble, which he was perfectly aware would finally cause his death; but his recovery, on former occasions from the attacks led him to believe that he would be able to appear before you this evening, despite the fact that he felt the trouble coming on immediately after supper. He sent Manager Burnham an assurance that he would be able to give his regular performance to-night, and thus it happens that the doors were opened here at the time advertised. Of course Manager Burnham regrets that he opened the doors at all, and in order to satisfy everyone present, he has made arrangements whereby you will be able to witness free of charge an entertainment thirty minutes in length, of modern magic and ventriloquism. At the end of thirty minutes all who desire may leave the theater, and their money will be refunded to them at the box office. Those who desire to remain will be able to witness the 'Spirit Mysteries,' 'Talking Head,' 'Educated Fly,' and other of the most wonderful things advertised as performed only by Zolverein himself. Remember that the first thirty minutes of this entertainment will be given entirely free of charge, and that due notice will be given so that all who may wish to leave may do so and collect their money at the box office. Please keep your seats while preparations for the free entertainment are made. Prof. Pombal will delight you with some choice selections on the piano."

This little speech was delivered easily and gracefully, and it won some applause, as the youth bowed himself off the stage and the "professor" took a seat at the piano.

Not a person left the theater, although there was a buzz of talk. Frank had not announced that he was the person who would give the entertainment, therefore there was considerable speculation among those present as to who would attempt to perform Zolverein's most difficult and marvelous feats.

Frank found the magician's costumes in a dressing room, and it happened that they fitted him very well, as Zolverein had been a well-built man, so he made haste to get into one of the suits.

The magician's assistant was present, and Frank had a talk with him. The man agreed to assist Merry that evening, although he was thoroughly broken up by the knowledge of his employer's sudden death, having been sent to the theater by Zolverein to get everything ready for the evening performance, and not having entertained an idea that the magician would not recover and appear that night as advertised.

By the time Prof. Pombal had played two selections, Frank was ready to go on.

Naturally Merriwell was nervous, but he braced himself for the task before him. Having practiced amateur magic and studied the famous feats of noted conjurers and necromancers, he believed himself capable of amusing and pleasing the audience, even though not capable of giving such a finished performance as one who was practicing the feats night after night.

Frank walked out onto the stage immediately upon the rising of the curtain. He started in at once by telling a story about two Irishmen, one of whom was down in a well, into which he had fallen while looking at the reflection of the moon, which he had mistaken for a cheese, being slightly intoxicated. His friend at the mouth of the well was trying to get him out, and the talk of the two was very laughable. The voice of the intoxicated man in the well seemed to issue from deep down beneath the stage floor, and was a very clever piece of ventriloquism. A good portion of the audience was amused, but some pretended to be bored at the very start.

Merry told four stories in rapid succession, and the last one was the best of them all, giving him an opportunity to imitate the sounds produced by fowls, birds, animals and so forth. At the finish the audience burst into a round of applause, and Frank saw he had them in a good humor at last.

Then he proceeded to do a number of his own tricks, beginning with the spinning of an egg on a shallow japanned tray. To do this trick it is necessary to use a hard-boiled egg, and, having started the egg spinning on its small end, the tray should be kept moving in a small circle in the opposite direction to that in which the egg is spinning.

Then Merry produced a short, sharp sword, which he passed round for the audience to examine, warning them to be careful not to cut themselves with it. The sword was very keen, as was easily ascertained.

When the sword was returned to him, Frank proceeded to slice some sheets of paper with it, to further demonstrate its keenness. Then he took a potato and passed it to the assistant.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I propose to cut this potato in two on the open hand of M. Mazarin with a single stroke of this sword, without leaving the slightest mark on his hand. I do this to prove to you that the magician should possess such skill that he can strike at a vital spot with a deadly weapon and check the stroke within a hair's breadth of where he may desire."

He then took the potato and sliced off a thin piece from one side, returning it to the assistant, who held his hand outstretched with the potato upon it.

Then Merriwell thrust back his cuff and carefully poised the sword, as if gauging the exact force he would put into the stroke. Then he made a savage feint, stopping short of touching the potato. Next time, however, he seemed to strike swift and hard, and the potato was divided in two parts upon the assistant's hand, and, as Merry had predicted, the keen edge of the sword left no mark on the man's flesh.

As this did not seem to impress the audience very much, Frank next proposed to divide a potato placed upon the neck of the assistant.

"You will realize, ladies and gentlemen," he said, "that I could quite as easily strike Monsieur Mazarin's head from his body. In fact, should I fail to check the descent of the sword at exactly the proper instant, I must inflict a fatal wound."

Now there was a rustling in the audience.

"Ach-ew! a-chew!" sneezed an old farmer in the front row. "Gol darn this cold!" he muttered, in a stage whisper. "I hev to sneeze ev'ry time jest at the p'int where he's doin' somethin' I want to see."

This caused a slight titter, and Frank spotted the possessor of the cold.

"I'll attend to your cold later, sir," he said. "Without doubt it is very annoying to you, but I will show you how to make it profitable. Whenever I catch cold, I retire from active life and do my best to cultivate that cold, for I find I can make more money sneezing than in any other way."

The old fellow was in a bad humor, and he promptly retorted:

"I didn't come here to be made fun of, young man! Yeou jest attend to your business, an' I'll attend to mine. Ker-chew! ker-chee-eew! ker-chee-ee-eew!"

Some of the audience laughed outright, while others showed sympathy for the afflicted farmer.

"I assure you, my dear sir," smiled Merry, from the front of the stage. "I have no thought of making fun of you. If I do not keep my word and show you how to turn every sneeze into good hard money, I will apologize to you before the audience. But first I must complete what I have started to do."

He picked up another potato and sliced off a thin piece from one side of it. Then he placed a chair, on which the assistant sat, leaning far forward and bowing his head, so the back of his neck was a horizontal plain.

Frank carefully placed the potato on the back of the man's neck. Then he stepped back and lifted the sword.

"Hold on, b'gosh!" cried the farmer, rising from his seat. "I want to—ker-chew! ker-chew! ker-chew!—see this here—ker-chew! ker-chew!—piece of business! An' I want to tell yeou that yeou had better—ker-chew! ker-chew!—go purty dad-dinged keerful, for if yeou cut that feller's head off. I'll—ker-chew! ker-chee-ew! ker-chee-ee-eew!"

The old fellow went off into such a violent fit of sneezing that he could not finish what he was trying to say.

"Too bad!" sighed Frank, in a drolly ludicrous manner. "If I had that cold it would be worth a fortune to me. How I envy you, sir!"

The old fellow dropped into his seat, still sneezing and gasping.

Frank made a flourish with the sword, and out in the audience a nervous woman uttered a little cry. The bright blade glittered and flashed through the air, the keen edge struck the potato, and it seemed that it must cleave potato and sever Monsieur Mazarin's head from his body. But the potato simply dropped to the floor in two pieces, and the assistant straightened up, smiling and unscathed.

Some of the spectators clapped their hands. A voice cried "Fake!"

Frank simply laughed.

"In this world," he said, placidly, "fifty per cent. of the things we see are fakes. In modern magic about one hundred per cent. is a fake. That's what makes it interesting. Explain the fakes—if you can."

This was said so good-naturedly that Frank won the sympathy of the audience.

Indeed, the potato-cutting trick was a fake. A needle had been inserted crosswise in each potato, near one side. When the time came to do the trick, Frank sliced off the portion of the potato near the needle, pretending to do it so the potato would lay perfectly level. Then he struck with sufficient force to divide the potato, but when the edge of the sword struck the needle, which lay crosswise to the sword, the keen weapon could go no further, and the potato fell apart.

It was a very simple little trick, but it looked like a rather remarkable feat.

"Ker-chew!" sneezed the old farmer in the front row. "That's purty good, but that air Zolverein could knock the spots offen that, an' he never made no bluffs abaout turnin' sneezin' inter money."

"Nor do I make any bluffs, sir," said Frank, pleasantly. "If you will come up here onto the stage, I'll show you how to make your cold pay you well."

"Oh, yeou ain't goin' to git me up there an' then make a gol darn guy of me for northin'."

"I have no idea of doing that, sir. If you are not well paid for your time and trouble, I will refund you the money you paid to get in here to-night, and you shall stay through the entire entertainment without paying."

"That's fair, b'gosh!" exclaimed the man, as he started to get up.

At this point, a quiet little woman who had been sitting at his side caught him by the coat-tail and pulled him back into his seat.

"Jo-si-ah!" she whispered, shrilly, "don't yeou go up there! Yeou can't tell whut he'll be doin' to ye."

"Waal, if he tried to—ker-chew! ker-chew!—do anything that I don't like, I'll jest mop up the platform with him! Let me 'lone, Nancy!"

"Yeou set still, Josiah!"

"See here, old lady, I usually let yeou do the bossin', but I kainder guess I'll do as I darn please this—ker-chew!—time."

There seemed danger of a family row there in the front row, but Merry said:

"If I fail to satisfy you, sir, I will also refund the price of your wife's admission."

"Hear that, Nancy! Jeeminy! This is the chance to make a dollar, fer he'll hev a darn hard time satisfyin' me!"

That brought down the house. There was a roar of laughter, and, in the midst of it, the old farmer broke away and scrambled for the stage.

There were some steps at one end, and Frank assisted the man up those, grasping his hand and shaking it warmly as he led him to a seat in the center of the stage.

"Oh, sir!" sighed Merry, with apparent sincerity, "if I had your beautiful cold, I could sneeze out a barrel of money in a very short time."

"You're gassin'."

"Certainly not. After I made the discovery of how easy it is to turn sneezing into good money, I tried to keep a cold all the time. Before that I could not seem to get rid of a cold when I caught it. Since then I am not able to keep one after I have caught it. I used to have a cold in the fall, the winter, the spring, the summer. When I didn't have a cold, I had hay fever. I sneezed till I was sore and weary of life. Then I sat down and set to work on a plan to turn my sneezing into money. I studied over it for many moons, and finally I hit upon a plan. I put it to the test, and the very first day of my experiment I succeeded in sneezing about a peck of copper cents. I was not satisfied with that, and I sought to improve the system. Before the end of the second day, I was able to sneeze five and ten-cent pieces, but my cold was getting better. On the third day I became sufficiently skillful to sneeze silver quarters, but, to my intense regret, I found I could not sneeze very often. The next day I only sneezed seven times, but every sneeze brought me a good new half dollar. When the fifth day came I sneezed just twice, but each time I got a silver dollar. And the following day I was unable to sneeze at all, so I ceased to advance in skill, but I am satisfied I should have been able to sneeze ten-dollar gold pieces within a few more days. Since then I have done everything in my power to catch a good, fat, sneezing cold, but fate is against me. I expose myself to all kinds of wretched weather, but I can't get a cold that will stay with me more than a couple of sneezes. It is a sad, sad fate for one who has made such an important discovery."

"Waal, I wisht you could have this cold. It keeps me jest—ker-chew! ker-chew——"

"Hold on! hold on!" cried Frank, bustling about; "don't waste such splendid sneezes! It is too bad!"

"Have to let 'em come when they come, b'jee!"

"Well, we'll soon turn them to account. Are you in favor of free silver?"

"I be, b'gosh!"

"I thought so. That will make it all the easier to turn those sneezes to account."

Frank borrowed a hat from a man in the audience.

"This will do to catch the money in," he said, showing that it was quite empty. "Of course there are no holes in it."

Then he proceeded to poke his index finger at the hat, and apparently thrust it through the crown.

"My! my!" he exclaimed, wiggling his finger and looking at it ruefully. "That's too bad! I'm afraid I have spoiled the hat. It was very tender, or I could not have thrust my finger through it so easily."

Then he seemed to pull his finger out, but when he looked for the hole the hat was not damaged in the least.

Of course this was a simple trick, done with a false finger, but Frank sandwiched it in with the rest, and it "went."

"I think this hat will do, after all," he observed. "Now, sir, as you are in favor of free silver, I want you to put your mind upon one thing. I want you to think constantly of silver dollars. When you feel that you must sneeze, keep repeating to yourself, 'Come, silver dollars—come, come, come!' I assure you that you will be astonished by the result. I see that you are about to—— Ah! there you go!"

Frank held one hand over the man's head, while the other hand held the hat inverted before him.

The old fellow caught his breath and threw back his head. Forward he came, and a most explosive sneeze burst from him.

It seemed that four or five shining silver dollars burst from his mouth and nose and fell jingling into the hat!

CHAPTER IV. CATCHING THE AUDIENCE.

"Great gosh!"

The man with the cold was so astonished that he stopped sneezing and stared down into the hat.

"Where did them come from?" he gurgled, dazed.

"Right out of your maouth an' nose, Josiah!" cried the little woman he had left in the front row, bobbing up excitedly to her feet and flourishing an old umbrella.

"Set down, Nancy!" commanded the man. "All the folks is laughin' at ye!"

"Let 'em laugh! Keep on sneezin', Josiah!"

"Why, I—— Ker-chew! ker-chew! ker-chew!"

Down into the hat fell more silver dollars, jingling right merrily.

"That is first rate," complimented Frank Merriwell. "You are doing finely, sir. We'll soon have a hat full."

"But where do they come from, that's whut I want to know?"

"Didn't I tell ye!" squealed the now thoroughly aroused little woman, bobbing up again. "I see 'em when they flew aout of your maouth! Don't stop sneezin', Josiah!"

"I'd like to know when I swallered all them silver dollars!" muttered the "hayseed," craning his neck and pulling at his long beard, as he peered into the hat.

The audience literally shouted with laughter. At last, Frank had done something to catch the spectators.

At the back of the theater Manager Burnham was standing, and, for the first time, he rubbed his hands together and smiled, saying to himself:

"The boy is all right! If he keeps this up, he'll hold a good part of the audience. Didn't think he could do it. I am surprised."

"This process of sneezing silver dollars, ladies and gentlemen," smiled the young magician, "is distinctly my own invention. I have applied for a patent, and I shall prosecute all who infringe on my rights. I must protect myself at—— What, again!"

"Ker-chew! ker-chew! ker-che-eew!" sneezed the farmer, and silver dollars literally rained into the hat.

"Keep it up, Josiah—don't stop!" urged his wife, from her seat in the front row.

"Gol darned if I don't!" gasped Josiah. "It's a regl'er snap to see 'em fly inter the hat. Ker-chew! ker-chew!"

"We'll soon have the hat filled, sir," declared Frank.

"Waal, who be they goin' to b'long to?"

"To us."

"Us? Jest explain that."

"To you and me."

"Haow?"

"Of course you will be willing to divide with me, as you could not produce the money without my aid."

"Waal," said the farmer, slowly and reluctantly, "I s'pose I'll have to let ye hev part of it—say ten per cent."

Of course this was amusing to the audience.

"That is not at all satisfactory," said Frank, with a show of disappointment.

"But the money's mine, fer I sneezed it."

"With my aid—don't forget."

"Waal, I—— Ker-chew! ker-chew! ker-chew!"

No more silver fell into the hat.

"Say!" shouted the farmer, excitedly; "whut's happened? Why didn't any come then?"

"If I am to receive but ten per cent., I have decided not to assist you in producing any more," said Frank, grimly.

"Give him twenty, Josiah—give him twenty!" fluttered the farmer's wife from her seat, again waving the umbrella. "Yeou'd better do it! Yeou'll be makin' a big thing at that."

"I s'pose I'll hev to," said the man. "All reddy now! I kin feel some more sneezes comin'."

"But twenty per cent. does not satisfy me," asserted Merry.

Josiah groaned.

"Haow much do yeou want?" he asked. "Say quick!"

"You must divide equally with me, sir."

"Waal, if I must, I must. Git reddy! Here it comes! Ker-chew! ker-chew! ker-chew-eew!"

Once more there was a shower of silver, and the hat seemed well filled.

"I think we will stop with this," said the youthful magician. "Of course it would be very pleasant for us both to go on piling up money like this, but the audience would get tired, and my first duty is to carry out this performance and amuse them, as advertised."

He placed the hat on a small table, but the farmer's long arm shot out, and his fingers clutched the coveted receptacle of all that money.

A moment later Josiah was staring in open-mouthed dismay into the hat, which was——

Empty!

"Great smoke!"

The farmer managed to gasp forth the words.

"What is the matter, sir?" quietly asked Frank, without looking toward the man.

"It—it's gone!"

"What's gone?"

"The money!"

Merry whirled, threw up his hands, gave a cry of feigned consternation.

"What have you done?" he demanded, wringing his hands.

"Why, I jest took up the hat arter yeou put it onter ther table, and all the money was gone aout of it."

"What made you touch it? Why did you do it? That is why the money disappeared. You should have let me handle it."

"Look here, young man," said the farmer, trying to appear indignant, "yeou can't come this on me! Whut have yeou done with that money? Half of it b'longs to me, an' b'gosh! I want it. Yeou must hev took it frum the hat."

"I appeal to the audience. I simply placed the hat on the table, while I prepared to count and divide the money with you. You caught it up, and this is the result. You, sir, and you alone, must assume the responsibility."

"That's right, Josiah!" cried the farmer's wife. "You're alwus doin' some fool thing, an' naow you've done the biggest fool thing of your life! If yeou'd let things alone yeou'd be better off."

The audience shouted with laughter once more, and Frank congratulated himself on the outcome of his little piece of legerdemain.

But the old farmer seemed ready to shed tears.

"Say," he quavered, "can't we do that thing over ag'in? I'd like to sneeze aout a few more dollars an' divide even with ye. I'll let yeou do all the dividin', too."

"I don't know about it," said Merry, doubtfully. "I seldom repeat anything before an audience, but——"

"But——"

"This time——"

"Yeou will?"

"My time is limited, but we'll see what we can do."

Frank took the hat and held it before the farmer.

"Now, sir," he urged.

The man wrinkled up his face, stared into the hat, scratched his nose with his index finger, and then shook his head.

"Gosh!" he said, in great disappointment. "I don't seem to want to sneeze naow."

"That's jest like him!" squawked the little woman, bobbing up excitedly. "He never wants to do the right thing at the right time! Sneeze, Josiah—sneeze! If yeou don't, I'll hev a few words to say to yeou when we git hum!"

"Land, Nancy, how be I goin' to sneeze when I don't want to? Seems zif I'd never want to sneeze ag'in."

"I am very sorry," said Merry; "but my time is limited, and I can't wait. If you——"

"Ker-chew!"

Down jingled two silver dollars into the hat.

"That was rather weak," smiled Frank. "Can't you make it a trifle more explosive? Those heavy ones count the——"

"Ker-chew!"

Two more dollars dropped into the hat.

"Come again," urged the youthful magician.

In vain Josiah tried to draw forth a genuine sneeze. Finding he could not do so, he resorted to deception and feigned a sneeze.

No money fell into the hat.

Frank uttered a cry of pretended despair.

"Oh, why did you do that?" he fluttered. "The charm is broken! I should have told you!"

"Whut is it?" asked the farmer, in great agitation. "Whut hev I done?"

"You faked that sneeze. It was not genuine."

"Whut of that?"

"You broke the charm, and now you might sneeze your head off without sneezing out so much as a plugged nickel. It's all over."

"Josiah Doodle," came from the little woman, "yeou don't know so much as I thought ye did, an' I never thought ye knew anything! Git your sheer of whut there is in the hat an' come down often that air platform before yeou do something to etarnally disgrace yourself."

"Here, sir," said Frank, taking the money out of the hat, "is exactly four dollars. Two dollars belong to you. Here they are."

He gave them to the farmer, who clutched them eagerly. Frank led him to the steps, and he went down from the stage.

There was a great burst of applause. As the noise died down, Josiah was heard saying to his wife:

"Now don't sputter abaout it, Nancy! I got two dollars, an' I'd sneeze twice as much ev'ry day for that money."

That produced the greatest uproar yet, and, looking at his watch, when the noise subsided, Frank announced:

"The thirty minutes of free entertainment is over, ladies and gentlemen, and now we come to the real show, for the following feats will include the most famous marvels performed by Zolverein himself. Those who wish may go now and collect their money at the box office, but I guarantee satisfaction for all who remain. If at the conclusion of the performance anybody is dissatisfied, he may call at the box office then and his money will be refunded. I shall begin the regular performance with the 'Miraculous Wineglasses,' which will be remembered as one of Prof. Zolverein's favorite feats. Prof. Pombal, something lively, please."

The pianist was ready, and he struck into a rollicking tune that was calculated to set the blood of the listeners dancing.

Not a person left the theater.

Frank had caught the audience all right.

CHAPTER V. THE MIRACULOUS WINEGLASSES.

While the pianist was playing, Frank retired behind the scenes to change his coat and make arrangements for the trick he was about to attempt.

Manager Burnham came rushing in.

"I congratulate you, young man!" he exclaimed. "You have done well so far, but you are going it a little too steep."

"How's that?" Merry asked.

"In guaranteeing satisfaction at the end of the show. Even Zolverein himself wouldn't do that, for there's always a few soreheads who are never satisfied, and when one man walks up and calls for his money others are encouraged to do the same."

"Don't let that worry you, Mr. Burnham. I'll stand for every dollar you have to refund."

That seemed to relieve the manager's apprehensions somewhat, but he went on:

"Then you made a mistake in promising so much in the performance to come. You can do your own tricks all right, but when it comes to Zolverein's——"

"Wait, Mr. Burnham. You are not competent to judge till you have seen what I can do. I shall have the assistance of Monsieur Mazarin in doing his most difficult feats."

"But I'm afraid you will bungle one of them, and that will ruin everything. One false move in this kind of a show spoils the whole business."

Frank simply smiled.

"I am not afraid of making any false moves," he said, carefully arranging his coat. "The little trick I am about to perform is not the simplest on the list. Go out in front and watch me."

Then he walked onto the stage, just as the pianist ceased playing.

"Now," said Merry, smiling on his audience and appearing perfectly at his ease, "I would like to borrow a handkerchief—a gentleman's handkerchief. Who will be good enough to let me have one a few moments? Some one, please."

He walked down the steps, while several gentlemen held up handkerchiefs. He passed two of them, selecting one that was pretty large.

"This one will do," he said, lightly, giving it a flirt and spreading it out.

Then he looked around inquiringly, asking:

"Are there any gentlemen in the audience who are good judges of wine? If so, let them call for whatever they prefer."

"Sherry," called one.

Instantly Frank produced a brimming glass of sherry from the handkerchief and passed it to the one who had called for it.

"I think you will find that all right," he said, blandly, giving the handkerchief a flirt. "Next."

"Port," called another.

Barely was the word spoken when Frank took another brimming glass of wine from the handkerchief.

"Rare old port," he smiled, passing it to the one who had called. "How is that sherry, sir?"

"It is sherry all right," was the answer; "and good sherry, at that. Thank you."

"And this is port," said the other, smacking his lips.

"Some one else, please," called Frank, looking around.

"Claret," said a voice.

Out of the handkerchief Frank drew a glass of claret.

"Tokay."

As the word was spoken Merry flirted the handkerchief to show there was nothing in it, but the following instant he took out a glass of tokay and passed it to the one who had called.

"Rhine wine," he said himself, pretending he had heard some person call for it. "Here it is, sir. Who asked for it? You?"

He placed it in an outstretched hand.

"Champagne," laughed a rather lively-looking lad.

Again the handkerchief was flirted, and then out from beneath its folds came the brimming glass of champagne, the glass being so full that a little of it was spilled as Frank passed it to the one who had called.

"Of course I am not able to treat everyone present," said Merry, apologetically. "I trust no one will be offended."

He gathered up the emptied glasses and started for the stage. Then, of a sudden, he turned about, looking around.

"What's that?" he said, pretending to overhear a remark. "Not satisfied? Think I am partial. Well, I don't like to seem partial to anyone. If you will wait, I think I can supply all present who wish something."

Then he passed the handkerchief to the one from whom he had borrowed it, thanking him for its use, and hastened upon the stage.

"I will bring out a bottle of wine, ladies and gentlemen," he said.

He left the stage for a moment.

Almost immediately he reappeared with a small bottle in his hand, an ordinary pint wine bottle.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Frank, "I have found this little bottle very handy in emergencies like the present. You see it is empty just now. I will rinse it out, in order that no one may fear to drink whatever comes from it."

The assistant brought on a dish of water and a towel. Frank proceeded to rinse out the bottle before the eyes of the spectators. Then he dried it with the towel.

When he had completed this task, M. Mazarin came on with a large tray which was literally covered with wine glasses, a hundred in all, at least.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen," said Merry, as he followed M. Mazarin from the stage to the center aisle, "I will supply port wine from this bottle for all present who may wish to drink."

With that he began pouring wine from the apparently empty bottle into the glasses, passing swiftly up the aisle. The glasses were given out as fast as they were filled, and the astonishment of the audience increased as Frank continued to pour wine from the originally empty bottle till he had filled every glass on the tray.

"There," he laughed, tripping back to the stage, while the assistant collected the emptied glasses, "I trust everyone is satisfied now."

"Zolverein never did it better!" cried a voice, and the applause was all that Merry could desire.

CHAPTER VI. THE EDUCATED FLY.

While the glasses were being collected, Frank prepared for the next feat.

The wineglass trick had been cleverly performed, and yet it was done in a very simple manner.

The coat which Merry wore while doing this trick had three little inner pockets on either side, made to hold the six glasses of wine produced from behind the borrowed handkerchief. The glasses were filled, and then over the top of each a rubber cap was stretched, to prevent the wine from spilling. This done, the glasses were placed in the little pockets, and Merry knew which pockets contained the different kinds.

He was careful to secure a large handkerchief. When he performed the trick, he spread the handkerchief out over his breast, and, beneath its cover, reached in and took the glasses of wine from the pockets, deftly removing the rubber caps as he took them out. Then it was easy to pretend to draw the brimming glasses of wine from the handkerchief, and the very fact that the glasses were full to the edge made the feat seem all the more marvelous.

Fortunately the audience had called for the very kinds with which he had provided himself, with the exception of the Rhine wine. No one called for that, but Merry pretended to hear some one call, and forced the wine on a spectator, getting rid of it in that manner.

When he went off the stage to get the trick bottle, he hastily took off his coat and hung under his right arm a rubber bag containing port wine. From this bag a rubber tube ran down his sleeve to his hand. There was a hole in the bottle near the bottom. When he rinsed the bottle in the presence of the audience, he kept his thumb over the hole. While drying the bottle with the towel, he inserted the rubber tube in the hole. Then it was an easy thing to go down into the audience and pour wine from the bottle, which seemed inexhaustible. Whenever he wished to pour out some wine he would press against the rubber bag with his arm, and the wine was forced out through the tube into the bottle.

The glasses were of special make and of very thick glass, making a bulky appearance, but holding a very little wine, so that the marvel was not nearly so great as it seemed.

The "Talking Head" trick was the next one Frank decided to perform. This illusion was made effective by means of a set of mirrors which made it seem that the audience could look right through beneath the table on which the "severed head" seemed to rest, while, in fact, the mirrors hid the body to which the head was attached.

A clever assistant is much needed in performing this trick, and Merry had a good one in M. Mazarin. The business was carried through successfully.

Then came the "Spirit Mysteries," which were a series of cabinet tricks, none of them exactly new, but all of them performed well enough to satisfy the now thoroughly good-natured audience.

The final trick of the evening was announced—"The Educated Fly."

This was something new, and the audience was interested.

Frank had attempted none of the feats requiring extraordinary skill and a large amount of practice, thus escaping the pitfall into which Thaddeus Burnham had feared he would stumble.

Yet he had given an hour of genuine pleasure to the wondering audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Frank, "I will now show for the first time in this place Prof. Zolverein's wonderful 'Educated Fly.' Up to this time there have been plenty of educated cats, dogs, pigs, birds and mice, but I believe this is the first time on record that a genuine educated fly has been on exhibition. Of course this is not an ordinary fly. It is a native of South America, and was captured in Ecuador, near the headwaters of the Amazon. There, far in the mighty tropical forests, the flies grow to an immense size, so that even the famous Jersey mosquito in his highest state of development is a mere pigmy beside them. These flies are not easily kept in captivity, as they almost invariably refuse to eat and pine away and die as soon as they are taken from the fastnesses of the wild forests where they abound. They love their native forests. These flies are possessed of a wonderful intelligence, and they might be readily trained if they did not almost invariably starve themselves to death when held in captivity. Prof. Zolverein was fortunate in securing one of the flies which had become accustomed to captivity, and he was able to teach the tiny creature many astonishing feats. Among other things, the fly is a ready reckoner, as you shall see. Prof. Pombal will entertain you while the stage is being made ready for the final exhibition."

As Frank finished, a voice in the back of the hall cried:

"Rats!"

Merry looked in the direction from whence the sound seemed to come.

"I have no educated rats," he said, quietly; "but if the person who called for them will come forward, I will show the audience an educated monkey."

This caused a laugh, and several persons in the rear of the theater turned to look toward the one who had uttered the cry, a flashily-dressed youth who had entered a few minutes before.

This person grinned a bit, but did not accept Frank's invitation to come forward.

Merry retired, and the curtain was dropped for a few moments.

When the professor finished playing on the piano, the curtain rose swiftly, showing on the stage an easel, against which rested a large mirror in a gilt frame. This mirror was about four and a half feet wide, and three feet high.

Frank walked out briskly upon the stage.

"You will see, ladies and gentlemen," he said, "that I have had this mirror placed in a position where the light falls strongly upon it, and I think you will be able to follow the movements of the fly from any part of the house. First, I wish to show you the mirror."

He then took the mirror down from the easel, and, having shown both sides to the audience, rested it on the floor, leaning it against the easel.

Next he took the glass from the frame and showed that to the audience.

"It is just an ordinary mirror, as you can all see," he said.

Having shown the glass, he rested that against the easel, and took up the frame, which had a wooden back, and showed that to the audience. Then the frame was placed on the easel in its proper position, while the glass still leaned against the bottom part, which it covered up as far as the lower edge of the frame.

As it stood thus, Frank talked glibly a few moments, then he picked up the glass and returned it carefully to the frame.

"Now," he said, taking a piece of soap, "I am going to divide this mirror into twenty-eight even squares."

He proceeded to do so.

"Next," explained Merry, "I will number twenty-six of those squares in order as they come, like this."

He numbered them from one to twenty-six.

"The next square I will mark zero—thus. The last one I will leave blank. That shall be a starting point. Now we will letter those squares in the same manner from 'a' to 'z.'"

This was quickly done.

"At last," he smiled, "we are ready for the wonderful fly."

He stepped toward a small stand, on which rested something covered by a cloth. Removing the cloth, a small cage with very close wiring was seen.

Frank opened a door in one side of the cage, chirping and murmuring something. He put in his hand carefully, and took something from the cage.

By this time the audience was literally throbbing with interest and expectancy.

"What is it?" whispered one.

"It's the fly," said another.

"Fly! Never! Why, it was in a bird cage."

"Well, it's large."

"But not large enough for—— Great Scott!"

Merry had placed the fly in the blank corner of the marked mirror, and everyone was astonished by its appearance.

"It's large as a humming bird!" shrilly hissed a boy. "My! but that's a corker!"

"That can't be a fly!" declared a man.

Then the amazing insect was seen to start to crawl across the face of the mirror.

"Here! here!" laughed Frank, gently catching it and restoring it to the blank place in the lower right-hand corner. "Don't be in a hurry to get to work."

"There is one amazing thing about this fly," he said, turning to smile on the audience. "It is never afraid of working overtime, and it really seems anxious to earn its salary."

The fly moved restlessly in the corner, starting several times as if to creep away, but turning back.

"It is a fly!" said a man's voice in the midst of the audience.

"Now," said Merry, "we are ready to give you one of the most astonishing exhibitions on record. Before you, ladies and gentlemen, you behold a fly that actually thinks and reasons."

"Rats!"

Again that voice from the rear of the hall.

Frank looked keenly in that direction, hoping to discover the person who uttered the derisive cry.

"I will prove to you that I am not making an unfounded claim," the young magician asserted. "Will some person in the audience be kind enough to call one of the numbers marked on the mirror."

"Number one," cried a voice.

"Number one," repeated Frank. "Very well. Now, Solomon," addressing the fly, "will you please show the ladies and gentlemen where number one is located?"

Immediately the fly started and crawled across the face of the mirror to the upper left-hand corner, where it stopped on the number called.

All over the theater there was a flutter.

"Marvelous!" said one.

"Astonishing!" spoke another.

"There must be some trickery about it!" a little man in spectacles was heard to declare. "No fly could be taught to do such a thing."

"Fake!" cried the voice that had twice before shouted "rats."

Frank laughed as if amused.

"Wait," he said, quietly. "This is merely the beginning. What is to follow will astonish you still more. Back, Solomon."

Back to the unmarked square crept the huge fly.

"Some person call a letter, please, requested Frank.

"E," said a woman in the third row.

"E is the letter," said Frank. "Now, Solomon, find it."

The fly started to creep along the bottom of the mirror, hesitated, turned about, started back, stopped.

"Ha! ha! ha!" came a derisive laugh. "The old thing is off its trolley! It's lost."

"Come, Solomon, come," smiled the magician; "they are making sport of you. Are you going to stand that? Find the letter E, and hurry up about it."

Slowly the fly turned, and then it ran swiftly up the face of the mirror till it stopped on the letter E, directly under the figure five.

There was a burst of applause.

"It is the wonder of the age!" excitedly declared a big, fat man whose flushed face seemed to indicate that he had been indulging too freely in liquid refreshments.

"Good enough, Solomon," complimented Merry, in a caressing tone of voice. "You are all right."

"Fake!"

Again that hateful cry.

Now several of the audience were aroused. Men began to look for the disturbing person.

"Put him out!" exclaimed two or three, angrily.

"He has no right to disturb the show," declared a man in the right-hand proscenium box. "I am near enough to see, and this thing is all right."

It happened that the speaker was the mayor of the town, and his words made an impression.

"Whatever Mayor Durgin says is all right must be all right," was the general decision.

Frank ordered the fly back to the starting point.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen," he said, calmly, "I will show you that Solomon is able to reckon, as well as think. Will some person call two of the numbers on the mirror, which added together will not amount to more than twenty-six? Anyone present. I wish you to understand that this is not arranged in advance. So I would like to have some well-known lady name the numbers."

"Mrs. Durgin! Mrs. Durgin!" called several.

The mayor in the box turned and bowed to his wife, smiling. The lady blushed and seemed confused, but she quickly recovered. Then she leaned on the rail of the box, distinctly calling:

"Seven and eleven."

"Come seben, come eleben," laughed a youngster, and that produced some amusement.

"Solomon," said Frank, slowly and distinctly, "I wish you to find the numbers seven and eleven, add them together, and indicate the sum acquired."

"That's getting into pretty deep water," whispered somebody.

Straight up the side of the board ran the fly, stopping on the figure seven.

"All right so far," assured Merry. "Go ahead."

The fly paused a moment, and then crept downward to the left till it rested on the eleven, where it stopped again.

There was a great hush of expectancy.

"Seven and eleven," said Frank. "That is correct. Added together, seven and eleven make how many?"

The fly slowly faced in several different directions, and then it seemed to hop down one square, alighting on the eighteen!

It was not surprising that the audience burst into such a round of applause as had not been previously heard that evening.

Smiling triumphantly, Frank bowed in graceful acknowledgment.

When the applause was over, he ordered the fly back to the starting point.

"I will next show you that the fly can subtract as well as add," he said. "If any person will name two numbers, Solomon will deduct the lesser from the greater, and then will indicate the number that remains. All ready."

"Twenty-two and nineteen," said the red-faced man, arising so all could see him. "I think I am pretty well known here, and it will be evident that I am in no way connected with this show."

Then he sat down.

Frank gave his orders to the fly, which started out in a rambling way, pausing slightly several times.

"He's gettin' tired," piped a boy.

"This subtraction is too much for him," cried another.

"What do you think about it Solomon?" asked Merriwell, quietly. "Are you going to let them think you're about to throw up the job? Get down to business. Come, come!"

Thus urged, the fly started forward again, creeping directly to the twenty-two.

"That's the first one. Go on."

The fly turned about and crept upward at an angle till it rested on nineteen.

"Now show them how much is left when nineteen is taken from twenty-two."

Upward again at an angle in the opposite direction went the marvelous fly, and it finally stopped on three.

"Nineteen from twenty-two leaves three," called Merry, with satisfaction. "That is right!"

"Hooray!" shouted the red-faced man. "I'm going to start catching flies and teaching them to reckon! There's money in it!"

Next Frank had the fly do a sum in multiplication, following with one in division.

These feats were performed perfectly.

"If some person present will name a word containing not more than four letters, Solomon will spell it out for you," announced Frank.

"Yale."

It was the voice that had called "rats" and "fake."

"Yale it is," said Frank, who was not a little surprised. "Come on, Solomon."

From letter to letter the fly ran, swiftly spelling out the word.

"It is evident to me," said Merry, "that the person who gave that word knows me. I would like to know who the individual is. Will he please come forward?"

No one stirred.

There was a loud buzzing sound, and the fly was seen fluttering about excitedly.

"What is the matter, Solomon?" asked Frank.

"Buz-z-z-z! buz-z-zz!" came from the fly, so loudly that everyone in the theater could hear it.

"Are you trying to talk, Solomon?" laughed Merry.

"Buzz! buzz! buzz!"

"You do not know the name of the person, do you?"

"Buzz! buzz! buz-zz-zz-zz!"

Now the fly was greatly excited. It made short jumps in several directions.

"Don't be trying any of your nonsense," warned the young magician. "If you are fooling me, I shall be offended."

If possible, the insect buzzed louder than before.

"Well, if you know the name of the person, be good enough to spell it out, so I may know who has several times disturbed the performance. Go ahead, Solomon."

Now the spectators lifted themselves in their seats and stared, for the fly fairly darted out on the mirror. As the insect paused on each letter, Frank spelled out the name.

"S-p-o-r-t. That spells 'Sport,' Solomon. Are you making sport of me, or are you giving me a name? Go on. What is the rest of it?"

Away darted the fly, and Frank spelled:

"H-a-r-r-i-s—Harris! Why, that is 'Sport Harris!' A fellow by that name was my worst enemy at Yale College. Do you mean that he is here in this theater?"

Like a flash the wonderful fly spelled one word:

"Yes!"

CHAPTER VII. UNPLEASANT HAPPENINGS.

Up at the rear of the house rose a person, who shouted:

"Yes, I'm here! Your old fly business is a fake, and I know it! You are imposing on the people!"

That person, who was no other than an old-time enemy of Merriwell's, Sport Harris himself, hurled something at the mirror.

That something was a set of brass knuckles, which the young tough carried with him constantly.

His aim was accurate.

Had the knuckles struck the mirror a smash would have followed that must have exposed the manner in which the trick was performed.

But Frank, like a flash, thrust out his left hand and caught the flying missile, preventing the catastrophe.

"The act of a ruffian!" he said, his eyes flashing. "It is exactly what I should expect from you, Harris!"

"Arrest him!" roared the red-faced man. "Where is a policeman? He'll stay in the lock-up to-night!"

The ushers started toward Harris.

"Keep away," warned the young ruffian. "If you chaps try to touch me, you'll get hurt!"

He reached toward his hip pocket, and the ushers stopped instantly.

"Call an officer!" directed Mayor Durgin, from his box. "Don't let him get away!"

"No, don't let him get away!" cried a number of voices.

There was a move toward the door.

Harris vaulted over the back row of seats and rushed to the door, where he paused, turned about, shook his fist at Frank, and shouted:

"I'll see you again! I've been wanting to see you ever since I found you had escaped my vengeance! Our account is not settled! I'll square with you!"

Dash—slam! Harris was gone.

Several hurried after him, crying for him to stop.

It was some moments before the excitement in the theater subsided.

Frank advanced to the front of the stage, and made a short speech, in which he said:

"I thank you all for your kind attention, and I trust you are satisfied with the performance given here. As announced in advance, the feats of the 'Educated Fly' will close the entertainment. All those who are not satisfied can recover their money by calling at the box office."

"Anybody who calls at the box office is too mean to live in this town," loudly declared the mayor. "Just to see the work of that fly was worth more than the price anyone paid for seats here to-night. We are satisfied with the performance, young man, and we hope you will appear here again at some future time. If you do, you may be sure that you will have a full house."

"That's right!"

"Just so!"

"You bet!"

"He's a good one!"

Cries of approval came from all parts of the theater.

"Possibly I may appear again," said Merriwell, "for I have been given his entire apparatus by Prof. Zolverein, and it may be my fortune to travel as a professional magician."

"You're all right!"

"You're a winner!"

"Zolverein picked a good man!"

"Good-night! good-night!"

The curtain fell behind Frank, shutting out the marked mirror and the wonderful fly, now resting quietly in the blank corner.

Merriwell stood at the front of the stage, bowing, as the audience departed, while the pianist marched them out with his music.

Thaddeus Burnham remained in the box office until everyone had left the theater, and then he came panting and palpitating to the dressing room, where Frank was getting into his own clothes.

"Not a cent," jubilantly cried Burnham—"not a cent did I give back! Nobody called for money! It is amazing!"

Frank smiled quietly.

"But the performance was all right," averred the manager. "I didn't suppose you could do it. And that fly business—why, that was wonderful! How in the name of creation did you do that?"

"Magicians do not give away the manner in which they perform their feats," said Merry, quietly.

"I know it, but—well, never mind. You did it, and that's enough. Come into the office, and we'll settle. You have made a tidy sum to-night."

The assistant, M. Mazarin, was standing near, looking glum and dissatisfied.

"Of course I could not have carried the thing through successfully without M. Mazarin's aid," said Merriwell, who was bound to give credit where credit was due. "He must have a liberal share of the proceeds to-night."

Even this did not clear the cloud from the man's face.

"That is for you to settle between yourselves," said Burnham. "I don't care what you do, as long as I was not forced to refund money to such a house as this was to-night. The thought that I must do so galled me terribly."

He hurried back to the box office.

Frank completed dressing, and then he observed that Mazarin was still standing there, scowling and silent.

"What is the matter?" asked Merry. "Did anything go wrong?"

"Everything has gone wrong."

"How is that?"

"Oh, it's no use to talk it over!"

"Why not?"

"Because."

"What do you mean?"

"It wouldn't make any difference."

Frank was determined to know what the man meant.

"Have I offended you in any way, M. Mazarin?" he asked.

"No," shortly.

"Then I presume we will be able to make arrangements to travel together, in case I decide to go on the road as a professional magician?"

"No!"

"Can't? I will pay you well. You shall——"

The assistant made a gesture that checked Frank.

"I was a fool to help you to-night!" he exclaimed, angrily.

Frank whistled.

"A fool? Why?"

"I have not been used right."

"By whom?"

"Zolverein."

"Ah! How was that?"

"I have been with him constantly for three years."

"Yes?"

"Yes. I was faithful to him."

"I haven't a doubt of it."

"What has he done for me?"

"I don't know."

"Nothing."

"Hasn't he used you square in a business way?"

"In a business way, perhaps. But didn't I have every reason to expect something more?"

"It is possible you did."

"And I got—nothing."

"Is that the trouble?"

"Isn't it enough? Here he gave you, almost a stranger, this apparatus, which is worth a large sum of money. Why didn't he give it to me?"

"I can't answer that question."

"Why did he give it to you?"

"Because I was fortunate enough to save his life this morning."

"You saved his life then that he might die to-night. I was shocked by his sudden death, and that is how it happened that I consented to assist you this evening. Had I thought it over, I should have refused. I might have gone on and given a performance here to-night, and I was the one to do it. I have traveled with him so long that I am perfectly familiar with all his tricks."

"Yes; but without the aid of a trained assistant, you could not have given a good performance. Who could have assisted you?"

"I would have done well enough. Zolverein did not know you could go on and give a performance. How could you have carried out the 'Educated Fly' trick without me?"

"Couldn't," Merry immediately confessed. "And I want to compliment you on the way you made the fly work. It was as natural as life. Now, even if you think you have not been used right by Zolverein, there is no reason why we should quarrel."

But Mazarin would not be pacified.

"I presume you actually mean to take the apparatus?" he asked.

"Why," said Frank, surprised, "of course! It was given to me, and, with its aid, I shall be able to go on the road and do a thriving business."

"I thought you were under contract to Barnaby Haley?"

"I am; but I have every reason to believe my engagement with him will not last much longer."

"How is that?"

"I am certain the 'Empire Theater Comedy Company' will not stay out another week."

"Well, what if it does?"

"I shall try to get Mr. Haley to let me off and fill my place with somebody else."

"Then you are determined to go on the road as a traveling magician?"

"I have about decided to do so."

"In that case, there is no chance for me to buy this apparatus from you?"

"No, I do not think there is."

Mazarin turned away, and Frank saw he was thoroughly angered.

Again Merry made an attempt to pacify the man and engage him to travel as an assistant, but it was fruitless.

"Go ahead!" cried the man. "I can't wish you good luck, and I do not believe you will have any, for you will be forced to engage another assistant. You have our ideas away up by your success to-night, but you will not duplicate it. I feel certain of that."

He was going away.

"Wait," said Frank. "I have not paid you for your aid to-night."

"And I will not take anything."

Mazarin departed.

"Well, that is unpleasant," muttered Frank; "but a fellow can't expect everything to come his way."

When he had finished dressing, he went up onto the stage to pack away the apparatus with which the "Educated Fly" trick had been performed.

The fly was placidly resting against the face of the mirror in the blank corner. Frank took it up and put it into the fake cage.

The fly was a perfect imitation of a real fly, but it was made of cork, and it had an iron core, which rested flat against the glass when everything was ready for the exhibition to begin.

In addition to a wooden back, the mirror had a cloth back, which was firmly fastened into the frame. The wooden back was hinged to the frame at the bottom, and was very strong.

When the frame was placed on the easel and the mirror rested on the floor, the space behind the easel from the floor up was entirely hidden. This was done when Merry took the mirror apart to exhibit it.

At that moment M. Mazarin came up through a trap-door in the floor and let down the wooden back of the frame, which formed a shelf, and on that shelf he could rest with ease. When the mirror was returned to the frame, the audience could look through beneath it, and no one could suspect that a human being was concealed back of it.

The black cloth was divided off into squares to correspond with those afterward marked on the mirror with the soap. The squares were numbered and lettered precisely the same, so that the assistant knew where every character was located on the face of the mirror.

The assistant behind the mirror was provided with a strong electro-magnet, attached to a wire running down one leg of the easel to a powerful battery under the stage.

When the assistant heard the numbers called, he placed his magnet opposite the corner where the fly was resting, and then moved it along the back of the mirror to the required square. In that manner he was able to add, subtract, multiply and divide.

The buzzing of the fly was produced by Merriwell himself, who imitated the proper sound.

Frank located Sport Harris, and recognized the fellow. Then, standing near the mirror, he whispered to Mazarin the name he wished him to spell with the aid of the magnetized fly.

Thus it will be seen that this apparently marvelous performance was in truth a "fake," and not at all difficult to give. But it was always successful when properly done.

Merry took care of the apparatus, and then looked over the other stuff, locking up such things as he did not wish to leave out to be inspected by curious eyes.

When this was done, he went to the box office, where he found Burnham waiting for him.

"What's the matter with Mazarin?" asked the manager of the opera house.

"Why?"

"He has been here growling like a dog with a sore ear."

"He thinks Zolverein did not use him right in giving the apparatus to me."

"I thought it must be something of the kind. The fellow is cranky. You had better look out for him."

"What makes you think so?"

"He says you'll never travel on the road and make a success of it. I told him I thought you would. Then he went into the air and swore he'd make sure you didn't. I believe he is so cranky that he's dangerous."

"I hardly think so," said Merry. "I trust he will get over it."

"And you have another enemy."

"Yes. That fellow is dangerous, and I know it. Last time I saw him, he tried to burn me to death in an old barn."

"He must have a strong reason for hating you."

"Well, I drove him out of college, but not till I had given him every possible chance to straighten up and do right. Fellows said I was a fool to give him such a chance, but I never like to push anybody down."

"If he and Mazarin got together, they might make it rather warm for you. Here is the account. Seventy per cent. is your share. I think you will find it all right."

Frank ran the account over. It was straight, and he pocketed a roll of money that made him feel like a millionaire. Then he bade Burnham good-night and started for the hotel.

At the hotel a surprise awaited him.

CHAPTER VIII. AFTER FRANK'S MONEY.

"Haow are ye, Frank?" cried Ephraim Gallup, a friend of Frank's, from Vermont, as Merry entered the office of the hotel.

The long, lank Vermonter came forward, followed by a short, fat lad, who exclaimed:

"Yaw, how you peen, ain'd id, Vrankie?"

The short lad was Hans Dunnerwurst, another friend.

"Ephraim! Hans!" gasped Frank.

"Yes, we're here, bag an' baggage, by gum!" declared the down-Easter.

"Dot peen a fact," nodded Hans, with owl-like gravity. "Der pag und paggages vos here mit us."

"Why, what does it mean?" Frank managed to ask.

"The jig's up, b'gosh!"

"Dot vos id," agreed the Dutch boy.

"I do not understand," confessed Frank. "You should be playing in Tornton to-night."

"Waal, we ain't there."

"Tornton don'd peen us in to-nighd," averred Hans.

"But why not? Has the company——"

"Busted—that's it."

"Gone der spoudt ub," further explained Hans.

"Is it possible?"

"Yas."

"Yaw."

"And you——"

"We managed to scrape together enough money to git here, an' we ketched a train that took us here all right. Jest got to this air howtel an' faound yeou was over to the theater. We was goin' right over there."

"But now you haf come ofer us to id safed us der droubles," said the Dutch boy.

Frank sat down on a chair and stared at them some seconds.

"Well," he murmured, "I thought the company would break up, but this is sooner than I expected. What's the matter?"

"Haley, the manager, skipped out."

"Haley did?"

"Yas; left ther hull craowd in ther lurch. They'd lynch him if they could git their paws onter him."

"How did he happen to skip?"

"Waal, we done a purty good business last night at Ivervale, an' the gang was shoutin' fer some dust, yeou bet. The ghost ain't walked for three weeks, an' we wanted some money to git some shirts an' collars an' things done up clean. Haley promised to cough when we got to Tornton. We all went on board the train, s'posin' he was along with the tickets. When the train started, he dropped off. That's abaout all there is to it, except me an' Hans had some stuff soaked, an' we didn't git chucked off at a little side deepoe, same's the rest of the gang did."

"Then the show is completely stranded?"

"Jest that."

"What's the name of the place?"

"Ballardvale, I believe."

"Hotel there?"

"Dunno. We didn't stop to see."

"Well, that was a miserable trick for Haley to play, but I guess most of the managers of traveling companies play it sometimes. Why did you chaps come here?"

"We knowed you'd be here."

"What of that?"

"Waal, we reckoned mebbe we'd be able to git up some kind of a three-cornered show an' keep from starvin'. That was aour scheme. I dunno haow it'll hit ye, Frank."

"I have just given a show at the opera house here."

"Yeou hev?"

"Yes."

"Whut kaind of a show?"

Then Frank explained just what had happened and what he had done, while his two friends listened in open-mouthed astonishment and admiration.

"Jest like ye, by gum!" shouted Ephraim. "Can't throw yeou down! Yeou alwus light on yeour feet!"

"Yaw," nodded Hans, "yer veet alvays lighd on you, Vrankie."

"Haow much money did ye make?" whispered Ephraim, eagerly.

Frank pulled out a large roll, on the outside of which was a fifty-dollar bill. Both lads stared at it, and then they leaned heavily against each other.

"Efy," whispered Hans, "I pelief I vos goin' to had a pad case uf heardt vailures!"

"Waal, I'm ruther dizzy myself!" gurgled the Vermonter. "Never saw so much money as that in all my life. Why don't yeou retire an' live on the intrust of it, Frank?"

"Yaw, why you don'd led der interest uf id life on you, Vrankie?" asked Hans.

"Here is just about enough to get us started on the road in good shape," said Merriwell. "We shall need every dollar of it."

"We!" squawked Ephraim.

"Us!" gasped Hans.

Merriwell nodded.

"We will go into partnership," he said. "It will take three of us to run the thing right."

The Yankee youth and the Dutch lad fell into each other's arms.

"Saved!" cried Ephraim.

"Dot's vot's der madder!" rejoiced Hans. "Oh, dot Vrank Merriwell vas a beach, you pet!"

They sat down and talked it over for a long time. Frank believed Ephraim could learn to assist him about his tricks, and he fancied Hans would be good for something. They were his old Fardale schoolmates, and he had no thought of leaving them stranded away out there so far from their homes.

By the time they had talked over their plans it was after midnight. Then Frank found himself unable to deposit his money in the safe, as the clerk had gone to bed and taken the key, and no one would assume the responsibility of awakening him.

Ephraim and Hans were given a room together.

As they went upstairs, the Vermonter said to Frank:

"Look aout for that air money, Frank. If yeou lose that, we're in the soup fer sure."

"Oh, I'll look out for it," assured Merry. "No one will think of molesting me to-night."

He little knew that these words were overheard by his worst enemy. From his own unlighted room Sport Harris peered forth, having the door slightly ajar.

"So he's taking the money to his room?" thought the young scoundrel. "Well, he must have a pretty good pile of it, for that was a great house. I'm rather hard up, and I wouldn't mind lifting a fat roll off that fellow."

In his stocking feet he slipped out into the hall and followed Frank, locating Merry's room.

Frank went in, closed the door and locked it.

He was pretty tired, and he lost little time in undressing. He did not give Sport Harris a single thought. In a short time he was in bed and the light was extinguished.

Tired though he was, it was some time before Frank could get to sleep, for his brain was teeming with exciting thoughts.

At last, however, he dropped off.

Frank awoke with a consciousness of danger. It seemed that a slight rustling had aroused him. In a twinkling he was on the alert, although he kept perfectly still.

There was a sliding sound near the door. Turning his eyes, he saw a dark figure slowly slipping in through the transom, which was wide open.

"Hello!" thought Frank. "Somebody is after my boodle! Well, I'll give that chap a surprise."

He reached up near the head of his bed and pushed the button there, distinctly hearing the bell ring down in the office. Again and again he pushed it, determined to arouse somebody if possible.

The intruder dropped down from the transom, and Frank shot out of bed. A second later Merriwell and the burglar were locked in each other's grasp.

CHAPTER IX. HARRIS AGAIN VANISHES.

The burglar uttered a gasp of astonishment as Merriwell precipitated himself on the fellow.

"Got you!" half laughed Frank.

"I don't know!"

The other twisted about like an eel.

"Hold still!"

"Not much!"

The voice was choked by the efforts of the unknown, but Frank believed he recognized it.

"So it's you, Harris!" he said. "Up to your old tricks! You are just as much a sneak as ever!"

"If I'd got in before you discovered me, you might have never called me that again!" panted Harris.

"By that I suppose you were bent on murder. Well, that is no worse than your record."

"Why don't you shout?" hissed Harris. "Why don't you arouse the hotel?"

"It isn't necessary."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear the bell ring in the office?"

"Yes."

"I pushed the button. Somebody is coming here even now. All I have to do is to hold onto you till they come."

Harris snarled and gnashed his teeth, which he tried to fasten in the back of Frank's wrist.

"Steady," said Merry. "It's no use. I've got you, and I'll hold you. I'll see that you go to prison for this."

"Never!"

"It's what you deserve, and you'll have to take your medicine at last."

Then Merry found his enemy was feeling in his bosom. Frank tried to hold his hand, but Harris succeeded in getting out a knife. With this he struck back at Merry.

"That will look all the worse for you when they come," said Merry, grimly. "You are putting yourself in a pretty bad place."

"Oh, I could kill you!" panted Harris. "You ruined my college career!"

"You are wrong."

"It is true."

"You ruined it yourself."

"No; you did it."

"I did nothing of the sort. I gave you several opportunities to brace up and become a man, but you have bad blood in you, and blood will tell. I never did anything against you that you did not force me to do."

"Oh, you will say that, but I know better. But for you, I'd be in Yale now."

"Yale is better off without you."

With a sudden twist, Harris broke Frank's hold. A cry of triumph escaped him.

"Now you get it!"

The knife was driven at Merriwell's throat.

Frank's hand caught his wrist, and the blade was stopped just as the point touched Merry's neck.

Frank gave a twisting wrench, and the bones in the wrist of the young rascal seemed to snap. A cry of pain was wrung from his lips, and the knife fell clanging to the floor.

There was a sharp knock on the door.

"Wait a minute," called Frank. "I'll let you in directly. Got my hands full now."

"What's the matter in there? What's this mean? Stepladder against the door out here."

"Caller used it to come in with," cried Frank.

Just then he found an opportunity to break away a bit from Harris, and he gave the fellow a terrible swinging blow.

Frank's fist struck Harris under the ear, and the fellow was stunned.

"Just lay there a moment," murmured Merry, as he dropped the baffled rascal on the bed and turned to open the door.

The night watchman came in. Harris tried to get up and dart out by the open door, but Merry caught him and flung him back on the bed.

"Just help me take care of him, will you?" said Frank. "He is pretty ugly, and——"

Over the foot of the bed went Harris, out of the half-open window he dived.

Frank leaped and clutched at his heels.

Too late!

"Gone!" gasped Merry.

"Well, it's more than even money that he won't go very far," said the watchman. "I'll wager something he's broken his neck by the fall to the ground."

They hurried out of the room and down the stairs, fully expecting to find Harris lying under the window.

But when they reached the spot both were amazed to discover that the fellow was not there!

Nor was he found at all, although a sharp search for him was made.

He had escaped again.

Zolverein's remains were shipped to the little Eastern town that he sometimes called home, there to be interred in the village cemetery. Frank took care that everything was properly attended to, as he felt it his duty and privilege.

M. Mazarin remained bitter toward Merriwell, and he disappeared almost as mysteriously as had Sport Harris.

Frank proceeded to fill Zolverein's engagements, taking Ephraim and Hans along with him.

"We're running a show of our own, now," he said, laughingly, "and we are out for fun, fame and fortune."

CHAPTER X. IN THE POWER OF HIS ENEMY.

One eventful day Frank came alone to the theater for the purpose of getting something out of one of his trunks.

Entering by the stage door, he went up the stairs and onto the stage, which was dark, behind the drop curtain. He discovered a man lifting from the easel on which it had rested the large mirror which was used in the "Educated Fly" trick.

"Drop that!" shouted Frank.

"All right!"

The man promptly dropped the mirror at Frank's cry, smashing it into a thousand pieces!

"Scoundrel!"

Frank was aroused.

"Back!"

The unknown caught up a heavy Indian club, one of a set used by Merry each night in his exhibition of fancy club swinging. The club was raised aloft.

"Back, or I'll brain you!"

"Drop that!"

"On your head, if I do!"

The fellow made a threatening swing with the club. Frank ducked, dodged aside, leaped forward, caught his arm, grappled with him.

Now they were face to face, so close together that Merry could distinguish the features of the prowler.

"Sport Harris!" he shouted, astonished by the discovery.

"Yes!" snarled the other, trying to wrench his hand free.

"You here?"

"You bet!"

"What for?"

"Business."

"Deviltry, more likely! How did you get in here?"

"No matter."

"Well, you'll pay dearly for that mirror!"

"You'll never make me pay for it, you can gamble on that!"

Now Harris made a furious struggle to break away, but Frank forced him back against some scenery and pinned him there.

"It's no use, you rascal!" came from Merry's lips. "You are caught this time, and you won't get away."

"Don't be so sure," panted Frank's enemy. "I have given you the slip more than once, and now——"

He uttered a strange cry, and, a moment later, Merriwell realized there was danger behind him; but he was prevented from turning, and, all at once, a pair of small, strong hands encircled his throat, the fingers crushing into the flesh.

Frank was in a bad scrape, as he instantly understood. Harris was not alone, and his companion had caught Merry unawares.

"Choke him! choke him!" hissed Sport, with a savage laugh of satisfaction. "Now we've got him!"

Frank twisted and squirmed. For some seconds a furious struggle took place on that stage, but Harris managed to keep Merriwell from breaking the choking grip of the unknown, and those small, strong hands were crushing the life and energy out of the young magician.

"Oh, we've got you!" exulted Frank's old Yale enemy. "You can't do it, Merriwell! You came here just in time to run your head into this trap!"

Frank could make no reply, for his tongue was protruding from his mouth. In his ears there was a roaring sound, and colored lights seemed bursting and changing before his eyes.

Frank knew the venom of Harris—knew the fellow was a brute who would hesitate at nothing to satisfy his evil desire for revenge. Alone he could have handled the young ruffian easily, but the attack from behind conquered him.

He wavered, swayed, and would have fallen. They dragged him to a chair.

"Ropes!" cried Harris. "Bring them quick! We'll tie him."

The other hustled away and quickly returned. Then the two tied the unfortunate magician to the chair.

"Something for a gag," called Harris.

The other looked about, but could not find anything that suited Sport.

"Oh, never mind," said the fellow, as he took a huge clasp knife from his pocket and opened it. "If he hollers, I'll cut his throat!"

This was spoken in a way that seemed to indicate the ruffian would actually do the deed without hesitation.

Harris drew up another chair and sat down facing the captive.

Slowly Merry's strength returned. At last he was able to sit up without the support of the binding ropes.

"Ha! ha!" laughed his bitter enemy. "How do you like it? I don't believe you fancy it much. I have you now."

Frank made no reply, but he peered through the gloom at the figure of Sport's companion and assistant. There was something familiar about the slight, supple form, but it was not till the man turned so the light reached him differently that Merry recognized him.

"M. Mazarin!" he gasped, incredulously.

The little man nodded.

"Yes," he said, coldly. "Are you surprised to see me?"

"Rather."

"I suppose you expected never to see me again. You thought I had gone to leave you forever. You thought I would give up everything and let you go about the country giving exhibitions with this apparatus that should have become mine at the death of Zolverein. You fancied I was a fool. You robbed me of what should have been mine, and I do not love you for it."

"Very fortunately," said Sport Harris, in his sneering way, "we met, became acquainted, discovered our mutual hatred for you. We are here—here to get even."

"Right," nodded the little man. "If I can't take Zolverein's place on the road, I swear you never shall!"

"It is plain that you make a fine pair," said Frank, speaking huskily, for his throat still felt the effect of the terrible pressure it had received. "You will do well together. Harris should have been in jail long ago, and it is not improbable you'll both get there before a great while."

"We'll ruin you before we go!" grated M. Mazarin. "It will take you a long time to duplicate this apparatus. Some of it you'll never be able to duplicate."

"Are you going to steal it?"

"Oh, no."

"What——"

"We are not that foolish," said the little man. "You might recover it if we stole it."

"But you are going to do something?"

"That's easy guessing," sneered Harris.

"What is it?"

"I will soon show you," said Mazarin, with a cold little laugh. "But you must keep him still, Harris."

"If he utters a chirp, I'll slit his windpipe," promised the young ruffian.

Mazarin lighted a lamp, which he placed on a small table. Then he took a heavy hammer, and before Frank's eyes he smashed at a single blow a box that served to enable Merry to do one of his most difficult and interesting feats.

"Now," said the malicious little man, "you know what I am going to do. I am here to destroy every bit of the apparatus you received from Zolverein. I can do it in twenty minutes."

CHAPTER XI. DEADLY PERIL.

Frank squirmed, and Harris laughed.

"That hits you hard," said the fellow. "We'll soon put you out of business as a professional magician."

"You shall pay dearly for every bit of property you destroy!" vowed Frank.

"That's all right. You'll not worry anybody by talking like that. You'll have to catch your hare, and we'll be far away from here to-morrow."

"I was too easy with you in the past, Harris," said Frank. "I can see that now."

"Oh, yes, you were easy with me!" snarled the fellow. "You didn't do a thing but disgrace me in college! You——"

"I simply exposed your tricks when you were fleecing my friends by playing crooked at poker. You brought it on yourself."

"It's a lie! I didn't play crooked. I——"

"You acted as the decoy to draw them into the game, while Rolf Harlow robbed them with his slick tricks. You can't deny that. You deserved worse than you received."

"That's what you think. Anyhow, I'll have my revenge now. Go ahead, Mazarin; smash up the stuff."

"He may shout."

"If he does, it will be his last chirp, for I swear I'll use the knife on him!"

Frank fully believed the fellow would do just as he threatened. Besides that, it was extremely doubtful if anyone could hear him in case he shouted, as the theater was a detached building, in which there were no offices or stores.

So Merriwell was forced to sit there, bound and helpless, and witness the destruction of his property, the intricate and costly apparatus for performing his wonderful feats of magic.

With savage frenzy the little man battered and hammered and smashed the apparatus which had cost many hundreds of dollars. He laughed while he was doing it.

Harris lighted a cigarette and sat astride a chair near Frank, whom he continued to taunt.

"This is the finish of the career of Merriwell, the wonderful magician," he sneered. "He'll never be heard of again. Smash the stuff, Mazarin, old man! That's the way to do it! How do you like it, Merriwell? Doesn't it make you feel real happy to see him break up the furniture? Ha! ha! ha!"

Now, not a word came from Frank, but his jaws were set and his eyes gleaming. It was plain enough that he had vowed within his heart that some day he would square the account with his enemies.

Piece after piece of the apparatus was destroyed by the vengeful little man, while Harris sat and smoked, puffing the vile-smelling stuff into the face of the helpless youth.

Since starting out to fill Zolverein's engagements on the road, Frank had been remarkably successful, but he could not go on without the apparatus, and it would take a long time for him to replace the articles thus maliciously ruined. Some of them he knew he would never be able to replace.

With the wrecking of his property one of his dearest dreams vanished. He had thought it possible that he might make enough money during vacations to carry him through Yale, so he could complete his course in college, which he had been forced to leave because of financial losses.

He knew this was purely a speculation, as it was not certain he would continue to do a good business, especially when he got off Zolverein's route; but that had been his dream, and now it was over.

Surely fate was giving him some hard blows, but still he did not quail, and he was ready, like a man, to meet whatever came.

He had tasted of the glamour of the footlights, and there was bitter with the sweet. He had learned that the life of the traveling showman is far from being as pleasant and easy as it seems.

But Frank had not started out in the world looking for soft snaps. He was prepared to meet adversity when it came and not be crushed. He felt that the young man who is looking for a soft snap very seldom amounts to anything in the world, while the one who is ready to work and push and struggle and strive with all his strength, asking no favors of anybody, is the one who is pretty sure to succeed in the end.

Whenever fate landed a knockout blow on Frank he refused to be knocked out, but invariably came up smiling at the call of "time."

It was plain that his enemies believed they would floor him this time and leave him stranded.

Harris was watching Frank's face by the light of the lamp.

"Oh, this is better than a circus!" chuckled the fellow, evilly. "Every blow reaches you, and I am settling my score."

"Instead of settling it," said Merry, grimly, "you are running up a big account that I shall call for you to settle in the future."