“Sure.”
“Well, I don’t suppose you expected to make so much money that you would be able to return with more than eight thousand dollars in your inside pocket?”
“Hardly.”
“Then what is crawling over you? If you are fool enough to make this silly division, you can go back with money enough to take you through your course in style.”
“And have the memory of what happened in this town last night rankle in my heart! Hardly! I made a speech from the stage last night, in which I said I would play again in this city, and I promised that the audience should be satisfied. I shall keep that promise.”
“Oh, all right! I suppose you’ll be thinking of rewarding the ladies and gentlemen who called here a short time ago and attempted to bulldoze you?”
“I shall see that the members of the company, one and all, are treated fairly. I shall pay them two weeks salary, which will be all they can ask.”
Hodge got up, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and stared at Frank, with an expression on his face that was little short of disgust.
“You beat them all!” he growled. “I’d do just like that – I don’t think! Not one of those people has a claim on you. I’d let them all go to the deuce! It would be serving them right.”
“Well, I shall do nothing of the sort, my dear fellow.”
“I presume you will pay Lloyd Fowler two weeks salary?”
“I shall.”
Bart turned toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going out somewhere all alone by myself, where I can say some things about you. I am going to express my opinion of you to myself. I don’t want to do it here, for there would be a holy fight. I’ve got to do it in order to let off steam and cool down. I shall explode if I keep it corked up inside of me.”
He bolted out of the room, slamming the door fiercely behind him.
Frank and Ephraim went up to the room of Stella Stanley, which was on the next floor. They found all the members of the company packed into that room.
“May we come in?” asked Merry, pleasantly.
“We don’t need him,” muttered Lloyd Fowler, who was seated in a corner. “Don’t get him into the benefit performance. Let him take care of himself.”
“Come right in, Mr. Merriwell,” invited Stella Stanley. “I believe you can sing. We’re arranging a program for the benefit, you know. Shall we put you down for a song?”
“I hardly think so,” smiled Frank.
“Ah!” muttered Fowler, triumphantly. “He thinks himself too fine to take part in such a performance with the rest of us.”
“I rather think you’ve hit it,” whispered Charlie Harper.
“And I know you are off your trolley!” hissed Cassie Lee, who had not missed the words of either of them. “He’s on the level.”
“Really!” exclaimed Miss Stanley, in surprise and disappointment. “Do you actually refuse?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because there will be no performance.”
“Won’t?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I refuse to permit it,” said Frank, a queer twinkle in his eyes.
Then several of the company came up standing, and shouted:
“What!”
“That beats anything I ever heard of in my life!” said Fowler.
“For genuine crust, it surely does!” spoke up Harper.
Cassie Lee looked surprised, and Havener was amazed.
“Surely you are not in earnest, Merriwell?” the stage manager hastened to say.
“Never more so in my life!” answered Frank, easily.
“Then you’re crazy.”
“Oh, I guess not.”
“Well, you are,” said Garland. “You have gone over the limit. We are not engaged to you in any way. You said so. You explained that we could not hold you responsible. You cannot come here and dictate to us. We shall carry out this performance. If you try to prevent it, you will make a great mistake.”
“Be calm,” advised Merry. “You are unduly exciting yourself, Mr. Garland.”
“Well, it’s enough to excite anyone!”
“Meow!”
Out of the room trotted Frank’s black cat, which had followed him up the stairs.
“Put that cat out!” cried Agnes Kirk. “It has caused all our bad luck!”
Frank picked the cat up.
“I told you the cat was a mascot,” he said. “It has proved so!”
“I should say so!” sneered Fowler.
“Let him take himself out of here, cat and all!” cried Charlie Harper.
“Let him explain what he means by saying we shall not give a benefit performance,” urged Havener, who really hoped that Frank could say something to put himself in a better light with the company.
“Yes,” urged Cassie. “What did you mean by that, Frank?”
“Such a performance is quite unnecessary,” assured Merry.
“We’ve got to do something to raise money to get out of this city.”
“I will furnish you with the money, each and every one.”
“You?” shouted several.
“Yes.”
“How?” asked Havener. “You said a short time ago that you hadn’t enough money to amount to anything.”
“At that time I hadn’t. Since then I have been able to make a raise.”
Now there was another bustle of excitement.
“Oh!” cried several, “that’s different.”
“I knew there was something behind it!” exclaimed Cassie, with satisfaction. “Have you been able to raise enough to take us all back to Denver, Frank?”
“I think so, and I believe I shall have a few dollars left after we arrive there.”
“How much have you raised?” asked Havener.
“Forty-three thousand dollars,” answered Frank, as coolly as if he were saying forty-three dollars.
For a moment there was silence in the room, then expressions of incredulity and scorn came from all sides.
Fowler set up a shout of mocking laughter.
“Well, of all the big bluffs I ever heard this is the biggest!” he sneered.
“Say, I don’t mind a joke,” said Stella Stanley; “but don’t you think you are carrying this thing a trifle too far, Mr. Merriwell?”
“I would be if it were a joke,” confessed Frank, easily; “but, as it happens to be the sober truth, I think no one has a chance to ask. I will not only pay your fare to Denver, but each one shall receive two weeks salary, which I think you must acknowledge is the proper way to treat you.”
“I’ll believe it when I get my hands on the dough,” said Fowler. “Forty-three thousand fiddlesticks!”
“Any person who doubts my word is at liberty to take a look at this certified check,” said Merry, producing the check and placing it on the little table.
Then