Burt Standish - Frank Merriwell's New Comedian - or, The Rise of a Star

“Who are you?” demanded Fowler.

“I think you know me,” said the man, lowering his paper.

Lawrence sat there!

In Denver Frank was accompanied to the bank by Mr. Hobson. It happened that Kent Carson, a well-known rancher whom Frank had met, was making a deposit at the bank.

“Hello, young man!” cried the rancher, in surprise. “I thought you were on the road with your show?”

“I was,” smiled Frank, “but met disaster at the very start, and did not get further than Puelbo.”

“Well, that’s tough!” said Carson, sympathetically. “What was the matter?”

“A number of things,” confessed Frank. “The play was not strong enough without sensational features. I have found it necessary to introduce a mechanical effect, besides rewriting a part of the play. I shall start out again with it as soon as I can get it into shape.”

“Then your backer is all right? He’s standing by you?”

“On the contrary,” smiled Merry, “he skipped out from Puelbo yesterday morning, leaving me and the company in the lurch.”

“Well, that was ornery!” said Carson. “What are you going to do without a backer?”

“Back myself. I have the money now to do so. I am here to make a deposit.”

Then it came about that he told Mr. Carson of his good fortune, and the rancher congratulated him most heartily.

Frank presented his check for deposit, asking for a check book. The eyes of the receiving teller bulged when he saw the amount of the check. He looked Frank over critically.

Mr. Hobson had introduced Frank, and the teller asked him if he could vouch for the identity of the young man.

“I can,” was the answer.

“So can I,” spoke up Kent Carson. “I reckon my word is good here. I’ll stand behind this young man.”

“Are you willing to put your name on the back of this check, Mr. Carson?” asked the teller.

“Hand it over,” directed the rancher.

He took the check and endorsed it with his name.

“There,” he said, “I reckon you know it’s good now.”

“Yes,” said the teller. “There will be no delay now. Mr. Merriwell can draw on us at once.”

Frank thanked Mr. Carson heartily.

“That’s all right,” said the cattleman, in an offhand way. “I allow that a chap who will defend a ragged boy as you did is pretty apt to be all right. How long will it take to get your play in shape again?”

“Well, I may be three or four days rewriting it. I don’t know how long the other work will be.”

“Three or four days. Well, say, why can’t you come out to my ranch and do the work?”

“Really, I don’t see how I can do that,” declared Frank. “I must be here to see that the mechanical arrangement is put up right.”

“Now you must come,” declared Carson. “I won’t take no for your answer. You can give instructions for that business. I suppose you have a plan of it?”

“Not yet, but I shall have before night.”

“Can you get your business here done to-day?”

“I may be able to, but I am not sure.”

“Then you’re going with me to-morrow.”

“I can’t leave my friends who are – ”

“Bring them right along. It doesn’t make a bit of difference if there are twenty of them. I’ll find places for them, and they shall have the best the Twin Star affords. Now, if you refuse that offer, you and I are enemies.”

The man said this laughingly, but he placed Frank in an awkward position. He had just done a great favor for Merriwell, and Frank felt that he could not refuse.

“Very well, Mr. Carson,” he said, “if you put it in that light, I’ll have to accept your hospitality.”

“That’s the talk! Won’t my boy at Yale be surprised when I write him you’ve been visiting me? Ha! ha! ha!”

Mr. Carson was stopping at the Metropole, while Frank had chosen the American. The rancher urged Merry to move right over to the Metropole, and the young actor-playwright finally consented.

But Frank had business for that day. First he telegraphed to the lithographers in Chicago a long description of the scene which he wanted made on his new paper. He ordered it rushed, and directed them to draw on his bankers for any reasonable sum.

Then he started out to find the proper men to construct the mechanical effect he wished. He went straight to the theater first, and he found that the stage manager of the Broadway was a genius who could make anything. Frank talked with the man twenty minutes, and decided that he had struck the person for whom he was looking.

It did not take them long to come to terms. The man had several assistants who could aid him on the work, and he promised to rush things. Frank felt well satisfied.

Returning to his hotel, Merry drew a plan of what he desired. As he was skillful at drawing, and very rapid, it did not take him more than two hours to draw the plan and write out an explicit explanation of it.

With that he returned to the stage manager. They spent another hour talking it over, and Frank left, feeling satisfied that the man perfectly understood his wants and would produce an arrangement as satisfactory as it could be if it were overseen during its construction by Frank himself.

Frank was well satisfied with what he had accomplished. He went back to the American and drew up checks for every member of the old company, paying them all two weeks salary. Lloyd Fowler took the check without a word of thanks. The others expressed their gratitude.

Then Frank moved over to the Metropole, where he found Kent Carson waiting for him.

Hodge and Gallup came along with Frank.

“These are the friends I spoke of, Mr. Carson,” explained Frank.

“Where’s the rest of them?” asked the rancher, looking about.

“These are all.”

“All?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why, by the way you talked, I reckoned you were going to bring your whole company along.”

He remembered Hodge, whom he had seen with Frank once before, and he shook hands with both Bart and Ephraim.

“You are lucky to be counted as friends of a young man like Mr. Merriwell,” said the cattleman. “That is, you’re lucky if he’s anything like what my boy wrote that he was. My boy is a great admirer of him.”

“It’s strange I don’t remember your son,” said Frank.

“Why, he’s a freshman.”

“Yes, but I know a large number of freshmen.”

“So my boy said. Said you knew them because some of them had been trying to do you a bad turn; but he was glad to see you get the best of them, for you were all right. He said the freshmen as a class thought so, too.”

“Your son was very complimentary. If I return to Yale, I shall look him up.”

“Then you contemplate returning to college?”

“I do.”

“When?”

“Next fall, if I do not lose my money backing my play.”

“Oh, you won’t lose forty-three thousand dollars.”

“That is not all mine to lose. Only one-fifth of that belongs to me, and I can lose that sum.”

“Then why don’t you let the show business alone and go back to college on that?”

“Because I have determined to make a success with this play, and I will not give up. Never yet in my life have I been defeated in an undertaking, and I will not be defeated now.”

The rancher looked at Frank with still greater admiration.

“You make me think of some verses I read once,” he said. “I’ve always remembered them, and I think they’ve had something to do with my success in life. They were written by Holmes.”

The rancher paused, endeavoring to recall the lines. It was plain to Frank that he was not a highly educated man, but he was highly intelligent – a man who had won his way in the world by his own efforts and determination. For that reason, he admired determination in others.