Ahead of the Show Part 8

Al repeated the statement.

"An advance agent without a startling career!" said the Banner man. "Why, such a thing was never heard of before. As a rule we have to cut out nine-tenths of the blood-curdling incidents in advance agents' careers, and even then what is left sounds like an Arabian Nights story."

Al laughed.

"Well," he said, "then I am a remarkable exception. Isn't that a startling fact?"

"That may help things out a little."

"Besides, it is not myself that I want to boom, but the New York Comedy Company."

"Well, you are a rara avis! But by booming yourself you may at the same time boom the show. Now, tell me all about yourself first. You see, the public is more interested about you personally than about Mr. Wattles' company. But I'll work in a good notice for the show, too. Now, then, please tell me where you were born, when--and all the rest of it."

Within ten minutes the reporter was in possession of most of the facts of Al's "career"; and, as the boy had said, there was nothing very startling in the story. But when the Banner man had wormed the fact out of the lad that his sister had been lost or stolen in infancy, he exclaimed: "Why, that's just what I want. A romance in your life! Nothing could be better. A long-lost sister! That will show up in great shape in the heading."

"But," interrupted Al, coloring, "I don't want anything said about it. Please omit any reference to my family."

"Well," said the reporter, "just as you say; but it is easy to see that you have not been an advance agent very long. Why, my dear boy, the article which I am going to write will be copied all over the country, and might be the means of restoring your sister to you. But there, there"--as Al was about to speak--"I'll consider your wishes in the matter, and if I say anything about your sister it will only be a pa.s.sing reference, couched in the most delicate terms. And now, then, what about the company? How many thousand dollars' worth of diamonds has the leading lady lost during the last week? Which of the men of the company is engaged to be married to one of Gould's daughters? Don't be bashful; tell me all you have to tell, and I'll use all of the stuff I can. You've given me an A1 interview, and I'm glad to have a chance to do you a good turn."

Al had a few alleged facts about certain members of the New York Comedy Company, and he proceeded to retail them to his companion, who made notes of them.

"They're rather chestnutty," he said, as he returned his notebook to his pocket, "but I'll fix them up in as good shape as I can, and they may help you out a little. However, you mustn't expect a big house to-morrow night, for you won't have it."

With this cheering a.s.surance the Banner scribe took his leave.

It had occurred to Al, too, that the notices which had been furnished him by Mr. Wattles were somewhat "chestnutty."

"Never mind," he said to himself, "somehow or other I'll fix things so that we'll have a big house. But, judging from the way I have begun, my first engagement as advance agent is not going to be much of a 'snap.'"

Al was busy during the entire day seeing that the paper--that is, the posters, window hangers, etc.--of the company was displayed to the best advantage.

This work had been done after a fashion some days before by the local manager, but the way in which the duty had been performed did not suit the young advance agent, and he kept men "hustling" all day.

"What's the use?" said the manager of the theater, with a weary smile. "It's sure to be a losing engagement, anyhow."

"Maybe not," returned Al. "You'd better get the 'standing-room-only' sign dusted off, in case we need it."

"Rats!" was the response. "Young man, when you know this business and this town as well as I do, you'll sing a different tune. We shall have about two hundred people in the house to-morrow night--maybe not quite so many."

And he exhibited the advance sheet, which Al examined with a sinking heart. Only half a dozen seats had been sold for the performance.

CHAPTER XIII.

A STROKE OF LUCK.

"Something has got to be done," said the young advance agent.

"Everything possible has been done," returned the manager, pettishly. "The amount of the thing is that we have struck an unlucky night, and there's no help for it."

"Maybe there is," said Al, quietly. "I mean to have a big house to-morrow night somehow or other."

The manager laughed sarcastically.

"I've heard beginners like you talk before," he said. "You think you are going to set the river on fire, but the river is not inflammable. I admire your nerve. I've heard how you drummed up business in Boomville, and you did well. But you can't do that sort of thing all the time. My friend, Wattles, wrote and told me that you would work things so that the house would be full when his company played, but he made a mistake that time."

"Did Mr. Wattles say that?" cried Al.

"He did; and I was surprised at it, for Wattles is not usually a very sanguine man."

"If he said it, I'll do it," announced the boy.

Again his companion laughed.

"There's nothing like youthful enthusiasm," he said, "and I acknowledge that it cuts lots of ice at times--but not every time. You might as well try to square the circle as to get a crowd here to-morrow evening. It can't be done."

"We'll see," responded Al, with the most confident air he could a.s.sume.

The task before him was a hard one, apparently an impossible one, but he resolved that he would try to accomplish it.

"Sail ahead, and do it if you can," said the manager, with something very much like a sneer. "I shall watch your methods with interest."

"It's a pity," said Al, "that you have only one morning paper here. Now if----"

"Oh," interrupted his companion, yawning, "we'll have another to-morrow morning."

"How is that?"

"A young dude named Marcus, with more money than brains--and not very much of either, by the way--is to issue the first number of a new daily to-morrow morning. He is going to call it the Bugle, I believe."

"It being the first issue," suggested Al, "it is likely to have a good sale. Wouldn't it be a good scheme to spend a little extra in advertising in it?"

"My lad," said the manager, wearily, "your ideas are primitive in the extreme. I have given them my usual size ad., and even if I wanted any more s.p.a.ce--which I don't--I couldn't get it, for the paper is about all made up now. Oh, we can't do anything against the circus, and that settles that matter."

It did not settle the matter with Al, however. He returned to his hotel, and spent what was left of the afternoon in trying to devise some plan to arouse public interest in the performance of the New York Comedy Company.

He worked at the problem until his head ached, but the harder he thought the farther he seemed to be from a solution.

In the evening he went down to the restaurant connected with the hotel, quite discouraged.

There was no one in the room when he entered; but a few minutes later two men, both of them evidently very much excited, came in and seated themselves near him.

After a glance at the boy and a hurried order to the waiter, they resumed a conversation in which they had been engaged when they entered.

Al could not help overhearing nearly every word they said, for in their excitement they spoke louder than they thought.

"I tell you, Marcus," he heard one of the men say, "it's a bad knockout."

Marcus! Al remembered that this was the name of the proprietor of the new paper. He was, as the manager had said, a rather dudish-looking young fellow, but his face was by no means indicative of a lack of brains.

"The worst of it is," added Mr. Marcus, "that the Banner people will have the grand laugh on us. They have been poking fun at the 'amateur daily,' as they call it, ever since the Bugle was announced; now they will go for us."

Al was now interested; for the time he forgot his own worries. What could the trouble be in the office of the new paper?

"They'll have a good chance," said Mr. Marcus' friend. "Really, my dear sir, I can't see how you could have made such a break. The idea of accepting a full-page ad. for 'Dr. Gurgles' Metallic Liver Pads,' only to find that there is no such thing on the market, and that you have been made the victim of a practical joker! I wish I had had charge of the business end of the thing, this would not have happened."

"I dare say not, but don't reproach me, for I'm too much broken up to stand it. The question is, how are we going to fill up that page? I've been boasting, right and left, about the phenomenal amount of bona-fide ads. the first number of the Bugle would contain, and now we are a full page short. And I've told a number of people that we were to have a page ad. from a well-known concern--something the Banner never had."

"Have you told anyone what the concern was?"

"No."

"Then perhaps you could get some firm in town to take the page."

"I'd let 'em have it at any price. But, no, it wouldn't do; I should have to own up how I had been victimized. Besides, it's too late now, anyhow. Why, nearly the whole paper is in type, and one side is printed."

"Well, what are you going to do with that page?"

"I give it up."

Al rose from his seat and approached the table where the two gentlemen were seated.

"Perhaps I can help out, sir," he said.

Mr. Marcus started from his chair, his face flushed with anger.

"You've been listening, boy!" he exclaimed.

"I have; I couldn't very well help it, for you spoke in a loud tone."

"That's so, Marcus," added the other gentleman. "A public restaurant is not just the place to talk over such a matter."

"Well," said Marcus, glaring at Al, "I suppose you mean to go and tell everyone in town what you have heard?"

"I don't know anyone in town, and if I did I shouldn't repeat a word. As I just said, I think I can help you out."

"You! How?"

"You said you'd let that page go at any price?"

"I did."

"Perhaps I will take it. I couldn't afford to do anything like regular rates, but perhaps by helping you out I can get a lot of advertising almost free. I tell you frankly that is my object, and I give you my word that no one shall know anything about the transaction."

Mr. Marcus and his companion stared at Al in amazement.

"Well," said the former, "you are a queer youngster. Who the mischief are you--another practical joker?"

"No. I am Allen Allston, advance agent of Wattles' New York Comedy Company, which plays here to-morrow night."

"A lad like you occupying a position like that?" exclaimed Mr. Marcus.

"Just so, sir. Now, what will you let us have that page for?"

"Perhaps your employer would repudiate the bill."

"I'll pay it myself, right here and now."

"I'll take you up. You can have the page for one hundred dollars. When can I have the copy?"

"Not at all at that price," replied Al, coolly. "The page wouldn't be worth that much to us. I'll give you fifty dollars, cash now, and the copy in an hour or less."

After a moment's hesitation, the proprietor of the Bugle said: "Done! Give me the fifty dollars, and I'll give you a receipt for four hundred. But mind, mum's the word about this deal."

"You may depend upon me, sir."

"But," asked Mr. Marcus, "how are you going to have a full page of copy ready in an hour?"

"I'll get it ready," replied Al. "Your foreman will have it on time."

He handed the publisher the fifty dollars, and received a receipt for four hundred.

"Well," said Mr. Marcus, "you have a head for business, and no mistake."

"I hope so," said Al, modestly; "but this transaction does not prove it."

"I think it does."

"My overhearing your conversation was only blind luck."

"Yes; but many a man would not have been smart and quick enough to take advantage of it. The successful business man is he who seizes upon the lucky accidents that others pa.s.s by, and turns them to his own advantage. You'll get along, my boy."

CHAPTER XIV.