Frank Merriwell's New Comedian Part 11

"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 cla.s.s 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.

"I have it!" exclaimed the rancher. "Here it is:

"'Be firm! One constant element in luck Is genuine, solid, old Teutonic pluck.

See yon tall shaft; it felt the earthquake's thrill, Clung to its base and greets the sunrise still.

Stick to your aim; the mongrel's hold will slip, But only crowbars loose the bulldog's grip; Small as he looks, the jaw that never yields Drags down the bellowing monarch of the fields.'"

CHAPTER V.

NATURE'S n.o.bLEMAN.

Frank found the Twin Star Ranch a pleasant place. The house was large and well furnished, everything being in far better taste than he had expected.

Merry knew something of ranches and ranch life which, however, he said nothing about. He was supposed to be a very tender tenderfoot. n.o.body dreamed he had ever handled a lariat, ridden a bucking broncho, or taken part in a round-up.

Gallup roamed about the ranch, inspecting everything, and he was a source of constant amus.e.m.e.nt to the "punchers," as the cowboys were called.

After one of these tours of inspection, he came back to the room where Frank and Bart were sitting, filled with amazement.

"Vermont farms are different from this one," smiled Merry.

"Waal, naow yeou're talkin'! I'd like ter know haow they ever do the milkin' here. I don't b'lieve all ther men they've got kin milk so menny caows. Why, I saw a hull drove of more'n five hundred cattle about here on the farm, an' they told me them warn't a pinch of what Mr. Carson owns. Gosh all hemlock! but he must be rich!"

"Mr. Carson seems to be pretty well fixed," said Merry.

"That's so. He's got a fine place here, only it's too gol-dinged mernoternous."

"Monotonous? How?"

"The graound's too flat. Ain't any hills to rest a feller's eyes ag'inst. I tell yeou it does a man good to go aout where he kin see somethin' besides a lot of flatness an' sky. There ain't northin' in the world purtier than the Varmount hills. In summer they're all green an'

covered with gra.s.s an' trees, an' daown in the valleys is the streams an' rivers runnin' along, sometimes swift an' foamin', sometimes slow an' smooth, like glars. An' ther cattle are feedin' on ther hills, an'

ther folks are to work on their farms, an' ther farm haouses, all painted white, are somethin' purty ter see. They jest do a man's heart an' soul good. An' then when it is good summer weather in Varmount, I be dad-bimmed if there's any better weather nowhere! Ther sun jest shines right daown as if it was glad to git a look at sech a purty country, an'

ther sky's as blue as Elsie Bellwood's eyes. Ther birds are singin' in ther trees, an' ther bees go hummin' in ther clover fields, an' there's sich a gol-durn good feelin' gits inter a feller that he jest wants ter larf an' shaout all ther time. Aout here there ain't no trees fer ther birds ter sing in, an' there don't seem ter be northin' but flat graound an' cattle an' sky."

Frank had been listening with interest to the words of the country boy.

A lover of nature himself, Merry realized that Gallup's soul had been deeply impressed by the fair features of nature around his country home.

"Yes, Ephraim," he said, "Vermont is very picturesque and beautiful. The Vermont hills are something once seen never to be forgotten."

Gallup was warmed up over his subject.

"But when it comes to daownright purtiness," he went on, "there ain't northing like Varmount in the fall fer that. Then ev'ry day yeou kin see ther purtiest sights human eyes ever saw. Then is the time them hills is wuth seein'. First the leaves on ther maples, an' beeches, an' oaks they begin ter turn yaller an' red a little bit. Then ther frost comes more, an' them leaves turn red an' gold till it seems that ther hull sides of them hills is jest like a purty painted picter. The green of the cedars an' furs jest orfsets the yaller an' gold. Where there is rocks on the hills, they seem to turn purple an' blue in the fall, an' they look purty, too--purtier'n they do at any other time. I uster jest go aout an' set right daown an' look at them air hills by the hour, an' I uster say to myself I didn't see haow heaven could be any purtier than the Varmount hills in ther fall.

"But there was folks," he went on, whut lived right there where all them purty sights was an' never saw um. They warn't blind, neither. I know some folks I spoke to abaout how purty the hills looked told me they hedn't noticed um! Naow, what du yeou think of that? I've even hed folks tell me they couldn't see northin' purty abaout um! Naow whut do yeou think of that? I ruther guess them folks missed half ther fun of livin'.

They was born with somethin' ther matter with um.

"It uster do me good ter take my old muzzle-loadin' gun an' go aout in the woods trampin' in the fall. I uster like ter walk where the leaves hed fell jest to hear um rustle. I'd give a dollar this minute ter walk through the fallen leaves in the Varmount woods! I didn't go out ter shoot things so much as I did to see things. There was plenty of squirrels, but I never shot but one red squirrel in my life. He come aout on the end of a limb clost to me an' chittered at me in a real jolly way, same's to say, 'h.e.l.lo, young feller! Ain't this a fine day?