Frank Merriwell's New Comedian Part 18

"Well, I think it's time for us to take a hand in that!"

"I should say so!"

"Come on!"

Frank sprang forward; Bart followed.

The old actor was just making an effort to get up. The young ruffian who led the gang kicked him over.

The sight made Frank's blood leap.

"You cowardly young cur!" he cried, and he gave the fellow a crack on the ear that sent him spinning.

Hodge struck out right and left, quickly sending two of the largest fellows to the ground.

"Permit me to a.s.sist you, sir," said Frank, stooping to aid the actor to rise.

The leader of the gang had recovered. He uttered a mad howl.

"At 'em fellers! Knock the stuffin's outer them!" he screamed, rushing on Frank.

Merry straightened up instantly. He whirled about and saw the biggest tough coming at him, with the rest of the gang at his back. Then Frank laughed.

"Walk right up, you young terriers!" he cried, in a clear, ringing voice. "We'll make it rather interesting for you! Give it to them, Hodge!"

Hodge did so. Together the two friends met the onslaught of the gang.

Their hard fists cracked on the heads of the young ruffians, and it was astonishing how these fellows were bowled over. Bart was aroused. His intense anger was betrayed by his knotted forehead, his flashing eyes, and his gleaming teeth. He did not speak a word, but he struck swift, strong and sure.

If those chaps had expected an easy thing with the two well-dressed youths who had interfered with their sport, they met the disappointment of their lives.

It actually seemed that, at one time, every one of the gang had been knocked sprawling, and not one was on his feet to face the fighting champions of the old actor.

It was a terrible surprise for the toughs. One after another, they sprang up and took to their heels.

"What have we struck?" gasped the leader, looking up at Frank.

"Get up!" invited Merry, standing over him--"get up, and I will give you another dose!"

"Excuse me!" gasped the fellow, as he scrambled away on his hands and knees, sprang up and followed the rest of the young thugs.

It was over; the gang had been put to flight, and it had been accomplished in a very few moments.

Hodge stood there, panting, glaring about, looking surprised and disappointed, as well as angry.

"That was too easy!" he exclaimed. "I thought we were in for a fight."

"Evidently they did not stand for our kind of fighting," smiled Frank.

"It surprised them so that they threw up the sponge before the fight was fairly begun."

"I didn't get half enough of it," muttered Bart.

During the fight the old actor had risen to his feet. Now Frank picked up his hat and restored it to him, after brushing some dirt from it. The man received it with a profound bow. Placing it on his head, he thrust his right hand into the bosom of his coat, struck a pose, and cried:

"'Are yet two Romans living such as these?

The last of all the Romans!'"

"We saw you were in trouble," said Merry, "and we hastened to give you such a.s.sistance as we could."

"It was a goodly deed, a deed well done. Thy arms are strong, thy hearts are bold. Methinks I see before me two n.o.ble youths, fit to have lived in the days of knighthood."

"You are very complimentary," smiled Frank, amused at the old man's quaint way.

The actor took his hand from his bosom and made a deprecating gesture, saying:

"'Nay, do not think I flatter; for what advancement may I hope from thee?' I but speak the thoughts my heart bids me speak. I am old, the wreck of a once n.o.ble man; yet you did not hesitate to stand by me in my hour of need, even at peril to yourselves. I cannot reward you. I can but offer the thanks of one whose name it may be you have never heard--one whose name to-day, but for himself and his own weakness, might be on the tongues of the people of two continents. Gentlemen, accept the thanks of William Shakespeare Burns."

"Mr. Burns," said Frank, "from your words, and your manner, I am led to believe that you are an actor."

"Nay, nay. Once I trod the boards and interpreted the characters of the immortal bard, for whom I was named. That time is past. I am an actor no longer; I am a 'has been.' My day is past, my sun hath set, and night draweth on apace."

"I thought I could not be mistaken," said Frank. "We, too, are actors, although not Shakespearian ones."

"Is this true?" exclaimed the old tragedian. "And I have been befriended by those who wouldst follow the n.o.ble art! Brothers, I greet thee! But these are sad, sad days, for the drama hath fallen into a decline. The legitimate is scoffed at, the stage is defiled by the ribald jest, the clownish low-comedy star, the dancing and singing comedian, and vaudeville--ah, me! that we should have fallen into such evil ways. The indecencies now practiced in the name of art and the drama are enough to make the immortal William turn in his grave. Oh, for the good old days!

But they are gone--forever gone!"

"It seems strange to meet an actor like you 'at liberty,' and so far from the Rialto," declared Merry.

"I have been touring the country, giving readings," Burns hastened to explain. "Ah, it is sad, sad! Once I might have packed the largest theater of the metropolis; to-day I am doing well if I bring out a round dozen to listen to my readings at some crossroad schoolhouse in the country. Thus have the mighty fallen!"

"I presume you are thinking of getting back to New York?"

"Nay, nay. What my eyes have beheld there and my ears have heard is enough. My heart is sick within me. I was there at the opening of the season. One Broadway theater was given over to burlesque of the very lowest order, while another was but little better in character. A leading theater close to Broadway was packed every night by well-dressed people who went there to behold a vile French farce, in which the leading lady disrobed upon the stage. Ah, me! In truth, the world hath gone wrong! The ways of men are evil, and all their thoughts are vile.

It is well that Shakespeare cannot rise from his grave to look upon the horrors now perpetrated on the English-speaking stage. If he were to be restored to life and visit one of our theaters, I think his second funeral would take place the following day. He would die of heart failure."

Frank laughed heartily.

"I believe you are right. It would give William a shock, that is certain. But there are good modern plays, you know."

The actor shook his head.

"I do not know," he declared. "I have not seen them. If there is not something nasty in the play of to-day, then it must of a certainty have its 'effect' in the way of some mechanical contrivance--a horse race, a steamboat explosion, a naval battle, or something of the sort. It seems that a piece cannot survive on its merits as a play, but must, perforce, be bolstered up by some wretched device called an 'effect.'"

"Truer words were never spoken," admitted Frank. "And still there are a few plays written to-day that do not depend on such devices. In order to catch the popular fancy, however, I have found it necessary to introduce 'effects.'"

"You speak as one experienced in the construction of plays."

"I have had some experience. I am about to start on the road with my own company and my own play."

Of a sudden Frank seemed struck by an idea.