Frank Merriwell's Son Part 27

"Extremely is not quite the word, madam," he replied, with a bow.

"Absorbingly pleasant is far better."

CHAPTER XXII.

ANOTHER PILGRIM.

At intervals during the meal the sound of plaintive, doleful music floated in through the open windows.

"Sounds like a baby squawking," observed Ephraim Gallup.

"Begobs! Oi thought it was some wan playing on bagpoipes," observed Barney Mulloy. "Oi wonder whativer it can be, Oi dunno?"

Frank listened.

"To me it sounds like a cross between a clarinet, a flute, and a piccolo," he smiled. "Some one is trying to furnish music for this festive occasion."

He called one of the servants and asked her to find out the origin of the peculiar doleful music.

In a few moments the girl returned and quietly explained that a wandering musician had halted on the lawn and was performing on some sort of a wind instrument.

"He's a bery funny-lookin' maan, Mr. Merriwell," grinned the girl. "He suttinly am wearin' de oddest clo'es Ah eber seen. An' he's round an'

corperlous, wid de biggest fat cheeks when he blows, an' a yeller mustache dat keeps wigwaggin' all de time."

Frank thrust his hand into his pocket, brought out a silver half dollar and put it in the colored girl's palm.

"Give him this, Liza, and tell him to jog along," he said quietly.

But after Liza had performed the commission and returned to the dining room the doleful notes of the wind instrument continued to float in through the open windows.

"The wandering minstrel is bound to give you your money's worth, Merry,"

laughed Jack Diamond.

Although they lingered at the table fully an hour after that, the musician continued to play outside during all that time, with brief intervals of rest.

Finally, when dessert was over and they had chatted and gossiped a while, Frank proposed that they should move to the veranda.

As the jolly party came out upon the veranda they discovered the musician. He was a portly young German, and he stood on the lawn, with a battered old carpetbag between his feet, while he blew at a wheezy flute with such vigor and vim that his eyes threatened to pop out of his head.

"He certainly is working overtime," observed Diamond.

"I'd like to know the name of his tailor," chuckled Browning. "His clothes certainly fit him handsomely--in spots."

"Anyhow they touch the high places," came from Badger.

Frank Merriwell paused on the veranda steps and scrutinized the musician intently.

"Fellows," he said, "that chap looks familiar to me. I've seen him before. I know him."

Bart Hodge's hand dropped on Merry's shoulder.

"You're right, Frank," he said. "We both know, him--we all know him."

An instant later Merry sprang down the steps, rushed forward and seized the flute player.

"If you need any a.s.sistance," called Gallup, as he descended to the lawn, "I'll help you kill him, Merry."

"Hans Dunnerwurst!" cried Frank, as he grasped the hand of the German and shook it delightedly. "I thought I knew you!"

The stranger seemed nearly pumped out of breath. As soon as he could speak he retorted:

"Uh-ha! I pelieft you vould knew me uf you recognitioned me. How you vos alretty, Vrankie? It peen a long dime since ve med up py each udder, ain'd it? I knew der lufly musig vot I vos discouragin' to you vould pring de houze oudt uf you bretty quick. Yah! I knew you coot not stand der delightfulness uf id forefer. _Ach Himmel!_ How der flute does luf to blay me! Id peen der grandest instrument dot efer found me der vorld in."

Several of the party had followed Frank down the steps and surrounded Dunnerwurst. They greeted him warmly, seizing his hand and shaking it.

But suddenly the Dutchman caught sight of Gallup. With a whoop of joy, he grabbed up his carpetbag and started for the Vermonter.

"Oh, Ephie, Ephie!" he squawked, rushing forward and embracing Gallup, who was nearly upset by this impetuosity. "You vos so glad to see me dot I coot almost cry right avay alretty quick now!"

"Waal, gol dern my punkins!" exploded Ephraim. "It sartinly is old Hans!"

"Oldt Hans? Oldt Hans?" yelled Dunnerwurst indignantly. "Who vos you callin' oldt Hans mit such carelessness? Py Chiminy! I peen not more than a year younger as you vos yourselluf! Don'd you git so bersonal in my remarks!"

Then he saw Barney Mulloy, who was standing near, a broad grin on his face.

With a howl, Hans flung the carpetbag and the flute straight up into the air.

"Id vos Parney!" he shouted. "Id vos dot Irish pogtrotter!"

Then the carpetbag came down, struck Hans on the head and knocked him to a sitting position on the gra.s.s.

"Sarves ye roight for torturin' our ears wid thot croupy flute, ye bologna sausage!" laughed Mulloy.

"Pologna sissage! Pologna sissage!" howled Hans. "You vos chust as sauciness as I efer vos! Vy don'd I learnt some manners dot vould make a chentleman uf you!"

Together, Mulloy and Gallup seized the Dutchman, one by each arm, lifted him part way to his feet and then permitted him to fall back with a thud.

"Look out there, boys," laughed Frank, "you'll dent the ground!"

"Mine cootness!" gurgled Hans. "The ground dented me alretty soon! Don'd put my hands on you again!" he ordered, as his friends once more offered a.s.sistance. "Don'd try to pull der ground avay from me! I vill dood it mineselluf. I vill got up mitoudt nopody's resistance."

Puffing and grunting, he finally rose to his feet, wiped the perspiration from his face, and stood there, bowing and smiling in a manner that was little short of distressing.

Frank led the Dutchman up the steps and presented him to the ladies.

Hans' effort at suave politeness as he bowed with his hand over his heart was most laughable.