Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Own Company; Or, Barnstorming in the Middle West онлайн

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Some of the audience laughed outright, while others showed sympathy for the afflicted farmer.

"I assure you, my dear sir," smiled Merry, from the front of the stage. "I have no thought of making fun of you. If I do not keep my word and show you how to turn every sneeze into good hard money, I will apologize to you before the audience. But first I must complete what I have started to do."

He picked up another potato and sliced off a thin piece from one side of it. Then he placed a chair, on which the assistant sat, leaning far forward and bowing his head, so the back of his neck was a horizontal plain.

Frank carefully placed the potato on the back of the man's neck. Then he stepped back and lifted the sword.

"Hold on, b'gosh!" cried the farmer, rising from his seat. "I want to—ker-chew! ker-chew! ker-chew!—see this here—ker-chew! ker-chew!—piece of business! An' I want to tell yeou that yeou had better—ker-chew! ker-chew!—go purty dad-dinged keerful, for if yeou cut that feller's head off. I'll—ker-chew! ker-chee-ew! ker-chee-ee-eew!"