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

23 страница из 40

Indeed, the potato-cutting trick was a fake. A needle had been inserted crosswise in each potato, near one side. When the time came to do the trick, Frank sliced off the portion of the potato near the needle, pretending to do it so the potato would lay perfectly level. Then he struck with sufficient force to divide the potato, but when the edge of the sword struck the needle, which lay crosswise to the sword, the keen weapon could go no further, and the potato fell apart.

It was a very simple little trick, but it looked like a rather remarkable feat.

"Ker-chew!" sneezed the old farmer in the front row. "That's purty good, but that air Zolverein could knock the spots offen that, an' he never made no bluffs abaout turnin' sneezin' inter money."

"Nor do I make any bluffs, sir," said Frank, pleasantly. "If you will come up here onto the stage, I'll show you how to make your cold pay you well."

"Oh, yeou ain't goin' to git me up there an' then make a gol darn guy of me for northin'."

"I have no idea of doing that, sir. If you are not well paid for your time and trouble, I will refund you the money you paid to get in here to-night, and you shall stay through the entire entertainment without paying."