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

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"This process of sneezing silver dollars, ladies and gentlemen," smiled the young magician, "is distinctly my own invention. I have applied for a patent, and I shall prosecute all who infringe on my rights. I must protect myself at—— What, again!"

"Ker-chew! ker-chew! ker-che-eew!" sneezed the farmer, and silver dollars literally rained into the hat.

"Keep it up, Josiah—don't stop!" urged his wife, from her seat in the front row.

"Gol darned if I don't!" gasped Josiah. "It's a regl'er snap to see 'em fly inter the hat. Ker-chew! ker-chew!"

"We'll soon have the hat filled, sir," declared Frank.

"Waal, who be they goin' to b'long to?"

"To us."

"Us? Jest explain that."

"To you and me."

"Haow?"

"Of course you will be willing to divide with me, as you could not produce the money without my aid."

"Waal," said the farmer, slowly and reluctantly, "I s'pose I'll have to let ye hev part of it—say ten per cent."

Of course this was amusing to the audience.

"That is not at all satisfactory," said Frank, with a show of disappointment.