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

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The pianist was ready, and he struck into a rollicking tune that was calculated to set the blood of the listeners dancing.

Not a person left the theater.

Frank had caught the audience all right.

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While the pianist was playing, Frank retired behind the scenes to change his coat and make arrangements for the trick he was about to attempt.

Manager Burnham came rushing in.

"I congratulate you, young man!" he exclaimed. "You have done well so far, but you are going it a little too steep."

"How's that?" Merry asked.

"In guaranteeing satisfaction at the end of the show. Even Zolverein himself wouldn't do that, for there's always a few soreheads who are never satisfied, and when one man walks up and calls for his money others are encouraged to do the same."

"Don't let that worry you, Mr. Burnham. I'll stand for every dollar you have to refund."

That seemed to relieve the manager's apprehensions somewhat, but he went on:

"Then you made a mistake in promising so much in the performance to come. You can do your own tricks all right, but when it comes to Zolverein's——"