Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Prosperity; or, Toil Has Its Reward онлайн

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Vance sprang forward.

“Why, you insulting dog!” he shouted.

Quickly Bart swung the woman behind him, and squarely he met Vance. His arm shot out, his fist landed with a crack and Vance lay stretched on the floor.

Then, without a word, with simply a look of unspeakable scorn and contempt toward the fallen actor, unmindful of the others of the company who came rushing to the spot, Bart walked down the stairs and out of the theater by way of the stage door.

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Lester Vance got up. At first he was too dazed to speak, but he recovered his tongue after a little and began to swear.

Frank Merriwell came forward, saying sharply:

“That will do, Mr. Vance! You know I do not permit any such language on the stage or around the theater. There are ladies present, too.”

Vance put his hand over his eye and gave Merry an ugly look. The other members of the company were around, asking what had happened.

“Yes, I know your rules,” he admitted; “but that cursed cur assaulted me—struck me in a treacherous manner when I was not looking!”