There was an uproar in the theatre, which the ushers and the police were unable to quell for some time.

The curtain was rung down, and then, after a short wait, the manager came out and said the show would go on, if the audience would behave. He threatened to have the persons who were using the pea-shooters arrested, and this threat was greeted by hisses and catcalls.

After a while, however, the curtain went up once more, and the play proceeded in a tangle of "real Siberian bloodhounds," Gumption Cutes, Marks, Topsies, Little Evas, escaping slaves, slave hunters and general excitement and confusion.

It was plain that the actors feared further trouble, and they were rushing through their lines, eager to get off the stage as soon as possible.

The bloodhounds were cheered by the students and peppered with peas. When Topsy declared she "nebber was born, but jes' growed," some one inquired the name of the fertilizer used in her rearing. When the jackass appeared, a solemn voice from some uncertain part of the theatre called the attention of the audience to the "leading actor of the colossal aggregation." Little Eva was invited to exhibit her wings.

The college boys were irrepressible, and yet they did not do anything to absolutely break up the show, although Joe Gamp's haw-haws came near proving disastrous several times.

A policeman came down to the box and threatened to arrest Joe, but he was pacified by Creighton, who had a decidedly smooth way of "fixing things."

Frank Merriwell remained quiet until near the end of the play, enjoying the sport the other fellows were making. At last, however, he decided to produce some amusement himself.

Frank was a very good amateur ventriloquist, although he seldom practiced the art. Now, however, he saw his opportunity.

Little Eva was on her deathbed, and the mourners were assembled about. All at once one of the mourners seemed to say:

"This business is on the bum."

Every one started and stared. The actors were astounded, and the audience amused. Then the death agony went on until another of the watchers by Eva's side observed:

"It makes me sick!"

The manager was heard to hiss from the shelter of the wings:

"I'll make you sick when you come off!"

"Oh, go fall on yourself, you old cheat!" the actor seemed to fling back.

Then Little Eva, in her death agony, apparently remarked:

"Give it to the old duffer! He owes me six weeks' salary, and I'll quit dying right now if the ghost doesn't walk immediately!"

This brought laughter and hearty applause from the college lads.

When the applause had subsided Uncle Tom apparently observed:

"He can't get ahead of me. I've put an attachment on the jackass."

This was more than the excitable manager could stand, and he rushed onto the stage, shaking his fist at Uncle Tom and crying:

"Confound you! I don't owe you a cent! You obliged me to pay up before you would go on to-night!"

And then he nearly collapsed when he realized what his anger had led him to do and say.

The college lads arose from their seats and cheered.

Standing in the front of the box, Charlie Creighton shouted:

"This is the best part of the show, fellows. Let's give 'em one! Now—all together!"

Then the Yale yell pealed forth, and Little Eva came near dying in reality from heart failure.

This broke up the show entirely, and the curtain came down with a rush, while the frightened orchestra made haste to disappear. From behind the curtain the manager shouted that the show was over, and the laughing, tumultuous students hurried out of theatre.

"Well, Merriwell," said Charlie Creighton, "how have you enjoyed the evening?"

"Immensely," laughed Frank.

"It was a regular sus-sus-sus-circus," declared Joe Gamp. "Never had so much fuf-fuf-fuf-fuf-fun in all my bub-born days!"

"We had them on a string, like a kite," murmured Bruce Browning.

"And that's what made them soar," chuckled Griswold.

Just as the street was reached, Frank gave a slight exclamation, and quickly forced his way through the crowd toward a man who was near at hand.

That man was the mysterious stranger.

The unknown seemed to be watching Merriwell, for he whirled about and hastened away the moment Frank started in his direction.

"Oh, I want to get my hands on that fellow!" grated Frank.

The man did his best to escape, but Merriwell was close after him. The stranger hurried along a street, and Frank broke into a run. Then the unknown glanced over his shoulder, and started to run himself.

"Hold on!" commanded Frank.

That made the stranger run the faster.

Frank followed, but could see nothing of the person he was pursuing.

"He must have dodged into a doorway," decided the lad. "No—here is where he went, down this alley."

The mouth of a dark alley was before him, and he plunged into it. He did not go far before he decided that further pursuit was folly, and he turned back.

"He's slippery," muttered the boy; "but I'll catch him some time, if he continues to shadow me."

Dark forms appeared at the mouth of the alley, and a hoarse whisper came to Merriwell's ears:

"He went in here, and the alley is blind, so he can't get out. Do him—and do him dirty!"

For all that Frank had been often in desperate peril, something about this situation chilled him to the heart. The uncanny darkness, the unknown alley, his creeping foes coming down upon him, possibly with deadly intent, all served to make him feel weak and helpless for the moment.

There are times when the bravest heart shrinks with dread, and, for all that Frank was a lad with remarkable nerve, it is not strange that he felt a thrill of fear at that moment.

It is claimed that men have lived who "never knew the meaning of the word fear," and it is possible that this may be true; but in case they ever were placed in situations of extreme peril, such persons must have been lacking in some of the essential elements that compose a human being. We think of them as deficient in certain ways, wanting in the finer qualities, and naturally coarse and brutish.

It is the person who experiences fear and conquers it by his own determination to do so who is the greatest hero.

One of the bravest generals America has produced, a man who had the reputation of being utterly fearless, once was asked if he ever had been afraid while in battle. "No, sir," was his reply, "never in battle; but sometimes just before going into an engagement, I have felt it necessary to keep my teeth clinched to prevent my heart from jumping out of my mouth."

Still the men whom he commanded never knew that he experienced a single thrill of fear. He conquered his trepidation by his wonderful will power, and always in battle he appeared perfectly unaware that there was the least danger. Indeed, he was sometimes criticised for his apparent recklessness in exposing himself to deadly peril.

Frank Merriwell never courted peril, and he avoided danger when he could do so in a manly way and without lowering his own sense of dignity.

Once engaged in a dangerous encounter, or forced into a position of peril, Frank's blood arose, and he seemed to be seized by a reckless disregard of his personal safety. Then it was that he laughed in a singular manner, and his enemies had learned that he was the most dangerous when that laugh sounded from his lips.

As he heard those unknown foes creeping down upon him in the darkness of the alley, Frank crouched close to the ground, and felt about with his hand for some weapon of defense.

Fear suddenly gave place to anger, and he longed to retaliate on his enemies. He knew well enough that the men creeping down upon him were hired tools, chosen by his foes to do him severe bodily injury.

"Oh, for a club—a stone—anything!" he thought.

But his hand found nothing that suited his need at that moment.

The cautiously advancing men came nearer and nearer. He could hear them whispering to each other, and they seemed to block the entire width of the narrow alley. He could not make out their number, but he was sure there must be several of them.

"Can yer see him, Jake?"

"No, an' I can't hear him neither."

"But he's here somewhere, and they say he'll fight. Look out fer him."

Frank heard these whispered words, and then, without realizing that he was about to do so, he laughed!

There were hoarse cries, curses and blows. A savage struggle suddenly was begun in the dark alley.

Frank had hoped to break through the line of his foes by his sudden rush, but he was not successful, although his hard right fist knocked a man down with his first blow.

Then he received a shock that seemed to cause a thousand bright lights to flash before his eyes, and he knew he had been struck on the head with some sort of weapon.

The boy staggered. Uttering hoarse exclamations, his assailants, like beasts of prey, sprang upon him.

"Give it to him!" cried a voice.

With new strength, Frank twisted and squirmed. In doing so, he threw his head from side to side, and it chanced that he succeeded in saving it from the blows which were intended to render him helpless.

Those blows, many of them, at least, fell on his shoulders and his back with benumbing force.

He forgot that his left hand was not yet well, but he used it as freely and as vigorously as his right.

And, once more, something like a laugh came from his lips.

"Hear him!" hissed one of the ruffians. "Why, he's a perfect young fiend!"

But Frank could not long hold his own against such odds. Some of the blows aimed at his head fell glancingly, but they were enough to rob him in a measure of his strength. He tried to tear away, and then he was felled to the ground.

Merriwell felt that "the jig was up" with him. They had him at their mercy, at last.

Then it was that a surprising thing happened. With encouraging cries, two men came through the darkness and attacked the boy's assailants.

That the new arrivals on the battlefield were armed with heavy clubs was apparent, and they used them mercilessly on the ruffians.

This attack was unexpected by Frank's assailants, and they could not meet it. Immediately they turned and fled, pursued by one of the men who had set upon them.

Just then, apparently disturbed by the sounds of the fight, some person came to a nearby window with a lighted lamp.

The light shone out into the alley, and fell on Frank Merriwell and one of the men who had saved him.

"Plug Kirby!" gasped Frank, sitting up.

"Dat's wot, me boy!" cried the bruiser, cheerfully. "An' I kinder t'ink we didn't git round any too quick neider."

"You came just in time."

"Be yer hurt much, youngster?" asked Kirby, anxiously, assisting Frank to arise.

"I think not. Got a few cracks and was upset, but that is all. Where is the man who was with you?"

"He whooped it along after der gang. Kinder t'ink he wanted ter ketch one of der blokes an' hold him fer der perlice ter pinch."

"Who was he?"

"Dunno."

"What?" cried Frank, astonished—"don't know who was with you when you came to my aid?"

"Well, I dunno his name, youngster, and that's on der level."

Frank was eager to ask more questions, but Plug said:

"We'd best push outer dis. Dunno wot'll happen if we stays here too long. Der gang might come back."

So they hurried out of the alley, Frank receiving some assistance from Kirby, as he was rather dizzy when he tried to walk.

When the street was reached no one seemed to be in the immediate vicinity.

"Shall we wait for your friend?" asked Merriwell.

"Naw," answered Plug. "He ain't likely ter come back."

A short time later they were seated at a table in a nearby resort, and Frank was treating Kirby.

Frank had examined his own injuries, and discovered they were not serious, although it was likely that he would be sore about the head and shoulders from the bruises he had received.

"Now tell me," urged Frank, "who was with you when you came to my assistance? I am eager to know."

"I tole yer dat I don't know der cove's name, but I do know dat he is all right an' on der level."

"Well, how is that you do not know his name?"

"Never asked him."

"How do you happen to know him?"

"Well, yer see, it was dis way: I was inter Jackson's der odder evenin' takin' me nightcap. Dere was some fellers in dere wot was college chaps, and dey was talkin' about races and t'ings. Pretty soon dey said somet'ing about you. Some of 'em was hard on you, an' dat got me mad up. I jes' waded inter der gang an' offered ter lick anybody wot didn't t'ink you was der clean stuff."

Frank smiled a bit, realizing that he had, indeed, made a firm friend of this bruiser who had once tried to whip him, but had received a severe drubbing, instead.

"Dey didn't want ter shove up against me," Kirby went on, "an' dey got out right away. Den a man walks up ter me, and he says I was all right, an' he blows me. He continues ter blow me, an' ask me questions about you. Arter a while, he asks me if I would fight fer you if I had der chance. 'Would I!' says I, jes' like dat. 'Well, old sport, show me der chance!' Den he says dat you has some enemies wot is plannin' ter do yer, an' he might be able ter give me a chance ter put in a few licks fer yer.

"Well, dis evenin', as I was inter Jackson's, who should come in an' call me aside but dis same cove. He says ter me, 'Kirby'—he had found out me name—'Kirby,' says he, jes' like dat, 'I'm goin' ter give yer dat chance ter put in some licks fer Frank Merriwell.'

"Den he tells me dat he were in a place an' heard a scheme ter put some toughs onter yer ter-night w'en yer was goin' home from der t'eeter. Dey had heard some feller say dat he was goin' ter invite yer ter be in er box wid him at der t'eeter, an' so dey knew yer was goin'.

"Dat's all, 'cept dat me an' der bloke wot was wid me went ter der t'eeter, him payin' all expenses, an' we kept watch of yer. W'en we came out, you started fer him, an' he hooked it. I was s'prised, but I follered. Den I found dere was odders follerin', an der gang run yer in here. Der feller I was wid, as was in a doorway nigh der alley all der time, skipped back fer me, an' we jumped right down inter der alley, takin' some heavy canes, wot we had wid us all der time. You know wot happened arter dat."

Frank was puzzled and mystified. He asked Plug to describe the mysterious man, and Kirby did so. This added to Frank's wonderment, for the description tallied with that of the stranger who had tried to bribe him to throw a ball game to Harvard; but that it could be the same man, even though everything indicated that it must be, Frank could not believe.

That night, after going to bed, Frank lay awake for hours, thinking of the stranger and the mystery which surrounded him.