CHAPTER I – FRANK AND HIS FRIENDS

“Say, boys, just listen to that racket!”

It was Jack Diamond who spoke, and he addressed Frank Merriwell and several others of his friends.

“It is certainly awful,” came from Harry Rattleton, one of the boys.

“I can’t stand much of this,” put in Bruce Browning. “It is enough to drive one crazy.”

The boys had just entered the outer portals of a Chinese theatre, located in Chinatown, the Celestial portion of San Francisco. There was a great crowd, and it was only with difficulty that they made their way along the narrow and gloomy passages leading to the theatre proper.

Frank Merriwell and his chums from Yale College had filled in their summer vacation by a trip on bicycles from New York to San Francisco. They had had numerous adventures, but had come out “right side up with care,” as Frank put it.

The party was composed of Frank Merriwell, Harry Rattleton, a former roommate at Yale; Jack Diamond, from Virginia; Bruce Browning, fat, lazy and good-natured; and Toots, a colored boy from the Merriwell homestead.

On reaching California, Frank had fallen in with Bart Hodge, a schoolmate of years gone by, when Frank had attended Fardale Military Academy. Bart had been in serious trouble, and it was Frank who helped him out of it. For some time Hodge had found it best to “keep shady,” and his troubles were not yet a thing of the past.

As the boys walked farther into the entrance of the Chinese theatre, a clanging medley of the most horrible sounds came up from the passage that lay at the foot of a steep flight of stairs.

Frank Merriwell laughed.

“That is music, old fellow!” he said.

Then came another burst of sounds, more horrible than the first, if possible. There was a banging of brass, a clanging of gongs, a roaring of drums, and a wild shrieking and wailing as of ten thousand fiddles cut of tune.

Jack jabbed his fingers into his ears and actually turned pale.

“Music!” he gasped – “that music? That is enough to drive any man crazy! It is the most frightful thing I ever heard. Music! You are joking, Merriwell!”

“Not a bit of it,” declared Frank. “Aren’t we on our way to witness a play in a Chinese theatre?”

“Well, I supposed so, but it strikes me now that this is one of your jokes. You have put up a job on me. You are trying to horse me.”

“Nothing of the sort, my dear boy.”

Jack still continued suspicious.

“Who ever heard of such a way of getting into a theatre?” he exclaimed. “We entered a narrow door in an old building, came through a long, dark passage, climbed stairs, descended stairs, turned, twisted, climbed more stairs, turned again, and now here we are with another flight of stairs before us. A fine way of getting into a theatre!”

“That is the way the Chinese do the trick. Eh, John?”

The Chinaman who had been acting as their guide, and who stood on the first stair, waiting for them to follow him downward, nodded his head, saying:

“Allee samee legler way.”

“It may be the regular way,” admitted Jack; “but I doubt if I could find my way out of here alone. This would be a fine place to run an enemy into if one wished to murder him secretly. There would be little danger that the police would ever find out anything about it.”

Frank made a signal to the guide, and then the trio slowly descended the stairs, which were dimly lighted by paper-shaded lamps.

At the foot of the stairs the boys passed a door that stood open, enabling them to look into a room that was filled with bunks, upon many of which lay Chinamen who were sleeping or smoking opium. The powerful odor of “dope” that came from that room was sickening.

Then they came to an ordinary step-ladder that led downward again.

Jack halted in dismay.

“Why,” he said, “we must be underground now! Where are we going?”

“To the theatre, dear boy. Hear the music.”

“Why will you persist in calling it that? It seems that those sounds come from the infernal regions, and this passage must lead down to the old fellow’s reception-room.”

“Glit to theatal plitty soon,” assured the guide.

Down the ladder they went, and then, at an open door, paid an admission fee, after which they entered a room that was packed with human beings and was not at all well ventilated.

The room had a low ceiling, from which Chinese lanterns were suspended, shedding a soft light over the scene, which was so strange that it actually seemed weird to the American visitors.

At either side of the theatre was a space railed off and raised somewhat above the level of the general floor. This was reserved for women, and was well filled. In the pit sat a closely packed throng of men, all with hats upon their heads.

There were a great number of Caucasian visitors, drawn to the place by curiosity.

The stage was on a level with the raised portion reserved for women, and it was filled with actors, many of whom were richly dressed in oriental robes.

Instead of sitting in front of the stage, like an American orchestra, the musicians were on the stage.

As for scenery, there was none to speak of, save a few movable screens. It was not thought necessary to attempt to please the eye further than in the matter of costumes.

As no female actors are ever permitted on the stage of a Chinese theatre, the female rôles were played by youths, who were carefully made up for their parts.

The Chinese guide found seats for Frank and Jack, but retired himself to the back of the room, where he stood and waited till they should see enough of the show and wish to go.

The audience never applauded, although there was a quick rippling response to what seemed to be an occasional witty passage or clever situation.

But the musicians – the musicians wearied and tortured Jack Diamond’s soul. They were there to accentuate the emotional parts of the play, and they seemed bent upon doing their duty and doing it fully. At times they poured forth a maddening volume of sounds, and then they seemed to get weary and rest, with the exception of two or three stringed instruments, which sawed, and squeaked, and squawled, and growled, and muttered till the Virginian’s blood was cold and his hair standing like porcupine quills.

“Frightful! frightful!” he gasped.

Frank chuckled with satisfaction. It was a new experience for Diamond, and Merriwell was enjoying it as one always enjoys introducing his friends to something new and novel.

“My dear fellow,” whispered Frank, “I fear your ear is not educated to appreciate the beauties of Chinese music.”

“Music! music! Why, a boiler factory in full blast makes better music than this!”

“You are prejudiced. It is a fact that their music is based on ah established scale and a scientific theory.”

“Oh, come! that’s too much! Why, see, those players have no leader, and every man is going it alone for himself. It is exactly the same as if every person in one of our orchestras should play a different tune than anybody else and all play at the same time – only I don’t believe these heathens are playing tunes at all. They are just hammering, and tooting, and sawing away, and letting it go at that.”

“It does seem so,” confessed Frank, “although at certain points they all come together with a grand burst, like sprinters making a dash.”

Jack’s hand dropped on Frank’s wrist.

“Look!” he excitedly whispered, pointing to a Chinaman who had risen amid the spectators at a short distance. “What is that fellow going to do? I saw him conceal a knife in his sleeve.”

“And he acts as if he meant to use it on some one,” said Frank, made suspicious by the fellow’s manner. “That’s exactly what he is up to!”

But the Chinaman did not succeed in his purpose, for a stout youth suddenly arose from a seat and gave the heathen a terrific crack on the jaw, knocking him down in a twinkling.

“Take thot, ye thafe av th’ worruld!” cried the one who had delivered the blow. “It’s Barney Mulloy thot wur watchin’ yez all th’ toime, ye haythen spalpane!”

“Barney Mulloy!”

Frank uttered the name in a joyous cry of recognition; but his voice was drowned by the sudden uproar in the theatre. Men sprang to their feet, and women screamed.

Frank caught Jack by the arm, shouting in his ear: “Come, we must stand by that fellow! He is an old friend of mine!”

“I am with you,” assured Diamond, who had good fighting blood, which was easily aroused.

They forced their way through the throng which surrounded the boy who had struck the Chinaman.

“Barney!” cried Frank.

“Mother av Mowses!” shouted the Irish lad in amazement. “Is it mesilf thot’s gone crazy, or am Oi dramin’?”

“Not a dream,” assured Merry, as he grasped Barney’s hand.

“Is it yesilf, Frankie?”

“It is!”

“Dunder und blitzens!” cried another voice at Frank’s side. “Uf id don’t peen Vrankie Merriwell, you vos a liar!”

Then Frank’s amazement and wonder was complete, for he was grasped and hugged by the arms of a fat boy who was laughing all over his fat, jolly face, and that boy was Hans Dunnerwust, who, with Mulloy, had known him at Fardale Academy when all were students there.

“Hans! Why, where – how – ”

But Frank was given no time for questions, as an angry crowd was pressing about them, and they were in danger.

Merriwell lifted his voice, crying:

“Every American in the place should stand by us! My friend struck the Chinaman because he saw him draw a knife, and the blow was delivered in self-defense.”

Several voices answered, and bursting through the crowd came three men in yachting suits, who assured the boys that they would stand by them.

The yachtmen seemed to be on a lark, and they took great delight in knocking Chinamen right and left, which they did in a highly entertaining manner.

“For the door!” cried Frank, commandingly. “We must get out of here!”

For the door they rushed, sweeping everything before them. Crack! crack! crack! sounded the blows of the yachtsmen’s fists, and they gave a hoarse cheer that seemed to have in it the boom of the surf on a rocky coast.

“Hurro!” shouted Barney Mulloy, in a wild fever of excitement. “It’s mesilf thot’s not been in a bit av a scrap loike this fer a wake! It’s fun, it is! Git out av th’ way, ye pig-tailed rat-’aters! Ye nivver wur made ter live in a whoite man’s country at all, at all!”

“Say, you nefer saw such a fight as this, did I?” cried the Dutch boy, flourishing his arms in a furious manner and striking friends almost as often as foes. “Uf this don’d peat der pand, you don’d toldt me so!”

With a few exceptions, the Chinamen did not seem at all anxious to get in the way of the Americans. It was not the first occasion when an affair of a similar nature had occurred in a Chinese theatre.

Sometimes some of the bloods of the town would come down into Chinatown full of wine and “good intentions,” and it was their custom to end the racket whenever possible by “cleaning out” a Chinese theatre.

Many of the spectators on this occasion believed it was a pre-arranged plan to clean out the theatre, and so they made haste to get out themselves as soon as possible.

The boys and their sailor friends were among those who early rushed out through the door, and they clambered up the step-ladder with no small haste.

It was not difficult to find their way out, for it was only necessary to follow the crowd. Now and then a few of the Chinamen disappeared by means of side doors, but the most of them kept straight on to the open air.

The main streets of the quarter were lighted by paper lanterns, which gave out a dim, mellow light, beneath which the oriental throng looked strange and fantastic.

To Frank it seemed as if they were in Pekin instead of the American city of San Francisco.

Barney Mulloy laughed heartily.

“Did yez ivver see th’ bate av thot?” he cried. “It’s th’ divvil’s own ruction it wur, but nivver a Chink came back fer a sicond dose afther gettin’ a chrack av me fist.”

“Dot’s vot’s der madder mit Hannah!” put in Hans. “Ven I hit somepody my fist mit they nefer lif to dell uf him. Yah!”

“They nivver knew ye shtruck thim, ye Dutch chase,” said Barney, contemptuously.

“Dot vos righd,” agreed Dunnerwust. “Ven I hit nopody it alvays means sutten death.”

“G’won!” snorted the Irish boy. Then Barney caught hold of Frank once more, and gave him a genuine bear hug.

“Begorra! Oi thought Oi’d nivver see yez again, Frankie!” he cried. “Oi hearrud ye wur in Yale Collige, an’ it’s yersilf Oi thought moight get such a great gintlemon ye’d care nivver a bit to see yer ould fri’nds any more at all, at all.”

“You should know me better than that, Barney,” said Frank, protestingly. “No matter what happens to me, you may be sure I’ll always be true to my old friends.”

“Dot vos righdt!” grinned Hans. “Vrankie Merriwell nefer goes pack on his friendts, ur don’d you pelief me. He vas all righdt vrom der top uf his headt ubvard.”

Other visitors kept pouring from the small door that had admitted them to the passage leading to the theatre, and one of the sailors, a handsome-looking man with a full beard, said:

“I think, we’ll get away from here, as the police seem to have a grudge against any one in a sailor’s suit, and this racket may bring some of them down here.”

Immediately Frank said:

“We owe you thanks, sir, for the aid you gave us in getting out of a bad scrape. You responded to my appeal for help immediately, and – ”

The man interrupted with a laugh.

“We were only too glad of a chance to do it, as we were looking for a good opportunity to smash a few Chinks in the mug. Eh, boys?”

“That’s right,” nodded his companions.

Merriwell looked at the men curiously, and he saw they were anything but ordinary sailors. All were fine-appearing men, and they spoke like persons of education.

“We will go along with you, if you don’t mind,” he said. “I think we have seen quite enough of Chinatown to suffice for to-night. What do you say, fellows?”

“I am sure I have,” said Diamond.

“And Oi,” nodded Barney.

“You vos anodder,” grinned Hans, who meant to say he was quite willing to leave Chinatown for the night.

So the little party moved away, and as they went along the leader of the yachtsmen said:

“My name is Chandler and I am stopping at the Baldwin. Have been cruising in my yacht with several friends, but just now I am trying to sell her, as some business has arisen which defeats my plans for a summer’s outing.”

Frank introduced himself, and in a short time the boys were chatting freely with the yachtsmen, who proved to be rather jolly gentlemen.

Passing out of Chinatown they were soon on Market Street, and a walk of a few blocks brought them to the hotel where Merriwell and the friends who had accompanied him on the bicycle tour across the continent were stopping.

Chandler wished to go in and “blow off,” but Frank insisted that none of the party drank.

“If that is the case, you are a queer set of college lads,” said Chandler, with a laugh. “I never saw a college boy who would not swim in beer every chance he found.”

“There are exceptions, you see.”

“I see, and I consider it most remarkable. Will you smoke?”

But Frank declined to drink or smoke, shook hands with his accidentally found friends, and they parted.

“Now,” he said, addressing Barney and Hans, “you must come in and see our rooms.”

They entered the hotel and ascended in the elevator to the floor on which the boys had their rooms.

A few minutes later Barney and Hans were thoroughly at home.