So great was the enthusiasm manifested by his presence that it was some moments before he could speak, and during that time the few lines he knew of the part of Richard the Third had entirely escaped his memory. It was a trying moment both to him and his brother actors, who were watching him, as he stood there with drawn sword, first on one foot and then on the other, waving his hand and then the weapon, as if he were about to speak, and yet making no sound.

"Go on, Mopsey--say something," whispered Ben in a hoa.r.s.e voice; and the audience hearing him, suggested kindly,

"Yes, give us somethin', old man."

Thus urged, Mopsey made one mighty effort, and shouted in his loudest tones, as he waved the sword still more frantically than ever,

"I've lost my hoss! I've lost my hoss, an' I want some one to tie up my head--but--but--but I'm a match for any feller 'round here, and--and--"

It was not only evident to the audience, but to Mopsey himself, that it was of no use for him to try to remember the words he should have spoken, and he waved his sword frantically for Johnny to come on, hoping to save his good name by the b.l.o.o.d.y combat, which could be prolonged until their patrons were in good-humor. But just at this moment it was impossible for Johnny to be of any service. He had tried to alter the position of some of the pins in his trousers, so that they would not p.r.i.c.k him so badly, and the consequence was that the entire work was undone, while one leg fell down over his foot in a manner that prevented him from stepping, unless at the risk of tumbling flat on his face. Ben did his best to repair the damage, while Mopsey stood waving his sword, whispering very audibly for Johnny not to mind the pins but to come on. Meantime the audience, in the loudest tones, coaxed Johnny to come out and take Mopsey away.

But Ben succeeded finally in getting the ill-costumed Oth.e.l.lo arranged so that it was possible for him to walk, and he rushed on to the stage, the gun in one hand and the sword in the other, just as Mopsey was meditating a retreat from the freely-expressed criticism of his audience.

The relief of the author-actor when he saw Oth.e.l.lo was greater than could be expressed by words, and he resolved to regain the good opinion of the audience by the ferocity with which he would wage the combat. It is probable that some such thought was expressed in his face when he rushed towards Johnny, for, startled by the furious bearing of his partner, Oth.e.l.lo became frightened, and holding both weapons in front of him, he looked ready for instant flight. It seemed as if this very timidity restored to the prototype of the cruel Richard all his a.s.surance, for now, suddenly remembering the words he should have spoken at Johnny's first appearance, he waved his sword still more furiously, and shouted,

"It looks as if there was more than a dozen of this same feller, for I've killed four or five already, an' here's a lot more of him."

[Ill.u.s.tration: HOLDING BOTH WEAPONS IN FRONT OF HIM, HE LOOKED READY FOR INSTANT FLIGHT.]

Johnny was a trifle alarmed at the words, and looked almost timidly behind him to see if he was really there in several forms, or if it was only a portion of the play, when Mopsey struck his gun so severe a blow with the edge of his sword that it fell from his not over-strong grasp, striking directly on the toes of the blood-thirsty Richard.

There was a howl of pain as Mopsey dropped his sword with a clang, and appeared trying to gather his feet into his arms, where he could nurse them, while this shock of weapons on the frail stage caused such a motion of the foot-lights that two of them fell to the floor, smashing the bottles. The audience in the reserved seats, anxious to prevent any disturbance of the performance, scrambled for the candles, and the two who succeeded in getting them before they were extinguished kindly held them in their hands during the remainder of the scene.

"Don't you know enough to fight when the time comes?" cried Mopsey, who, having given up the useless task of nursing his bruised feet, picked up his sword again and advanced once more upon the timid Oth.e.l.lo, who was trying to decide whether he should remain there or run away.

These words had the effect of spurring Johnny on to a more perfect acting of his part, more especially since some of his friends in the audience cried out, in a friendly way, "Go for him, Shiner, an' give him fits."

Then Johnny did "go for" his adversary almost too strongly, for he refused to die as Mopsey had told him he must, but continued to strike out wildly with his sword, hitting Mopsey's weapon a portion of the time, and when he failed in that, coming so near Richard's face that it seemed certain he would slice off one of his ears or his nose.

It was a furious combat, truly, and the audience favored it with the most generous applause, some inciting Mopsey and others Johnny to renewed exertions, until Mrs. Green started up in alarm, fearing that a riot would ensue.

"Why don't you die?" whispered Mopsey, hoa.r.s.ely, as he panted from exertion, and believed that in justice to the other performers the battle should end.

But Johnny refused positively to die, and it is probable that he would have continued the fight as long as he had strength or breath left, had he not been the victim of his own architectural shortcomings. He, the one who had built the stage, actually forgot the pitfalls in the form of s.p.a.ces left uncovered because of lack of lumber; and in the excitement and fury of the battle, minding only the shouts of encouragement from the audience, he fell into one of these yawning pits, and Richard had a chance to become himself once more. With head down and heels up, the unfortunate Oth.e.l.lo struggled in the prisoning s.p.a.ce until every one of the bottle foot-lights had been displaced, and an even dozen of the audience seated themselves on the floor, holding the candles in their hands obligingly. Ben had taken d.i.c.key from his leaning-place against the wall, and brought him to the side from which he was to make his entrance when Richard and Oth.e.l.lo had first begun to fight, so that when Johnny fell he rushed on in a sidelong way, in order to present his sword-arm to the conqueror.

King Richard was so entirely exhausted from his long struggle that he had apparently forgotten the course he had marked out for the rest of his company, and was leaning on his sword, gazing at the supposed-to-be-dead Oth.e.l.lo, wondering whether he ought to help him to rise or not, when Ben launched d.i.c.key full at him. He had no time to parry the shock, nor Macbeth to check the force with which Ben had sent him, and the consequence was that Richard and Macbeth fell almost directly on top of the struggling Oth.e.l.lo with a thud that threatened to rend asunder each particular board of the frail stage.

Mrs. Green uttered a cry of horror as she realized that the cover of her new wash-boiler must have been injured; but that noise, as well as the terrified squeak from Oth.e.l.lo, was drowned in the burst of applause that came from the spectators. Mopsey sprang to his feet as quickly as possible, bowing his acknowledgments to the audience as if he had planned the scene, while poor d.i.c.key lay p.r.o.ne upon the almost suffocated Johnny, unable to rise, or even to move so that Oth.e.l.lo might extricate himself.

As the audience continued to applaud, Mopsey felt that he was forced to remain before them, bowing, and almost expecting to be deluged with bouquets, and, of course, he was not aware that two members of his company needed his immediate a.s.sistance.

"Help d.i.c.key! Why don't you help d.i.c.key?" whispered Ben from the wings, thinking that it would not be seemly in the ghost of Hamlet's father to rush on to the stage before his time. But King Richard paid no attention to this call, if indeed he heard it, and, after waiting some moments, Ben, with his ghostly covering still flung over his arm, was obliged to go to the a.s.sistance of the two warriors, thereby causing a fresh burst of applause. He rolled d.i.c.key over and over until Paul could drag him off by the shoulders, and then pulling Johnny out by the feet, he aided him in repairing the damages done to his costume by his descent through the stage.

It was now time that the dead Oth.e.l.lo should do his song and dance, and in a very audible whisper he informed Mopsey that he had better get off, and give him the chance. Some of the audience suggested the same thing, and very reluctantly Mopsey left the stage, while Johnny concluded the act in a highly successful manner by a dance that was considerably better executed than was his sword-play.

CHAPTER XI.

THE EVENING'S ENTERTAINMENT.

Surely if noise was any proof that the audience was satisfied with the performance given by Mopsey's company, then all must have been highly delighted, for such confusion was probably never heard in that house before as when the curtain fell on the first act of this new edition of Shakespeare's plays. The actors were in a perfect whirl of delight, and all save d.i.c.key showed it by dancing and shaking hands, until there was almost as much confusion behind the curtain as in front.

Mopsey was so delighted at the success that his gigantic brain conceived a startling idea for the entrance of the ghost, which was neither more nor less than for Ben to crouch under the stage, in the very hole where Johnny had come to grief, and at the proper time to rise up in a ghostly fashion, which must surely be very effective. Ben was disposed to object to this hiding under the flooring, more especially since he would be enveloped in the sheet, and would doubtless be uncomfortably warm; but all his objections were overruled by the author and company, and he gave a very unwilling a.s.sent to the proposition.

In order that the audience might not be kept waiting until their patience was exhausted, or their good-humor began to evaporate, the curtain was raised as soon as the ghost could be tucked away in his hiding-place, and Paul made his first appearance on any stage. Mopsey had explained to him the part which he was to a.s.sume, and in a well-thumbed copy of Shakespeare's works belonging to Mrs. Green he had found the lines which Hamlet is supposed to speak after he sees the ghost. These he had committed to memory, although he had little idea of the meaning of them; and when he came upon the stage he addressed the audience as if in them he saw the ghost of his murdered father.

Now Ben had seen the play of "Hamlet" several times, and he knew enough about it to know that the speech Paul was delivering should be addressed to him. In his anxiety to have the scene played properly, he marred the effect of his own entrance somewhat by popping his head out of the hole and whispering, hoa.r.s.ely,

"Turn 'round this way, Polly; turn 'round to me."

Paul heard the advice, and he turned his back to the audience. Ben, seeing that his suggestion had been carried out, ducked his head again, very much to Hamlet's perplexity.

Mopsey had stated particularly that as soon as he saw the ghost he must run away in alarm, and yet Ben would persist in keeping out of sight even though he had attracted his attention.

Paul repeated all of the speech he had committed to memory, and then waited for the ghostly visitant. Ben, who had not antic.i.p.ated that there was so much speaking in Hamlet's part, was rather confused, and did not know whether it was time for him to come out and strike terror to the heart of his supposed son or not.

He popped out his head two or three times, but Paul was not standing in such a position as he fancied would be best suited for the reception of a ghost, and he went back again out of sight, delighting the audience with his agility, and confusing Hamlet.

Paul knew that it was not the proper thing for him to stand there silent, and, fearing lest he might not have said enough, he began to repeat the same speech over again.

Ben realized that it was but a repet.i.tion that doomed him still to remain in hiding, and believing it to be a mistake on Paul's part, he whispered, loudly,

"You've said that before; say something else."

Paul was perfectly well aware that he had repeated those words before, and he was doing so for the very good reason that he did not know what else to say; but the ghost's command confused him, and he stood silent and motionless, resolved to remain quiet rather than make a mistake.

By this time Mopsey had discovered that there was something the matter with the two actors who were supposed to be delighting the audience, and he found that it was the ghost who was delaying the progress of the play.

"Come out of there, Ben," he whispered, loudly; and some of the audience hearing him, they called, in pleasant tones,

"Yes, come out, Ben, and show yourself."

Thus urged, the ghost could do no less than make his appearance, and he arose from his place of partial concealment as majestically as he could, considering the fact that the sheet had been caught upon a nail, and he was obliged to stoop two or three times to unfasten it.

But he did succeed in rising at last, and then, to make himself look as much like a spectre as possible, he held both arms straight out as he walked slowly down the stage.

It is very likely that he would have made a good impression if it had not been for that portion of his costume that did not properly belong to the character he was a.s.suming. The long ends of tape that he had insisted on allowing to hang down from his ankles persisted in getting under his feet, and he tripped himself up with a force that gave Hamlet a genuine fright. The sheet which covered Ben's head prevented him from rising as quickly as he would have liked, and while he was trying to disengage himself from it, Paul, realizing that he should run away, did so by leaping over the prostrate ghost, to the great delight of the patrons.

The shock of Ben's fall and Paul's leap so shook the frail structure which Johnny had built that the curtain came down with a thud, tearing away from its fastenings above, and the poor ghost was made doubly a prisoner by this additional covering.

"Don't tear it, Ben!" shouted Johnny, fearing lest his artistic labors in the way of the "Wild Indian" would be ruined, and then he and Mopsey sprang on the stage, rescuing the curtain from the frantic clutch of the ghost, and leaving that worthy to get to his feet as best he might.

Of course the audience enjoyed all this highly; and while they hooted and shrieked in the excess of their delight, Ben succeeded in escaping from the rather awkward mantle.

"I can dance, if I don't do the ghost very well!" he shouted, almost angrily, to the noisy audience; and then he began to prove the truth of his words with a force that threatened the immediate destruction of the entire theatrical surroundings.

And the audience seemed to realize that Ben could dance, for they insisted on his continuing that portion of his duties until he was bathed in perspiration, and so tired that he could hardly move.