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Frank Merriwell's Son; or, A Chip Off the Old Block, a fiction by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 7. A Black Samson |
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_ CHAPTER VII. A BLACK SAMSON The sound of boyish voices at a distance finally aroused them. "It must be the baseball squad over on the field," said Bart. "Don't you wish to go over, Carson?" "Eh? Did you speak to me?" asked Berlin, glancing up from the pellucid water. "Hear those chaps over on the field?" "Yes." "We haven't looked that field over, you know. It's very interesting. You haven't begun to inspect things yet, my boy. You want to see how Merry has fitted up for all sorts of sports here. You ought to see the bathhouse and the little clubhouse, the stand, the track, the diamond, and the field in general." "I suppose so." Carson displayed very little desire to move. "Well, come on," urged Hodge. Without protest Berlin stepped from the boat to the float and followed Bart. In a short time they were on the athletic field. "What do you think of it?" asked Hodge, with a sweep of his hand. "Just take a good look." "It's a splendid field, I should say; but I don't see where the people are coming from to fill that stand over yonder." Bart laughed. "That does look like a problem, doesn't it. The stand is almost large enough for a city race track. All the same, it has been crowded more than once this season." "It doesn't seem possible." "Certainly it doesn't." "Why, it looks as if the stand could accommodate the whole of Bloomfield and have room to spare." "Merry doesn't draw on Bloomfield alone. There are lots of towns around here, and they're already hot on athletics. Wellsburg isn't so far away, and more than once Wellsburg has sent trainloads of people down here. Pittston is larger than Bloomfield, and Pittston has the fever. I understand the citizens of this little town thought Merry crazy when he built that stand. They've changed their minds since." "No one besides Frank Merriwell could build a stand like that and bring out people to fill it in a little country village. His old-time magnetism is as strong as ever. He draws people to him. Whatever he does, he arouses them, and they come out like magic." "That's right. This was a sleepy village if I ever saw one. In fact, this was the sleepiest burg I ever did see. I was here, you know, before Farnham Hall was built. I was here before the old Merriwell house was remodeled and turned into Merry Home. This field was an uneven, rocky strip of land, and the lake down yonder was half drained, the dam having fallen into disuse. The metamorphosis seems almost as surprising as the magic changes worked by Aladdin's lamp. Frank is the modern Aladdin. He has the lamp hidden somewhere--I'm sure of it." At the bathhouse they found the big colored man, Jumbo, who bowed most respectfully to Hodge. "Hello, Jumbo," said Bart. "How are your muscles to-day?" "Well, sah," grinned the darky, "dey am not painin' me so much as dey uster was. No, sah! Marsa Frank he sorter finds plenty ob work fo' to reduce de pain in mah muscles." "Berlin," said Bart, "Jumbo is so strong that his muscles actually ache unless he can have some strenuous occupation by which to employ himself." The big negro grinned and winked at Carson. "That was what Ah tol' Marsa Frank when Ah come here," he said. "Ah wanted a job as perfesser in de 'cademy mos' monstrous baad. Dat gemman friend ob mine, Toots, he done tol' me dar was an openin' for a physicum destructor at de 'cademy. So, seem' Ah had all dat strength to spare, Ah jes' 'plied fo' de position. It happened Ah was about twenty minutes too late. De place was filled, but Marse Frank he gibbed me anudder job. In de first place, he made me 'sistant physicum janitor at the 'cademy. All Ah had to do was to keep things cleaned up around de place and fro out on de back ob dere necks dem fool people what come round to bodder Marsa Frank. Ah was so skeered for fear Ah wouldn't qualify fo' de position ob 'sistant physicum janitor dat Ah jes' scratched gravel night an' day, and it wa'n't long before the reduction of the pain in mah muscles begun to took place. I was plumb busted when Marsa Frank gib me dat position. Ah didn't hab a cent about me. Eber hear ob a coon what didn't hab a cent about him? Yah! yah! yah! Well, sah, dat was my condition. Now, sah, Ah'ze rich. Ah'ze gut eleben dol's in de bank, an' Ah'ze addin' to it continerly, sah--Ah'ze addin' to it continerly. If things keep up an' nuffin' goes wrong, Ah'll soon hab mo' money dan dat bloated bond holder, old Stranded Royle, an' dey say he's one ob de richest Creases dere am outside ob de Raithchils. But Ah ain't nowhere nigh as rich as at gemman friend ob mine, Toots. Bah golly! Ah bet dat brack nigger has gut pretty nigh a hundred dollars salted away. He suttingly belongs to de colored narrerstocracy. If Ah eber 'cumulates as much as dat, Ah'll buy a brownstone house in Pillumdelphy an' settle down dar to lib on mah income. Ah'd suttinly like to keep mah strength down the rest ob mah life a crippin' coupins off'n gover'ment bands. Neber see none ob dem gover'ment bands, but, bah jinks! dey mus' be de real stuff. Yah! yah! yah!" At last, to the satisfaction of Hodge, Carson was genuinely amused, and he joined heartily in the infectious laughter of the big colored man. _ |
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