KING OF FIRE IN EARNEST.

Some of the fair people wished Neka to give up the idea of giving a free exhibition on the street in front of the armory, but Longfellow Wadsworth objected.

“We have advertised it,” he said, “and we always fulfill our promises to the public.”

Then the fair people tried to stop the exhibition by going to the town authorities, but the elocutionist, warned by Bindley, had forestalled them.

“They have a license for the street exhibition,” said the town clerk. “And we can do nothing.”

There was a lot of grumbling after this, but nothing further could be done.

Toward evening Neka drove up in front of the armory in a large open wagon. He was in his robe of blue, and wore an immense turban on his head, making him look like a Turk.

In the wagon he had a number of small cannon balls, which were hollow, and also a charcoal heater.

Longfellow Wadsworth was with him, and immediately began a little lecture, which attracted a large crowd that was going to the fair.

In the meantime the cannon balls were heating in the charcoal stove.

When they were red-hot Neka took them up in his hands and performed several tricks with them. To show how hot the balls were, he threw several of them in the crowd. The would-be catchers were slightly burned, and this caused a roar of merriment.

This free exhibition took very well with the crowd, and a large number were heard to say that they would certainly attend the show.

“We would like to have you all, kind people,” called out Longfellow Wadsworth. “But don’t forget the charity fair. Remember, faith, hope, and charity. Here is the charity, and we shall have faith and hope to see you with us to-morrow night.”

This light speech drew a round of laughter, in the midst of which the wagon was driven off. Undoubtedly, the “actor folks” had left a good impression behind them.

To show their further good-will, Neka and Longfellow Wadsworth attended the fair that evening, and left several dollars behind them. Some of the stand-holders took this in good part, but others snubbed the actors all they could.

One young woman in particular was very obnoxious to Neka. She was the daughter of a local doctor, and as plain-looking as a person could be. Yet she thought herself a belle, and was dressed to the last degree for the occasion.

She was tending a stand where fancy articles of paper were on sale. A gorgeous fan which struck Neka’s fancy hung in front of the stand, and thinking he might use it on the stage just to set off his scene, he approached and asked her the price.

“It’s not for sale,” she snapped.

“Oh, I thought all these things were for sale,” replied the boy, mildly.

“That’s sold,” she went on, tartly. “And if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t want to sell it to you.”

An angry reply arose to Neka’s lips at this insult, but he repressed it, and giving her one look full in the face, passed on without a word.

“They’re a charitable lot,” he declared, when he and the elocutionist left. “My, but that woman’s face would cause a vinegar barrel to turn over with envy!”

The following morning and afternoon were used in advertising the coming performance as much as possible. Several banners were tacked on a wagon, and a drum and fife corps was placed inside and driven around the district. Several thousand handbills were also distributed.

The fair folks made a strong effort to keep people from attending the show, but, as is usual in such cases, the more they tried the more people wanted to go. By seven o’clock there was a crowd around the hall, while the armory was almost deserted.

“We’ve got ’em!” cried Bindley, enthusiastically. He was as much interested as though he was one of the owners of the company. “See ’em coming!”

“I know one person won’t be here,” replied Neka. “That young woman who gave me the set-back last night.”

“You are not going to forget her so easily, I see,” laughed the all-around artist.

By eight o’clock the hall was packed, Longfellow Wadsworth having sold a hundred tickets more than he had calculated on.

“The fair isn’t hurting us any,” said the elocutionist. “To-night we’ll have our banner receipts. I reckon that free exhibition last night did the business.”

It was now time to open up. Neka looked out to see why the local pianist, who had been engaged, had not struck up. No one was at the piano.

“Hullo! I wonder if he has been bought off by the fair people?” he observed to Bindley.

This was the exact truth, although they did not know it until some time later.

“We must do something,” went on Neka, as the people in the hall began to stamp impatiently.

“We can’t give the show without music,” said Bindley. “Half the acts would fall flat.”

“I know it. I’ll go out and see if I can’t hunt the pianist up.”

Neka had taken off his street coat, but now he put it on again, and went out of the stage door. The alley way leading to the stage was deserted, and in the crowd on the street, no pianist was to be found.

Much vexed, Neka stood looking around, not knowing what to do. There was no use of appealing to Longfellow Wadsworth, as that individual had his hands full at the ticket office.

As he stood there a sudden burst of music from the next street reached his ears. It was the sounds emanating from a large “piano” hand-organ. Without waiting, and struck by a sudden inspiration, Neka darted up the block and around the corner.

Two Italians were in charge of the big organ, one of whom was grinding a popular air in double-quick time.

“Come with me if you want to earn a couple of dollars in two hours,” he said to one of the Italians.

“Twoa dollar?” queried the sunburned son of Italy.

“Yes, in two hours.”

The Italian waited to hear no more. He spoke to his partner in his native language, and prepared to follow Neka. Their day was about over, and to get an evening job was like so much money found to them.

The boy led the way through the alley to the stage door, and the big “piano” organ was hoisted onto the back of the stage. It was rolled close to the first left entrance.

The Italians now understood, and grinned to each other. It was the first time they had played at an entertainment, and they were greatly tickled.

A list of the tunes was made, and the organ was started up. It sounded very well in the hall, and at the conclusion of the first piece there was quite some applause.

“Nothing like getting out of a hole,” said Neka. “But if I see that pianist I’ll give him a big chunk of my mind.”

“Probably the organ plays better than that pianist would,” said Bindley. “It don’t make any mistakes, even if it does go along like a windmill.”

Bindley opened the show, and then Longfellow Wadsworth came on, leaving the ticket office in charge of a hired man. In the meanwhile Neka was preparing to present a brand new fire trick.

The trick was an elaborate one, and much care had to be exercised in order to prevent accidents. Neka proposed to bathe his face in flames from a wash-bowl filled with fire. This is a Chinese sensation seldom attempted in this country.

A clapping of hands told that Longfellow Wadsworth had finished his turn, and then Neka went on.

He began with a number of simple tricks, such as bending a red-hot rod with his bare hands, juggling the hot daggers, and the like.

Then a stand was brought in containing a bowl with water, on the top of which rested the material which was to be used in taking the bath of fire.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” began Neka, speaking, as he usually did, with a peculiar accent supposed to be foreign, “I propose to give you something which is but seldom performed, even in China, where the act originated. It is called the Oriental Bath of Fire, and was invented by Chica Chura-Manra, chief of the royal worshipers of the sun. You see here a plain wash bowl, filled with water. On the top I place this material, which looks like cotton, but which, as you behold, can be crushed to nothing in your hand. This material is celestial fire soap, a secret compound, which can be used on the face only when burning. Now you see me bare my arms and neck for the Bath of Fire. Oh, but it will be a glorious bath, invigorating the system and strengthening the muscles! Now I light the soap, and----”

Neka got no farther. A piercing cry rang through the theater, coming from the armory in the rear. The cry was that of a woman.

For a moment all were spellbound; then as the cry was repeated men and women leaped to their feet.

“Fire! fire! The armory is on fire!”

Neka heard the cry, and stared back of the stage. A window was open, and he could see directly into the armory hall, where the charity fair was being held.

A sight met his gaze that caused his very heart to turn sick. One of the stands was in a blaze, and close to it stood a young woman, her thin white dress aflame from bottom to waist! The young woman was the very one who had snubbed him so unmercifully.

But Neka did not stop to think of this. Quick to act in an emergency, he sprang upon the window-sill.

“Where are you going?” yelled Bindley.

“To save her life!” replied Neka, and made a jump from the sill straight through the window opposite onto the armory floor.