THE ENEMY’S POWER.

Neka found the wound on his head an ugly one, and consequently the remainder of the journey to Lock Haven took much longer than either had anticipated. Both kept a keen lookout for the party who had robbed them, but met no one to whom the slightest suspicion could be attached.

Arriving at their destination, Neka made his way to a drug store and here had his wound fixed up. This cost him a dollar, leaving him only the small sum of twenty-two cents.

In the meanwhile, Longfellow Wadsworth went off to see what could be done toward giving an entertainment for the benefit of some local organization.

In this quest he was unsuccessful. No one cared to go into the matter, at least not at once, and the elocutionist came back in a couple of hours thoroughly disheartened.

“If we show at all, we must do it on our own account,” he said.

“Will that pay?” asked Neka.

“It must pay. It is our only chance. Come, we will hunt up the owner of Bard’s Hall, as the sole hall in the place is called.”

They soon learned that Mr. Bard kept a large grocery store, the hall occupying the second floor of the building in which the place of business was located.

He was a tall, angular man, with a thin, shrewd face.

“Want to hire the hall, eh?” he said. “What for?”

“To give an entertainment consisting of readings and recitations and wonderful tricks with fire,” replied the elocutionist, drawing himself up to his full height.

“Fire tricks? Don’t want ’em. You might burn down the building.”

“The tricks are perfectly safe,” said Neka. “I have performed them for years, and never started a fire yet.”

Mr. Bard seemed only half-convinced. Yet he was a close man, and he hated to see the chance of making some money out of his hall slip by.

He asked a number of questions about the show, and finally said they might have the hall that night providing they agreed to leave everything as it was and paid the rent, twenty dollars, in advance.

This last proposition was a dismaying one, as to pay in advance was totally out of the question.

“We have--ah--been unfortunate in receiving money due us,” said Longfellow Wadsworth. “Suppose you let us take the hall, and we will settle as soon as we open our entertainment?”

“No, I must have the money in advance,” replied Mr. Bard, decidedly. “Last winter I let a lot of show actors have the place, and they went away without paying a cent.”

“We are--ahem--not so dishonest,” protested the elocutionist.

“Maybe not; but them is my terms. You can take the hall or leave it, just as you please.”

“I wonder is there another hall in town?” said Neka.

“No, there ain’t,” replied the grocer, in ill-concealed tones of satisfaction.

“You will be perfectly safe in taking the money for tickets sold,” persisted Longfellow Wadsworth; but Mr. Bard would not listen, and turned away to wait on several customers.

Much chagrined at their failure to secure the hall, Neka and the elocutionist walked out of the store.

“I must confess I am what is poetically called stumped,” admitted Longfellow Wadsworth, when they were out of hearing. “I don’t know what is best to do.”

“It is getting late,” replied Neka. “Even if we get the hall it is too late to properly advertise an entertainment.”

“We might sell some tickets and get the money for immediate use, and then postpone our show until to-morrow,” said the elocutionist, easily. “I had that in view from the start. But now our cake is dough, in the language of a Bowery Shakespeare.”

The pair walked aimlessly up the one street of the town. It is not pleasant to have a set-back with so little money in one’s pocket.

Under his arm, tightly rolled up, Longfellow Wadsworth carried the richly embroidered skate bag he had picked up in the woods. He now shook it out and examined it.

“This is by no means a common bag,” he said, as he turned it over. “It is embroidered in silk, and, by Jove, Neka! here are a lot of pearls as sure as you live!”

The boy took the bag. The elocutionist was right; on one side was a wreath in red silk, and in the center a dozen pearls.

“A rich find, my son!”

“What in the world was it doing in the woods?” asked Neka.

“That I can’t propose to answer. But the pearls are valuable, beyond a doubt. I wonder----”

Longfellow Wadsworth stopped short.

“We must look for the owner.”

“What, the owner of a skate bag found in the woods? My son, don’t be crazy. The bag must have been lost last winter, or perhaps winter before last.”

“It looks as if it had just been dropped,” said Neka.

“No, no, it has been out in rain, for here is a spot. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I’ll take these pearls and leave them with that owner as security for the rent. Probably he will take them, or, if not, no doubt the jeweler who keeps the store opposite will let us have a loan on them.”

“Well, there will be no harm in getting a loan on the pearls,” said Neka. “I don’t think I would bother that Mr. Bard to take them for security.”

“I agree with you. He is a most disagreeable personage, truly,” responded Longfellow Wadsworth.

He took out his penknife, and with great care removed the pearls from the skate bag, after which he rolled up the bag and thrust it into his pocket.

“Perhaps I had better make the visit to the jeweler’s alone,” suggested the elocutionist.

“Just as you think best,” replied Neka.

“I will meet you at the grocery corner.”

With this understanding, Longfellow Wadsworth hurried off. It took him but a couple of minutes to reach the jeweler’s establishment.

It was a modest place kept by an old man named Samuel Cordley. When the elocutionist entered he found Cordley at the work-bench fixing a tall clock. Neka’s partner was not long in coming to the point.

“We have been unfortunate in receiving money due us,” he said, “and I wish to raise money on some pearls I have in my possession.”

And he handed over the pearls for inspection.

The old jeweler’s eyes lighted up as he surveyed the pearls.

“May I ask where they came from?” he asked, slowly.

“They--ahem--once belonged to my wife,” replied Longfellow Wadsworth, without a blush. “I kept them in--ah--remembrance of her, dear soul!” and he wiped away an imaginary tear.

“What do you wish me to loan you on them?”

“Only thirty dollars. You see, my dear sir, we are to give an entertainment across the way, and I shall redeem them to-morrow, and pay you for your favor.”

The jeweler asked a few more questions, and then handed over the desired amount and placed the pearls away in his safe.

“Thanks,” said Longfellow Wadsworth, warmly. “Here are a couple of passes to our entertainment. Trust we see you there,” and he scrawled something on a sheet of paper lying on the counter.

“Thank you; I’ll come if I can,” replied Samuel Cordley, and put the slip in his show-case.

“Victory!” cried Longfellow Wadsworth, as he rejoined Neka. “Thirty dollars--just enough to pay for the hall, advertising and extras. Come, let us hustle, for now every moment counts.”

They at once entered the grocery, and the elocutionist began to dicker for the hall, finally beating Mr. Bard down to eighteen dollars. Then he and Neka hunted up a printer and somebody to furnish them with music. A wagon was also procured, with a banner on each side announcing the entertainment, and this was driven all around the district, while the pianist who had been engaged blew long and loudly on a bugle while seated in the rear.

It must be confessed that Neka was rather nervous over the result of this, their first real venture. The night before they had been backed up by a club; now they were going it entirely alone.

They had placed the regular admission at twenty-five cents, with a few seats higher and a few seats lower, so in order to make expenses they must have at least one hundred and twenty people present. Longfellow Wadsworth was to sell tickets, and Neka was to take them, until it was time to go on, and after that a man who had helped them was to take in the money and pass folks in alone.

At half-past seven o’clock the people who had come to see the show began to arrive. A colored boy was the first to enter, and Neka laughingly called him their mascot. Then followed three gawky farm lads, and a crowd of ladies and gentlemen.

By ten minutes to eight Neka had passed in the one hundred and twenty people, and he felt much elated. The crowd was still coming, and every admission now meant just so much clean profit.

By eight o’clock a few over two hundred people had entered and only a few stragglers remained. Neka left the door in charge of the hired man, and went back of the stage, where he was soon joined by the elocutionist.

“We are twenty-three dollars ahead of the game,” said Longfellow Wadsworth, joyfully. “We are winners, my son, beyond a doubt.” And he jingled the cash in the skate bag.

The pianist was already pounding out a selection on the tiny piano with which the hall was furnished, and the elocutionist lost no time in preparing to make his appearance.

Neka busied himself with his chemicals, and donned his robe of red and yellow. Soon Longfellow Wadsworth left him behind the scenes alone.

A burst of applause told Neka that the elocutionist had finished, and it was now time for him to make his appearance. He lighted a taper for use in the first of his fire tricks.

Suddenly a side door opened, and three men came in.

“There is the boy!” cried one, pointing to Neka. “He ran away from me, and I am his lawful guardian!”

“And that is the man who said he owned the pearls which belong to Miss Fordham!” cried a second man, and he pointed through the wing to Longfellow Wadsworth.

The first speaker was Daniel Bambo, the second Cordley, the jeweler. The third man, the one they addressed, was the Lock Haven constable.

No wonder Neka was greatly startled.