Beth Norvell | Page 3

rings of his cigar. It
represented a most thrilling stage picture, while underneath, and in type
scarcely a shade less pronounced than that devoted to the eminent
comedian T. Macready Lane, appeared the announcement of the great
emotional actress, Miss Beth Norvell, together with several quite
flattering Western press notices. The young man read these slowly,
wondering why they should particularly interest him, and on a sudden
his rather grave face brightened into a smile, a whimsical thought
flashing into his mind.
"By Jove, why not?" he muttered, as if arguing the matter out with
himself. "The report has gone East, and there is nothing more to be

accomplished in Flat Rock for at least a month. This snow will have to
melt away before they can hope to put any miners to work, and in the
meanwhile I might just as well be laying up experiences on the road as
wasting my substance in riotous living at Denver. It ought to prove a
great lark, and I 've always had ambition to have a try at something of
the kind. Well, here 's my chance; and besides, I can't help believing
that that girl might prove interesting; her face is, anyhow."
He walked back to where Tom still hung idly over the cigar case.
"Who is running this show outfit?"
"That big fellow writing at the table. His name 's Albrecht,"
suspiciously. "But see here, I tell you there ain't any use of your hittin'
him for 'comps'; he 's tighter than a drum."
"'Comps'? Oh, ye of little faith!" exclaimed Winston genially. "It is n't
'comps' I 'm after, Tommy, it's a job."
Albrecht looked up from his writing, scowling somewhat under his
heavily thatched brows, and revealing a coarse face, with little glinting
eyes filled with low cunning. At that first glance Winston instinctively
disliked the fellow; yet he put his case in a few brief sentences of
explanation, and, as the other listened, the managerial frown slightly
relaxed.
"Actor?" he questioned laconically, when the younger man paused, his
glance wandering appreciatively over the sturdy, erect figure.
"Well, hardly that; at least, merely in an amateur way," and the
applicant laughed lightly. "You see, I imagined you might possibly
make use of me in some minor capacity until I learn more about the
business. I don't care very much regarding pay, but I desire to get a
taste of the life."
"Oxactly, mein frient." And the worthy Albrecht became almost briskly
cordial in manner. Perhaps here was an "angel" waiting to be plucked
in the holy name of art; at least, he appeared well dressed, looked

intellectually promising, and expressed himself as totally indifferent
regarding salary. Such visitors were indeed few and far between, and
the astute manager sufficiently understood his business to permit his
heavy features to relax into a hearty, welcoming smile. "Oxactly, young
man. Sit down, und I vill see yoost vat vos pest for us both. You vould
be an actor; you haf the ambition. Ah! I see it in your eyes, and it gif
me great bleasure. But, young man, it vos unfortunate dot I haf not
mooch just now to gif you, yet the vay vill open if you only stays mit
me. Sure; yaw, I, Samuel Albrecht, vill make of you a great actor. I can
see dot in your face, und for dot reason I vill now gif you the chance.
You begin at the pottom, but not for long; all I vants now vos a utility
man--some one to take small barts, understudy, und be ready to help
out mit der scenery und der trunks. I could not bay moch monies for
dot," and he spread his beringed hands deprecatingly, "but it vos only
der first step on der ladder of fame. Every day I teach you de great art
of de actor. You come with me dot way, mein frient?"
"Certainly; that will be perfectly satisfactory."
"Ah," delightedly, "you vos a goot poy, villin' to learn, I see. Next
season, who knows, you might be leading man if you vork hardt. I bay
you now after one veek's trial, when I know petter vot you are vort,
hey?"
Winston carelessly nodded his acceptance of these rather indefinite
terms, his hands thrust into his pockets, his gray eyes smiling their
appreciation of the situation. Albrecht was deliberately looking him
over, as he might a horse he had just purchased.
"You are kinder slim to look at," he confessed at last, thoughtfully.
"Are you bretty strong?"
The younger man silently held forth his right arm to the inspection of
the other, who fingered the iron rigidity of muscle under the cloth with
evident respect.
"God of Yacob!" the manager muttered in unconcealed surprise, "it is
vonderful, and you such a slender