He rewrote much of the play.  He strengthened the climax of the third act, and introduced a mechanical effect that was very ingenious.  And when the piece next went on the road it met with wonderful success everywhere.

Thus Frank snatched success from defeat.

It is a strange thing that when a person fights against fate and conquers, when fortune begins to smile, when the tide fairly turns his way, then everything seems to come to him.  The things which seemed so far away and so impossible of attainment suddenly appear within easy reach or come tumbling into his lap of their own accord.

It was much this way with Frank.  He had dreamed of going back to college some time, but that time had seemed far, far away.  Success brought it nearer.

But then it came tumbling into his lap.  No one had been found to claim the fortune he discovered in the Utah Desert.  Investigation had shown that there were no living relatives of the man who had guarded the treasure till his death.  That treasure had been turned over to Frank.

Frank had brought his play to New Haven, and his old college friends had given him a rousing welcome.  And now he had made plans to return to college in the fall, while his play was to be carried on the road by a well-known and experienced theatrical manager.

The friends who had been with Frank when he discovered the treasure, with the exception of Toots, the colored boy, had refused to accept shares of the fortune.  Then Merry had insisted on taking them abroad with him, and here they were on the steamer “Eagle,” bound for Liverpool.

Toots, dressed like a “swell,” was on the pier.  He shouted with the others, waving his silk hat.

The crowd was cheering now: 

“Beka Co ax Co ax Co ax! 
Breka Co ax Co ax Co ax! 
O-----up!  O-----up! 
Parabolou! 
Yale!  Yale!  Yale! 
’Rah! ’rah! ’rah! 
Yale!”

CHAPTER II.

Surprising the Frenchman.

“Bah!  Ze American boy, he make me—­what you call eet?—­vera tired!”

Frank turned quickly and saw the speaker standing near the rail not far away.  He was a man between thirty-five and forty years of age, dressed in a traveling suit, and having a pointed black beard.  He was smoking.

An instant feeling of aversion swept over Merry.  He saw the person was a supercilious Frenchman, critical, sneering, insolent, a man intolerant with everything not of France and the French.

This man was speaking to another person, who seemed to be a servant or valet, and who was very polite and fawning in all his retorts.

“Ah! look at ze collectshung on ze pier,” continued the sneering speaker.  “Someone say zey belong to ze great American college.  Zey act like zey belong to ze—­ze—­what you call eet?—­ze menageray.  Zey yell, shout, jump—­act like ze lunatic.”