“I am loading it with another kind of cartridge,” said Frank, as he refilled the cylinder. “Not with regular cartridges?” “Yes.” “Why—why, I don’t understand why you are doing that.” “I suppose not,” admitted Frank, as he finished loading and snapped the weapon back into shape. “I didn’t think you would understand.” “A weapon that is loaded with anything but blank cartridges is not a very safe thing to squabble over.” “That is true, and, for that reason, we must be very careful in our squabble over it to-night, Mr. Garland.” “Really, I—I don’t like this. What if something happened!” “Something is liable to happen. That is why I have loaded this weapon. If I should call for it suddenly, you are to pass it to me; but I do not think I shall need it till after the struggle takes place. It will be in my possession from that time on.” “Won’t you explain, Mr. Merriwell?” “No. It is sufficient that I have a reason for wishing this revolver loaded with something besides blanks. Here, take it, Garland, and be careful with it. When you pull it on me, point it in the air and begin to pull down with it. I will spring forward and grasp it before it covers me. Keep your finger off the trigger. Do not hang to it quite as tight as usual in the struggle.” “All right,” said Garland, in a puzzled way; “but I’d give something to know what is going on.” Ephraim Gallup was as much puzzled as Garland, but he asked no questions, for he knew there were times when it was utterly useless to question Merry. The story of Merriwell’s strange act passed from mouth to mouth, and the actors and actresses were puzzled and bewildered over it. Agnes Kirk even declared that she believed success had turned Frank’s brain. “He was always queer,” she asserted. “A fellow who will stoop to feed and pet a tramp cat and then carry it around as a mascot is not right. But I call on everybody to notice that we have become prosperous since he let that cat go.” “Oh, I hardly think that,” said Stella Stanley. “He did not let the cat go till after this piece had made a hit. Then he said he could not carry the creature around, and he would prove she had nothing to do with the success or failure of the show by letting her go. He seemed to knock the wind out of your superstitious prophecies, Agnes.” “Not at all,” declared the other actress, stiffly. “I said the cat would hoodoo us in the first place, and it did, no matter what happened afterward.” “Oh, it’s no use to talk with you.” “Not a bit.” Stella Stanley turned away, laughing. She saw Hodge, standing at a distance, regarding her steadfastly. Since the affair in Atchison, when Bart deserted the company, the dark-faced youth had scarcely spoken to Stella. After being brought back by Frank, he seemed to take the utmost pains to avoid her. Now, as she started toward him, he wheeled about and disappeared behind the back drop.