LUCKY LITTLE NELL.

“Hello, Jack!”

Frank saluted the keeper of the store, who proved to be a bright-faced, lame boy.

“Jack,” said Merry, “did you ever hear me speak of Ephraim Gallup?”

“Of course I have!” exclaimed the boy.

“And Hans Dunnerwurst?”

“Yes.”

“Well, here they are.”

“What?”

Jack Norton stared at Frank’s two companions.

“These are the friends of whom I have told you; and this, fellows, is Jack Norton, a hustling young business man of this city. Some day he’ll be one of the greatest retail merchants in the place.”

Jack blushed.

“I’m gol darned glad to see ye!” declared the Vermonter, striding up and grasping the lame lad’s hand. “Anybody Frank Merriwell trains with is all right, an’ I’m ready to hitch hosses with ’um.”

He wrung the young shopkeeper’s hand heartily.

“Yaw,” nodded Hans, waddling up. “You vos plamed clad to seen us, Shack. Shust catch me holdt your handt uf. How you vos alretty yet?”

“Frank has told me about you,” said Jack, “but I never expected to see you.”

“Waal, we’re travelin’ araound with the greatest show on earth.”

“Barnum’s?”

“Not by a long shot! Barnum’s ain’t in it. Haley’s ‘All-Star Combination an’ Mammoth Uncle Tom’s Cabin Company’ knocks ’em all aout.”

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