L PUBLICATION > AMERICAN YC Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50per year. Entered as Secona-ciass Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by ST & SMITH, 79-8 ARY 19, 1907. Price. Five Cents “Take off that mask!” repeated Merry, sternly, The hands of the highwayman shook as he reluctantly complied. The face revealed, pale as death, and marked with shame, was that of Chester Arlington! pigs + } 3s © Ba, 622. FRANK MERRIWELL’S CAPTIVE OR, The Folly of Chester Arlington. iatesioltlhiir ame Sec ty AONE NO RDS CM a Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-5 Seventh Avenue, N.Y. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1907, 1% the Office of the Librarian of — Washington, D. C. NEW YORK, January 19, 1907. -— By BURT L. STANDISH. CHAPTER I. THE WOMAN FROM VERMONT. Denver, protected by the curving embrace of the great Rockies, lay bathed in sunshine while, thirty or forty miles away, amid the ragged peaks of the con- tinent’s backbone the white caps of those upreared heads were frequently lashed by raging snow-storms, On a mild January morning Frank Merriwell boarded a train in Denver. The train was western bound over that marvelous road-which scales the mountains eleven thousand feet above sea-level. Evi- dently Merry expected to encounter cold weather, as he was dressed for exposure in rigorous midwinter. Seated in the warm car, he discarded his heavy overcoat and drew from his pocket a map, which he began studying and over which he was absorbed until the foot-hills were reached. Finally becoming tired of this inspection of the map, he returned it to his pocket and fell to amusing himself by looking the passengers over and noting the changing panorama of the rugged scenery as the two powerful engines car- Price Five Cents. XP ried the train up the grades and around the sweeping curves. | The scenery of the lower foot-hills, which were now being scaled, was marvelous indeed. At times the train crept along the brink of some tremendous precipice where, hundreds of feet below, roaring tor- rents foamed over boulder-strewn, beds. It was rather trying for a nervous person to look down into — those chasms, yet there was a fascination about it that continually tempted the angular woman in black who sat in the seat ahead of Frank. Whenever she — looked out of the window she shuddered and drew away to the end of the seat near the aisle, yet re- peatedly she edged back to that window and looked again. On the far side of the gorge huge peaks and crags projected themselves outward, apparently threatening: to topple into space. Some of these rocky projec- tions formed Titanic heads of monsters and demons. ae were faintly suggestive of impregnable castles. They bore the colorings of nature—purple, brown, and amber. 2 TIP, TOP 'At intervals Merriwell heard the agitated woman whispering to herself. Sometimes, as the car seemed to lurch on the brink of some awesome declivity, her gloved hands clutched the seat and seemed to hold fast with all the strength of her frail body Although he had made this journey before, there was a certain fascination and elation about it that stirred Merriwell and quickened the blood in his veins. It was wonderful to contemplate that man by his en- gineering skill had conquered these seemingly insur- mountable heights of rock and earth upflung to the very sky. Suddenly the train dashed through a small tunnel, and something like a stifled scream escaped the nerv- ous woman. 39 “I beg your parding,” she said, in a cracked, trem- bly voice, turning to Frank as they came out into daylight once more. “I didn’t mean to squawk, but i I jest couldn’t, help-it that time. Landy massy, ain’t this turrible!” . | “Tt must be rather trying on a person who is nerv- 3) ous,” admitted Merry, with a reassuring smile. _ “But I know it’s ‘jest fearfully dangerous, and I’m _ plumb sartin we’re going to tumble off into one of . them fearful holes. before long.” p “1 hardly think, madam, that there is fitie danger _ of such a catastrophe. You know they have taken Bi _ every precaution of safety in building this road, and I don’t believe you need alarm yourself at all.” —“Tt’s drefful kind of you to say that,” sighed the woman, “and I hope there don’t nuthin’ happen. I -_uster think the Vermont hills was purty high, but they ain’t nuthin’ compared to these yere mountains.” “Are you from Vermont, madam?” “Yes, Duxbridge, Vermont, is my home. I’ve allus lived there all my life. It seems strange for me now ‘to be way out here in the West a-ramblin’ round in seatch of Willium. Do you belong in these. parts, young ‘man?” “Well, not exactly,” admitted Frank. “I’m from the East also, but I have mining interests in the West. hese interests make it necessary for me to visit the Vest at frequent. intervals.” “Then you ve a out this way before! ae Yes, ma’am.’ “TI s’pose you know lots of people out here?” Well, I am eases eel with a number of West- 29 ers, “Did you ever meet or ever hear of one Willium nson?” anxiously inquired the woman. . , WEEKLY. “Tf I have,” answered Merry, “I don’t recall the fact now. Is Mr. Benson a relative of yours?” seemed somewhat confused. handkerchief and coughed She hesitated and Fumblingly she produced a behind it. | “Well, not prezactly a relative,” she confessed, “but a friend—a very dear friend. We was both brung up in Duxbridge, you know. school together. He was the son of old John Benson, who was allus shiftless and never did accumerlate no property. I allus liked Willium. I uster call him Willie, and he called me Ashy. You see my Christian name is Ascha. My full name is Ascha Hooker— Miss Ascher Hooker. My father, Jedediah Hooker, had one of the best farms in the town of Duxbridge. I hope you'll parding me for speakin’ so freely, but it kinder keeps my ‘tention off them awful holes in the ground that we’re creepin’ round. , I’ve jest been a-dyin’ to talk to somebody, and your face is so kind and pleasant that it’s set my tongue goin’.” “T assure you, madam, that it’s most agreeable to me to have some one with whom I can chat,” said Frank gallantly. “Won’t you’ take my seat? Ill turn your seat over and ride backward, facing you, or I'll sit on the,end of this seat near the window, if you prefer.” The woman hesitated a moment and then, her wrinkled face wreathed in smiles, she permitted Merry to turn. the seat. She accepted his place, and he sat down facing her. “You're a real fine-looking young gentleman,” she said. “I hope you'll excuse me for speakin’ so free. I’m gin’rally a most reserved person with strangers. T can’t understand how it is that I’m inclined to talk so open to you. ‘You're almost as good-lookin’ as Willium was when he was your age, and, if I do say it, Willium was the handsomest young man that ever stepped in Duxbridge. But they called him shiftless, like his father, because he didn’t care to work on a farm, and he was allus readin’ books and tinkerin’ at queer contraptions which nobody saw no use for. Nobody ever realized he was a genius till he got up that thing-a-ma-jig arrangement for bindin’ books. Even then folks said he was wastin’ his time, but bimeby up come a man from Bostin and entered into negotiations with Willium, finally promisin’ to Give he But he him four thousand dollars for his. invention. Willium didn’t know nuthin’ about business, and he wasn’t very slick, and that Bostin man ‘finally gut the “ invention, and he never paid Willium one cent.” “That was too bad, ” said Frank. sympathetically, * Willium and I went to. ti ee re ead - Tan eae exclaimed Miss Hooker “You see Willium trusted him on his word and let him have a model of the bindin’-machine, and then that dishonest rogue he gut a patent on the rig- gin’, which shet Willium out of the whole business. They say that scoundrel has made as much as forty “That man was a raskill!’’ angrily. or fifty thousand dollars out of that invention. Bein’ treated that way sorter broke Willium’s sperit so he 1ever did do much of anythmg arterward except set around Lish Spalding’s store and loaf away his time. He was allus plannin’ to git out some new invention, but he never brung himself to work on anythin’ in ‘arnest. I she sighed; “I s’pose if Willium had gut his four thousand frum that man I’d not be out here now to search this dreadful country over for him.” “Evidently you took unusual interest in Mr. s’pose,” a-reskin’ my life Ben- son,’ murmured Merry. Again the woman coughed behind her chief. She appeared forty years old, at least, much like a typical New England spinster. handker- and she said, At fust, when we was little tots, my folks never minded “T s’pose I was foolish when I was a gal,” “but I allus had a great likin’ for Willium. much Willium took to beauin’ me round to parties, , but, after I got to be a gal of sixteen and mother riz up and put her foot down. Mother was a strong- minded woman, and when she put her foot down she meant it, She told father she wouldn’t have old Jed Benson’s boy shinin’ Dick Philbrook, be a good feller for me when [ gut old. enough to have a beau. Philander Philbrook owned the next best farm to our’n. He was gittin’ rather feeble, and Dick was his only heir. I remember the day father -and mother took me into the settin’-room and gave me a good talkin’ to. I had a little sperit of my own, and I told them I didn’t care two pins about Dick Philbrook, and I shouldn’t have nuthin’ to do with him. Mother said as long as she lived she'd never ‘low me to keep company with Willium Benson. She never did. Dick, he married Mandy Spooner the day a he was twenty-one, and that settled that. Mother she never got over throwin’ it up to me that I might ’a’ had him if I’d only set my cap for him. up to me. She said there was Philander Philbrook’s son, that would “Willium never got married. Sometimes I used to meet him on the sly, and we would walk together down the old Sandy Holler road. We never talked ‘bout gittin’ but we had a kind of under- between us that when mother died we was to Father he went iust, bit mother she kept married, ~ standin’ hitch up. ete 1 On WV eas s 2 axed her what made her ‘heard how people was talkin’. holdin’ on, while Willium and I waited, both a-gittin’ older all the time. Last year mother died. Of course Willium and I both had respect enough to wait a decent time before hitchin’. uster see each other oftener, and he would walk home with Arter a while we me from church Sunday, or something like that. “It didn’t take long to set Duxbridge tongues a-waggin’, When Henry Worthin’ started the sing- in’-school Willium and I both j’ined it. Of course, I couldn’t walk home alone on dark nights, and so he escorted me. Then every tongué in Duxbridge wagged faster than ever. Old Hitty Rackliffe, town gossip, she come bobbin’ into my house one day and sets herself down and looks at me most pitiful Arter a while I got nervous and look like that. ‘Then she told me that all the neighbors was a-sayin’ that I was the and compassionate. goin’ to throw myself away on that worthless critter, Willium Benson. She said everybody in town disap- proved of it, and thought it was disgracin’ the memory of my dead: mother. Besides that, Joel Fletcher, whose wife had died two year before, was lookin’ round for another helpmeet and was favorable in- clined toward me. Mebbe I didn’t give Hitty a piece of my mind! I told her I ruther thought I was old enough to pick out my own husband when I got ready I told her I didn’t care a pinch of snuff what the neighbors thought or said. I told her that when Willium got ready he wouldn’t find me back- Then I informed her that she carry it all over town jest as quick as she pleased., She carried it so quick that the telegrapht or the telephome would have sweat to keep up with her. “My goodness, what a hullaballoo it did raise! I ( didn’t care a snap, and I didn’t s’pose it would make no difference with Willium. But some of them envi- ous tittle-tattlers gut at him, and next Sunday when he walked home with me frum church I see he was awful cast down and dejected. On the porch I axed him what «as the matter, and he axed me hadn't I He said everybody was a-sayin’ that he’d waited round twenty-five year for my mother to die so that he could marry me and a git hold of the property. He was turrible cut tp over it, and he started to tell me that perhaps it wa’n't right for a well-fixed woman like me to throw hens self away on a poor man like him. to have one. ward about hitchin’. could run tight out and I guess I made a bad You see Willitum was -still a purty good- lookin’ man, in spite of his years, while every year “T stopped him right there. mistake. 4 TIP TOP T’d waited for him had left its mark on me, and no- body knowed better than I that the rosy-cheeked gal, Ashy Hooker, had become a plain, wrinkled, washed- I kinder flared up and told Willium he Then out old maid. didn’t have to marry me if he didn’t want to. T went right into the house and shet the door. I near cried my eyes out the rest of the day. “I ain't never seen Willium frum that but I’m goin’ to find him if I have to hunt the whole day to this, country over.”’ CHAPTER Ii: OTHER PASSENGERS. Frank was interested in Miss Hooker’s pathetic little story. “What did William do?” he questioned, haven’t you ever seen him since?” “That very day he packed up his duds and hired Simon Small to drive him down to Briar Junction. Next mornin’ he took the train at the junction and started out for somewhere. He’s writ me two let- ters. The fust-one was writ in Kansas City. He tol’ me in the fust letter that he was goin’ to make his fortune and then he was comin’ back to Dux- bridge. The next letter was writ in Denver, and he added somethin’ to t’other one, for he said that if I'd wait for him, he'd marry me arter he’d got rich in the mines. He said if he was to come back with _ ten thousand dollars there couldn’t no one in Dux- _ bridge say he was a-marryin’ my money. “Nobody in the town ever thought Willium would do . anything like that, and I thought it least of them all. Until he started off that way I-don’t believe he’d ever been fifty mile away frum home. Now, what chance ’ is there for a man like him to accumerlate ten thou- “e sand dollars? He ain’t never had no experience, and he ain’t got-no business ability. Do yer think I’m goin’ ter wait till he gits together all that money? If ib should, I'd probably do the most of my waitin’ in my coffin. “ “Like him, I’ve allus lived near home and never seen much of the world, but arter gittin’ that second letter it didn’t take me long to make up my mind on one pint. I writ him, directin’ it to the General Delivery at Denver and jest beggin’ him to come back, told him how sorry I was, for the things L said on he eet that fanteey I told him all the people in “Why me for isads off, for any silver chee it made to me. What } the use for us to let a lot of old, gossips spoil the: WEEKLY, rest of lives arter folks to spoil so much already? our we'd permitted my I put my name on tie corner of the envelope, and arter a time that letter come back to me, marked ‘unclaimed.’ “Then I made up my mind to another thing. lI was goin’ to find Willium. It was an awful under- takin’ for me, but here I be. In Denver I met a man who said he’d met another man up here in the moun- tains by the name of Benson. That’s what’s takin’ me over this turrible railroad, and that’s why [’m bound for a place they call Broken Bow.” “Broken Bow?” said Frank. “Why, I’m bound for Broken Bow.” Chee | “Oh, dear me! do you know anything about the place ?”’ “Nothing except that it was expected that this rail- road would reach it, which would make it possible to open up a number of mines there. I believe there is now some talk of a spur road that will touch Broken Bow.” “Then there are mines up there, bey Bs Yes} indeed; “Valuable ones?” “Well, every claim in these mountains is valuable, according to the owners of the claims, I’m going up there to' look over some property.” “Then you're a miner?” “T own some mines, madam.” “Here in Colorado?” “No. One of them is in New Mexico and the other in old Mexico.” “My gracious, you're awful fur away from your property! I should think you’d have to stay home to — look after it.” Merry smiled. “T have some very trustworthy managers, I believe. My mines are both paying well, and I now spend little. of my time giving them my personal attention.” “Be you married?” “Tam.” “If it ain’t too impertinent, I’d like to ax what is your name?” “My name is Merriwell.” ‘ “Why, seems to me I’ve heerd that name before. You can’t be the same feller that went to college with Sammy Graham. He was frum Duxbridge, Sammy. He uster come home and tell about a feller he knew at college by the name of Frank Merriwell. ns “T remember Sammy,’ laughed Frank; “but E never knew where he was from, I think.” 3 And oe t see nes in the OTe about a was iP TOP 1 some sort: of a school you was runnin’? It was in the Burlington ‘Farmer, I guess,” “T have opened a school of physical development for boys in my home town of Bloomfield. The news- ¥ papers have had more or less to say about it.” >) “My goodness! you’re a reg’lar wonder, ain't ye! breathed Miss Hooker, gazing at Merry with undis- a D> a guised admiration. “How can you do so many things?” “It’s not difficult to do many things in this world if one finds the knack. There it. Lots of people wear themselves out doing very little. is an art about Others thrive and keep strong while seeming to per- form enough work to busy several persons. In many instances it’s not the body that tires over the work. It's the brain. The brain becomes wearied and stag- gered over the mountain of tasks that must be per- formed. couraged. It’s best not to meditate too much on what we have to do. The laborer becomes disheartened and dis- The better way is to go at, the. first Then take the next thing, and so on, without pausing for thing to be done and get through with that. , dread, and in a short time the mountain will melt me away.” AS “You must be a reg’lar philosopher. Say, d’you know I can’t keep my eyes off’n that young man set- tin’ up for’ard in the car and talkin’ to that mushy person.” : Merry had previously noticed the young man and the ‘mushy person.” They were a strange pair. The younger could not have been more than twenty-five, while his companion was upward of fifty. The latter | was a flabby, colorless, washed-out. individual, . } seemed to be an Easterner. Ever since leaving Denver the young man had talked vivaciously to his seatmate. He had a dark mustache with waxed ends, and his eyes were black and restless. His heavy fur overcoat lay over the back of the seat in front of him. Once or twice Mer- riwell’s eye caught the flash of a large diamond on his left hand, for he was inclined to make many ges- tures with that hand, His voice, occasionally heard above the sounds of. the train, was soft and. persua- _ sive, yet it contained something subtly convincing in its total lack of hesitancy. The older man was troubled by a cough, which occasionally shook his un- healthy, though corpulent, figure. _ “What is there about the young man that-attracts - you, madam?” inquired Frank, after glancing round. _ “He’s so handsome he makes me think of what _ Willium used to be at that age. If Willium had been ‘ who she put to him. It seemed a great relief to her to find WEEKLY. 5 a city feller and had known how to put on style, all the gals in the country would have gone crazy over him. The trouble with him was that it didn’t make no difference what sort of clothes he was wearin’ as long as he could set round and dream’ about some great invention. ‘Then, I don’t s’pose he had such elegant manners as that young feller has. He was jest a plain Vermonter. Even if he did change as he growed older, he was allus handsome to my eyes. 1| do hope I'll find him up here in these awful moun- tains. If I do find him, I’ll take him out of this coun- try in a hurry. He won’t git away from me ag’in.” Merry laughed. “T wish you success, Miss Hooker,” he said. “Land, but it does seem strange to have anybody Miss’ Hooker! Back in Duxbridge every- body calls me Miss Ashy. They seem to have forgot that there was ever a Hooker hooked to my name. | like especial well to have my friends to call me Miss Ashy.. Won’t you call me that?’ “With pleasure,” bowed Frank. Qne of the train-hands now passed through the car, turning on some of the lights. A few minutes later they entered into another tunnel, which was call me many times longer than the first. Miss Ashy drew a breath of relief when they wound forth on their clinging, crawling way up the mountain slopes. Plainly she was a great “hand to talk,” for she monopolized the conversation, frequently failing to give Merry an opportunity to answer the questions some one who would listen sympathetically to her chatter. In this manner the time slipped away. The train stopped at a station where a few rude houses were to be seen, and half a dozen rough men came down and looked into the car windows. t “There don’t seem to be many of the female sex in these parts,” observed the spinster. “I ‘don’t blame — ‘em much. Still, Denver is a lot different from what. I thought it was. I had an idee it was an awfully — rough city, but they’ve gut heaps and heaps of nice — houses, and the stores look a good deal like them stores in Boston. People in Denver put on more style than they do in Duxbridge. I never cal’lated there'd be any of them autymobeeles out here, but there they was a-flyin’ round the streets until I was, scared to cross from one side of the street to the t'other, And the electric street-cars are jest as good as they have in the East.” aiaye : “Oh, Denyer is pretty well up to date in alm 7 ee if i ee ‘¢ = ERO PS on account of failing health. poor. -Easterner who comes West with money to invest in mines and with no knowledge of mining had better keep his money in his pocket or in the bank. pretty sure to be stung. ‘ 6 TEP ey everything masculine wearing-apparel,” laughed Frank. except ‘“‘In men’s clothes it seems about two years behind the styles. But the clothes are genial, hearty, full-blooded than better-dressed men in the East.” “T’ve allus said it was true that clothes don’t make men inside the more whole-souled, and the man.” “It is true, Miss Ashy, although I’ve found that about nine times out of ten the man is judged on first appearance by the clothes he wears. adorn a vulgar per- Accord- fact that vulgar clothes usually son. There is something in dress, after all. ing to your own statement, if William had worn sty- lish clothes, he would have been held in higher esteem by the fair sex “But that wouldn’t have made him no more a man; would it?” "Ob, nO. were wholly intolerant of conventionality in’ wearing- apparel.” “What do you think monds ?” Frank knew the sight of that ring on the young passenger’s hand had elicited this question from the eT : “It depends a great deal on the size of the dia- mond,” smiled Merry. “If they’re bit and showy, it indicates that the wearer is vain. There is such a thing as modesty in diamonds, even in a man.” Some of the finest men I’ve ever met of a man who wears di’- “But somehow I allus think of a.mam who wears big di’monds as a gambler. I can’t help it.” “Not a such vain men are gamblers, but a great many are.’ “You don’t s’pose that. young feller up yonder is gambler, do ye?” “It’s not impossible, size him up closely.” although I haven’t tried to “What do you think of the pale fat man that’s with him?” “He looks like some fairly prosperous Eastern merchant or business man who has been driven West It’s likely he’s on the outlook for business investments in this part of the country.” “Do people allus get rich in mining out here?” “My dear Miss Ashy, about nine out of ten get This is a great country for suckers. The He’s There are hundreds of sharp- It is also a. WEEKLY. ers in Denver constantly on the watch for such suck- ers. They all have good things, according to their l, but there’s seldom much trouble in raising capital to develop a really good thing. When one of them gets an easy mark on the string by promising him a peach, he usually hands the mark a lemon.” “T don’t think I jest understand what you mean,” murmured the woman from Vermont. “I know they raise most every kind of fruit out here by irrigation, but I didn’t s’pose it was a great country for peaches and lemons.” ’ said Merr “T beg your pardon if I inadvertently used a bit of slang.” “I was speaking figuratively, A wailing blast came from one of the locomotives. “Raw Elbow! cried a brakeman, thrusting his head: in at the door. “Here,” said Merry, preparing to rise, is where we leave the train. “We'll have to make the remainder of the journey to Broken Bow by stage.” Raw Elbow!” CHAPTER III. THE GIRL ON THE BOX. Raw Elbow consisted of four or five shanties cling- ing to the rocky slopes, a larger building, which was a combined store and hotel, and a hole in the ground, known as the “Early Bird Mine.” Preparations were being made to install machinery and work the Early Bird in an up-to-date manner. The citizens of Raw Elbow came down to the station to look the train and Be the passengers over. They were booted, bewhiskered miners, a Mexican or two, a burly negro, and an almond-eyed, Chinaman, at the hotel. who was the cook Near the little shack of a station stood a battered stage-coach, to which four powerful horses. were at- tached. On the driver’s seat of the stage was a young girl not over twenty years of age. She was bundled in heavy clothes, and her hands were protected by brown gauntlet gloves. A man’s hat was pinned rather ra- kishly to her dark hair. A red tie, knotted sailor fash- ion at her throat, added a bit of eye- “are color to her costume. But this girl did not need the tie in order to'attract attention, for, at a glance, one could see she was un-~ “usually pretty. She had large dark eyes, a finely formed mouth, with lips of healthy color, ‘and other features to correspond. The youthful passenger and his flabby fat compan- SiPl Oe The mo- her ion had hastened to descend from the car. ment the girl caught sight of them she waved gloved hand and cried: “Oh, Vance!” The young man looked at her and then whistled his { astonishment. “Well! well!” he laughed, turning to his compan- ion, ‘“‘here’s my sister. She came down from Broken Bow to meet me.” Traveling-bags in hand, stage, followed a bit more slowly by Merriwell, who was escorting Miss Ashy. Besides his own grip, Frank had taken charge of the spinster’s small travel- ing-bag. clared the young man. What the dickens are tet “This is a surprise, Bess,” de “Didn’t expect to see you here. you doing up there on the driver’s sea “Driving,” she answered, with a laugh that’ flashed some small pearly teeth into view. “Driving?” questioned the man called Vance. “You don’t mean——” “Dave Warden is down with a bad cold, and they are afraid it may turn out to be pneumonia,” ex- plained the girl. “Somebody had to come down with the stage.” At this Vance almost staggered. “And you came down alone?’ he gasped. the dickens will you do next, Bess?” “What she returned, “I had to do some- I was just ready to die from “My goodness!” thing for excitement. ennui.” “That’s like her, that’s like her,’ nodded the young man, turning to his companion. “Bessie, this is Mr. Sponge. Mr. Sponge, my sister.” Sponge lifted his \erby and bowed to the girl, at the same time smiling after the manner of a man of his age who is suddenly smitten by the appearance of an attractive girl. “Delighted, delighted, Miss Langford,” he wheezed, in a tone that indicated bronchitis or asthma, ‘or something even more serious. ‘Your brother has told me about you. He says you ride and shoot, and do all the things an outdoor Western girl might be “expected to do. I now see he has not exaggerated in the least. As driver of a stage-coach in this wild country, I suppose you're heavily armed,” “Oh, dear, no,” she laughed. “I came away in such a hurry that I didn’t even think to bring a pistol. But I ,wouldn’t have any use for: c one if ! had brought au _ “Bess doesn’t fear anything,” declared her brother WEEKLY. 7 they hastened toward the_ stuff,” sighed Miss Ashy. proudly, opening the door of the stage. “Get in, Mr. Sponge.”’ “Wait, have other passengers. called the girl. “It seems that we a lady.” Vance,” There’s to assist also entered and permitted Frank As’ Merriwell z glimpse of a frown on the stood back y into the stage. “They Miss Ash he fancied he caught a face of Vance Langford. “Here’s your truck for Broken Bow!” station-agent, rolling forward bundles boxes. “Throw the stuff up on top here, Jim, and we'll said the girl. called the several and rope it fast,”’ “T don’t know but I’d like to ride-on the outside,” said Sponge, as he watched the movements of the self reliant young stage-driver, “Better not,” advised Langford. “You're not dressed for it. That overcoat’s rather light. You'll find the interior of the stage far more comfortable. I'll ride part of the distance with Bessie, and then Pll join you.” He climbed up and helped his sister lash fast the boxes and bundles, while the train pulled out and con- tinued on its way toward the snowy crests far above, a glimpse of which could be faintly seen through a long upstretching valley. “Landy massy,”’ murmured Miss Ashy, as Frank — seated himself at her Side, “what won’t gals do next! I never expected to see one like that a-drivin’ a stage- coach here in these mountains.” “Nearly all true Western gilrs are brave and nervy,” said Merry. “If necessary, they can drive a stage, rope a steer, or bust a bronco. It’s plain that girl is one of the kind, but she’s unusually handsome.” “Yes, she is,” agreed the spinster. ‘She ‘minds — me something of myself as I used to be at her age, though I’d never dared do what she’s a-doing of. — Do you s’pose it’s safe for her to drive them hosses — with us inside here? What if something happened?” “You've seen quite as much of her as I have,” re- turned Merry, “but I’m willing to trust her. I fancy. she’s(even more reliable than a great many stage a drivers, not a few of whom are inclined to drink — liquor to keep them warm in cold weather.” “T don’t see how any man can drink such fiona “T’ve done all I could in my life to throw my influence against the demon Rum. Pm a member of the W. GT Deas bers in the East Rt ie te “I don’t know about that. They seem to drink any- where, if they can get the stuff.’ By this time the stage was ready to start, Vance Langford helped Mr. Sponge get in. “I won't leave you long,” he promised. Seen my sister for more than ten’ days.” and *“T haven’t “All right, all right,’ wheezed the Easterner. “I'll make myself as comfortable as I can. Having com- pany will keep me from being lonesome.” Two minutes later the stage started, with Langford on the box beside the girl. The men of Raw Elbow ; stood in a group on the platform and waved their hats at her as she drove away, cracking the long-lashed whip over the horses. They sent up a cheer, the huge negro roaring louder than the rest and laughing heart- ily, with his mouth wide open to display every tooth I in his head. The Chinaman danced and gesticulated '. until his queue bobbed down from beneath his hat and flew about behind his back like a whipping-rope. Mr. Sponge had a fit of coughing. “Bless my soul!” he said, when he could catch his breath, “this is a new experience for me. Excuse me, madam, did I put my foot on yours It’s a bit crowded in here. The seats are too near together.” “Never mind,” said Miss Ashy gently; “I ain’t got no corns.” } “I presume you're both bound for Broken Bow?” questioned Sponge. “But I’m surprised to see a lady traveling up there. It can’t be you belong in that place, madam?” _ “Goodness, no!” breathed Miss Ashy. “I’m from Duxbridge; Vermont.” LR MERA EGA ELE EY RIALS ALLE ARE BLY SD “Hum! hum!” coughed Sponge. “I’m from Hart- ford, Connecticut. Been in the hardware business there all my life. Stuck too close to business, I guess. About a year ago I began to break down, and my doc- tor told me I’d have to get out in the open air. I’ve always been strong and healthy, and I didn’t take ; much stock in that. Besides that, I was at the head of the Peter Sponge Hardware Company, having two stores in Hartford and another in Meriden. I _ wouldn't even consider the idea of giving up business, but I was brought to it this fall when my cough got so bad I couldn’t sleep nights. I had a good chance to retire from the firm, and I finally accepted it, sever- ‘ing all connections. Then, at the advice from my doctor, I came out here to see if the Colorado air. wouldn’t help me. But I can’t remain idle. I’ve got o be doing something. I’ve got to have \an interest n business of some sort, and mining appears the most inviting and remunerative.” | | . ———— WEEKLY. BS ater “Then you’re contemplating going into mining?” h Dp questioned Frank. a “Oh, yes; I’ve been looking around for the proper i S¢ opening, and I think I’ve found it.” ' g ’ “Tn Broken Bow ?” th “Yes, sir. I’m going up there to lodk at some } claims. Have you any interests in that place?” 1 F “None whatever.” tl “IkKnow anything about the claims up there?” v “Very little,’ confessed Merry, “although I’ve heard that one or two of them are very promising.” h “How about the railroad—do you think they'll ever t] build a line to Broken Bow?” “I understand that’s a question that has not been settled yet.” y “Tf they do, those claims will double in value.’ a “If they have any real value, they will.’ “You seem to be sort of doubtful.” q “I never take stock in mining property until I’ve investigated it pretty thoroughly.” n “You’re a very young man. Do you own any min- s ing property ?” “Yes, sir,” Ss “Where?” I ‘Both in New Mexico and in old Mexico.” “Well, well!” exclaimed Sponge, regarding Frank with new interest and respect. “Is it paying prop- erty?” : , “It has paid me very well, sir.” “If a man, with money to develop it, gets hold of a t really valuable claim, pe stands a good chance of t making a rich thing, doesn’t he?” I “Yes, sir, he does,’ answered Frank promptly. t By this time the road had grown very rough, and J the passengers were being bounced about a great deal. 1 “Sakes alive!” breathed Miss Ashy. “Don’t they Pt never do no work on the highways here?” a “Not a great deal,’ laughed Frank. ‘‘But this is eS . an exceptionally good piece of road.” G a ard She cast him a sidelong look as if fancying that he |. was jesting. ee a oe “Really it is, Miss Ashy. I haven’t a doubt but that it will turn out much rougher than this before we § reach Broken Bow.” pe ; “But don’t you think that girl is drivin’ dreadful Es fast and reckless?” t “She has to make time when she can. There'll tes long, hard pulls where we'll hardly crawl.” noe “She’s a wonderful girl—a wofderful girl,” wheezed Mr. Sponge. “I hardly expected to see any- tadP . thing like her, although her brother was singing her 19 Sra ro praises to me at the Brown Palace last night.” i Looking out of the window, Miss Ashy uttered a c 7 scream as the stage swayed round a bend of the trail, ; giving her a glimpse of a jagged, rocky slope below . them. : i “Oh, dear! oh, dear!’ she fluttered, hanging to Frank’s arm. ‘We come dreadful nigh to goin’ over then! I know I'll never see my Willium again! wisht somebody else was drivin’ them hosses.” : A short distance farther on» the stage came to a halt, and a moment later Vance Langford opened the door. “Room for me?” he inquired cheerfully. “Yes, come in, come in,” urged'Mr. Sponge, “If you'll fill up part of this seat, perhaps I won’t rattle around so much.” .“Be you goin’ to leave that girl to drive alone?” quavered the spinster. “The task could not be trusted to safer hands, madam,” bowed Langford, as he climbed in and slammed the door. The whip-lash cracked like a pistol, the horses sprang forward again, and théy reeled on their way to Broken Bow. CHAPTER IV. THE TRAIL TO BROKEN BOW. Frank was given an opportunity for a close inspec- tion of Vance Langford. He did not fail to observe that the young man also was taking him in minutely. Langford attempted to do this with a certain secre- tiveness that gave Merry an unpleasant impression. Just why it was Merriwell decided that the young man was not trustworthy he could not have told at the j time. Nevertheless, this conviction crept upon him and grew steadily. ; Mr. ‘Sponge seemed inclined to talk mining with 3 . Langford, but Frank noted that the latter skilfully turned the course of conversation. | Miss Ashy kept silent for some time, but finally her feelings overcame her, and she suddenly fell to sobbing behind her handkerchief. “Don’t permit your nervousness to agitate you in _ this manner,” urged Frank. “T’nf confident there is up here in this turrible country. The young lady said the stage-driver was threatened with pneumony. I do dye do, Mr. Benson. TOP WEEKLY. 9 Down in Denver they told me if people gut pneumony up in the mountains there wasn’t much chance for What if Willium should git it and die before I ever could reach him?” them. Langford chuckled, but Merry gave him a reprov- ing look that cut the chuckle short. “Who is this Willium?” inquired the young man. “Oh, mebbe you know him!” exclaimed Miss Ashy. “T was goin’ to ax you. You know everybody in Broken Bow, don’t ye?” “Well, pretty near everybody,” was ‘the answer. “You see there are not so many people in Broken Bow. I think I know the elite of the town from Major Squears down to Roaring Jim Kennedy. Still, I haven’t been in Broken Bow long, you understand.” “Then you must know Willium if he’s there!” pal- pitated the woman. “He’s a handsome man, and you couldn’t fail to notice him. His full name is Willium Benson.”’ “Tf that’s his full name, what’s his name when he’s sober?” grinned Langford “You know people up this way are liable to have two or three names.” “But my Willium would never have more than one,’ asserted the woman from Vermont. ‘“He’s really the sweetest man that ever was.” “I regret to state that I fear I’m not acquainted with Sweet Willium. Still, I may be mistaken. Up at Broken Bow it’s likely he’s known simply as Bill, in case he gave his right name to start with.” “The folks in Duxbridge who didn’t like him uster call him that,’ said Miss Ashy. “They. uster say there goes that shiftless Bill Benson. It'll be different after we’re married. Then you'll see some of them folks bowin’ to him ‘polite enough and sayin’, “How ODD + “Friend of yours?” murmured Langford, winking at Frank and jerking his head toward the spinster. — “Yes, sir, she is,’ answered Merriwell sharply. Thexyoung man shrugged his shoulders and fum- bled with his small dark mustache in order to hide a smile. “Well,” he said, with seeming maliciousness, “I hope nothing happens to her before she overtakes Willium.. But you never can tell in these parts. We're liable to be held up by road-agents, and, there- _ it fore, I advise her to keep her veil over her face. some of those ruffians were to see her, they might kid- nap her.” “Road-agents?” ~exclaimed Miss Ashy, in great alarm. “Why, you don’t s’pose there’s any danger of © IO Lin be that, do ye? You don’t s’pose highwaymen would stop us and rob us, do ye: “Well, I should hope not,’ wheezed Mr. Sponge, whereupon Langford nudged him with his elbow. Evidently the young man was bound to have his joke, for he persisted. “As I said before, you never can tell. I presume you are all well armed?’ “With deadly weapons?” gasped the woman. “My goodness, I wouldn’t touch one for the world!’ “But you’re armed, sir, are you not?’ asked Lang- ford, with his eyes on Frank. “I seldom carry a weapon,” answered |] sively. “Nor I,” said Sponge. “I suggested bringing a revolver along, but Langford. laughed at me and said it would be unnecessary luggage.” Taking advantage of a very rough strip of road, which bounced them about unmercifully, Langford whispered in his companion’s ear: Merry eva- “Road-agents have gone out of business in this country. I’m stringing the old girl, that’s all.” | The man from Hartford looked relieved. It was plain now that Miss Ashy was in a state of agitation bordering on the hysterical. Frank’s dis- like for Langford had increased by leaps and bounds, and he felt he would gladly improve the first oppor- tunity to give the fellow a good calling down. A creaking of the wheels caused them to look out, and they discovered that the ground was now covered by a thin layer of snow. “This old stage will soon be making the trip from Broken Bow to Raw Elbow on runners,” said Lang- ford. . “Do they ever get snow down as far as asked Sponge. . “My dear man,” laughed Vance, “you’ve seen Den- ver under particularly auspicious circumstances. It’s been a great deal like mild autumn weather in the that ?” East since you arrived, but occasionally they’ get a that blizzard. Leadville, you’d find both places piled. up with snow just now. Cold weather—they have the coldest you, can find outdoors.” howling old snow-storm down there. They had good one this year in October, but the snow’ didn’t stay on long, and delightful weather followed.” “Were you in Denvér in October?” “Oh, no; I was over in Goldfield, but I heard about If you were to visit Cripple Creek “Tsn’t it healthy for people Nn lung trouble up in | neck. ) | eee places?” k and . WEEKLY. “Well, that ness of their depends a gfeat deal on the serious- trouble and on the victims themselves, In climate it’s the same as in food, one man’s meat is another man’s poison. I have a theory that lungers are all right almost anywhere. if they will live outdoor by day and-sleep outdoor by night. Of course, I mean those in the first stages. I also have a theory that thickly inhabited portions of this country are ex- tremely dangerous for people with weak lungs. I’ve known of cases where perfectly healthy persons con- tracted lung trouble out here. Why not? They are forced to mingle with a lot of others who have the disease. Healthy men should keep away from lungers as far as possible.” “Oh, dear! oh, dear!’ know Willium will catch it. and flat across the chist. Oh, if I ever find him, Pll hustle him out of these parts. [1l——” Her words were suddenly interrupted by a’ loud voice which rang through the rocky pass which the stage had been traversing. Distinctly they heard three words: “Halt! Hands up!” Vance Langford quickly opened the door and In an instant he jerked his head back, sobbed Miss Ashy; “I jest He was allus delicate looked out. palpitating : “By the everlasting blazes, we’re held up by road- agents !” CHAPTER V. LTHE HIGHWAYMAN. It was a favorable spot for a hold-up. On either side of the pass ragged rocks were piled and huge boulders heaped in confusion by the hand of nature. Ahead the road was so narrow that it could be easily blocked. Just now the road was blocked by a masked man who was mounted on a wiry bronco, In his hands he held a rifle ready for use. ae At the command to halt the girl stage-driver promptly pulled in the horses, thrust the whip into its socket, wound the reins round the whip, and held My her hands. “All right, Mr. Robber,” she said shearfiniie “payin paws are elevated. Don’t shoot.” \ tea ' Inside the stage there was the. utmost confusion. Miss Ashy uttered a series of nervous shrieks and ' lunged at Vance Langford, clasping bins about the | | i we ngs goog egy eae aie ee: ~ spinster. - tered: EP: LG “Oh, Willium, Willium,” she gasped. “don’t let them murder me!” “Here, here,” exclaimed the young man, pushing her off, “I’m not Willium! What’s the matter with you?” “Oh, goodness gracious, do pardon me!’ she flut- tered. ‘You look so much like *Willium uster look that I clean forgut myself and my modesty.” , Mr. Peter Sponge seemed fully as excited as the After taking one peep from the window the Easterner fell back, gasping, gurgling, coughing, and frantically clawing at an inside pocket of his vest. “I wouldn’t pull a weapon if I were in your place, sir,” said Frank. “If you display a weapon, the high- wayman and his partners—in case he has any—are liable to riddle this stage with bullets.” “T haven’t gut a weapon, but I’ve got a pocketbook con- taining five thousand dollars! Great Jerusalem! what Where can I hide it?” “It's a bad plan to carry so much money on your “Weapon? weapon?” gurlpled Sponge. am I going to;do with it? person in this part of the country,” said Merriwell. “You should know better, sir.” “But it was necessary. Business demanded it. I say, Langford, what am I going to do?” Vance Langford was holding the woman from Ver- mont with one hand while he again peered forth from the stage. } “Blamed if we're not caught in a trap!” he mut- “T don’t know how many of them there are, but I can see one or two more up among the rocks. They have the stage coveretl with guns.” But what am I going to do with this money?” wheezed Sponge. “Where can I hide it?” “I’m afraid you can’t hide it anywhere,” answered Langford regretfully. “T must! I can’t lose so much money!” “Better lose that than your life.” “But do you think——’” “Haven't time to do much thinking,” was the re- tort. “The chief‘of the bunch is ordering us to get out.” The voice of the man on horseback reached their ears distinctively and clearly. He was commanding them to stand forth, with hands uplifted on peril of being shot down if they made a hostile move. “Oh, can’t you do nuthin’, Mr. Merriwell?’”’ moaned Miss Ashy. ‘Not at present,” confessed Frank. “The best - thing we ¢an do is to obey.” “That’s common sense,” asserted Langford in 4 be WEEKLY. II stantly. “These road-agents are desperate charac- ters, and they just as lief commit murder as breathe.” “Oh, what an awful country for my Willium to be in!’ sobbed the spinster. “I’ve got twenty-five whole dollars in my pocketbook. Do you s’pose the horrid wretches will take it?” “You'll get off cheap at twenty-five,’ said Lang- ford. “T’d give a couple of hundred or so if I had only twenty-five with me,” mumbled Sponge. . “Give me your pocketbook, sir,” said Miss Ashy, with sudden calmness. , “Let me have it. [Il do my best to take keer of it.” While Sponge hesitated, Langford whispered in his ear: “Better not. Perhaps she’s in league with the road- agents. You never can tell. Chuck it under the cush- ion somewhere.” The Easterner complied by finding some nook into which he thrust his fat pocketbook. Once more the leader of the road-agents was sternly commanding the passengers to stand forth. He added ‘a threat that a few bullets would be sent through the stage to hasten them unless they complied in- stantly. | “You step out first, Mr. Sponge,” urged Langford. “Tl follow you.” “Why don’t you go first?’ wheezed the man from Connecticut. “I’ve never had any dealings with high- waymen.” “Oh, well, I don’t mind,” declared the young man, with a forced laugh. “Here goes.” He flung open the door and sprang out, with as- sumed boldness, immediately elevating his empty hands above his head. . | To the surprise of Merriwell, Miss Ashy followed Langford closely, also putting up her hands. Sponge puffingly and wheezingly descended to the ground, taking pains to imitate the example of the ‘others by keeping his hands above his head. Frank came last. “Line up there!” commanded the man on the horse, threatening them with his rifle. “Don’t get behind one another, Step out into view, you big fat man. That’s right. Now every one of you keep his hands up.” , | He used the masculine gender, didn’t he?” whis- pered Miss Ashy. “Then I s’pose I can put my hands down.” | : But when she attempted to do so the masked robber — cea ne tert er en 4 ar: eee snarled at her in such a _tone lifted her hands again. “T hate to be impolite, madam,” said the road-agent, “but I can’t take chances, even with a woman. Be- sides that, I don’t wish to see you hurt, of my boys that she hastily and one up yonder might think you were trying to pull a pistol, and shoot you.” As he uttered these. words left hand toward the boulders. he made a motion of his figures dimly seen amid the There were two of them in view. Just the tops of their heads and their long rifle-barrels thrust over the rocks. After looking tered ; ‘“There’s no chance for us. Those fellows up there will fill us full of lead if we try any funny business.” The cheeks of the girl on the box were tingling red, and her dark eyes seemed to flash as she steadily re- med the mounted highwaymen. . “I wish I'd brought a gun, ter. t “Tm mighty glad you didn’t,” value my life if you don’t yours, Bessie.” “But to be held up like this—it’s outrageous!” Evidently her words reached the ears of the road- agent, for he bowed a bit as he said: around, Langford regretfully mut- * she was heard to mut- “It is outrageous, my dear young lady, but I’m hard up, and I need the money. jf you people are reasonable, I give you my assurance that you will not be harmed in the least. I did not expect to find ladies on this stage. It’s a most unpleasant surprise for me, as I much prefer to deal with my own sex in a little business transaction of this sort.” Paes _ Having made this declaration, he slipped from the -saddlé, coolly leaned his rifle against a snowy boulder, and advanced toward the stage. As he came forward he took a Colt revolver from a holster and held it ready for use. _. “Perhaps this precatition is unnecessary,’ he ob- served, “considering the fact that you are all covered by my men. At the same time, I feel better if I have a shooting-iron in my hand.” “My goodness!” murmured Miss Ashy, “ain’t he awfully polite for a robber? I allus thought they was big brutal ruffians. Why, he sents to be a young _ man—a very yourig man.” ‘ This was true. The. highwayman chief wore a figure | was slender’ and youthful, while his voice seemed almost boyish. # said Langford. ‘I mask which completely covered his entire face, but his r fica regarded the masked ena intently as the WEEKLY. To Merriwell ther thing familiar in this person’s voice, and there now latter drew near. e had been some- seemed something familiar in his general appearance. The road-agent halted in front of the lined-up pas- Frank was As the eyes, betrayed by the Merry, the highway- fell: back a step, and nearly A smothered, unintelligible ex- clamation came from his hidden lips. Standing in that startled pose, he stared into Merriwell’s eyes, a gaze which was steadily returned by Frank, who threw all the magnetism and power of his nature into that look. The others wondered as they saw these two stand- The si- sengers and looked them over one by one. the last one surveyed. twin slits in the mask, fell on started dropped his revolver. man violently, ‘ing thus, immovable as stone, eye to eye. lence was brokén at last by the impatient pawing. of one of the horses. Then Frank moved. close upon the masked youth. | grasping the weapon held by the road-agent. 4 / An instant later both were down on the snowy trail. With two quick steps he was CHAPTER VI. THE CAPTURE, “The fool!” palpitated Langford. killed |” But as the young man made a move toward Merri- well, who had pinned the highwayman to the ground, Miss Ashy uttered a shriek him about the neck, clinging with such tenacity that he could not break her hold, sprawled and rolled in the snow. Peter Sponge, shaking in every limb, caught up the pistol the highwayman had dropped. With this he turned toward the rocks, at the same time bysiy 1p shelter himself behind the stage. “Tf you shoot, V'll shoot!” he wheezed. Frank Merriwell’s their swiftness. to the ground, Merry arose to his feet and stood over the highwayman, whose elbows had been bound be- — From some pocket ® hind his back with' his own belt. Frank produced a. pistol. “Steady, miss,” “We've got him. It’s all right.” “But the men—the men up yonder!’ she cr ied ex: citedly. ; | “There are no men. up roe 9 Out shot his hand, “He'll get us all and once more clasped. and together they movements were amazing in As the girl on the box came leaping’ _~ he said to the girl stage- -driver, a as ramos ase i Sis ‘this don’t beat the world! _ take him along with us to Broken Bow. ford, would you mind climbing up on top of the stage and cutting a strong’ piece of rope off of one of those’ bundles? Just throw it down, will you?” “With pleasure,” said the girl, flashing him a Taf LOOP tounding declaration. - “Those are dummies. This bold young gentleman is playing a lone hand, and the cards have gone against him.” “How do you know there are no men up there?” palpitated the girl. “How do you know they are dum- mies ?”’ “My eyes are too good to be fooled by such fakes,” laughed Frank. “Here, Mr. Sponge, be good enough to pull this maiden lady from Vermont off Mr. Lang- ford. In truth, Miss Ashy was clinging to Langford as if They seem to be tied up in a, fond embrace.”’ her life depended on it. Wheezing and coughing, Sponge bent over the pair and succeeded in releasing her hold. “The old lunatic!’ panted the young man, as he sat up. ‘Why, she ‘s “Oh, I—I expected we'd all be killed in a jiffy!” sobbed the spinster. ‘Be we still alive?” “Very much so,” said Frank, holding his revolver “This, Miss Hooker, is the only road- agent we have to contend with, and he seems quite in plain view. harmless just now. If he or any accomplice should attempt to do any shooting, I’d find it my unpleasant duty to shoot some myself.” The girl stage-driver offered to assist her brother, but he leaped up of his own accord. After a mo- ment’s hesitation, he looked at Frank and said: “Is it possible there’s only one?” “Do you think we’d be in good health just now if he had any accomplices up yonder?’ returned Merry. “In these days road-agents generally prefer to work alone. It was a clever trick to give us the impression that he had backers, but I tumbled to it as soon as I got a good look at those dummies.” “By Jove! by Jove!” wheezed Peter Sponge. “If And my five thousand is safe, after all!’’ “Quite safe, sir,’ said Frank. “If we keep our eyes open until we reach Broken Bow, I think you'll hold onto your money. You have this rascal’s shoot- ing-iron, Do you know how to use it?” 7 “I haven't handled one for a good many years,” said Sponge, “but I guess I can do some shooting now if I have to.”’ “Good,” nodded Merry. “We'll tie this young gen- tleman up somewhat more securely, and then we'll Miss Lang- —_ Pere comengrey tonne cept ye WEEKLY. 13 strange look, in which there, was unmistakable admira- tion. She quickly mounted to the top of the stage, and a moment later the rope required by Merriwell was thrown down. He caught it with one hand and passed it to Sponge. “If you know how to tie a few hard knots, sir,” said Frank, “just show your skill on our highway- man friend. In the meantime, [ll keep my eyes open to make sure he has no accomplices anywhere near who will risk interfering with your operations.” “Tl tie him!’ gurgled Sponge. “I'll tie him so he'll never get away until he’s released or hanged.”’ The discomfited highwayman had been sitting up, straining at the belt which held his arms in an awk- ward position. The Easterner now pitched the scoun- drel forward on his face, knelt upon him, and pro- ceeded to bind him with the rope. “What shall we do with him?” questioned Langford doubtfully. “Have you any legal authorities at Broken Bow?” asked Frank. : “Why, there’s Judge Malden. I don’t know how much real legal authority he has. I suppose re “Perhaps he'll do,’ nodded Merry. “At any rate, we'll find out when we reach Broken Bow.” “In a short time Sponge had completed his task and rose to his feet with an expression of satisfaction on his flabby’ face. “There,” he said, “I'll bet my life that will hold him.” “Help him to his feet,’ directed Frank. Sponge and Langford did this. “Now,” said Merriwell, addressing the baffled rob- ber, “you'll oblige me by getting into the stage.” Apparently completely humbled, without one sign of rebellion, the road-agent obeyed. “Miss Hooker,” said Merry, “I regret the necessity of compelling you to ride with this racal, but I’m sure you would find it very cold and uncomfortable on | _ the top of the stage.” “Oh, land, yes!” breathed Miss Ashy. “I’m jest shiverin’ all over this minute. I feel cold as ice.” “You and Mr. Sponge will ride inside with the highwayman,” said Merriwell. . “Don’t touch ‘him, Sponge, but keep that pistol ready for use in case you need it.” “What are you going to do?” asked the Easterner. “Are you going to ride on the outside of the stage?” “No,” answered Merry. “Miss Langford and her brother will do that. I’m going to use our robber ee npeemr ntl snore ree OTe ae A teen eter tet 2 a Ase tg Tee re es TIP fOr friend’s horse. Will you he good enough to catch the animal, Langford, and bring him back here for me? Never mind the rifle. I'll pick it up as I ride along.” “Go ahead, Vance,” said Bessie Langford. “We owe it to this gentleman -that the stage was not robbed. We must follow his directions and judgment in everything.” © “Approach the horse cautiously,. Langford,” di- rected Merriwell. “Don’t frighten him away. I think you'll have no difficulty in securing the animal.” Langford had no difficulty in this, but, contrary to Merry’s instructions, he picked up the rifle and brought it back with him as he led the horse. “Thanks,” said Frank, as he accepted the weapon from Langford’s hands. se “What about those dummies?’ asked the young man. “We'll leave them there,” said Merry. serve as good evidence against the highwayman in case judge or jury at Broken Bow decide to make an “They will inspection.” While Langford had been bfinging the horse Peter Sponge got into the stage with the captive robber. Miss Ashy now followed him. “It’s going to. be cold riding on top,” muttered Langford. “T’ll exchange coats with you,” suggested Frank. “Mine is heavier than yours, and I won’t need it on horseback.” “We won’t bother,” said the young men. “It’s not more than eight or ten miles to Broken Bow.. I don’t think I’ll freeze before’ I get there. I'll do some of the driving and relieve my sister.” In a few moments they were ready to start. . The girl on the box waited until Merriwell gave the word, and then she once more cracked her whip-lash over the horses. In the saddle Frank followed behind the stage, car- tying the captive robber’s rifle in hand. CHAPTER VII. THE MASK REMOVED. In this manner they arrived in the town of Broken Bow and stopped in front of the “Western Empire Hotel,” a building constructed mainly of mountain pine logs. There were half a dozen other buildings ‘scattered over the snowy slope in that vicinity. “It seemed that nearly all the inhabitants of Broken Bow were waiting at the hotel for the arrival of the WEEKLY: stage, and they came hurrying forth as it drew up at the hotel steps. They were a grotesque, motley lot, those men of that lonely Rocky Mountain camp. There was little beauty in that collection of bearded, grizzled, weather-worn human beings. Their dress Some were smo- king, and some were chewing tobacco. Nearly all looked like broken down fortune-seekefs, who had found little save hardships and disappointments in life. As Bess Langford drew in the steaming horses a Burnside whiskers was mainly woolens and corduroys. small man with reddish-gray stepped out to the front of the group and waved his hat, crying: “Three cheers for the new stage-driver, gents! Let her go!” They did “let her go’’ with the greatest enthusiasm and vigor. Their cheers consisted mainly of a shrill chorus of wild yells that awoke the echoes. Thanks, boys,” laughed the girl, as she stood up. “I told you I’d make the trip all right, but I’m afraid I should have failed only for the young man yonder.” She waved a gloved hand toward Frank, who was dismounting from the horse. “That’s right, boys,” said Langford quickly. “We were held-up back at Crow Notch.’” i “What? what? what?” spluttered the little man with the Burnsides. “Held up? You don’t “Thanks, major. ’ mean— “Road agents,” nodded the girl. “Hey?” cried a thin man, with a grizzled, gray beard that looked like a scrubbing-brush. “Road: agents—road agents on the Broken Bow trail?” “That’s right, judge,” declared the girl. “Anyhow, we thought at first there were road-agents, but it He had some dum- panned out there was only one. mies with rifles fixed up amid the rocks, and I reckon he would have pulled his game off all right only for this young gentleman who savvied the fact that the highwayman was going it alone.” “Did you kill the cuss?” roared the one addressed as judge. “Did you deprive me of my legal right to try and hang the critter?” “Oh, no,” answered the girl, “we didn’t kill him— we captured him. And to make this statement strictly correct I must modify it by explaining that the young man you see yonder did the capturing. He jumped _ on the agent in the face of a gun and had him down and fast in a jiffy.” ? “By thunder, that was good work!” hoarsely de- clared a huge red-shirted man, ax he detached himself from the rest of the crowd and strode toward Frank. “I disremember if I’ve ever met up with you before, ir, but I want to shake your hand.’ Put your little paw in mine. I’m Roarding Jim Kennedy.” Roaring Jim seized Frank’s hand and attempted to crush it in an iron grip. To his surprise his grip was returned with interest until he fairly winced. “Thank you, sir,” said Merry, “but I have no de- sire to take all the credit for this piece of business. I was assisted by all the others in this capture.” During this time Peter Sponge had been vainly try- ing to open the stage door. He finally succeeded and stumbled. forth, dragging the still masked highway- man behind him. | “Here’s the. wretch!” © he “We've got him!” “Yes, weve got him,’ quavered the voice of the woman from Vermont, as she followed them. “And, goodness knows, I must say he’s the most gentle, quiet, polite young robber I ever saw! Why, he hasn’t created the slightest disturbance since he was placed in the stage.” cried triumphantly. “T guess not!’ wheezed Sponge, displaying the re- volver he held. “He knew better than to do anything like that.” The men of Broken Bow gathered about the high- wayman and his captor. “Let’s have a look at him!’ roared Kennedy. The road-agent pressed close to Merriwell’s side. “For Heaven’s sake, Frank Merriwell,’’ he whis- pered, “don’t let them remove my mask! If they hang me, let them hang me with the mask still on my face, and I beg you, by the merhory of your mother, to bury me thus! I’m your prisoner, and you have a right to make such a request. If you do and back it up,.as I know you can, they'll never take the mask off.’ His voice was filled with pathetic appeal and such deep anxiety and emotion that Merriwell was strangely stirred. “Let’s look at him!’ rumbled Roaring Jim, once more, as he reached to tear the mask From the cap- _ tive’s face. _ “Wait a minute,’ interfered Frank, grasping Ken- nedy’s wrist with that clutch of steel. “This unfor- tunate young fellow has just expressed a request to me. He has asked that the mask shall not be re- - moved.” “Oh, we can’t have that! we can’t have that!’ splut- — tered Major Bowman Squears, the red-whiskered ‘ hotel proprietor. “We must see what he looks like.” ee See penne MY g A pm yn NR RM cw TIP TOP WEEKLY. — 1s “That’s right! Sure! sure!’’ shouted a number of voices. said Merriwell, pla- Let “Just a moment, gentlemen,” cing himself squarely in front of the captive. me say a few words.” “Go ahead,” “we'll listen to you.” “We've spected,” said Roaring Jim; all had mothers whom we loved and re- said Frank, “and it’s possible that a great many of us have done things we should be ashamed This unfortunate fellow is It’s likely that he has re- for our mothers to know. scarcely more than a boy. spectable relatives somewhere, a father, a mother, perhaps brothers and sisters. If they were to know what he has done, it would fill them with sorrow and shame. It might bow his father’s head in disgrace. It might break his fond mother’s heart. We have him helpless in our hands. He can’t escape punish- ment for his criminal act, but why should we wish to humiliate and punish others who are near and dear to him? Let’s grant his request for the present, at least. Let’s permit him to wear his mask for the time being. If it is decided later that the mask must be removed, if that is the sentiment of justice, I will not object. You've heard Miss Langford and the others ~ state that I’m the one to whom credit is mainly due for his capture. may be punished. We have brought him here that he But out of consideration to me and to his innocent relatives, let’s not be too hasty about exposing him by taking off that mask.” To Frank’s surprise, Jim Kennedy choked and his voice was husky as he said: | “That’s right, gents, I judge we’ve all ses things we wouldn’t ’a’ wanted our old mothers to know about: We've got this cuss, and we can hang him as soon as legal process of law gives us the authority. He'll be tried right here in Broken Bow, and the judge will ‘set on his case. If he wants to keep his identity kivered up, it makes mighty small difference to us whether we hang him with a mask on or off. I’m for grantin’ this here request of his.” oe A few demurred, but the majority seemed to waver or show that they had been won over. “It’s ruther unusual,’’ said the judge, if it’s strictly accordin’ to any precedent of law. I'll have to look into the matter, but for the time being _ I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t let him wear his mask as long as he wants to wear it so much.” Frank had carried the day, and the captive was : escorted into a small back room of the hotel where Cae a ona see tors espera peenip/tmcokn: $e trreele i “and I doubt ‘may and regret that no words can describe. though he had fancied he knew this boy, he had lation turned him to stone.” 16 there was but a single window, which was closed by a heavy slab shutter. “Thank you—thank you, Mr. Merriwell,” the prisoner. “Now if you could only release my hands. My arms are numb. ‘The rope cuts into my wrists. My blood cannot circulate.” Merriwéll looked round inquiringly at the judge, the major, and Roaring Jim, who were with him. breathed “He couldn’t get out of here in ten years,” the hotel proprietor. “He'll have to have something to eat,” “and he’ll need, to use his hands while, eating. Can we post an armed guard outside that window?” “Sur ” said Kennedy; “T’ll see to that.” “Then I don’t see why we shouldn’t release his said Frank. The hands of the wretched highwayman were set free, and he was left there in the darkness of that asserted said Merry, e, sure, hands,” room to meditate on his miserable situation. Not more than thirty minutes passed before Frank, with a lighted oil-lamp in his hands, returned to the captive’s room. “Boy,” said Merry, closing the door behind him, “T\succeeded in keeping you from exposure before that crowd. You owe me something.” “IT owe you a great deal,” was the low answer. “Tl never be able to repay the debt.” “T have one request to make, believe I know you. I may be able to help you still further, but in order to do so I must see ae face. Take off that mask.” The captive drew back. | “Take off that mask!” repeated Merry sternly. The hands of the highwayman shook as. he reluc- tantly complied. The face revealed, pale as death and marked with shame, was that of —— Chester Arlington! ’ said Merriwell. “I [ CHAPTER VIII. ) A DESPERATE DILEMMA. For fully a minute neither spoke. Once Arlington’s bluish lips moved as if he sought to utter some word, but no sound issued from them.’ Gradually his head drooped, for his eyes could not meet the steady gaze of Merriwell. On Frank’s face there was a look of shocked dis- Even not once imagined it could be Arlington, and the reve- PREY. In another part of the building sounded a hoarse murmur of voices, which suddenly rose to a clamor- ous uproar in which there was a fierce, blood-chill- ing note. The wreched boy shuddered violently and lifted his head the least bit. “I suppose,” he huskily muttered, after moistening his dry lips with his tongue; “I suppose they’re get- ting ready to lynch me!” “You desetve it, “Whether I my finish.” Arlington rested one hand on the bare table before him as if in need of additional support for his legs. His features were set and drawn. As Frank Merriwell swiftly reviewed in his mind the tempestuous career of this unfortunate boy he was seized by a great feeling of sorrow and pity. Not wholly was Chester Arlington to blame for his wild and wayward ways, not wholly was he to blame for his present pitiful plight. A selfish, arrogant, over- indulgent mother had through her folly aided in the development of the reckless seeds implanted within don’t you?” said Frank. deserve it or not, that is liable to be his soul. clay than ordinary boys, and she had encouraged him to look down upon his schoolmates and companions. In order that those schoolmates might envy him, she had supplied him with eveything his whimsical fancy had desired. She had given him good clothes, watches, rings, and money without stint. As her favorite child and the pride of her heart, she had shielded him from correction and rebuke whenever he did wrong. In this manner she encouraged him in his waywardness _and assisted in the development of a recklessness and disregard for the rights of others that had now brought him at last into this calamity, which might end in his disgraceful hanging from the limb of a tree by the hands of coarse and, brutal men. Such a fate was threatened at any moment, for the men of Broken Bow were drinking at the bar of the Western Empire Hotel. Liquor was firing their _ blood, and already they were uttering threats against the highwayman who had attempted to hold up the stage. Arlington’s words indicated that he realiz peril. Frank advanced and placed the lamp on the table. His hand fell on Chester Arlington’s shoulder. “My poor boy,” he said, “I’m sorry for you!” ed his Chet flung up his head, and a bit of color crept into Sy his cheeks. “gn She had believed her son to be of better. f * \ 3 et Nh Tain hein 2 i ot i “Don’t,” he implored, drawing away; “don’t waste | sympathy on me, Frank Merriwell! I’m not worth ea itl" Ie | “T can’t understand how it is that I find you here,’ said Merry. “At last reports your father had sent F you up in Wyoming somewhere to spend a year on a ranch.” Chester shrugged his shoulders. “I was mainly responsible for that,’ he said, it was the biggest mistake that ever happened in my -eareer.. It was foolish of any one to think I’d be content to drivel along on a wretched cattle-ranch. that I, who have always been accustomed to anything and every- thing my heart desired, could possibly content myself to live like a cow-puncher and endure the hardships and i teint at REIS SA , It was a mistake for any one to think of such an existence. I was sincere enough about trying it, but I didn’t have the stamina to stick it out. At last lran away. And here I am!” “Are you known to any one in Broken Bow?” “Oh, yes. Half those men out there who are growling and snarling for my blood have seen me in this place. I’ve been here nearly a. week.” “That was one reason why you didn’t wish them to see your face.” “T didn’t care so much for them,”’ asserted Arling- ton. “It was you I cared for, Merriwell. I’m known here under a fictitious name. I’m known as Fred - Somers. Had they lynched me and buried me under that name, it’s doubtful if my, parents-or my sister would have ever learned the facts concerning my fate. But you knew me, and had I unmasked in the presence of the mob, you would have spoken my real name. Besides that, I thought it possible I could keep my mask on and go to my finish and my planting without you ever knowing the truth. That you do know it ) hurt me. You have been my friend, even though I hated you and tried to injure you. Your brother, whom I hated still ‘more, has been my friend. My hatred for him is a thing of the past. I admire and respect him now. I would do anything for him— anything!” Chester’s words were interrupted by a sob, but with a powerful effort he held back the tears that threat- ened. 7 “There’s—there’s not much man left in me,” he sighed. “I’m a poor, weak, contemptible thing. All the same, Frank Merriwell, if those men drag me out I’m not going to squeal, and I’m not going to cry.” hurts me more than anything else in this world could. to hang me, I’m not going to show, the white feather. een WEEKLY. that this boy might be lynched by those men smote Frank like the blow of an iron fist. said Merry, “but hanging for You might The probability “Justice is justice,” attempted highway robbery is not justice. be lawfully sent to prison.” Something like a short, bitter laugh came from Chester’s lips. “It’s better that I should’ be lynched and buried under the name of Fred Somers,” he declared. “If I’m sent to prison, the disgrace, the shame will fall heavily upon my parents and my sister. If I die tmder a fictitious name, they may never know. Frank, you must keep my secret—you must promise me!” “Wait a bit,” “Even now it doesn’t seem possible to me that you would resort to highway Were you in desperate need of money?” Arlington replied by thrusting a hand into his urged Merry. robbery. bosom and bringing forth a package of bank-notes. “There is a hundred and fifty dollars, at least,” he said. “I won ‘it at cards.” “Then you are not in desperate straits financially?” “Far from it. I’m lucky at cards, and I could take care of myself.’ “But why,” breathed; Merry wonderingly; “why ' did you do it?” “T don’t suppose you'll believe me if I tell you the truth. It'll sound like a lie, Mr. Merriwell. That whole business was a joke.” A joke? ?” cried Frank incredulously.. “Yes, the result of a silly boast on my part. I bragged to a certain person sal in Broken Bow that I had nerve enough to hold up the stage and rob the passengers. We were talking about such things, a - I ridiculed the idea that it required especial courage.” Frank shook his head doubtingly. “Oh, I knew you wouldn’t believe it,” said the boy. “No one will believe it, but I-swear it’s the truth. - Perhaps I had taken a drink or two when I made that foolish boast. At any rate, I vowed I would hold up the stage, rob the passengers, and then, when I next» appeared in Broken Bow, I would return to the right- ful owners such plunder as I had taken. I looked on it as a thrilling adventure. I thought it would be — something I could boast of afterward.” | Merry began to wonder if this could be the truth. 3 “In such a case,” said Frank, “some one else—the © one to whom you boasted—knows your plan. That person can save you—perhaps. You may be punished | by law, but it’s possible to save your neck.” : It was Chester’s turn to shake his head in a doubt- oa ine manner, 18 Sie Le “T don’t believe it,” he said: “No, it’s impossible, Frank.”’ ; “Why impossible?’ “Because I can’t bring. the other “What folly is this?’ exclaimed Merriwell harshly Chet grasped his arm. “Tf I tell this story,” he said, means to the other person. It will not be accepted as the truth, and the one to whom I boasted will be re- garded as my accomplice. I must protect—that per- son.” “You can’t. You must save yourself, my boy. Whoever this other person is, he is quite as guilty as you—if not more so. He should have prevented you from carrying out your foolish project when he dis- covered you really meant to try it. Tell me his name.”’ Chester stepped back. “T will not!” he said grimly. “Not even to save yourself?” “No. Nothing can force me to tell.” “You had better be reasonable and change your mind on that point, Arlington. Further than that, you had better change it without delay. Listen to ‘those human wolves.” | Another roar came from the barroom of the hotel. It was fiercer and more bloodthirsty than any previ- ous sound that had reached their ears. party into it.” “you can see what it “In half an hour, in ten minutes, in five minutes, ‘perhaps, those men will come bursting into this room, bringing a rope,” said Frank. “Then it will be too late, Chester. Tell me the truth now, and let me go out there and plead for you. Tell me the truth, and I pledge you my life I’ll fight for you as long as I can stand.” “T don’t doubt it, Frank esrieeti ”| said Chet, “T know you would fight for me, but you must not. You are but one man, and there are a dozen or more ruffians preparing to swing me. Some of them are genuine desperadoes. If you attempted to defend me, they would not hesitate to wipe you out of their path. What can you do alone against that mob? It’s no use, Mr. Merriwell. My goose is cooked!” In vain Frank used all the eloquence and argument at his command. Arlington remained immovable as _ the Rockies themselves. | : ' “All right,’ muttered Frank, in disappointment, “whether you tell me or not, I’m going to do what T can for you. You can’t escape unaided. A big man, Roaring Jim Kennedy, is on guard outside that window. There’s another man watching beyond that WEEKLY. The shutter of the window is fastened on the Don’t hope to es- door. outside. ‘The door will be bolted. cape through your own efforts.” “T have no such hope,” confessed the captive. “You will fail, Mr. Merriwell. “Tudge Malden may support me.” “Poof!” said Chet. do? He has no real legal authority.” “If I can delay the tragedy a while, I’ll set my wits to work devising some method of ‘saving you,’ prom- ised Frank. “I must get among those men and hold them in check. There’s a ray of hope, but it’s a mighty faint one.” “T know him. What will he CHAPTER IX, THE FLIGHT OF WILLIAM BENSON. Major Bowman Squears was behind the bar. Bije Johnson, a loud-mouthed hanger-on of the Western Empire Hotel, was hammering the bar with his fist and holding forth in a loud voice. “Gents of Broken Bow,’ Johnson was saying, “there’s only one sort of medicine. fit for an onery | road-agent. In order to cure such a cuss of his cus- sedness, you’ve got to give him a liberal dose of hemp. In these yere times of piping peace it’s a disgrace for any respectable community to be bothered by such vermin. It’s all right for the judge to talk about lettin’ the law take it’s nateral course, but I certain ‘opine that the law in Broken Bow, as relates to road- agents, at least, means just one thing hangin’.”’ “You bet! you bet!” shouted many voices. the stuff, Bije!” “Now, hold on, gents, bing-brush beard bristling belligerently. “Let’s not be too hasty in a matter like this. We’re all respect- able, law-abidin’ citizens. and that’s a legal manner, but, seein’ as he is white, let’s give him his proper rights in court.” “That’s the only thing to do, judge,” said Frank ey joining the group. “He hasn’t killed any one, or even tried to kill any one. I can’t see that | justice demands that he should be hanged.’ 9 At this there was a great clamor and uproar, Bije Johnson elbowed several men aside and planted himself in front of Frank. “I opine you’re from the East,” he said, with some- “Your words sure proclaim you an — thing like a sneer. : Easterner. Back in that part of the country I under- “That's” ” urged the judge, his scrub- - If this yere road-agent was a nigger, I’d say it was a waste of time to try him in — a stand they don’t hang nobody for highway robbery. Their ways certain are not our ways. ‘ Out here, if a couple of gents shoot each other up, that’s their business, and there’s seldom any necessity for the law to interfere in their quarrel; but when an onery var- mint holds up a stage and attempts highway robbery, he puts himself in the same category with a hoss-thief, _ and hangin’ is a blamed sight too good for a hoss- 44 thief!” “Bije is correct on that point—quite correct,” as- serted the judge. “There’s no question about what’s due for this road agent gent. He’s invited hangin’, and it’s comin’ to him as sure as fate. Howsomever, bein’ a law-abidin’ citizeri and feelin’ the importance of keepin’ my feller citizens law-abidin’, I’m urgin’ that this here road-agent be tried correct and proper _ before me. 3 shall sentence him to be hanged by the neck until he _ is dead, dead, déad. He’s as good as hanged right now. But we don’t want no outsiders pointin’ the fin- ger of scorn at us and sayin’ we don’t conduct things legal and proper here in Broken Bow.” TEINS tua paren, o- 1 T shall listen to! the evidence, and then I “Tt. seems,” said Frank, “that you have condemned ‘this unfortunate fellow \in advance, Judge Malden. You haven’t heard the evidence, and you haven’t given him a chance to say a word in his own defense.” “There you are!’ shouted Johnson, again smiting the bar with his fist. “That’s just what we object to. There’s no reason why we should be bothered and de- anything that galoot has to say. Why, there ain’t nuthin’ he can say in his own defense. Wasn’t he ketched red-handed? Didn’t you ketch him yourself? Let’s all have another drink, Set’em out, major.” © The glasses were filled again, but no one observed that Merriwell declined to drink. “T guess we've pretty near got the voice of this en- tire gathering,” observed Johnson, wiping his mouth on his shirt-sleeve. “We've heard from pretty near everybody, and the majority is for disposin’ of the rob- ber without no delay whatever.” “Here’s one gent we ain’t heard from!” cried a voice, as 4 small, thin, red-nosed, timid-appearing man ‘was pushed forward. This individual looked agitated and seemed to feel that he had made a mistake by venturing into that room. : | Bije Johnson thrust out his chin and glared at the red-ngsed man. re “Stranger to me,” he said. ‘Must have late arrived in Broken Bow.” r TIP TOP WEEKLY. layed and our valuable time taken up by listenin’ to. Pence Then he pointed a dirty finger at the red-nosed man and hoarsely demanded : “What have you got to say about it?” “Excuse me!” gasped the stranger; “TI ain’t gut ai word to say—not a word!” “Well, you have to say something!’ shouted Bije, again thumping the bar. “‘You’ve got to express an We demand a consensus of the opinion of every gent present. What’s your name?” “My name,” said the stranger, “is William Benson.” “Great Scott,’ muttered Frank, “here is Willium at . opinion. last! -Now, where is Miss Ashy ?” “Well, we demand. from you, Mr. Benson,” said Johnson, “an expression of your opinion in regard to the propriety of hangin’ this yere road-agent without no further delay.” “I ain’t gut no opinion,” quavered Benson, trying to shrink back. “I don’t know nuthin’ ’bout the facts of the case. You see I’ve only yisterday come into town lookin’ for a position in the Lame Mule Mine. — I’ve been down to the mine, but they told me the fore- man was up here.” “T’m the foreman,” said a stocky, black-mustached man; “but I ain’t doin’ no business till after this road- agent affair is settled.” Frank got hold of Judge Malden and spoke hur- riedly in his ear. | “Judge,” he said,*“you must insist on a semblance of legal proceedings, at least. Do you think you can hold these fellows off for a while? It'll be a disgrace if there’s no kind of a trial.” “T certain agree on that p’int,” said the judge, “and I cal’late I can keep ’em in check a while, anyhow. I'll use all my persuasion and eloquence to induce them to do this thing in proper style.” Having received this promise, Merry spoke to Major Bowman and asked where he could find the lady pas-_ senger who had arrived on the stage. _“She’s took a room right opposite on t’other side of the hotel,” he said. ‘There ain’t only two rooms there, and I guess you can find her-easy enough.” Merriwell left the bar in search of the woman from Vermont. Having knocked on one door and received no answer, he lifted the latc& and looked in. The room — was empty, but he discovered Miss Ashy’s traveling¢ bag on the bed. Stepping in, he made another dis+ covery. Partly concealed beneath the bed was a bundle he had noticed on the top of the stage. Apparently this bundle had been opened and hastily tied up again: “Where has she gone?’ muttered Frank. “She — onan uaeesdeempinibesbtinmnttieeneancttmraa erent teen TIP can’t mines t be far away, unless she’s making a‘round of the s in search of Willium.’ Disappointed over his failure to find her, and fearful that things might be going wrong in the barroom, Merry The judge hurried back. was talking to the assembled crowd, and, to Frank’s relief, he discovered that this important legal light of Broken Bow was relating a humorous story, to which the men were chucklingly listening. William Benson had backed away into a corner, and he looked ready to run when Merriwell approached him. “Mr. Benson,” said Frank, “I have some interesting _ news for you. I believe you know Miss Ascha Hooker, of Duxbridge, Vermont ?” : “Jerusalem!” exploded Benson, “I should say I dew! But how in thutteration dew you know her? from Duxbridge. I never see you in that taown.” “No, I’m not from Duxbridge,” said Frank, “but I have met Miss Hooker. She is searching for you.’ William seemed painfully agitated. “But I guess she'll have to search, “She'll never find me aout here.”’ “On the contrary,” laughed Merriwell, “she’ll find you very soon, for she arrived in Broken Bow by stage to-day.” “Gee whillikins! Great jumpin’ jehossephat! Holy hoss mackerel!” spluttered Mr, Benson, apparently as- tounded and frightened. “You can’t mean it, mister! Why, haow in thutteration kin that be possible?” “She’s traced you here,” explained Frank. ‘“She’s going-to take you back to Vermont and marry you.” “Not if I see her fust!” shouted Benson. {That woman has been detarmined to marry me ever sence I was in knee-britches. I had to dust out of Duxbridge to git away frum her, and now you say she’s chased me all the way to Colarader. Goose-grease and goose- berry bushes! When does the next stage go aout of taown?” | “The next stage goes day arter to-morrer,” You ain’t he breathed. 7 ex- plained a listener. “Day arter to-morrer?” squealed William. “If I wait till then, she’ll have me nabbed. I’ve got to git aout before that if I have to hoof it. I'll hire a hoss, that’s what I'll do. Where kin I find a hoss ? I’ve gut to have one in less than two shakes of a black ram’s tail. A hoss! a hoss!’ “My kingdom for a horse,” laughed Frank, as William Benson brushed past him and rushed toward the door. “Wait a moment.” _ But Mr. Benson declined to wait, flying forth from tak TOP: WEEKLY. howling for his life. ‘the Bynes ene Hotel in frantic haste to be ae CHAPTER: XX, FOR A HUMAN LIFE. 4 Following the frightened man outside, Frank came Be, tt face to face with Bess Langford. The girl seemed ; . pale and disturbed. She stopped Frank and spoke to ae him. ; h ‘Those men in there,” she said, “what are they go- ) ing to do?” “T’m afraid,” he answered, “‘that they mean tolynch =} the road-agent. They’re working themselves up to that point.” W “But they’ll give him time. They’ll wait until to- BW morrow, won’t they ?” a tt “In such cases there is little delay in this part of the country.” mi hi She glanced around. pi “If they would only wait until to-morrow!” she | breathed. “Do you want then to lynch him? Are a A you in favor of it?” 3 “Decidedly not. . I’ve just had a talk with that un- Y fortunate boy.” (ae Miss Langford seemed startled and agitated. mis it “You talked with him—alone?” she questioned. i th “Yes,” answered Frank, watching her intently. ee. “What did he have to say for himself? What did ao it he tell you?” me i “What do you think he told me?” Peal “I can’t imagine.” pa. “Well, he told me that he had an accomplice.’ mt “An accomplice?’ breathed the girl. “Why, we saw ie nothing of an accomplice. Do you believe him? Do ~ | ag you think he was telling the truth?” be “At first,” answered Frank slowly, “I doubted. him; but now I am satisfied that he told me the truth.” “Did he name his accomplice?” Pave “No. For some reason he declined to give the name of that person, whom I regard as even more guilty — than the road-agent himself. He told me a remarkable sgory, Miss Langford. He asserted that this hold-up | was simply .a wild ae following a boast on his part. He claimed he had bragged: that he could hold | up the stage and rob the passengers. He claimed | that it was hig intention to return such plunder as he | should secure from the passengers. Now, what doyou _ think of that?, Do you have an idea that it can be the © truth?” For a few moments she declined to answer. “Tt may be,’’ she finally said. “It’s most remarkable, sir, but I have been seized by a strong sympathy for _ that poor fellow. We both know that it’s not, law or. justice that he should be hanged for highway rob- | bery. At this moment we can hear those men in there | They will murder him! It will — !?? be murder! ; vt they lynch him, it will be murder,” apreed. 4 Frank; “and his blood will be on the head of the wretched | person who permitted him to attempt this | wild hold-up scheme. That person, whoever it As, Se should come forward and declare.the truth.” abi in the eyes. ASR EA ETE OR A ee Tie, Ae “And get lynched also,” said the girl harshly. “Whoever that person is, he’ll never do it.” “Then there’s mighty small show for the highway- man.” “Look here, whispered the girl, seizing Frank’s atm and speaking hurriedly, “hadn’t you are see him escape entirely than to see him lyrhed “Much rather,” replied Merry, at once. “Then help me. I’m going to try to save him.” “You? How can you?” “I have a plan Big Jim Kennedy is watching the window at the back of this building. I know big Jim well. He'll do anything for me—that is, almost any- thing. See this?” From beneath the sweater she wore she produced a half-pint fle ask. “T see it,” said Frank. “It’s cold out behind this building. Big a drink-now and then. “Well?” “Don’t waste time asking any more questions go in there and do your best to keep those wolves away from that poor boy. If you can keep them away for thirty minutes, I may be able to save his life. At least, I may be able to give him a chance for his life. I have it all arranged. I’m not going to tell you any more now.” . “Perhaps it’s best that you should not,” Frank. From within the hotel came a hoarse shout. “Go! go!” urged the girl. “They’re warming up again. They may get into action any moment. Ple ead with them. Argue with them. If you have to, hold them in check at the muzzle of a gun, but look out for yourself. Go!” She gave him a thrust, and he hurried back into the hotel. At the door of the barroom he met Peter Sponge and Vance Langford. A. “We've been looking for you,” guess that road-agent is in a bad _ scrape. Jim Lkes I'm going to give him one.” , but muttered said* Sponge. “IT That drunken oe intends to take him out and lynch him.” “They'll have him hanging to a tree within an hour,” Hailed: Langford. “I’m rather sorry for the poor dog.” said Frank, looking Langford straight “Then why don’t you speak up and tell “Are you?” the truth?” _ The young man fell back a step. _ “The truth?” he echoed, frowning darkly. do you mean?” “You know what I “What mean,” asserted Merriwell grimly. , “T don’t know,” denied Langford. “You're speak- ing in riddles.” At this point Bije Johnson was heard risspei the crowd to get into action at once. ‘Merry satintered into the barroom. Judge Malden rushed to meet him. “T can’t hold the boys!” he declared. “It ain’t no use trying.” WEEKLY. “Let me try it,’ said Frank, in a low tone. With consummate skill, Frank finally succeeded in getting the attention of the assembled men. At first he spoke of the road-agent, but this seemed to re- mind him of a story, and, having notified Major Squears to set up the drinks for ev erybody, he started on a whimsical narrative that soon proved to be so interesting and amusing that the listeners began to chuckle and laugh over it. This story was followede by another still funnier, and in a short time Merriwell had the entire gathering roaring in merriment. ‘hey drank his health at the bar, while Judge Malden spoke in flowery words of praise of his nerve in capturing the highw ayman. “Steady, judge,’ whispered Frank. “Don’t mention him again. I’m getting them off that track.” Then, without delay, he launched into still another story, which, as he finished, of a song. Frank had a beautiful voice, and his song was highly appreciated. It was a popular topical ditty, and at the finish Major Sqttears himself set up the drinks. s. “Give us another, partner—give us another,” urged Judge Malden. “You certain can sing beautiful. Can’t you warble something kinder soft and senti- | mental ?” | Frank sang “Home, Sweet Home.” And never before had any listener in that room heard it rendered with such deep feeling and such touching tenderness. A hush fell on those rude men, and it seemed that some of them scarcely breathed as they stood with open mouths, drinking in the melody and meaning of that song of songs w hich has touched a million hearts in ev ery quarter of the world. The chin of one piratical-looking ruffian began to quiver, and tears trickled down his. cheeks. Before them all rose in. fancy pictures of the home they had once known and loved. he declared reminded hini 99 “Home! home! sweet, sweet home! 3e it ever so humble, there is no place like home.” The song was interrupted by a man who came rush- ing frantically into the room, waving his hands and shouting. “What in blazes are you galoots doing here? Roar- ing Jim is drunk or drugged out behind’ the hotel! The window is open, and the road-agent has vamosed!”’ CHAPTER XI. MINUTES THAT ARE YEARS. Words may. not adequatel y betray the emotions of Chester Arlington on again being left alone in that wretched room. His brain whirled amid a tumult of — bitter thoughts. To what depths had he descended—_ he who had once proudly boasted that he was the son of D. Roscoe Arlington, the great railroad magnate and one of the money kings of America! He had aide Loe looked forward to a career in life which should place him high above the masses, and he had often pictured himself on his lofty pinnacle, gazed upon with envy and admiration by the crawling, writhing multitudes far below. How different the outcome! He who had expected to reign in a palace now found himself a prisoner in a hovel. He who had expected to exact obedience by kis slightest word or gesture was now a captive in the hands of brutal men, who regarded him with contempt and scorn as a creature deserving a shameful death. Death! He shuddered in every limb as it rose, a grim and frightful specter, before him. , He saw its skeleton figure, its grinning skull of a face, its bony hand outstretched to grasp him. He felt its breath turning him ice cold to the marrow. With a heart- broken groan he placed his harids over his eyes and shrank back. “No, no,” he whimpered, “I ean’t die! .Why, I’m not yet twenty, and all the best of life is before me. I have just begun to live.” Other frightful pictures flashed kaleidoscopic through his brain. He beheld himself seized by those murderous men and dragged forth beneath a'tree. He felt the dreadful rope about his neck. He saw him- self swung aloft, writhing, twisting, dying. He saw his body, with swollen, blackened face, dangling from that limb and buffeted by the winter winds of the Rockies. How long would he hang thus? Would she come at last, with others who would take him down and place him in his coffin? Would she. weep and would she kiss his lifeless lips? Then the grave—he would be lowered into it, a cold, dark hole in the ground. ‘The frozen earth would be piled upon him, and they would leave him there, nameless, to rot. Who shall say that in those fearful moments Ches ter Arlington did not suffer full punishment for all the misdeeds he had ever committed? Who shall say that this unfortunate youth, whom birth, env ironment, and the folly of others, as well as him self, had placed on the wrong road in life, did not give full restitution for all wrong-doing? As he lowered his hands from his beeen dt face and fear-haunted eyes there was in him little semblance of the, old, proud, arrogant Chester Arlington. With quivering hands he readjusted the mask and then staggered feebly to a chair, on which he dropped. Sitting there, with his head bowed and his elbows on his knees, he thought. of his school days at Fardale, which now; seemed so vety far away. He thought of his companions and of Dick Merriwell, at whom he had scoffed and whom he had hated. He realized now the folly of his vaunted superiority over Merriwell. He realized his mistake in mocking at Dick because of that boy’s upright honor and steadfa ast determina- tion to avoid evil and cling to truth and right. He knew that his envy and jealousy of Dick had been the main cause of his final downfall. __ Then he thought of his father, old and unfortunate in his later years—his maimed spirit would be com- » WEEKLY. pletely broken should he ever learn the facts concern- ing the disgraceful end of his son. June next, sweet, loving, faithful, devoted June, who had never, turned against him through all his wayward career of folly and mistakes. Dear little June! His lips moved, and he prayed that she, at least, might never know. And last he thought@of his mother. If for one moment he was inclined to blame her, he quickly put it aside and mentally shouldered the whole burden himself. “She loved me,” he whispered, “‘and she thought she was doing what was best for me.” A sullen sound of voices came to his ears from the barroom. He leaped up, w ringing his hands “Will she leave me here ,to die?” he gre beled, “Can she do nothing to help me? Will she not try?” He was not thinking of his mother now. There was another who had come into his life, and through her he found himself in this frightful dilemma from which there seemed no extrication. He approached the shuttered window and bent his ear to itt In a moment he heard the sound of heavy feet crunching upon the snow outside as the armed guard marched past... - “It’s better to « lie by lead than by hemp,” he mut- tered to himself. “If there was only some way for me to make a dashor try to break out! Of course, I’d be shot down like a dog, but, at least, I wouldn’t be lynched.” He tried the window, he clawed at the shutter, beat upon it with his fists. “Get away from thar!” “Open this window!” shoot me!” “Thar’s something better than tha returned the giant guard. Chester returned to the chair and once more seated himself dejectedly upon it. After a time he lifted his - and listened in dull surprise, for those men in the barroom tvho had been howling and PES like wolves were roaring with laughter. What did it mean? | Great Heaven! was it possible she had told them at last? Was it' possible she had convinced them that the whole thing was a joke? Was it possible that his life might be spared after all? “Tf so,? he said, from the depths of his heart, “I’m going ‘to begin a new career. I swear by all things sacred that T will! I know I can reform. Last sum mer in the Blue Hills I sang “Nearer, My God, to Th for a dying woman. She kissed my hand and che me she knew by my voice that I would become a good man. I will! Never again will I mock at ‘anything noble or good. Only fools do that!” At intervals repeated bursts of laughter came from the barroom, grone louder and more boisterous. And with each fresh outbreak of hilarity Chester’s heart rose a notch. ee Suddenly he heard other sounds. Some one was speaking outside his window. Swiftly he crossed and listehed by the shutter. voice of a man mingling with that of a girl. he roared a voice outside. cried Chester. “Shoot me! :a-comin’ to you,” He heard the re DRS OE a DP OI age ©. ade “She is not with those She is talking with *“Ressie!’”’ he palpitated. laughing men; she is out here! the guard.” Scarcely breathing, he continued to listen. “You certainly must be cold, Jim,” that girlish voice was saying. “I’ve brought you something to warm you up. Take a good pull at the flask.” “Thanks, Bess, I don’t keer if I do. This yere standin’ sentry outside while the boys are gittin’ ready to lynch that road-agent cuss ain’t what it’s cracked up to be. I wonder some gent ain’t brung me out a drink .. afore this.” . ; The captive straightened up, every limb rigid. \ Through his brain shot a new idea. “She’s trying to get the man drunk,” he decided. “She hasn’t told those rufhians the truth. She’ll fail! There’s not time enough for her to succeed.” He heard the guard take a deep breath and smack his hps. “That’s right good stuff, Bessie. It warms me -a’ready. But I wisht you would go inside and ask the boys if they ain’t about ready to decorate a pine with this here road-agent. Seems to me they’re dilly-dally- ing a heap.” a “All right, Jim; but you had better take another drink before I go,” From the barroom came the sound of a voice in song. Arlington knew that voice, and at last he un- derstood that it was Frank Merriwell who was holding the ruffians in check and diverting their attention for the time being. His heart swelled with gratitude. “Frank will save me!” he breathed. “If any living man can do it, he will. He'll succeed, for he never fails.” Then he heard the girl speaking once ‘more: “All right, Jim—all right. You must be a. little dizzy. You haven’t had a drink for some time. It’s upset you. Sit down with your back against the wall —that’s the way.” : _ Chester pressed his clenched hands against his breast _ to still the hammerlike thumping within it. He heard the man mumbling: | “Mighty queer. Can’t be the drink. A quart wouldn’t do it! I’m numb—I’m sleepy. Bess—call the—call the boys.” The next instant Chester knew some one was fum- bling with the fastenings of the shutter. He held him- self ready, and his eyes met hers as she swung it open. - “Quick!” hissed the girl, her face pale, but her eyes ‘blazing with excitement. “Out! out!” oe He needed no’second invitation. haste, he scrambled through the window and dropped to the ground. | - Roaring Jim had keeled over against the wall, but he seemed to see them through a haze, for he made a feeble effort to pull a pistol, gurgling some choking, “smothered words in his throat. . _ Like a flash, the girl wrenched the weapon from the drugged guard. finest we “Follow me!” she directed, turning to Chester. With the utmost n't > $ : TOP WEEKLY. 2: “Keep in the path Kennedy has made. pass the corner of the hotel. that no one sees us.” But for her Chester would have turned and fled across the snowy slope, leaving a trail behind him that would have meant his doom. He trusted her, how- ever, and at her heels he passed the corner of the building and turned to the right upon the stage-road which led up from Raw Elbow. It seemed that every one in Broken Bow was within the hotel, and appar- ently no human eye perceived their flight. Some dis- tance down the road the girl turned to the left and followed a path through some thin pines. This path brought them to the door of a small cabin. “In here, Chester!” she exclaimed, thrusting the door open. She closed the door behind him. “Bessie, Bessie,” he cried, “you have saved me!” “Not yet,” she said, repulsing him, as he attempted to clasp her-in his arms. “You're not out of the woods by a long shot. It won’t be long before they find out what has happened to Roaring Jim, and, when they do find it out, there’ll be blazes let loose in Broken We've got to We've got to chance it ' Bow.” frei renter iy cen CHAPTER XII. THE STAGGERING TRUTH. “I knew you wouldn’t desert me, Bessie,” breathed Arlington.. “I knew you wouldn’t let those brutes lynch me, even if you had to tell them the truth at last.”’ “That would have done no good,’ she declared. “No one would have believed it. Do you fancy any one could think you fool enough to do such a hare- brained thing for a joke? The only way to save you is to get you out of Broken Bow secretly. We're going to try to do that—Vance and I. We were afraid you’d squeal. If you had, the game would have been up.” - “You don’t know me,” said Chester proudly. “Tm not the kind that squeals.’’ | ; “Evidently you are not, and I’ve just learned to admire you for it. But I want you to realize the full gravity of the situation.” ; “T think I do.” . . “But you don’t. I’m going to tell you the truth now. It will do no harm, for you'll never peach. We became acquainted in Colorado Springs, and you got struck on me. You followed me up here to Broken Bow. Both Vance and myself regarded you ‘as a reckless. fool boy. We’re not really interested jin ‘any of these mines up here. They’re not worth our time and attention. All this business with Peter Sponge was a fake from start to finish. Old Sponge is another fool. He’s got more money thee he knows what to do with. We haven’t, and we wanted some — of his. That’s why my brother told him a fancy — fairy-story about investigating the shaft of an aban- ¢ 24 TIP doned mine and picking out a lot of high-grade ore, which indicated that the mine was a rich one. Vance bought that high-grade ore, which he carried down and turned over to Sponge, who had it assayed. “The old dupe went daffy over the prospect of ma- king his everlasting fortune by getting hold of a rich mine that was not being worked. Vance told him the mine could be bought for five thousand dollars spot cash. He induced old Sponge to draw the money and bring it with him. I knew when they were com- ing, and I fixed it with the stage-driver to let me drive the stage. I bantered you into this very humor- ous joke of holding-up the stage and robbing the pas- sengers. You wanted to prove to me that you were very nervy and daring. It was understood that the plunder taken from the passengers should be returned to them, but let me tell you now that old Sponge would, never, have seen his five thousand again had you secured it. “IT was to return _ money. You would turn it over to me for that pu Instead of returning it, was the plan of my self and my Sates to hike with In this way we could make a fat haul, and who hot SE REve your preposterous story if you were captured and forced to confess? Oh, you’re horrified now! You're glaring at me!” | “TI don’t believe it! I won’t believe it!’ cried Ches- ter. “You'd better. It’s the bald, unvarnished truth. I want you to understand so that you will fight like a devil rather than fall into the hands of those men again. This is not the first job in which Vance and I have had a hand. This one fizzled, thanks to Mr. Frank Merriwell. I don’t know whether Merriwell suspected Vance or not, but I do know he didn’t give _us a chance out there at Crow Notch. If he had shown the slightest carelessness, I think Vance would have shot him.” “Heavens!” said Chester, sitting down weakly on a chair. “Now you've got it right straight from the shoul- der,” nodded the girl. “You.fancied yourself madly in love with me, but I reckon you’ve changed your mind some. After this I reckon you'll hate the sight of me and the thought of me.” Chester leaped up. “No!” he cried hoarsely. “pose. “Tl never hate you, Bessie! Even if this is true, I know you’re not to blame. Your brother is the one, and he ought to be shot! Why,,you’re the sweetest, purest girl I ever——” She interrupted him with a hard lauigh. “T didn’t think it of you!” she sneered. “Still, fool- ish boy, I rather like you for it. But don’t idealize me, please. I was born poor, and I want money. I _ otherwise.” “Bessie,” he said, “you’ve been led into this against your own better self. My feelings toward you have not changed. They have grown stronger.” TOP WEE Pit ¥ Once more he sare to take her in his arms, but she thrust him off and sprang toward the window as a series of hoarse shouts came across the space be- tween the cabin and the hotel. “They’ve found Kennedy!” she exclaimed. Over her shoulder Chester gazed from the window ' through the thin pines and saw the men of Broken Bow ‘tushing about in the vicinity of the Western Empire Hotel. “Now what'll “Well, they’re tom up looking for you,” know you can’t be far away, time to hike a great distance. they do?’ he muttered. right liable to turn this camp bot- was the answer. “They'll for you didn’t have the Here comes Vance.” Langford ‘vas seen running along the road. He turned into the path and came panting to the door, which the girl opened for him, first war ning Arling- ton to keep well out of sight. Langford closed the door behind him. rested on Chester he sneered: “You certainly are a first-class highwayman! You ought to be proud of that job! Why, you stood like a chump and let that man Merriwell take the gun right out of our fist. Why didn’t you shoot him?” “Shoot him?” gasped Chester, horrified. “Why, I couldn’ t do that!’ ° “Evidently you couldn’t,” scoffed Langford. “You boasted of your nerve, but you've got just about as much real nerve as a rabbit. No use to waste words now. The ae is all dough. There’s no telling what the finish will be. I said I was coming here for my shooting-iron. Bessie, do you suppose you can fool those men?” “T’ll do my level best, Vance.”’ Langford flung open the door of:a little back room. In the middle of that room a large Navajo rug lay on the floor. Sweeping the rug aside with his foot, the man ee seized a ring-bolt, and lifted a square trap-door, revealing a black space beneath. As his eyes dHere’s your hole, Arlington,’ he said. “Better get into it and stay there until you're dragged out or we can get you away.” sh “But give me a weapon,” urged Chester. “‘I don’t | want to go down there. Let me stand up and fight for my life like a man.’ “Here,” said the girl, flinging him the pistol she had taken from Roaring Jim, which he deftly caught. “There's your weapon,” sneered Langford. you'd better take my advice and blow your brains out with it, if you find the men of Broken Bow are going to get their paws on you again.” 3 Thrilling and electrifying them, there came a sud- den knock on the outer door. Langford made three leaps and reached that door, _ against which he placed his shoulder. mean to have it, whether I get it by fair means or “Down, down!” he hissed at Arlington, Chester obeyed, quickly dropping through the open ° trap into the darkness beneath. The girl lowered the | trap and spread the Navajo over it. Then Langford opened the outer door. That gang will search Broken Bow. “But on je . I Ee. SOI ler de: Tt by Co { am pe her I 7 .ohe | spir _ her men 4 Aw ‘¢ ws Se oe same eS Bos bs a Miss Ashy implor » agent, well, and several others were and our duty 1 Broken Bow \~ hide.” CHA THE REAL On the step Miss Ashy Hooker bobbed a saluta- tion to him. “Land of goodness!” she palpitated. “I’m so skeered and excited I don’t know what to do!’ Without waiting for an invitation, she entered. “What’s the matter?” asked Langford, with a breath of relief. “Oh, such a turrible flubberation as there is goin’ on over there to the hotel! Them. awful men are jest ravin’ and swearin’ like a whole lot of pirates. I was nearly skeered to death, and I had to come somewhere. I see you comin’ over here, and I fol- lered ye. I'll never go back to that hotel ag’in. Oh, dear, dear, if I could “only jest find my Willium l But been murdered right here. woman out I think it’s jest as like as not that he’s by these awful ruffians. I’m goin’ to stay Conscience knows you can’t put a poor among them ravaging human critters.” “Pye got to go back,” here, too, Bessie.” He whispered a few hurri She nodded, and a moment later he was gone. Bessie paid little attention to Miss mee as the spinster rattled on with a persistent clack-clacking of her tongue. At the window she watched the armed men of Broken Bow searching cabin after cabin. As she expected, a party of them finally approached 'and demanded admittance at her door. Unhesitatingly she flung the door open, although ed her not to do so. said Langford. “You stay ed words in the girl’s ear. “My brother told me about the escape. of the road- gentlemen,” said the girl. “I suppose you're searching for him, but I give you my-word you're wasting your time here.” They entered. ; The judge, the major, Bije Johnson, Frank Merri- in the party. '“We beg yout pardon, Miss Bess,” said the major, fe low, hat in hand. ‘We don’t want to disturb ye, but we've got to do our duty in this here business, ; to search every hole and corner of Ww fen that road-agent can possibly aes Ashy was in a frightfully agitated condition, and she wil dly implored them to go away. “There ain't no road-agent here!” “We're jest two lone, unpertected females.’ “The old girl certain ought to have her voice filed,”’ observ ed Bije Johnson. - “Gentlemen,” said Frank, “I see no reason why we should insist on agitating these ladies. If Miss Langfor d will give us her assurance that she has re- mained here since arriving in Broken Bow and has seen nothing of the road-agent, that ought to satisfy she screamed. ’¥orce,” ea OTM ED Ieee ET A RI WEEKLY. 25 “T’ve scarcely stepped outside the cabin since reach- ing Broken Bow,” declared the girl. “I know there is no road-agent here. I give you my word on that, gentlemen.” She looked them straight in the eyes with such an fearless innocence that every man— save one—was convinced. “All right, Bess,” said the judge, “that settles it. We won’t bother you no more. But we're going to’ find that slippery road-agent if we have to tear down every other house in B roken Bow.’ They retired, expressing their apologies. Frank was the last to go. At the door he glanced toward Langford; and their eyes met. Neither moved a lip, but both understood. It was growing dark when Vance Langford reap- expression of Bess peared. Miss Ashy was still there. “T think it’s safe for you to return to the hotel now, madam,” said Langford. “T’ll nevet go back: there,” asserted the spinster. “Tf you turn me out of doors, I'll perish in the cold.” Langford shrugged his shoulders and drew his sis- ter aside. \ “What are we going to.do with that old fool?’ whispered. “We can’t do answered the girl, he anything unless we put her out by and I don’t think that is best. She’s a simple-minded old fool, and I think I can frighten her into keeping still for a time. All we want is a little time, Vance, and between.this and sunrise to-morrow we must s shake the dust of Broken Bow from our feet forever. “That’s right,” he agreed. “I have it all arranged. An hour after dark I'll have two horses on the trail below Kindling Wood Turn. Meet me there, and we'll bid good-by’to this place.” “But how about Arlington?” “Oh, to blazes with him! Let him stay here! Let if he can’t, let him hang.” “Never! she hissed. “He kept his lips sealed when he might have made fearful trouble for us. I'm going to stand by him now. Listen to my plan. You stay here in Broken Bow and keep watch. Have the two horses ready on the trail. I'll get Arlington out and away.- We'll use the horses. There’s no rea- son why you should dust out in, too much of a hurry. It might arouse suspicion. In fact, the chances are ten to one that it would. I'll disappear. To-morrow you can leave Broken Bow at your leisure. [ll:do my best to guide Arlington and get him away. No one in town has seen his face. On Tuesday of next week I'll meet you at telpaes Hotel, in Cripple Creek.” Bit pae “There are no buts about “You must do as I say.’ Evidently hers was the superior will, for he agreed. An hour later the girl suddenly placed herself be- fore, Miss Ashy Hooker and rested both hands on the woman’s shoulders. | him get away if he can; she declared grimly. ‘ ee 26 ie ee: “T want to tell you something,” she said. ‘The boy who tried to hold up the stage to-day is no high wayman. It was simply a fool piece of business on his part. He did it on a wager. He’s nothing but an innocent kid. At this very minute he’s hiding close at hand.” “Oh, my goodness gracious!” “you don’t tell?” “But I do tell. Now, you’re welcome to stay here to-night and as long as you please, for all I care. If that unfortunate boy falls into the hands of those men again, they’ll lynch him. You don’t want to see him lynched any more than I do. I’m going to start him on the road to liberty. My brother has a horse waiting to take the youngster out of these parts. I’m going to conduct him to that horse, and then I’ll re- turn here. You can temain alone for a while, can’t you?” “T s’pose T’ll have to,’ “Oh, such awful doin’s! try! ag The girl entered the back room, swept aside the Navajo, and lifted the trap-door. Arlington came forth at her command. Within thirty minutes they were on the trail that led to Raw Elbow. gasped the spinster, murmured Miss Ashy. Oh, such an awful coun- Within a minute after their departure Miss’ Ashy¢ quietly. Hooker began a systematic and thorough examina> tion of the cabin. She even descended into the black- ness beneath the trap-door, but she carried a lighted | candle with her. Vance Langford was leaning with an elbow on the bar at the Western Empire, talking to Peter Sponge, _. who had imbibed a number of drinks and was sadly under the influence, when Miss Hooker unexpectedly entered that room. Langford stared at her in consternation. “Good Lord!’ he thought, “the old lady has rushed - “ over here to tell all she knows.” “It wasn’t no use, Mr. Langford,” declared the spinster, “I couldn’t stay there all alone arter your sister went out. I gut to thinkin’ of my Willium, and I thought mebbe he’ d be over here. You aint seen nuthin’ of him, have ye?” | “Your Willium is still a total stranger to me, grinned Langford. ‘This is a barroom, madam. _ It’s hardly a place for you.” “But I wish you’d come back home with me,” said ‘Miss Ashy, placing a hand on Langford’s wrist. _ A mément later a most astonishing thing happened. _ With a lightninglike movement, she backheeled Lang- _ ford and flung him to the floor. - pounced upon him, and when she rose hi$ wrists were _ decorated with a strong pair of handcuffs. — Like a cat she As the astounded spectators made a movement to interfere, the remarkable woman ‘Ceapiny red a business like Colt revolver. “Just a minute,” she said.’ ‘ uy don’t wish to venti- date any one, and I'll not do so unless some foolish to interfere with ae. Here's. your toad- - FRANK MERRIWELL’S TRAILING WEEKLY. agent. The other fellow was simply a tool. I’ve been after this man for a couple of months. '-He’s wanted for robbing the United States mail between Gunnison and Ash Run. I was satisfied that this man was my meat, but until I had an opportunity to search sf his cabin within a short time I did not have the evi- | __ dence I needed. I have it now, a number of letters ie taken from a mail-bag that was robbed.” 4s Needless to say, the listeners were utterly dum- - |» founded. “But who are you?” demanded Judge Malden ex- citedly. “I am Philip Case, government agent and detect- ive. This disguise is a bit troublesome, and I shall relieve myself of it as soon as possible.”’ i Frank Merriwell had entered even as Langford | was handcuffed. Merry now added an inquiry: “Where is Willium Benson?” he asked. .) “In my head,” answered the detective. “I am Wil- lium Benson. I brought a bundle with me and made a change in order to carry out that amusing bit of deception.” “Tf this here is the road-agent,”’ cried Bije John- son, “why don’t we take him and hang him, boys: ae “Because you'll be interfering with the United States Government if you do,” said the detective “Besides that, you'll be committing a crime. _ lf you w ere able to take this man away from me— ‘which you're not—I give you my word that Pd See each and all of you pr osecuted for murder.’ | “But how about his sister?” inquired Major Qquears. “His sister,” laid the government agent, “is not his sister. She’s his wife. In order to look for the — evidence without trouble of interference, I permitted — her to get away, but I think [ll have no trouble in — placing my hands on her later.” THE END. So ®@ py tin - tio The Next Number (563) Will Contain __ ( OR, THE FLIGHT OF A FOOL. on ; at tt inshore than vie e Mysterious Guide —A ee for M : , Found! | | L l 5 2 NEW YORK, January Ig, 1907. e % j TERMS TO TIP TOP WEEKLY MAIL SUBSCRIBERS. . (Postage Free.) Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each. i RB ionthGvasuwaiccvsecs ei 650. One yearns en. ecaal oe $2.50 MOMNOUIMS: Sa. su uudedees 85¢e. 2 copies One year...2...26..0.- 4,00 a 6 months..... et ces agama dees $1.25 JL COPY BWO:V.GaIS, iss ockucs a0 4.00 1 ty How to Send Money—By post-office or express money order, * . : registered letter, bank check ordraft, at our risk. At your own risk if sent by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. Receipts—Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper * _ change of number on your label. If not correct you have not been properly t ae credited, and should let us know at once. st STREET & SMITH’S TIP TOP WEEKLY, 14 Ke 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City. le pee eerie te See TIP TOP ROLL OF HONOR. 1- Following the suggestion of Mr. Burt L. Standish, that appeared a in his letter to Tip Top readers in No. 480, the following loyal Tip A Toppers have won for themselves a place on our Honor Roll for their ae efforts to increase the circulation of the King of Weeklies. Get in line ve boys and girls and strive to have your name at the head of the list, a J. P. Coussens/ Chicago. Ill. ‘ ‘Willie J. Carey, Pennsylvania. G. C. Martin, Ont. or. Roy [IcLaughlin, Manitoba, Can. William Blon, Chicago, Ill. ot B. G. Hull, Brooklyn, N. Y. he x: Henry S. Penn, Washington, D. C, ‘ee ed Harry F. McClune, Pittsburg, Pa. 1, Clarence C. Buenger, Michigan. O. L. Parker, Mississippi. The names of other enthusiastic Tip Toppers will be added from time to time. Send in the result of yourefforts to push the circula- tion of your favorite weekly and win a place on the Roll of Honor. APPLAUSE. Owing to the number of letters received, the editors of Tip Top - cannot undertake to secure their publication under six weeks. Those who conttibute to this department must not expect to see them before that time, par’ Advertisements—A limited number of acceptable ad- -vertisements will be inserted in the columns of TIP TOP WEEKLY, ‘at the rate of 50 cents per line, of about ten words each, nothing less than four lines taken, Remit by stamps, check or money ordet to the _ publishers. I have wanted to write to dear old Tie Top for a long time, but was afraid it would find the waste-basket. When I got the last two numbers, I could not resist the temptation to risk one, anyway. My friends all laugh at me, and say that I can’t read my own writing, but I want it published, so I can show them. I am. so glad that old Chester has turned over a new leaf. I always liked him, and wanted him to reform, and am glad he nas. I like all of the boys and girls in Tie Top, but I especially like June and Dick, and Brad and:Dale, I hope that all boys will be pure and good, like Dick and Frank. I try to imitate \ pm WEEKLY. O'7 4/ hem all. I used to smoke and drink, but I quit drinking about two months ago, and when I got last week’s issue of Tie Top, where Dick told that grand story to Chester when he was trying to shoot him in his drunken mania, and how near he came to killing June, and it sobered Chester; and, as he has reformed, I swore that I would never take another drink of whisky, or smoke another cigar, and I mean to stick to“it. I have read Trp Tor for some years, and have always liked it, but the last two numbers touched me more than any others that I have read. I hope that all boys will take Mr. Standish’s- book for an example, and try and live up to it. I will look for this letter to appear soon. Tie Top and Burt L. Standish. Lynchburg, Va. Three cheers for Reda dh This is good reading for every boy who takes Tre Tor. How many thousands of sterling American s have been benefited in one way or another by their ce with Tre Top, it would be hard to: say. We thank this young friend for his manly confession. (A .letter from Ohio.) Please send me a catalogue of your past publications of the king of weeklies, Trp Top. I think it is the best publication for the American youth. My favorites are Dick, June, Brad, Tubbs; Frank, Bart, Inza, Elsie, and Arlington, the latter because he is now in the fold. He has the making of a good man if he would only let bad associates alone. His first game with Pine- ville was great. I wish he, could have held out. I hope Madge Morgan moves to Wellsburg and chums with June, for they are ideal girls. I shed tears when Arlington sang songs. for Madge’s mother before she died. It must have been a heartrending scene. It seems to have been the turning-point in his career. It is a hot race for the pennant in the Blue Hills League, but I think it will be Pineville. Happy Camp will. make it interesting for them. I have been reading Tie Top about a year, and I would like to get some old numbers, when Frank was at Yale, hence my request for the catalogue. R. E. BArr. If you want back numbers, we can supply all from about No. 351 up to date. Those before that number are all out of print, and the only way you can get them is to send for copies of the Medal Library, as we have said many times. Catalogues have been sent you. (A letter from Massachusetts. ) I have only been reading Tip Top about One year, but what I ’ have to say about it is that it is the greatest thing that ever hap- pened. There is no weekly out, that can hold a candle to it. about your football-games. hart Talk ) They are great, only I wish Buck- art went to Yale with Dick, as all of the boys are interested in him, and miss him. He has already won my heart for his frank- ness and outspoken ways. All of the characters are fine—Frank, Bart, Dick, Brad, Young and Old Joe Crowfoot. I like Captain Wiley very much, and would like to hear of him again. ; Will you please send me a catalogue, and, if you have any of the Tip Top postals, I would like to have a set. The only thing I have got against you is that they don’t come out fast enough. A loyal Tip Topper, A. RICHARDSON. Perhaps Brad’s father may be induced to relent, and let the boy go to college. There has been a great movement on all sides from Buckhart’s friends to have the author keep this fa- vorite character in the stories, and perhaps his. plans may have to be altered. That’is as much encouragement as.we cat give you just now. __ Some time back I wrote asking for full catalogues of the * Medal and Tip Top libraries. In return you sent me a book con- taining an introductory chapter of five different libraries. I don’t think you quite understand what a loyal Tip Topper I am. I’ll explain., I read Tire Top from No. 1, to 200 odd, then the Boer War broke out. I ran away to join the forces—Dutch; was too young—15 years—so they would not take me, being physically unfit, too, but they could not get rid of me. They had to put up with me. When the war was over, and I returned tf ea ‘i 28 TIP TOP WEEKLY. home, all my books were gone, my mother having loaned them all out, and not one of them were ever returned. When I asked for them, they said no, they wouldn’t return them, as they wanted to keep them. Now, right there is where I increased the sale of Trp Tor by more than 25, as all those girls and boys who got the books from my mother are still reading them. At first there were no agencies in South Africa immediately after the war, so that I could not replace those numbers, nor get any new numbers. The earliest number I have now is 450, so you see what I have missed reading all that time in between 200 and 450. Lately I ordered 43 books of the Medal Library through a book-agent. I had to wait almost four months for them, and he charged me ten dollars for them, very cheap—I don’t think. I want to complete a library of Tie Tor, and I am determined to get them even if Ihave got to write to you every week till you mail me a catalogue to get rid of me. I don’t think you will stand in the way of aifMbody getting a complete jibrary of the best boys’ books ever Witten. ; Now, my dear sir, if: you don’t mail me those catalogues, I'll just tell Bart Hodge that you won’t let me read about Frank, and you know Bart has got a little temper. Tip Top has done as much for boys out here as it has done in America; for Frank and Dick they will fight every time. Frank has taught me de- termination, and I am going to keep worrying you till I get those catalogues. So, hoping that you won’t deprive a Dutch boy of his greatest pleasure, I remain, very much in expectancy, H.. THeron. 55 Dundas Street, Cradock, South Africa, _ P. SI would not have troubled you again, but the news- agent who ordered the Medal books for me won’t order any more. He says it is too much trouble, an This time we have made sure that the desired catalogues have been forwarded to our young friend. Surely such perseverance, especially when imbibed from reading Tie Top, warded. ‘ (A letter from Oklahoma.) I wish to express my opinion of the best and cleanest story- paper ever published. I have been reading them for three years, _ and have never found anything in one of them that should offend the most critical. Of the characters, my choices are dear old _. Brad and Dick, Ted, and last, but not least, Dave Flint. Well, _we must not forget Chester, as he has reformed, and will be, I believe, a true friend of Dick Merriwell. I have always admired Chester’s courage and staying ‘qualities, but we must not forget that Dick brought this wonderful change about. Well, I can thank the king of weeklies for one thing—it Has cured me of smoking cigarettes. Now, dear Tir Tor readers who smoke cigarettes, take Dick’s: advice and quit those things. You can do it by following in the footsteps of Dick Merriwell. Well, I will ring off, with three cheers for Burt L, and dear old ‘Trp Tor. A true Tre Top friend, Eart Wortey. A true boy’s letter, earnest in its ring, yet bubbling over with enthusiasm and a desire to have others profit by the teachings of Tie Top. You can do the most good, Earl, by getting your boy friends interested in the paper that wins lads away from all evil habits and sets their young feet on the straight road. Having been a lifelong reader of your famous Tie Top WEEKLY, I take great pleasure in writing you a few lines to let - you know my opinion of it. As‘its title signifies, it is the great- est of them all. There is only one thing, however, that I regret, -and that is the introduction of a new set of characters that are pushing Dick Merriwell and his flock for honors, fair and the Farnham Hall boys are excellent, rather see them allied with Dick and his comrades, than pitted against them. Frank Merriwell is the greatest of the boys, and Inza is the prize of the girls. The old stories at Yale were the greatest ever written by Mr. Standish, and Buck Badger at New Haven was one of the strongest characters that ever appeared in Tre Tor. ton, Diamond, Browning, Hodge, Griswold, Stubbs, and Jones are also characters that will live forever in the memories of all true Tip Toppers. Yes, Old Eli, the campus, and. Fardale are Mr. Standish’s greatest field for his abilities, and I hope he will / stick to them. I have been very successful in attracting lots of dmirers for Tip Top, because | wanted them to know the full u ality of this ; ne tha should be re- Dale Spark-— but I would I hope and feel confident that Burt L. will exploit. Dick when he enters Old Eli as well as he did Frank. Rattle-_ of the old. characters, you will hear.a murmur of Mr. Standish i is preparing weekly, They starting: ‘in ithe remote corners of the’ earth, and | shorpasing: ts are unanimous in their praise, and declare that Tie Top is the greatest, most interesting, and beneficial publication of its kind in America to-day. I appeal to all loyal Tip Toppers to help along the cause. Hoping that Dick and his friends will make a name for themselves at Old Eli for the blue, and wishing you hearty success in your enterprise, I will close, loyally, Washington, D. C, OPTIMIST, | Thank you, thank you, Mr. Optimist. You are surely one of the best friends Tip Top has to-day, though their name is legion. We wish you would give us your name; we would esteem it a great honor to place it among those in the list we have hoisted as the sincere workers in our interest. You have ere this realized that it is the author’s intention to deal with Dick at Yale during the next few years, with an occasional set of numbers in con- nection with the, “old flock” and Frank’s school of athletic en- deavor, There are glorious times ahead for all the faithful, to whom we extend the glad hand. (A letter from Indiana.) it is my second attempt to write to the Applause column, and I surely take a great pleasure in doing so. I received the catalogue, although I did not see my name in the Applause column, I have just received the postals, and, as it is my birthday, I consider it a very nice present. I cannot say too much in praise of Tip Top; also the characters. ' My little brother, two years and a half old, is just wild as~ soon as “Dick Mullel” comes, as he calls it, and I am sure Be will enjoy it as soon as he can read. Hoping this will reach the Applause column, and not remain elsewhere, I close, wishing good luck to Burt L. Standish and Street & Smith. I am, ever, a friend of Trp Top, Miss A. RAARE. it is grand, and You can depend upon it that, ere long there will be another ae devoted friend to Tie Tor in your family. And, knowing just what a force for all that is good Tip Top has ever been, we feel sure you will rejoice to see the lad reading these stories that 4 have paved so valuable, pitysically and morally, for years past f to 8 ‘coming men of America.” f As i have been a constant reader of Tip Top, I wish to ex- press my opinion in regard to your stories. I think every member of these stories is/just fine, especially Frank and Dick, of the boys, and Inza, June, and Doris, of the irls. : Jake Lander areal be sleepy, but he can deliver the ‘goods, when the time comes. We have formed a Tip*Top Club, cormposed of some of your. readers, and we are pushing your weekly up as far as possible. The officers of the club are: President, Wm. Griffin; vice-presi- dent, Wm. Connelly; secretary and ‘treasurer, Frank Meta floor-manager, James Fennessey. ; Wishing you, success in all Av undertakings. > Top CLus or NEwarK, N. a Thank you. May your club flourish like a green bay-tree, and Ms every member find abundant opportunities to spread broadcast. the gospel of “a sound mind in a healthy body,” as preached by Tie Top. . Having been a constant bitte of your om since it first came out, I would like to add my of weeklies” ittle pebble ee i Applause to the mountain you have already built up. a Although Dick is all that can be wished, I must say I do: like him quite as well ds I’ do dear old Frank. All that can. te said cannot put Dick in Frank’s place in my heart. Dear ol Bart—remember the way he used to hate Frank, and the way he turned out? Well, I hope that Arlington turns out the. way—for June’s sake—but I fear that he will come to the same end that “Sport” Harris came to. My favorites are Frank, Bart, | Dick, Jack Ready, Diamond, and Rattleton. First, last, and a ne ways. Although I am by no means a critic, | J do know. that when you decide to put Inza and Elsie in the stories with other appro 5 volume until with a mighty roar it soars up Seventh Avenue to Nos. 79-89, and then you will realize what a hold these charac- ters have in the hearts of the old readers, and what a host of admirers Tip Top really has. Hoping that 1 have not taken too much space, I will close with the Fardale yell for Street & Smith, and young America’s favorite author, Burt L. Standish. Gro. G. MERRITT. Buffalo, N. Y. ‘Your letter is interesting, and breathes the true Trip Top spirit that has held captive so many readers all these years. But you must realize that all these things should be left to the author’s judgment. He'‘has provided you with a wonderful variety of entertainment in the past, and you may confidently rely upon | his keeping up the good work in the future. fe \’ » Having read the Tre Tor from No. 1 to date, and not having written to the Applause column, I thought that if you would spare me a little space I would tell you how much I depend on | your king of weeklies, I think that there never was a weekly that has ‘done the American youth as much good as the Merri- well stories. Taking the characters one at a time, they couldn’t be described better than the way Burt L. has pictured them. I have them fixed in my mind in such a way that if there ever was, or ever will be such a person as Frank or Dick, and I should meet one of them on the street, I would recognize him beyond a doubt. It is not this way with Dick and Frank alone, but with every Tip Top character. I am a friend of Chester A., and hope some day to see him going to Yale along with Dick; but Burt L. is writing these stories, and I am sure that he ‘will do what is-best, so I am satisfied. Not to be bragging any, but I think that I have gotten as - many as twenty-five or thirty new readers for Tip Top. This is the way that 1 got most of them. Being around with the boys, one of them would say that he wished he had’ something good to read. I would tell him to go home with me, and I would get him something. Well, I would give him one of my Tip Tors. Some way or other he would never come back, but I would see him down at the news-stand looking for a Merriwell. Hoping to see this in print, and wishing Street & Smith and Burt. L. “luck,” I remain, “A Constant READER.” El Dorado, Kan. If we had your name, good friend, we should be only too’ well pleased to place it among the honored few whose work for Tip Tor has merited our approbation.’ Kindly let us hear again what you are doing. eg me “T think you do not get many letters from our city, so I will é add’my humble-line of praise. [ am a new convert to Tip Top. I read them to my little boy, who is not at all strong, and has written on this to Prof. Fourmen. I like the strict morals of Dick and Frank, and the teaching that tobacco, and liquor, and bad language do not make a gentleman. I think it will help to _ keep many boy admirers of the Merriwells in a good straight path. | I like the ex xample of Chester A.,- as it will prove that ‘> many a person may fall, and have weakness of character, and Ate still be brought up by a steady hand. ~ }* J only intended to write a line, but I see 1 have written many. I hope you will excuse me for taking up your valuable time, but oo much cannot be said -in praise of a book that will interest boys, and still instruct them in fine morals. From a mother, enver, Colo. Mrs. L. R. E We thank you most cordially, madam, and hope to continue to eserye your good opinion always, (A letter from Connecticut.) I have been reading Tir Top for the last two years, and think is the best reading-matter out. I have written to the Applause ae lumn before, but I think my letter found its way to the waste- ket, I would like to see Cap’n Wiley get an education by g to Yale. I thought Chester Arlington would make up vith Dick after awhile. I have just read No. 553, and hope ester doesn’t go to the ranch, but enters Yale this year, and loesn’t fall into his old Habits. Many a time have I come home leven o’clock and sat down to read a Tie Top, and didn’t we till I finished it, a edie Tie TOP Ihave told all:my friends about the good 6 TIO 8 PE TTT A OEE eS WEEKLY, 29 characters in the book, but they all laugh at me and say I am novel-crazy. But wait-—when they grow older the cigarettes they smoke will tell on them, and, as the old saying goes, “He laughs best who laughs last.” 1 cannot praise Tip Tor too highly, nor Dick either, so three cheers for Burt L. and Street & Smith. I remain, a loyal Tip Topper, FRANK WALKER. Meriden, Conn. way you look at these As you say, while you are snug at home reading these and profiting by the lessons they teach, many lads are loafing on the corners, smoking cigarettes, and drifting into bad We commend, you for the sensible things. stories habits. Don’t you think you have a call to try and save some among them by inducing them to read Trp Tor? ‘Try it, anyway. Though I have been a persistent reader of your Tie Top WEEKLY, I have never thought of writing a letter to you. The stories are excellent, as also the characters contained therein. I urgently request all our fellow readers to advance this great work of building up youthful Americans to honesty and self-control. There could not be found a nobler character than that of Frank, or Dick, whose manliness and uprightness are to be ad- mired and imitated by all aspiring youths. Che girls are just grand, |] think, and I know Mr, McCauley, our secretary, would ‘love them himself—June, Inza, and Doris, whom every girl should strive to become like, I am vice-president of the Tip Top Club of Newark; we meet once a week, and have entertaining meetings, and are trying our best to spread the success of this weekly. Hoping to see this in print, I am, yours truly, Wm. ConNELLY. Newark, N. J Your sentiments do you credit, and it is plain to be seen that you have profited by your reading the ideal magazine for the American youth. We hope your club may prosper, and that its influence will extend far and wide, so that many other lads of your busy manufacturing city may learn what a splendid thing is contained between the covers of Trp Top each week. (A letter from Michigan.) I have just finished reading Trp Tor, No. 552, and had a ate laugh over Dick’s playing chaperon. I have read Tip Tor al- most five years, and when it fails to reach us on time I feel. as if a friend had disappointed me. As to favorites, the characters are all so perfect each in his own individual place that it would be difficult to choose the best. I miss Brad since Dick went to Yale. He is a boy after my own heart. Frank, and Bruce, and Bart Hodge are the ones I know best of the old flock, and they are noble men. Dick is a fine fellow. I wish there were more like him. Dale is all right, and Crowfoot has a white heart. I am glad Chet is turning over a new leaf. I hope he doesn’t turn back. What a brain Mr. Standish must have to invent so many fine characters, all different, and carry them on year after year through so many varied scenes and games, and never get their names or personalities mixed. We should not ask him to write more, but hope and pray that he may be spared to us for years more to write Tie Top oncé a week for us. from grandma. Please send a catalogue of Merriwell books to Mrs. Geo. W. Stark. It really does us good to receive a breezy letter like this from -a lady, and, if she has boys of her own either at present or hereafter, we wager they will be brought up on Tip Tor. The catalogue has been sent. OIN THE KOSMOPOLIT EXCHANGE and begin to receive cards daily from all over the world, Rates are 25c for 3 months or $1.00 a year, We will hee something that will interest you. We have apectal rates for foreign members, Join no Address L. G. CLINE, Sec., Box 323, “CANEY, KANS. “GOLDEN HOURS.” Boys, have you any old numbers of Golden Hours? Will pay liberally for Nos. 1 to 23 to complete my files. If you have any of these numbers,, write me. Address WiLLiAMs, Station ‘‘O,” Box 24, New York City, With best wishes — Pror. FourMEN: As I have been a reader of Tip Top WEEKLY for a long time, I should like to give you my measurements: Weight, 75 pounds; neck, 1114 inches; biceps, normal, 8 inches; expanded, 9 inches; chest, normal, 25 inches; expanded, 28 inches; waist, 24 inches; thighs, 154 inches; calves, 10 inches; age, I2 years. RSs BOLT Denver, Colo. Join the local Y. M. C. A,, and take regular exercise. particular attention to the arms and chest. Pay Pror. Fourmen: Having read the Tre Top Weexty from, No. 156, I take the liberty of asking you a few questions. I am sub- ject to hay-fever, and wish to know how I can relieve it. When I sleep with my window open at night, or sit near an open win- dow in the daytime, I get a cold in the head. I take a cold bath every morning, but it seems to do me no good. Do you think it will do me any good to sleep with both windows open wide at night, and take a cold bath in the morning all winter? I arise at 6:30 every morning, exercise for fifteen minutes with dumb-bells, Indian clubs,.on the horizontal bar, and punch the bag; then work from 8:30 until 4 o’clock, get home at 5 o'clock; exercise again about half an hour; go to school from 7 until 9 o’clock in the evening, and retire about 10730. Is this satis- factory? In the fall, when I have hay-fever, I smoke two or three cubeb cigarettes a day; otherwise, I nev er smoke, and have never taken a drink of liquor in my life. I am 18 years old, and weigh about 145 pounds, and catch on a fast semi- -professional baseball-nine. SMU, Boston, Mass. Proper exercise ana cold baths are, not enough for you to observe to effect a cure of your trouble. A thing that is as im- portant is the question of diet. If you put yourself on a fruit and nut. diet exclusively for a few months, the cause of the hay-fever will be eradicated from the system. The average per- son does not realize the importance of simple food , in curing disease, but it is a matter of vital importance. { Pror; Fourmen: Being a reader of the Tip Top Weer y, I _ take the liberty of asking you a few questions. My measure- ments are: Age, I4 years 11 months; weight, 118 pounds; height, 5 feet 534 inches; chest, normal, 29% inches; expanded, 321% inches; neck, 12% inches ; biceps, 10 f nchiehs forearm, 9 inches; thigh, 7 inches; waist, 27 inches; calves, 13 inches. What exercises will develop the arms, shoulders, and chest? Norfolk, Va. Lucien Le Foucnem. Bag-putiching, boxing, and work with chest weights will give you the development you seek, Prov. Fourmen: Encouraged by seeing my last year's letter to you printed, I take the liberty of again seeking your advice. I am 5 feet 10 inches tall, and weigh 150 pounds stripped. I realize that my weight should be more; but, although training to take on flesh, I have gained only 5 strongest points are as follows: 1 2043 “inches. calf, 14, .inches; and ey oe 1034 eae a biceps. chest. mae ‘Hecke would like to ask you a few pounds since last year. My. still need developing. I am now taking gymnasium work 4% hours a week. I am f7 years old, and do not smoke, chew, drink, or use tea and coffee. Please give the standard dimen- sions for one of my height, and state what you think my chances are of becoming an athlete. A HIGHLANDER. Des Moines, Ia. For a person 5 feet 10 inches in height the following are the ‘ ef ° standard measurements: Neck, 16 inches; waist, 34 inches; chest, 42 inches; biceps, 16 inches; forearm, 12 inches; thighs, 25 inches; calves, 16 inches. are very good. Your chances of becoming an athlete / (A letter from New York.) ; Pror. FourMEN: Being a reader of Tip Top, I. take the liberty to ask a few questions. I wish to become an athlete. My age is 13 years; height, 4 feet 8 inches; chest, normal, 27 inches; ex- panded, 29 inches; waist, 26 inches ; neck, 12 inches ; thigh, TBs inches; calf, 11 inches; forearm, 9 inches; weight, 89° pounds. | Prone, half-mile before breakfast, and about one hour after breakfast. ALFRED SUTTON. While the run before breakfast is beneficial, the practise of | running immediately after a meal is very harmful. When you get up in the morning, exercise with dumb-bells for fifteen min-_ utes. 5 Pror. FourMeN: Being a reader of Tre Tor for some time, T questions. Age, 16 years; height, 5 feet 1 inch; weight, 96 pounds; neck, 13 inches; biceps, 8%4 inches; forearm, 9% inches; chest, normal, 28 inches; expanded, 31 inches : waist, 27 inches; thighs, 16 inches; calf, i inches. Have never trained any, but would like to become an athlete. — What is the best exercise for developing the chest? Are dumb- bell and Indian-club exercises good for developing the biceps? Belle Vernon, Pa. Hi: Beas You can become an athletic young man if you train properly. Pulley weights and deep breathing will develop your chest. Dumb-bells and Indian clubs are excellent for developing the chest. ; ve Pror.' FourMEN: Being a reader of the Tire Top Weexty, I take the liberty of asking you a few questions. My measure ments are: Age, 18 years; height, 5 feet 914 inches; weight, y pounds; neck, 15 inches; chest, jnormal, 33 inches; expande an inches ; biceps, 12 inches ; waist, 30 inches; thighs, 20 inches; calves, 14 inches. I work ten hours each day, and have some heavy lifting to do. I have a very weak back. Please tell me how I can strengthen it I have/no opportunity to attend a gym- nasium. I drink tea and coffee, but do not use tobacco or eS: in any form. Britt, Iowa. You are doing too heavy lifting. In order to relieve thei pres- ent condition of your back, you ahbaitdl refrain from doing an; thing that is apt to strain the muscles of that part of sie b You, agi give up tea ‘and coffee. . | COME, BOYS, GET BUSY! Grand Letter Competition $100 in.Gold Awarded for the Best Letters from Readers of ROUGH RIDER WEEKLY Every one of the 50,000 boys who read the excellent stories of Western adventure published in the ROUGH RIDER WEEKLY, has ‘some special reason for liking them. One may like the covers; an- other thinks Ted Strong is just it; another may buy it because he thinks Stella, as a girl pard, cannot be beat. Now, we intend to make it worth the while of every boy to tell us just what he thinks about the ROUGH RIDER WEEKLY and hereby offer valuable prizes to those who write us the best letters regarding the stories themselves; how you may have worked to increase their circula- tion or what you know about the fascinating life of the modern ranch- man, so ably described by our cowboy author, Mr. Ned Taylor. We would particularly appreciate receiving letters from our Western friends. Do not hesitate about writing; although you may not be so for: tunate as to come in for the cash, every contestant will receive a valuable consolation prize: The first competition opens October Ist and closes April Ist when a second contest will begin. The prize winners will be listed early in April so that every one who reads the ROUGH RIDER WEEKLY may know who has won. Here are the prizes: $20.00 in Gold for the Best Letter. _ $10.00 in Gold for Each of the Three Next Best Letters. $5.00 in Gold for Each of the Six Next Best Letters. $2.00 in Gold for Each of the Ten Next Best Letters. The letters should not be longer than 250 words and should be plainly ‘addressed to Manager of Rough Rider Letter Competition, care of Street .& Smith. Now, boys, jump right in and resolve to win a cash prize. STREET & SMITH, Publishers, New York PE RTRs Pee a a Te at nim 2 a 1 it — §4I——Dick Merriwell’s Heart; THE TIP TOP WEEKLY ISSUED EVERY FRIDAY Never has Burt L. Standish written such interesting tales of the adventures of the'Merriwell brothers, Frank and Dick, as are now appear- Mr. Standish has a world-wide circle of friends and he is putting forth his best efforts to amuse and entertain them. you have no idea of what a grand feast he is preparing for you, | Top’s stories are going to astonish you. Do not fail to buy this library. PRICE FIVE CENTS PER: COPY For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, by the publishers upon receipt of price in money or postage stamps — 4 ing in this weekly. HERE ARE THE 533-——Dick Merriwell’s Summer Team; or, Baseball in the Blue Hills. 534——Dick Merriwell’s Demand; or, The Draw at Mad- awaska. | 535—Dick Merriwell’s Slabmate; or, The Boy from | Bloomfield. 536—Frank Mertiwell’s Summer Camp; or, The Athletic- school in the Woods. 537-—Frank Merriwell’s Proposal; or, Starting the Sport in the League. 538—Frank Merriwell’s Spook-hunters ; terious Island of Mad Lake. 539—Dick Merriwell’s Check; or, The Hot Bunch From Happy Camp. 540—Dick Merriwells Sacrifice; or, Team Work That Told or, The Mys- i or, Breaking the Hard Luck Streak. . 542—Frank Merriwell’s New Auto; or, The Lure to Destruction. 543—Frank Merriwell’s Pride; or, The Double-Header at Pineville. 544—Frank Merriwell’s Young Winners ; or, The Stars ' in the Blue Hills. SAp7 it Merriwell’s Lead ; or, Bound. to Hold First Place. g46—Dick Merriwell’s Influence; or, On the ent Road At Last. 647—Dick Merriwell’s Top Notch; or, Absinst Odds. ‘Fate, and Scheming. ) If you want any back numbers of our ibraties and cannot procure them from your newsdealees, the ean be obtained tae this one aoe Postage stamps taken the same as ‘money. .556—Dick Merriwell’s “Push”; or, The Victim of the P 561—Dick Metrriwell in the Tank; or, Rushing the Regua HANDSOME COLORED COVERS Boys, Tip i LATEST TITLES: 548—Frank Merriwell’s Kids; or, The World BeatersIn New York. tH 549—Frank Merriwell’s Kodakers; or, Hunting Big : ‘Game Without Guns, } 550—Dick Merriwell, Freshman; or, First Days at Yale. — 551—Dick Merriwell’s Progress or, The First Chance — on the Field. oe 552—Dick Merriwell, Half-back; or, Getting into the a Game at Last. io 553—Dick Merriwell’s Resentment; or, In Defense of ; . His Honor. 4 554—Dick Merriwell Repaid; or, The Heart of Officer Maloney. a 555—Dick Merriwell’s Staying Power; or, The Great — Game at New Haven. 4 “Flying Mare.” a” 557—Dick Merriwell’s Running; or, The Meet at Me- , chanics’ Hall. iq 558—Dick Merriwell’s Joke; or, Fun with the Jumping a Frenchman. i 559—Dick Merriwell’s Seven; or, The Scrub That Mad the Regulars “Go Some.” ‘4 560—Dick Merriwell’s Partner ; Texas. or, The Hee . fro | lars at Water Polo. 562—Frank Merriwell’s Captive; or, The Folly of Che ter Arlington. 563—Frank Merriwell’s pane or, The Flight of Fool. THE FAVORITE LIST OF FIVE-CENT LIBRARIES The iP TOP WEEKLY Frank Merriwell and his brother Dick are known and loved by over one hundred and fifty thousand of the best boys in the United States. They are both clean-cut, vigorous fellows who dare to do right no matter what the consequences. Get the current number. We are sure you will like it. DIAMOND DICK WEEKLY _ These are stories of the adven- The demand for stirring stories tures of boys who succeeded in | of Western adventure is admir- dpa GD Se climbing the ladder of fame by | ably filled by this library. Every mewn eran honest effort. No more inter- | up-to-date boy ought to read just | ge. ae sige esting tales can be imagined. | how law and order are estab- Each number is at least one-third | lished and maintained on our longer than the ordinary five- | Western plains by Diamond Dick, cent library. Bertie, and Handsome Harry. NICK CARTER WE a Ag We know, boys ‘ is Buffalo Bill is the hero of a pS, Oe oe no need of introducing to you thousand exciting adventures | yjcholas Carter, the greatest among the Redskins. These are | sleuth that ever lived. Every given to our boys only in the | number containing the adven- Buffalo Bill Stories. They are tures of Nick Carter has a peculiar, but delightful, power of fascina- tion. bound to interest and please you. BOWERY BOY Li Every boy who prefers variety The adventures of a poor waif whose only name is ‘‘Bowery in his readin ‘ Set ay eee es ES Sea eee ore te Billy.” Billy is the true product be a reader of Brave and Bold. | of the streets of New York. No All these were written by authors | boy can read the tales of his trials without imbibing some of that , resource and courage that makes of telling boys’ stories. Every the character of this homeless boy tale is complete in itself. stand out so prominently. who are past masters in the art ROUGH RIDER WEEKLY Ted Strong was appointed deputy marshal by accident, but he resolves to use his authority and rid his ranch of some very tough bullies. He does it in such a slick way that everyone calls him ‘“ King of the Wild West” and he certainly deserves his title. $100 in cash are given to the readers of this publication, Buy a copy and learn how to come in for a share of it.