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When the pages of this issue of the TIP TOP WEEKLY are cut by one who has been following the fortunes of

the Merriwells, he will be surprised to see that a change has taken place in the form of the periodical.

The Merriwell

story occupies a less number of pages than heretofore, but it has not been really shortened. Changes in type and line-
spacing make it possible to print several hundred words more on each page thfin has been done in the past. The space

thus gained is utilized in a manner that cannot fail to win the approval of every reader.

In addition to the full-length

Merriwell story the readers of TIP TOP will have an installment of a lively serial, another of a two-partstory and one or

more short stories.

These additional stories will be by writers who are well known to magazine readers in all parts of

the country, for TIP TOP will have only the best. The Professor Fourmen and Applause departments will be discontinued

for the present.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

issued Weekly.
Copyright, 1911, by STREET & SMITH.

Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., New York.
O. G. Smith and G. C. Smith, Proprietors.

 

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of number on your label. If not correct you have not been properly credited,
and should let us know at once.

 

 

No. 816.

NEW YORK, December 2, 1911.

Price Five Cents,

 

DICK MERRIWELL, DIPLOMAT:

Or, THE STOLEN STATE PAPER.
By Burt L. Standish.

CHAPTER I.
A MATTER OF FINANCE.

Frank Merriwell leaned back in his desk chair and
regarded his brother quizzically.

“I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you that the han-
dling of your share of the estate takes up a good deal
of my time.’”

_ Dick smiled.

“Why, no,” he returned. “To tell the truth, I've
never really thought much about it. I had an idea
that you had converted everything into bonds and such
high-class securities, and that all you had to do was
to deposit or invest interest checks, and cut coupons.’

Merry laughed heartily. |

“Your simplicity is refreshing, Dick,” he chuckled.
“For a fellow who is experienced and self-reliant in
so many ways, your ignorance of financial methods is
deep and vast, and I think it’s high time we made a
change in our methods. It’s quite true that I have
been at a good deal of pains to invest your money in
the safest possible securities. But these are uncertain
times. You can’t have failed to gather, of course, that
the industries of the country are in a decidedly slug-
- gish condition, to say the least.”

_ Dick nodded>
_ “Yes, that’s the complaint everywhere,’

,

he an-

swered. “Brad and I noticed it wherever we've been
during the past six months. Nobody seems to have
any confidence in the future, and they’re all hanging
back, afraid or unwilling to put any more money into.
their business until they see which way the cat is going
to jump.”

“Exactly,” Frank agreed. “It’s puzzling, because.
there is apparently no real reason for a financial de-
pression. The country is in splendid condition, and
everything should be prosperous. As you say, how-
ever, most people seem to be averse, just now, to in-
creasing the scope of their business. The railway-rate
decision, of course, has a great deal to do with it.
Until the roads see how that is going to work out,
they are canceling orders for new rolling stock and
other improvements, which affects all sorts of manu-
facturers. The government’s prosecution of the trusts
is also unsettling ; and, taken all in all, even your high-
class securities flutter and fluctuate to an extent that
keep me on the jump, and take time which I really
ought to be giving to the school or to other affairs.
You see that, don’t you?” |

“Of course I do. Why the mischief didn’t you sage
about it before, Frank?” ; :

“Because I’ve only realized it myself in the past
few months,” Merry replied. “Besides, there was no

 
   
 
  
   
 

  

2 TIP POP
sense in your bothering with such @hings while you
were still at Yale. There really isn’t any absolute
necessity for your doing it now, but you're of age, and
have a head on your sHoutters, so I don’t see why you
shouldn't begin to look after your own affairs from
now on. it’ ll relieve me of considerable work, and
won't be 4 half bad thing for you.”

“No, of course not,’ Dick agreed readily. “It’s the
least I can do. But you'll have to give me a bunch of
pointers ‘to start with. I’m green as grass about stocks
and that sort of thing, and it'll také some time to put
me wise.”

Frank laughed.

“Oh, I don’t believe so,” he said lightly. “Your af-
fairs. are not at all in a complicated condition. I’ve
made it a point to keep them as simple as possible, es-
pecially since this idea occurred to me.. You won't
find them hard to understand.”

He bent forward and drew toward him a large
japanned box which had been standing on the desk be-
fore him. It was fitted with a good lock, the key to
which he detached from his ring.

“T have here the list of the various investments,”
+he explained, as he unlocked the box and threw back
the cover. “The certificates are all in a box at the
Universal Safe Deposit Company, in New York. You
remember that we took that box jointly so that either
of us could have,access to it at any time. As.a matter
of fact, I have kept nothing of my own there, but have
reserved it for your property exclusively.. You have a
key, and all you have to do is to go there, see Mr. Hav-
érsham, who knows you, and get access to the box
whenever you want.”
He took out a thick package of papers covered with
figures and memoranda, and spread them out on the
desk. Dick drew up his chair, and together they
plunged into an examination of the papers.
Clever and quick to understand as Dick was, it took
the better part. of the day to go over everything. The
investing of several million dollars, careful and con-
servative as it may be, is no light task, and the ex-
planation of it cannot help but occupy a good deal of
time. |
In anticipation of this situation, however, Merry’s
_ figures and notes were remarkably clear and concise.
Each sheet from the package of papers contained the

' details of a separate investment. It showed the total
number of shares which had’ been purchased in Dick’s
_ name, their market value figured from the latest quo-
tations, the manner in which they had fluctuated dur-
ing the past year; and at the end was a note giving
_Frank’s opinion as to whether the stock would need
watching or not.

“Of course, there is no stock or bond which should

had gone over everything in detail. “The most im-
possible things happen now and then, and securities
which are apparently as. solid as government bonds
sometimes lose value. That is exceptional, however,

  

_ @ot be kept track of occasionally,” he said, after they

WEEKLY.

and any tendency to depreciation can usually be seen
a long time beforehand. There are other properties,
though, which have to be watched constantly. They
are the ones which give the highest rate of interest,
and are more or Ages speculative in quality. You own
very few of ly the two items I called your
attention to, in fact
“To sum up, about half your fortune is invested in
bonds which have not fluctuated a point since I bought
them. The interest is low, but they are about as safe
as anything can be, Another third consists of high-
grade stocks, railroad and industrial, which may move
up or down, according to the conditions in Wall Street
and elsewhere. ‘Their real value, however, can be
changed only by something in the nature of a national
calamity, or a. tremendous business depression. The
remainder includes properties which I am perfectly
convinced are good, but whieh are in the nature of
speculations and have to be watched carefully.”
Dick drew a long breath, and leaned back in his
chair. ' ;
“Tt sounds easier than I expected,” he remarked. “I
hope you're going to let me have those notes of yours.
They'll make: evérything much simpler to keep
track of.” |
“That's what I made them out for,”

            

Merry returned.

“Lf you keep them up to date, I don’t think you'll have.

much trouble in running things. I opened an account

for you, by the way, in the Phoenix National Bank, in.

New York. There’s a pretty good balance, but I
thought you could arrange that to suit yourself. 1

usually have one account for ordinary use, and another

for special purposes such as investment. It’s a good
plan to keep a pretty big balance i in the special account,
for you can never tell when you're going to run across
something finé in the investment line. Of course you
can always sell securities, though,
mands,” |

“Doesn't that take some time?” Dick asked.

“Tt wouldn't in your case,” Frank said. “With such
stocks and bonds as yours, and with the most -ordi-
mary sort of a market, | should say you could dis-
pose of every dollar’s worth you possess within twenty-
four hours.” |

Dick laughed. | |

“That sounds easy,” he said. “But we'll hope there
won't be any necessity for it. I can’t imagine d situa-
tion in which I should want to sell everything I have,
in order to reinvest the proceeds on my own hook.”

There was no answering smile on Merry’s face, He

sat there for an instant in silence, his eyes fixed keenly

on his’ brother. ‘
“You can never tell,” ‘he said slowly, at’ last.

to them without the slightest effort on their part. |
: you’ re not that sort.

 

if the occasion’ gees

: “A
good many men with as much money as you have are ©
content to sit back and enjoy the income whieh comes Ps
When you've finished this. year a: a

of inspecting the industries of the countfy, you'll, settle
down at RPE: hens it will be I haven’t ts most I

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dae TOP

remote idea, but it will certainly require money to start
you off.”

He hesitated again, as if questioning in his mind the
advisability of continuing. Then he went on firmly:

“There's just one bit of advice I'll give you on that
score. I’ve always followed it, and, though I’ve slipped
up once or twice, it hasn’t been on that account. It’s
simply an application of the advice Lincoln once gave:

“Be sure the end you seek is worth the effort, and
once engaged, never turn back.

“When you're considering any sort of an investment,
be sure of the possibilities of the thing. Investigate
yourself. Look into every detail personally. Don’t
take anybody’s word for anything—not even that of
your best friend. He might be deceived himself. Con-
sider the situation from every possible point of view,
and make allowances for every possible contingency.
Then, if your judgment is still favorable, go into it
for all you’re worth. Don’t spend half a million, say,
and then get cgld feet because of opposition or under-
hand scheming, and pull out, taking your loss. If your
investigation has been properly made, you know the
value is there, and you know just how much the prop-
erty, whatever it may be, is worth to you. In other
words, do all your figuring and planning before you
spend a penny, and then go into it with all your might
and every bit of backing you have. The chances are
that you'll win out.”

Dick nodded comprehendingly.

“That is a good rule,’ he said quickly,
keep it in mind when the time comes. If I’m as
successful as you've been, I shall be doing mighty
well. By the way, I wonder whether Brad and I hadn't
better put off our trip to Panama?”

Merry raised his eyebrows.

_ “Why should: you?” he asked.

“Well, I thought perhaps I’d better stay here and
look after things,’ Dick explained.

His brother laughed.

“Tt’s not quite so bad as that,” he returned. “You
mustn’t think you’ve got to be tied down by responsi-
bility so that you can’t move. Your steamer doesn’t
sail from New York-untii Saturday. If you leave
here to-morrow morning it will give you ample time to
look after what you have to do before that. Your
stateroom’s engaged, isn’t it?”

“Yes, got it by wire three weeks ago.”

“Don’t think of putting off the trip, then,” Frank
said emphatically. “This is the best possible time to
visit the isthmus, and you two will have a forking
I only wish I could go with you.”

“Can’t you?” Dick asked eagerly.

“Afraid not. There’s too much here to look after.
You trot along, though, and don’t be afraid things
will go to pot while you're gone. They get Wall

“and I'll

Street quotations down there, and you can make ar-_

‘rangements with our.brokers, béfore you go, about sell-
ing anything you may wish to, on your wired order.”’

WEEKLY.

CHAPTER Il.

ON BOARD THE “PORTLAND.”

“Not half bad, is it?” inquired Dick, glancing criti-
cally about the commodious stateroom.

“It’s all to the good!’ emphatically agreed Brad
Buckhart, his Texas chum and traveling companion.
“It’s sure some room, pard. Must be the bridal suite.”

Merriwell dropped down on the broad sofa opposite
the berths, which could easily be used as a third bed.

“Not quite that,” he returned, smiling, “but it’s cer-
tainly mighty comfortable, with a private bath, and
allthat. I’ve always said it paid to engage accommoda-
tions long enough ahead to get something decent.’

The stateroom which he had secured on the All
American Transport Line steamer Portland was cer-
tainly roomy and comfortable to a marked degree.
Larger than the ordinary, it contained two berths and a
sofa, a small folding writing desk, two wicker chairs,
and a number of other conveniences. The woodwork
was a glistening white, the walls being panelea from
floor to ceiling, and the tiny bathroom, opening off,
was a miracle of ingenious completeness.

“Never saw such a heap of things in such a small —
space in my life,” commented Buckhart, stepping into
the bathroom. ‘fThe guy who designed this sure knew
what he was doing.” )

One after another he examined the space-saving
devices with the pleasure of a child with a new toy,
while Dick watched him amusedly from the doorway.
They were. still engaged in this occupation when,
through the half-opened door, Dick heard a-voice in
the corridor outside:

“Yes, this is it, steward.
something for your trouble.”

Supposing that it was some passenger being shown a
near-by stateroom, Dick paid no further attention to it,
beyond commenting inwardly on the superior, rather
blasé tone of the unknown’s voice. He was conse-
quently astonished to hear their own door open, and
still more so when he turned and saw a tall, irreproach-
ably dressed stranger of some twenty-eight or thirty
standing on the threshold and surveying them with a
look of mingled surprise and distinct annoyance./

For a moment the two stood silently taking in each
other, while Brad! unconscious of what had happened,
continued to poke interestedly about the bathroom.

“Ts there anything I can do for you?” Dick inquired
presently, in a slightly drawling voice.

The stranger flushed a trifle and flung his steamer
rug down on the sofa, retaining his hold, however, on
a well-worn tan traveling bag.

“Nothing, except to get out of my room,” he re-
turned, with decided acerbity.

Merriwell raised his eyebrows.

“Your room?” he inquired, with emphasis. “I have —
been laboring under the impression that it belonged to
my friend and myself for this voyage.”

The stranger’s color heightened, and he squared his
broad, muscular shoulders. He was “a looker” in a -

I'll take the bag. Here’s

 
    
   
    
   
    
  
  
   
   
   
   
  
   
   
 
   
  
     
     
     
       
       
     
       
 
      
 

   
  
  

18 our stateroom, you know, and we mean to

waist.

4 | TIP TOP

clean-cut, well-set-up way, though his face would have
been handsomer without the little blond mustache, and
the expression of assured superiority did not add at-
tractiveness to it. ;

‘Then the sooner you get that impression out of your
mind the better,” he snapped. “I, engaged and paid
for this room on the express understanding that I was
to occupy it alone. I have no desire for any com-
panions.”’

Merriwell’s eyes narrowed slightly at the other’s al-
most insulting tone, but nevertheless he smiled. Buck-
hart, having awakened to the fact that something un-
usual was going on, scowled fiercely over his friend’s
shoulder.

“I'm afraid you rather miss the point,” Dick said
quietly. “Neither my friend nor myself have any more
desire for the companionship of a stranger than you
have. We are not trying to force ourselves upon you.
Evidently there has been a mistake made, for 1 have

paid for-this stateroom myself, and mean to keep it.”

The stranger's eyes glitterec 1 ominously, and he flung
his bag on the sofa with his rug.

“That! s a likely story,” he sneered, taking a step for
ward. “I'll give you one minute to get out of here and
take your belongings with you. If you're not gone at
the end of that time, I shall be under the necessity of
putting you out.’

Buckhart laughed raucously.

“I'd sure like to see you try that. little trick!”

exclaimed. “You'd have your hands. full, I reckon.”
Merriwell smiled faintly as he watched the blond
flow take out his watch and hold it ostentatiously

he

open.

“Tf it gives you any pleasure to settle the matter
I

this way,” the Yale man murmured, “L shouldn't think

of depriving you of it. At the same time, J may say
that we both have a constitutional objection to being
forced into anything.”

He had scarcely finished henley before the stranger
shut his watch with a snap, and restored it to his pocket.

“Are you ready to go?” he demanded belligerently.

-Merriwell shook his head.
“T really couldn’t think of it,”

he drawled. “This

 

He did not finish the sentence, for the tall, blue-eyed
chap had leaped forward and caught him about the
The next instant the two were struggling in a
close embrace, while Buckhart, prevented from taking
a hand in the fracas by his sense of fair play, dodged

_ back into the bathroom to be out of the way.

Dick did not find his task easy. His opponent was

- not only strong and agile above the ordinary, but the
Yale man soon discovered that the man had an unusu-
ally thorough and complete knowledge of the art of

wrestling.
_ For a moment or two they swayed back and forth in

‘ the confined space, and then Dick's foot tripped over
his. suit case, bringing them both to the. floor with a
-erash.
| Picst: ane on aha di and then the ore,

_ Back and forth they writhed and struggled,
The wnknown tried

 

  

WEEKLY.

half a dozen wrestling holds in quick succession, only
to be countered skillfully by his opponent, who was
very far from being deficient in the art.

For a few moments Dick contented himself with re-
maining on the defensive and awaiting his chance to
get a hold which would put a stop to the affair and
settle once and for all the absurd situation into which he
had been forced. The opportunity came presently when
the stranger relaxed his grip for a brief instant and the
next moment found himself caught between Merri-
well’s legs in the effective “scissors hold.” The more
he struggled the tighter became the pressure the Yale
man exerted, until: at last the fellow was absolutely
helpless.

“Had enough?” Dick inquired tersely.

“Yes,” panted the other. ‘You're the better man.’-

Merriwell released his hold and sprang lightly to
his feet.

“Of course he is,” put in Buckhart, in a disappointed
tone. He had hoped to get a chance at the fresh fellow
himself. “You'll have to do better than that to get
ahead of Dick Merriwell.”

The stranger sat up like a shot, an expression of the
greatest astonishment flashing into his face.

“Dick Merriwell!” he gasped incredulously.

 

CHAPTER III.
A. MIX-UP OF CABINS.

His voice was so full of unbelief that Dick turned .
from the mirror where he was straightening his searf,

“Why not?” he asked good- humoredly. “ You
haven’t any objections, I hope?”

The stranger rose slowly to his feet and began ab-
sently to brush the dust from his coat, his eyes fixed

meanwhile on the Yale man’s face with a curious in-

‘

tentness,
“You're Frank Merriwell’s

length.

his A

The blond chap’s lips suddenly curved in a wry smile

which made his face infinitely more attractive. |
“Well, if I’m not all kinds of an idiot!” he exclaimed.
“Vou fallaws must think I’m the limit.”

They both politely refrained from agreeing with |

him, though privately they were of an opinion that he
had hit the nail on the head.
“Do you know Frank?” Dick inquired. )
“FE should say I do!” ejaculated the other,
were the best kind of friends at Yale. My name’s
Philip. Durand, and I-—-a—wish you fellows would
forget what a fool I’ve made of myself.

?

that’s all,”

The expression ss superiority had given aaa toa
much more human look of shamefaced embarrassment,
| Picks A
stantly Btepped forward and held out his hand...

which made him seem nota half-bad sort. :

brother?” he es at bd

We

Ima bit.
worried, and such a-et--lot depends on my having a
Stateroom to myself, that Well, I was Jet & fool, ane

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said lightly.

( fe and Durand followed him.
' e ‘Durand stopped and turned swiftly back to where he

TIP. TOP

“Forget it,” he said pleasantly. “Everybody does
something now and then that he afterward wishes he
hadn’t.

Durand took the proffered hand in a friendly grip.

“T suppose so,” he admitted ruefully. “I won't be
so ready the next time to do up a stranger. I thought
I knew something about wrestling, and rather prided
myself on my muscle, and at the first whack I get laid
out flat by a college boy. That’s what you are, aren't
you?”

Merriwell shook his head smilingly.

“Not any more,” he explained. “Graduated last
June. This is my side partner, Brad Buckhart, from
Texas.” +

Durand shook hands with Brad, and then his face

suddenly clouded as a remembrance of his difficulties
returned with full force.
_ “Blamedest fix I was ever in,’ he grumbled, glancing
around the stateroom. “I could have taken my oath
that this was my room, bought and paid for. Why,
I've got the ticket in my pocket.”

“So have J,” Dick returned promptly, producing his
bill case and extracting from it the bit of cardboard
which gave its possessor the sole rights and privileges
to cabin 19 on the steamship Portland, New York to
Panama, via Cuba.

Durand did the same, and they were very much as-
_ tonished to find them alike in every particular.

- “Some blunder, of course,’ Dick said quietly. “We'd
better hunt the purser up and have him straighten it-
out.” .

Durand bitanis lips nervously.

_ “T suppose so,” he agreed. “It would be just my luck
to be left without anything, though. I can’t under-
stand how such a thing i is possible. on a line like this.
Any other 'time it wouldn't make so much difference,
though it would be beastly annoying. But I must
have a room to myself this trip, It's simply out of the
question for me to go in with any one.

Slightly puzzled to account for his extraordinary de-

sire for privacy, Dick nevertheless endeavored to keep
_his feelings to himself.

“We're just as likely to be turned out as you,” he
“The best thing we can do is to go up and
have it settled at once. Then we'll know where we

stand.”

He moved toward the door without further delay,
An instant later, however,

had left his bag.

“T. can’t leave——”
abruptly, biting his lips.
For an instant he stood there, frowning, while the
~ two Yale men waited politely for him to explain him-

~

he began, and then stopped

“Are you--er—going to stay here! ?” he asked sud-
denly, glancing at Buckhart. “TI have some—a—valu-
ables in my bag and don’t like to leave it alone. It'll
: look sity ue it all over the ship ith me, and if

and comfortable as the other.

WEEKLY. 5

you're going to wait here for us, you could keep your
eye on it,”

The Texan had not intended staying in the state-
room, but Durand seemed so anxious about his luggage
that he changed his mind.

“Why, sure,” he said good-humoredly.
here till you fellows come back..”’

With a sigh of relief, Durand hastened after Dick,
and together they made their way to the purser’s office.
They found that worthy besieged with impatient pas-
sengers, all of whom seemed to have some grievance,
as is the way on shipboard, and it was some minutes
before they could get a hearing and present their case.

By the time they had completed their account, the
official's face was frowning, but, as he hastened to con-
sult the records, it cleared considerably.

“I'll have to give that clerk a good blowing up for
his carelessness,’ he said emphatically. “This isn't the
first mistake of the sort he’s made. Your stateroom is
number twenty-nine, Mr. Durand. It’s practically the
same as nineteen, and he has you down on: the books
all right. Tl just change your ticket, and everything
will be straight.”

Durand’s face lighted up jriabandtyy

“And I have the room alone?”
“There's no one else put in with me?”

“No, sir. The cabin is yours, without reserve. I may
say, however, that the ship is unusually crowded, and
that you would be conferring a great favor on us if you
would allow

“Quite out of the question, * Durand interrupted. “I.
am sorry to inconvenience you, but it 1s impossible for’
me to consider taking any one in,

Without further words the purser summoned a stew-
ard, who showed the blond fellow to his room. 7 Dick
went with him, and they found the cabin quite as roomy
Having dismissed the
steward with a tip, Durand, very much more at his
ease, strolled back with Merriwell to the latter’s room.

“I’m not usually’'so finicky as this,” he remarked, as
they made their way along the deck, which was crowded
with people who were apparently endeavoring to see ~
how much they could possibly say before the shore,
signal sounded. “Of course I always like to be com-
fortable, and a fellow can generally enjoy himself more
if he’s alone, unless he’s traveling with a friend, as you
are. Under ordinary conditions, though, and going
only as far as Havana, I shouldn't in the least mind
having some one in with me if he were a halfway de-
cent sort.”

“It's always more or less of a lottery,” Dick com-
mented. “You never know/what you're going to get
until it's too late to change. You're not going on to the
isthmus ?”’ ! .

Durand shook his head.

“No; my business is in Hayana.

“Tl wait

he demanded.

I—er—shall prob-
ably finish it in time to take the next steamer back.”
His hesitation was quite apparent and it gave Merrit
well the impression that Durand had intended, for a
moment, to finish the sentence in a different Re om

 
6 | TIP TOP

telling something of what his business was. - Not being
in the least curious by nature, however, Dick made no
attempt whatever to draw out his new acquaintance.
The fellow’s business was entirely his own affair, and,
if he did not choose to mention it, the Yale man re-
garded the subject as closed.

“That’s rather too bad,” he remarked. “I was hop-
ing you might be with us for the entire voyage, and
perhaps go over the isthmus with us.”

“T wish I could,’ Durand returned. ‘“‘We hit it off
very well together and we'd have a jolly good time.
I've got to get back right away, though. This is a
rather busy time in the—in my business. You'll like
~ Panama, and this is the best possible time to see it.
When I was there, a couple of months ago, it was a
little too early.”

By this time they had reached the stateroom and,
pushing open the door, found Brad seated in a chair
which he had dragged out into the middle of the room.

“Well, how’d you make out?” he inquired. “I’ve
had a caller while you were gone.”

“What?” Durand exclaimed. “Who was it?”

“You've got me,” Brad grinned. “Little black-eyed
galoot.. Talked with an accent. Reckon he was a
Spaniard or Cuban.”

Durand turned suddenly pale and shot a es anx-
ious glance at the bag, which lay where he had
thrown it.

“What did he want?”’he demanded tersely.

“Nothing. Opened the door kind of soft like, but
when he saw me he said he’d got into the wrong room,
apologized all kinds of ways, and made a quick get-
away. Are you acquainted with the gent?”

Durand did not answer. His jaw was set and there
was a deep frown on his face as he stepped over to his
bag and examined it swiftly. Even when he saw that
it had apparently not been touched, his expression of
anxiety scarcely relaxed.

- “No, I don’t think so,” he said, at last, throwing the
rug over one arm and lifting the bag carefully. “Id
like to see him, though. Would you recognize him?”

* “T reckon so.’

_ “TI wish you’d point him out to me, then.
dining saloon would be a good place.
back and get my things straightened out.
lows at lunch.”

_ When he had departed, the Texan glanced inquir-
ingly at his chum.

“Who is he, anyhow, pard?” he inquired.

Dick shrugged: his shoulders. e

In the

See you fel-

“Give it up,” he returned. “He’s only going as far

as Havana, where he has business. Beyond that he

didn’t confide in me.”

_ “Powerful anxious about that bag of his,” Buckhart
commented, “You might think it was full of dia-
monds. He wasn’t keen about that little dago com-
et we in here, either. Say! Do you s’pose he really did

© butt in by accident?”

Dick smiled.

Well, Pil go |

WEEKLY.

“How in the world do I know, you old Texas steer ?”
he returned jokingly.
the voyage is over.”

“Perhaps we'll find out before

CHAPTER: IV.

A WHIFF OF CHLOROFORM.

By dint of a little judicious tipping, Durand had his
seat changed to the table at which Merriwell and Buck-
hart sat. It was one of the smaller ones on one side
of the saloon, and, while not generally considered so
desirable as the one presided over by the captain, was
pleasanteg on account of affording greater priv acy.

Bésides the ship’ s doctor, Malcolm McTavish, w ho
sat at the head of this side table, there was a young
engineer named Ford, with his sister, on their way to
the canal zone; Mrs. Travis, a widow, very young and
very charming, who was also bound for Panama; John
Claflin; a representative of the sugar trust, whose des-
tination was Cuba; two school-teachers doing the tour ;
and Jack Hammond, the fourteen-year-old son of one
of the canal commissioners, rejoining his family at
Colon.

Taken all in all, they made a pleasant little party,
and, before the first meal was over, w ere on very oo
terms with each other.

Before they sat down, Brad had pointed out to Du- —
rand the fellow who had entered their cabin by mis-'
take. He was small, dapper, and immaculately. dressed,
with coal-black hair and a siall, carefully waxed,
mustache. He sat halfway down the captain’ s table.
He certainly looked innocent and harmless enough. In
quiry of one of the waiters revealed the fact ‘that he
was Luis De Cordova, son of a prominent sugar planter
near Santiago. Durand now seemed to dismiss him
from his mind, and turned his attention to Mrs. Travis,
who sat directly opposite.

The widow proved to be not at all averse to,a mild
sort of flirtation, which was continued later ont deck, .
where the Fords, Mrs. Travis, and the three Yale men
assembled their chairs in a little group amidships. It
was apparent, however, that'she did not hanker for a~
téte-a-tete with Durand. Yet when they were settled,
her place was found to be between his chair and that
of Merriwell; while Buckhart looked after Miss Ford,
an attractive, breezy girl of nineteen, to whom the
Texan took a liking at once.

In this wise, varied by an occasional promenade o on
the deck, the afternoon passed pleasantly. The two
girls—Mrs.' Travis herself seemed scarcely more than
a girl—were full of life and fun, without being in the

least sentimental or mushy, kept the conversational ball

rolling. When it showed signs of lagging, Ford=w as
ready with interesting and curious experiences which
had come to him in the course of his work; or Dick
would tell an amusing story in his inifnitable manner,
or retail something particularly good that had sapheaee ei
at New Haven. :

Every word which fell from his lips was treasured < ag: |e

something precious by young PEE: who had se-_

 

 
  

  

 

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cured the place on Dick’s left.. The youngster knew all
about Merriwell’s triumphs on the Yale diamond and
gridiron, and regarded him as quite the most wonder-
ful person in the world. His well-meant attentions to
the object of his adoration were, inefact, almost a
nuisance. For the entire voyage Dick was scarcely able
to stir without having the boy at his heels, nor take a
seat without the certainty that Jack would soon settle
down beside him. Luckily, the boy was a very decent
sort, manly, honest, and well-bred, or the situation
would have been intolerable.

Durand himself was an excellent talker, polished,
fluent, and interesting, but Dick noticed, almost uncon-
sciously, that he refrained from Saying anything to
give one a hint as to the nature of his calling. Though
he seemed to have been everywhere and to have seen
everything, he never let slip a word as to whether he
traveled on business or pleasure. He scarcely ever
mentioned the names of any of his friends, which in
itself was odd; for the first thing people on shipboard
usually do is to compare notes, that they may perhaps
discover mutual acquaintances.

There was so little evidence of premeditation about

however, that no one else seemed to notice the
Beata and when the little party broke up, after tea,
and sought their rooms to dress for dinner, every, one
seemed in the highest good humor.

_ #She’s sure all to theigood,” Buckhart exclaimed en-
thusiastically, when they. were alone,
—“Tsn't she?” Dick agreed. “I’m glad she’s going on
to Panama. It'll make things more interesting.”

“You bet! She wants us to be sure and look them
up when we get to Gatun, and her brother says he'll
be very glad to show us around all he can. Say! What
in time’s biting you?”

For Dick had suddenly burst into a roar of laughter

as he realized that they had been talking at cross-

purposes.
“You're talking about Miss Ford, aren't your” he
wt thought you meant Mrs. Travis,’
Brad snorted.
“Humph!” he grunted. “Did you? How the deuce
would I get aw ord i in edgewise with you and Durand

7 corralling her like dad does with some fancy kind of
cattle.

You're welcome to her, though. I sure never
could lose my heart over one of your fluffy-ruffles
I opine she never straddled a cayuse in her life,
and as for knowing a calf from a yearling, or a Hol-

stein. from a. longhorn, why she'd fall down the

first crack.”

Dick grinned.

_ “Miss Ford must be a winner,’ * hie Sarmeniesd slyly.
_*#She was born and brought up in Colorado,” té-

Hee torted Buckhart stoutly, “which is the next best place.
- to Texas. You hear me gently vociferate?”’

’

~ “T shouldn’t dream of contradicting you,’

“But don’t you honestly think that

 

 

'

  

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neenlerntycre. RDI Rati sad parol

7 : returned |
_  Merriwell, as he rummaged in the steamer trunk for his
 difiner clothes.
_ those: mannish girls who ride astride DB do all sorts _
Of rae like frat are just a little .

Spee ey

        

WEEKLY. 7

Here Buckhart, perceiving that he was being joshed,
landed on his friend with the full force of over two
hundred weight of brawn, and the conversation. ter-
minated. abruptly.

Somehow there is no place.like a steamer for the

rapid growth of acquaintance. Whether this is due. to
the fact that the average man knows he is going to be
cooped up with his fellow passengers for a certain
number of days and decides to. extract all the amuse-
ment possible out of the situation, or the knowledge
that after the voyage is over one is quite likely never to
see these same newly found acquaintances again, it is
impossible to say.

It is a fact, however, that on shipboard one beatae
on almost intimate terms with perfect strangers in an
incredibly short space of time. People are taken more
or less for granted; explanations seem to be unneces-
sary; and there is a vast deal of latitude allowed in
these fleeting relations which would never be counte-
nanced under ordinary conditions.

Thus it was with the little party of six—seven, if
Jack Hammond could be counted—on the Portland.
They formed a little crowd by themselves-and, though
they all met and talked with.many others, the greater
part of the time was spent together.

Five of them, at least; could not have been more
congenial. The four men and Miss Ford had so many
similar likes and dislikes that they would have been
friends “anywhere; while Mrs. Travis, though she
seemed to be more of a society person than any-of the

others, was so interesting and amusing, and had sucha

fascinating way about her, that she fairly won her place
in the circle.

They sat together at table, as well as on deck.. They
had their little jokes and catchwords which meant. so
much to them, and sounded so. incomprehensible to
the other passengers. They walked and. talked and
lounged together, and by the time Sunday. night had ar-

rived it seemed as if they had known each other for

years, instead of less than forty-eight hours.

Dick and Brad were both early risers, and so was
Durand. It was their custom to reach the deck a good
half hour or more before breakfast and employ that
time in a brisk constitutional. At least, that had been -
the method of procedure on Sunday, and the tall, blond
chap remarked then that such was his invariable habit. :
while on the ocean.

On Monday the two friends appeared promptly at
half past seven, but there was no sign of Durand, They _
made a circuit of the deck a couple of times, rather
expecting to see him’ emerge and join them, ‘He did.
not appear, however, and they.came to the conclusion’
that he was making up for the decay late hour at
which they had retired. ea

At eight, the breakfast gong drew th vinnulin a 3%

the saloon, which they entered just behind Mrs. Travis. — es

‘My, what an early bird!” Dick joshed. She was
usually the last one to appear. ‘Isn't there something _
wrong about this?” . de

She laughed merrily.

‘

 

 
   
  
 
 
   
  
 
   
  
 
 
     
   
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
 
    
  
  
      
   
   
    
     
       
   
 

“How sarcastic you are!’’ she rejoined. “Can't I get
up in time for a little constitutional myself?”

Merriwell raised his eyebrows.

“T don’t see how we missed you,’ he smiled.
been tramping the deck for a good half hour.
you take your walk?”

Mrs. Travis took her seat and spread out her napkin.

“T didn’t—since you force me to confess,’ she ex-
plained. “I got as far as the door when the gong rang,
but my intentions were certainly all right.”

“Of course they were,’ Dick assured her. “By the

time we reach the isthmus you'll have a long five-
“minute tramp every morning, I’m sure.’

The widow shrugged her shoulders and greeted the
Fords, who had just appeared.

“Mr. Merriwell is too sarcastic for. words,” she
sighed. “‘You’re just in time to save me from his
scathing tongue. Where’s Mr. Durand, by the way?”

Dick explained that they had seen nothing of him,

“We've
Where'd

‘laziness.

Merriwell had expected to see his friend appear at
almost any moment. When he did not show up during
the entire meal, he began to wonder whether he might,
by any possible chance, be ill. With this idea in mind,
he lagged behind the others as they left the saloon, and,
without saying a word to any one, hastened toward

’ Durand’s stateroom.
Reaching it, he knocked briskly on the door. But
_ there was no response. Puzzled, he knocked again, but

¥ nota sound came from within.

“Durand!” he called, catching hold of the knob to
shake the door. “Is there anything
He never finished the sentence. To his astonishment,
the knob turned in his fingers and the door swung
open. As it did so, Dick drew his breath sharply, and
his face turned a shade less brown. The next instant

he was in the room.

_ Durand lay th the lower berth, a folded towel tied
firmly over nose and mouth. The room was in the
greatest disorder, clothes and personal belongings being
scattered in confusion on the floor. The porthole was
tight shut and the whole place fairly reeked with the
odor of chloroform.

 

~

ee ae CHAPTER V.
THE STOLEN PAPER.

After that first swift intake of dismay, Dick did not
hesitate.

‘In an instant he had leaped across the room and
‘torn the saturated towel from his friend’s face. Then,
_ without stopping for anything else, he yanked open the

_ porthole and thrust the towel out. That done, he ran
into the bathroom, drew some water, and hastened
- with it to the unconscious man’s side. r
For a moment, as he splashed Durand’s face, he had
a horrible fear that he was too late. There was a
ghastly pallor, a curious rigidity of the muscles, which
‘ was” far from reassuring, but which made him. ert

   

aaF FOP

and there were a few good-natured rettiatks on his |

 

 

   

'
&
WEEKLY.
his teeth and brought a hard, determined look into his :
own face. {
Who had done this cowardly deed he did not know. ‘
But he made up his mind then and there that he would 4
get even with the guilty one. Gathering the limp form j
of the blond chap into his arms, he carried him over ¢
to the open porthole, and, resting his: head on the sill, *
fanned him steadily with a magazine he had picked
up, in an effort to beat away the sickly sweet odor 4
whieh still filled the confined space. i
Five minutes passed—ten, before the closed lids ve
quivered and at last lifted. For a moment or two, the ¥
blue eyes, staring into,Dick’s, were absolutely blank.
Then there leaped swiftly into them a strange ques- 4
tioning expression, followed almost instantly by a look i
of fear as Durand struggled desperately to get on his i
feet. 5
“Take it easy, old fellow,” Merriwell said sooth: :
ingly. “There’s no use in rushing things.’ i
Durand swallowed hard and grasped the wer of a ;
chair with one trembling hand. |
“Where—what he gasped. e
Then his hand flew to his breast, and, finding noth- j
ing, he sank back against Dick with a despairing moan. 4
“Tt’s gone!’ he muttered. ‘‘He’s got it.” #
Without comment, Merriwell helped him into a chair 3
and stood quietly beside him, watching his face. Slowly :
the color began to show, driving away that unpleasant a
pallor. Swifter yet the man’s senses returned. He Z
glanced about the disordered stateroom, sniffed the still at
polluted air, and then his eyes met those of the one who t
had rescued him. ! ‘|
‘““What time is it?’’ he demanded. ; “|
“About nine,’’ Dick answered quietly.
“How did you, get in?” ‘ $I
“The door was unlocked. When you didn’t show iz
up for breakfast, I thought perhaps you might be sick, #
“and I came to look you up. I had no idea of this.” ia
' An exclamation of bitterness burst from Durand’s el,
tightly pressed lips. i
‘No, of course, you didn’t,” he retorted. “I’vé been o
all kinds of a fool, and now—I’m ruined!’ { %
He staggered to his feet and crossed the room to the H
little dressing table. It was built against the wall and ‘|
had three drawers along the front, all of which had
been yanked out and lay bottom upward on the floor. ,

 

In spite of this, Durand thrust one hand into the
space at the right, only to. draw it away empty. As he
glanced at Merriwell, the latter was startled at the
expression of utter dismay in Durand’s blue eyes.

“It’s gone,” he repeated dazedly. . ae,

For an instant Dick hesitated. Then he stepped for- ae
ward and, taking his friend by the shoulders, thrust ,

 

 

him into a chair.) 4 a
“Look here, Durand, ” he said firmly; “I haven't t the 7 ri
least idea what you're talking about, and I don’t wish q

to pry into your private affairs, but there’s just this
much ahout it: Some one’s been here and stolen some- _ *
thing. But don’t you see, old fellow, whatever it i

it’s still on the boat. It can't g get away. If you could
   

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bring yourself to tell me about it, there may be a chance
of getting it back. Two heads are a lot better than
one, you know.”

For an instant Durand regarded him steadily. He
was rapidly recovering his composure. When he spoke
it was in a firmer tone, tinged, however, with that same
accent of bitterness.

“Of course I'll tell you,” he said swiftly. “I ought
to have done that before. If I'd only got you to take
me into your cabin at first, this would never have hap-
pened, I thought I was quite able to take care of
myself. I had no idea they were as clever as this.”

He hesitated a moment to collect his thoughts, and
then went on more slowly:

“T’m in the state department, at Washington, Mer-
riwell. Last Tuesday I was given a sealed paper to
carry to one of our secret agents in Cuba. The chief
told me that it was far too/important to trust to the
mails. He said that I must, under no circumstances,
allow it to leave my possession until I had handed it
to the man to whom it was addressed. He told me that
the loss of that paper would embarrass the govern-
ment seriously, and might even lead to international
complications. And now I’ve gone and lost it like a
two-year-old kid. Do you wonder I’m nearly wild

‘ when I think what may come of my carelessness?”

Leaning against the wall, his arms folded loosely,
Merriwell listened intently to the other’s explanation.

“T can’t see where you've been careless,” he said
quietly, as Durand finished speaking.

“T’ve lost it, haven’t 1?” the blond chap demanded.

“Yes, but Ee

“There isn’t any but.”

 

Durand’s tone was bitterly

despairing. ‘The chief is‘a man who accepts no ex-
cuses. That paper was intrusted to me with ‘explicit

instructions as to its delivery. I’ve failed to carry out

- those instructions, and I might a$ well walk out on

deck and jump overboard, so far as any future left
me is concerned. But that isn’t what bothers me rhdést.
I don’t care for myse@f half as much as I do for
the thought of what my carelessness may mean to the
“country.”

For an instant Dick eyed him steadily.

“Do you know what was in that paper?” he asked,
at last.

“Not exactly.” ‘

“Have you any idea ?””’

“Naturally I’ve put two and two together and been
able to make a guess.’

“Do you mind telling me what that guess was?”

Durand shrugged his shoulders.

“Not in the least,” he returned. “I’ve already told

~ you so much that I may as well round out the facts as
- [know them. fees you any idea of the present condi-
tions in Cu

+ Merriwell Be his head.

“Not definitely. I’ve heard that things are not in an

‘altogether ideal state there, but that’s all.” .

“They're very far from it,” Durand said quickly,

i “President, Gomez, while an admirable official, is not

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WEEKLY. 9

popular with the masses. For the past year there’s
been an increasing opposition to him, which is rapidly
coming to a head. A party has been organized, with
his deposition for its object, which includes some very
dangerous men. If they should succeed in overthrow-
ing Gomez, and putting their own candidate into power,
it would be the worst possible thing which could happen
to the country. It would bring about a state of chaos
and uncertainty almost equal to that which prevailed
before the war with Spain, and would quite possibly
lead

He hesitated, his eyes fixed intently on Dick’s,

“You are considering, of course, every word I’m
saying as strictly confidential?” he asked abruptly.

“Naturally,” Merriwell answered. “You need have
no fear that it will go further.”

“Good. Well, as I was saying, it might—probably
would—lead to an intervention by the United States,
followed by another protectorate. In fact, I may
say that, even now, there is a strong desire among
many of the natives for that intervention. They recall
the order and system and perfect fairness with which —
Cuba’s affairs were administered during the period
which follower the war; and comparison with the pres-
ent.conditions is not favorable. It’s all very Ww ell to
want to be independent, but when your 'focketbook
begins to be hit, when graft of all kinds begins to crop
up and boost the taxes, it’s altogether a different prop-
osition.

“This brings us to the point at hand. Of course,
our state department knows nothing of this feeling,
officially, The people in power at Havana assure our
minister that everything is lovely, and that nobody has
the slightest cause for complaint. We know, thoygh,
that ‘this isn’t true, and at present there is a secret
representative down there who is endeavoring to find
out the real desfres of the people. He has been work-
ing at the job for six months, and it is to him that the
paper I carried is addressed.

“As nearly as I can figure out, that paper contains
instructions as to how he is to proceed with finishing,
up his work. It probably also gives the private views ©
of the department, and you can see yourself how un-
fortunate it would be if such information got into the
hands of either the party in power or the opposition.
It would give them an excuse for crying out that the
United States was trying to gobble them up, and would
cause a big stir among all the nations who have tried
to do just that thing in South Americaxand failed on
account of our Monroe Doctrine.”

Merriwell nodded comprehendingly. ”
. “That’s very simple,” he returned thoughtfully.
“There would certainly be the mischief to pay. Who-
ever took the paper must be an iar of the Cuban —
government.”

“Or of the opposition,’ Durand added.
quite as possible, you know.”

“How do you suppose they tone Sun had i it?” e
“Spies,” Durand returned tensely.' “They probably. 4

 

“That's

  

      

A ahead Lota alla Sin Lilla Hit OD REN, Ties ER
10 TIP TOP

suspect that susie tetas in the wind, and very lik ely
I ve been followed all. the way from Washington.’

“That fellow who butted into our stateroom was one
of them, I suppose?” Merriwell said thoughtfully.

“No doubt about it. But I imagine he must have a
confederate. He isn’t the sort to put through a thing
like this. alone.”

‘No, decidedly not.. You can’t appeal to the cap-
tain, I.suppose, and have a general search made?r”’

“Heavens, no!’ Durand ejaculated. “That would
only draw attention to a matter which must be kept
secret. If-I’m going to get it back at all, I'll have to
doit alone, or with your help; and, to tell the truth, |
don’t see much chance to recover that paper.”

“You never can tell,’ Dick returned optimistically.
“We've got three days ahead of us, and a lot can be
done in that time. Do you mind if I take Buckhart into
the secret?” .

“Ts it necessary?” Durand asked doubtfully.

“He'd be a lot of help,” Dick answered. ‘You can
count on him absolutely.”

The blond fellow shrugged his shoulders resignedly.

“Well, go ahead, then,” he acquiesced. “I'd be will-
ing to do almost anything to get that ee back. Have
you any plans?”

| Merriw ‘ell shook his head.

“None, except to discover De Cordova’s accomplice, ’
he said. “If we can put our finger on him, I think
welll find the. eee of the combination. After that

Well, as I said, a whole lot can be done in there
days.”

The: cheery optimism in Dick’s voice seemed to
hearten Durand.considerably, and he began to get into
his. clothes with a good deal more animation than he
had leitherto shown, It was the first time he had ever
failed to carry out a mission intrusted to him, ‘That

it should have happened in a matter of,such vital im-
* portance was reason enough. for his being motnentarily
overcome by the gravity of the situation.

_Cheered by Merriwell’s words, however,
newed hope, he swiftly recovered his composure. .When
they ernerged from the stateroom a little later, no one

would have supposed him to have just been the victim
of a robbery, the consequerices of which weré likely
to ruin his career forever, |

CHAPTER VI.
THE, SMOKING-ROOM WINDOW,
: ike Travis stopped in the middle of a sentence, and
half turned in her chair.

| “Well, sir, give an account of yourself,” she said,
with mock severity. “Here we've been worrying over

all sorts of possibilities of battle, murder, and sudden

death, and you Clmly appear | without even ar interest-
ing.pallor.”.

. Durand, ‘pink-cheeked and glowing with health,
nodded pleasantly to every one, including John Claflin,
the rare! ee man, who o leaned Lippi oe the

into re- ,

WEEKLY.

rail, and then sprawled his immaculate, white-flanneled
length in the steamer chair beside the widow.

“T hate awfully to disappoint you all,” he drawled.
“But truth compels me to state that I simply over-
slept.”

Mrs. Travis pouted to bring out the captivating little
dimple at one side of her saucy chin.

“Is that all?” she complained. “I thought it was
something much more interesting.”

“These late hours seem to be too much for me,”
Durand smiled. “I'll have to get to bed earlier

“T believe you,’ broke in Mary Ford, in accefits of
extreme skepticism. “You look a lot like a man who
goes to bed at nine o'clock every night.”

“She’s got your measure, all right,” chuckled Buck-
hart. “You'll have to dig up something better than
that, old man.”’

“Tt wasn’t half past eleven when we broke up,”
Archie Ford put in, with a grin. “Are you sure you
didn’t stray into the bar after you left us?”

“Certainly not,’ Durand retorted virtuously. “I
went straight to bed.” ,

“IT can vouch for him there,’ remarked Claflin, tak-
ing out his cigar case. “I was in the smoking room
until after midnight, and he didn’t show up, to my
knowledge.”

Durand waved his suka wledgments to the older
man, at the same time declining his offer of a.cigar.

“Claflin seems to be the only friend I’ve got in the
crowd “he complained.
lieve me,” ie 5

“It sounds—fishy,”

Durand sighed.

Miss Ford said tersely.

“T was in hopes it would pass muster,” he said re-_

gretfully, “but it seems not, Do you really want to_
know what it was that delayed me this morning?”
The two women leaned forward, their eyes aeeG in-

' terestedly on his face.

“Yes |”

“Of course we do!” is 7

Durand sighed again.

“The truth is,
fectly serious face,
to the exquisite curve of Miss Ford’s

“that I was composing a sonnet

”

of time, or. (‘5
A small cushion, thrown with excellent aim, smoth-
ered the remainder of his speech.
“That's quite enough,” Miss Ford said severely.

“You're in disgrace for the rest of the morning, Pitch ee

into him, Evelyn, good and hard, for being so saucy.”

John Claflin chuckled a little as he straightened up “ay
arid buttoned his coat...

_ “I'm glad it was nothing worse than that,”
marked.

“T can’t see why you don't be- |

he explained slowly, and with a per- sh

eyebrow, and the —
occupation made me absol lutely oblivious to the passage

he re- *
“The ladies showed such anxiety about ve el
»that I began to fear———” -. ' ait
_ It was his turn to be interrupted by a hens i in- nan
dighant denials, and, still chuckling, he departed; down r

the deck, puffing on his cigar. etn

pe ‘Travis Pai ag gayly « arid tapped Durand on oa

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4

 

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unaware of Merriwell’s presence.
‘ions, likewise, seemed oblivious to everything save the

 

TiP-, BOP

the arm with the book she always brought out with her,
but never read. When Miss Ford had resumed her
conversation with Buckhart, however, she leaned to-
ward the blond chap, her face serious and in her charm-
ing eyes a look of some concern.

“Were you really—ill?”’ she whispered.

Durand looked into her eyes with that same expres-
sion of lazyegood humor which had characterized him
all morning.

“How'd you guess it?” he drawled. “I did have a
bit of a headache and stayed in bed on the chance of
shipping it. I was successful, too, for it’s quite gone
now.”

Mrs. Travis smiled relievedly.

“Tm ‘so glad,” she said simply. “It was so unlike
you that I was afraid Oh, well, it doesn’t matter
now. What have you done with, Mr. Merriwell?”

Durand laughed.

“He was captured by Jack,” he expfained. *“The kid
wanted a catch, and the last I saw of cor they were
hard at it on the upper deck.”

His statement was quite true, but the “catch” was
now over and the two participants were strolling idly
about the ship. Dick was telling the boy some of his
school and college experiences, to which young Ham-
mond listened with a rapt attention, and in this man-
ner they made a circuit of the decks, avoiding, how-
ever, the spot where his friends were gathered. They
finally reached one of the entrances to the smoking

 

room.

Merriwell’s object was to find Luis De Cordova and

see what sort of company he kept, but in this he had so

far been unsuccessful. At the door of the smoking

.room he paused, took a step forward, and then. with-

drew precipitately and continued his walk along the
deck.

. He had caught a glimpse of his man playing cards at
a small table on the opposite sidé of the room. His
back was toward the door and he was, consequently,
His three compan-

progress ¥ the game, so that Dick felt quite safe in
pausing pPesently at one of the windows to take a
good look at the party.

‘His position was an excellerit one ae observing what
went on in the room without being seen. The w vindow
was a small one at the extreme upper end. It was
curtained with heavy stuff which was drawn back so
that scarcely a third of the glass was visible. Conse-
quently, Merriwell had no hesitation i in watching, quite

‘openly, the party of four under, the bright ceiling |

lights within.
Two of them were plainly American drummers of

the type which frequent card rooms and are ready to

play with ev etybody. The third, a man of about fifty,
had the swarthy complexion and dark eyes of a for-

_ eigner, but somehow he did not impress Dick as the

sort who would have either the brains or\the nerve to
break into a man’s room and chloroform him.

Tt was at this point that he first noticed: De Cordova

J
‘

       

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RETA In A ent SAMOYE ATS Mild anes falta) he epee nals Diab age Dd v ge Sratedie- at Beds IAT ne

WEEKLY. II
with any intentness, and instantly it became apparent
that the Cuban was suffering from extreme nervous-
ness. The hand which held the cards trembled con-
tinually, and every now and then he drew a handker-
chief from his sleeve and passed it over his forehead.

From the expression of annoyance on the face of
the older man, who was his partner, and the satisfac-
tion openly betrayed by the two drummers, it was also
evident that he was losing heavily. Whether that
was the cause of his nervousness, or had been brought
about by it, Dick could not tell.

Dick was just wondering whether the fellow could
possibly be still in doubt as to the outcome of the
chloroforming affair and of Durand’s present condi-
tion, when ee Cordova gave a sudden start and shot a
quick, sidelong glance toward the inner door of the
smoking room.

Following it instantly, Merriwell saw, standing
quietly on the threshold, a cigar in his mouth, and
both hands thrust into his trousers pockets, John Claflin,
the representative of the sugar trust.

He did not so much as glance toward the card
players, but the next moment walked on through the
room to the bar, which was at the farther end, out of
sight from Dick’s point of vantage.

Puzzled, Dick’s eyes returned to the card table. The
Cuban had again turned his attention to the game,
but seemed to ‘be playing almost wildly. Once his eyes
flashed toward the bar for a second, A little later
Claflin appeared again, leisurely crossed the room, and
vanished into the corridor without pausing.

He had not been gone three minutes before De
Cordova dropped his cards and, with much gesticula-
tion and shrugging of the shoulders, arose from his
chair. Merriwell could not hear what he said, but
gathered that he was apologizing for leaving the game.

In another moment he, too, had disappeared into the
corridor.

 

CHAPTER VIL.
MERRIWELL’S PLANS.

For an instant Dick stood staring after him in utter
astonishment. It seemed impossible that Claflin could
be the Cuban’s confederate. And yet, why not? Sim-
ply because he said he was in the sugar business and
looked to perfection the part ofa a prosperous person of
affairs was no reason why it should be so. Besides, it
was quite within the bounds of possibility that he
might be interested in sugar—though scarcely in the
manner he gave out—and still be playing the spy for
the Cuban government.

Certainly he had every appearance of a man for
whom little matters like \chlorofdrming and robbery
would ‘have small terrors. Dick recalled the firm,
dominant chin and steely gray eyes which he had no-
ticed before, with the thought that he should hate very
much to be up against their owner in ahy business deal.

Unless appearances were extretiely deceptive, John —

Claflin was well fitted to plan.a way to get! possession
: 7 . ‘ z ‘

  

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ikea beth nate
 

   
    
  
  
  
  
   
 

Sg TIP. TOP

of that important document, and to carry out that plan
to the last detail.

Thoughtfully Merriwell turned away from the smok-
ing-room window and resumed his walk with young
Hammond. Hammond must have noticed that his
friend was self-absorbed, and probably wondered at the
reason, but he made no comment. To him, whatever
Dick Merriwell did could not possibly be questioned.
So he walked along in silence, thankful for the chance
of just being with the man he admired so greatly.

Dick made no attempt to follow Claflin and. the
Cuban. He knew it would be perfectly hopeless to try
and get within earshot of the two. The older man
was far too clever to make such a mistake as that.

Instead, Dick went below by a circuitousproute and
casually. consulted the ship’s register. He found De
Cardova down as rooming with another man—a certain
George Manning. Claflin would scarcely have chosen
that cabin for their consultation. The next instant he
drew a quick breath of satisfaction, as his eyes /rested
on the American’s name. He had a stateroom to him-
‘self. It was, significantly enough, No. 32, three
rooms beyond that of Philip Durand.

Quietly turning away from the desk, Merriwell
glanced at his young companion. *
~ “Jack,” he said, “do you want to do something for
me?”

“You'bet!” was the fervent reply.

“You find Mr. Durand and ask him for the key of
his room.

after, and try not to attract any attention. Just stroll
up to the crowd as if you didn’t have anything special
on your mind, but don’t lose any more time than you

 

have to. Understand?”
“Sure. Will you wait here?”
“Ves ” )

; The boy was off like a shot, and in less than five
' minutes he returned in triumph with the key in his
hand. Telling Hammond to wait for him on a cer-
tain part of the deck, Dick hurried away to the corridor
off which the rooms opened.

As he passed No. 32, he stopped an instant and was
rewarded by the faint murmur of voices behind the
panels. Two minutes later he was ensconced in Du-
_rand’s cabin, the door ajar the tiniest crack, to which his
eye was applied. He had little fear of this being ob-
served, for any one coming out of 32 would naturally
turn away from Durand’s room toward the nearest
exit, instead of passing by it.
For ten minutes nothing happened, but Dick did not
a ‘relax his vigilance. Then, all at once, a key was turned,
-a door opened, and Claflin appeared in the corridor.

| hind him, seemed to turn the key, and then departed
toward the companionway, humming a little tune under
his breath.

  

   
 

Still Dick did not stir, but pend his eye glued on the
door of No. 32. Perhaps three minutes passed in utter

 

Don’t let anybody else hear what you're.

_ Without an instant’s hesitation he closed the door be-—

ilence before sh Yale 1 man saw the white panel move

 

WEEKLY.

stealthily outward and beheld the Cuban emerge, glanc-
ing swiftly to right and left.

Apparently reassured by the empty corridor, De
Cord6va closed the door softly, turned the key, which
Claflin had left on the outside, thrust it into his pocket;
and came straight toward Dick.

For a moment the latter thought he was going to
make a second attack on Durand’s room, He had
barely time to push the door gently to and stand against
it before the Cuban had reached and passed it. Then
he realized that the fellow was evidently bound for
the farther exit in order to run no chance of being
seen emerging so closely after Claflin.

As he stood waiting for the sound of the Cuban’s
footsteps to die away, Dick’s face took on an expres-
sion of considerable satisfaction.

“Claflin’s the man to keep our eyes on, without a
doubt,’ he murnfered. “Now it’s up to us to dope
out a scheme for getting next to the paper. That
won't be quite so easy, I’m afraid.”

A little later, having picked up Jack Hammond, he _

made his way around to the little group on deck, smil-
ingly accepted Mrs. Travis’ chiding for having neg-
lected them, and settled down in his accustomed place,
in his accustomed manner, quite as if there was nothing
more important under the sun than the casual, jesting
talk with which the remainder of the morning passed,
Half an hour before luncheon, however, when the
party broke up, he got hold of Philip Durand and told
him briefly what he had learned. The government
employee listened with the most intense interest and
surprise.
“Whew !’’ he whistled.
hat to you, Richard. . I,should never have suspected
him in the world.
carry through a scheme like that. The old fox!
why he was hanging around the girls this morning.

That’ S
He

“Claflin, eh? I take off my.

4

Yet fhe’ s just the sort who would —

wanted to find out whether he'd committed inatder or

not, 1 suppose.

Now we know who’s at the bottom of -

it all, t wonder how we can make a stab at getting the —

paper.” | é
“That’s not going to be any cinch,” Dick returned
slowly. “I’ve béen- turning over all sorts of, plans in-

my head, and, to save my life, [ can’t think of a posrmic
way unless we use violence.”
Durand raised his ey ebrows.
“Just what do you mean?” he asked quickly.
“Search him,” Merriwell explained tersely. |
Durand looked grave,
“That’s going some,’

”

he commented.

of the deck at night.” _
“Exactly,” Dick returned swiftly.

deck after dinner.
overpower him, and go through his clothes, we'd stand |
a good show of being successful. Of course, there'd
be some risk connected with it, but we've got to count
on that, anyhow.” 4 i

mented. “Still, it
might be done, if we could catch him in a lonely part
“Perhaps you've

noticed that he frequently takes a constitutional on |
Now, if we could follow him: up,

 

 
   
     
     
     
       
     
 

 

 
       
     
       
         
       
       
       
           
     
      
    
     
        
       
        
     
     
       
     
       
     
       
     
     
     
     
       
       
     
     
    
       
 
 
    
  
 
    
    
   
 
 
 
  
  
 

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———

  

 

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TIP. TOP

“Naturally. But what if he didn’t have the paper
about him?”
“He's pretty sure to carry it with him. He has no

idea that we suspect him. Even if he did suspect us,
he wouldn't be likely to leave the paper in his stateroom.
Still, if we don’t find it in his clothes, there’s nothing
to prevent one of us going through his cabin, while the
other looks after him.”

Durand could think of no’ better scheme, and there-
fore they decided to follow out Dick’s plan that night,
if possible. During the afternoon, in strolling about
the deck, Dick’s theory was strengthened by the fact
that Claflin and De Cordova were together in the smok-
ing room for at least an hour, without paying the
slightest attention to each other. Evidently they were
bent on giving the impression that they were entirely
unacquainted.

While dressing for dinner, Dick gave his chum the
particulars of the case and briefly outlined their plans
for the night. There was to be a concert in the saloon
after dinner, which would either materially assist them
or spoil their chances for success altogether. If Claflin
remained to listen to the music, they would have to
put off the attempt. But if he took his)usual stroll,
the Yale men ran scarcely any chance of being inter-
rupted by the other passengers.

Buckhart was, of course, very keen to take part in
the enterprise. But Dick pointed out to him that two
were plenty, and if they all deserted the saloon it
would look peculiar. The Texan was, therefore, obliged
to give in, though he did it with rather bad grace.

When told that he had better devote himself to the

widow, his remarks on that charming person were not
exactly complimentary.
It spoke very well for the self-control of the three

_Yale men that their manner, during the progress of

dinner that night, did not vary by a-hairbreadth from
what it ustially was. They laughed and\ joked and
chatted carelessly, quite as if their minds were free

from anything more important.

But all the time they. were observing John Claflin
and wondering whether he would stay for the concert
or not. There was some slight encouragement in the
fact that he had brought his overcoat into the dining
saloon; but that might mean nothing, for he had been
walking on deck just before the gong sounded.

At last the meal was over and they strolled into the

main saloon. No one proposed going on deck, for the
_ night was damp and misty, so they stood in a little
group watching the people and discussing the chances

for some good music.
Brad, whe never did things by halves, was carrying

out his instructions regarding the widow to such pur-

pose that Mrs, Travis was quite absorbed. She was

' the sort who delights in adding a new man to her
train, and Dick was pleased to observe that she was so
taken up with the Texan as to be almost oblivious to
anything else.

Claflin was discussing the never-failing subject of

ey the canal with . Archie F ‘ord, but at last he drew out

 

  

WEEKLY.

his cigar case, and remarked that he had better get his
smoke before the “‘shindy’’ commenced.

As Claflin strolled off in the direction of the smok-
ing room, Dick, who had been standing a little to one
side talking with young Hammond, watched him
keenly. When he saw the older man pause at the door
to slip on his coat, he gave a scarcely perceptible sigh
of relief and shot a quick glance at Durand.

Durand was on the alert, and an instant later he
began to stroll carelessly in the same direction. Dick
turned to his youthful admirer, Jack Hammond.

“T’ve got something to do now, Jack,” he said, in
a low tone, “and I don’t want these people to notice
that I’m gone. Don’t you want to go and entertain
Miss Ford, so she won’t. notice that Durand and I are
absent ?”’

The boy’s face fell.

“T hate girls,”” he objected.

“T know,” Dick said. “But this is important.
you'd do your best for me, old fellow.”

Flushing with delight at this mode of address from
his hero, the youngster acquiesced instantly and made
his way to Miss Ford’s side. He had scarcely turned
his back on Merriwell, before the latter was threading
his way rapidly toward the door through which Du-
rand was just disappearing.

I wish

CHAPTER VII.
A DESPERATE MOVE.

“Has he gone aft?” Dick whispered.

“Yes. Smell his cigar?’

They were standing in the shadow to one side of the
door, and, as Durand spoke, Merriwell caught a whiff
from the fragrant Havana, which was instantly carried -
away by the vagrant wind. The next moment he bent
over, and slipping off his pumps, thrust them each into
a pocket of his dinner jacket. Durand followed. his
example, and then, without a word, they hastened noise-
lessly along the deck after the unsuspicious Claflin.

The wind was blowing fitfully, stirring the mist
into ghostly billows, but was not strong enough to carry
it away. The deck seemed absolutely deserted. and

small wonder, a it was not a pleasant night to be —

out in.

Presently the whiff from a cigar came to them again,
and, a moment later, Dick caught a glimpse of an inter.
mittent red glow, which told him that the man had
turned and was coming toward them.

Instantly they stopped. i
“You take him around the waist and rl stop vb untae
mouth,’”’ Merriwell whispered, and they stepped swiftly —

to opposite sides of the deck, and waited.
On came Claflin, puffing leisurely on his cigar. It

‘ was fortunate there was that much to guide them, for |

the deck was so dark that they could scarcely see a
hand before their faces.
footsteps came to their ears.
rubber heels, for he made almost no sound in walking. bin Es

Presently the sound of his
Apparently he wore
“14 TIP TOP

JA moment or two later his bulk loomed dimly through
the fog.

Both men leaped forward as one. There was a jolt,
a smothered exclamation. The cigar flew out of his
mouth as Dick’s hand struck it, and rolled to the rail.
Then came a thud as all three landed on the deck, a
brisk, brief struggle, and all was silent again.

The Yale men were prepared with cord and a gag,
and in the space of five minutes John Claflin was bound
securely in such a manner as not to interfere with the
searching process, and rendered quite speechless.

It had all been done without a word on the part of
his captors. Before they began searching his clothes,
each one tied a handkerchief over the lower part of his
own face, unwilling to give
to recognize them.

Paying no heed to the turnings and twistings of their
captive, nor to the hoarse guttural sounds of fury he
made in his throat, Merriwell and Durand proceeded
to go through him with a methodical dispatch which
prevented the possibility of anything escaping them.

His cigar case and wallet, his keys and match safe,
and all the little odds and ends a man carries, were
taken from his clothes and laid to one side on the
deck. His overcoat had been removed in the beginning

-and was now subjected to a thorough search, which
revealed nothing in the nature of papers. They ex-
amined even the lining. The coat and waistcoat proved
equally lacking in the object they were after. Nothing
was hidden in the trousers, either. Around his waist,
next to the skin, they found a soft leather money belt,
but it contained nothing but crisp bills, which they
knew by the feeling. At length they were forced to
the extremely unpleasant and disappointing conclusion
that the stolen paper was not on his person.

When the man’s clothes were rearranged, Dick
touched his companion’s arm, and together they re-
treated a few steps.

“Nothing doing,” “You stay

Merriwell whispered.
here while I take his keys and go through the cabin.

There’s just a chance he may have left it there.”

Durand acquiesced briefly, and, returning to Claflin,
they lifted him up and deposited him under one of the
lifeboats a little way down the deck. Durand took his
_ place beside him, a revolver in one hand, ready to
- silence the captive in case any one came near enough
to hear the incoherent noises the man continually made,
while Dick, having secured the bunch of keys, put on
his pumps and made his way swiftly to the nearest
entrance.

He had no difficulty in reaching the corridor unob-
served. Every-one seemed to be gathered in the saloon,
from which strains of a violin came faintly to his ears.
_ The corridor was empty, and, without an instant’s de-
lay, Merriwell unlocked the door of Claflin’s stateroom
and fastened it behind him.

- Searching the cabin was a considerably longer task
ithan going through the man’s clothes had been. In the
end, however, it proved quite as fruitless. As he stood
in the midst of the disorder he had made, Dick’s face

the older man a chance

WEEKLY.

showed the perplexity and disappointment which filled
him.

“Hang it.all!’ he muttered. “We can’t have made a
mistake. He and De Cordova must be the ones who
stole the paper.”

And then he paused, a quick frown drawing down his
brows at the realization of what slight evidence they
really had that such was the case. Morally he was
almost certain that the two men had taken the docu-
ment, but what actual proof had he?

The Cuban had started to enter their stateroom while
Durand’s bag was there, but that might have been
accident. He had discovered, to be sure, that there
was some connection between the dapper little Cuban
and John Claflin, and that the two were really invi-
mate while pretending that they did not even ‘know
each other. But even that connection did not neces-
sarily mean that they were the thieves.

“All the same, I'll bet anything they are,” Merri-
well murmured. “Everything points to their being up
to something crooked. If it’s not the paper, then I’m
a fool! Anyhow, it’s too late to back out now. I’
wonder if that litthe Cuban runt has the paper. It
doesn’t seem at all likely. Yet Claflin certainly hasn't
got it, and [ll gamble it isn’t——”

The words died on his lips and he stiffened as if
shot. Some one was knocking gently on the cabin door.

CHAPTER IX.
A FRUITLESS SEARCH.

For an instant Dick thought that the game was up..
Durand had blundered, or some one had discovered the
helpless Claflin on deck. He glanced instinctively
around, but there was no possible way of escape. Then
his shoulders.squared and the color came back into his
cheeks. He would not give up even now. He must
get out of the scrape somehow.

The tapping still continued, and its cautious, secre-
tive character heartened him. He crept close to the
door and listened. The corridor was quite still.

“Who is it?” he said suddenly, in a voice as nearly
like Claflin’s as he could make it.

‘Let me in, sefior,” Was the whispered response. “I
haf to tell somet’ing.” :

It was De Cordova!

Dick gave a faint sigh of relief and then his heart
leaped exultingly at the thought that the very man
he wanted was waiting to walk into his arms. Reach-
ing up with one hand, he caught the key of the electric
light, which was placed to one side of the berth. By
stretching, he could barely reach the door with the other
hand. Without an instant’s hesitatiom he unlocked the
door, swinging it inward pee himself and keeping
hold of the knob.

The Cuban walked ohseutth into the room, but be-
fore he could so much as get a glimpse of Dick, ‘the
light went out, the door slammed, and he was a pris-
oner in the darkness.

’

12 RL ALE NED NONI NE N

 
 

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There -was a gasp which was almost a squeal of,

fright, as Merriwell’s hands closed on his shoulders ;
but before the Cuban could utter a louder cry, he was
thrust down on the berth and a muscular hand was
clapped over his mouth.

The rest was simple. Dick still had sotie cord in
his pocket, with which he made haste to bind the Cuban
before going through his clothes.

The searching was time wasted, for there was noth-
ing at all in the nature of a paper about the fellow.
Dick was discouraged, yet not hopeless. It was a des-
perate game, but he believed the cause in which he
was engaged justified him.

“May as well finish the job properly,” he thought, as
he fished out the man’s keys.

A couple of minutes later he was in the corridor,
having left the Cuban, still bound, on Claflin’s berth,
and — locked the door behind him. As he hurried. to-
ward the other end of the ship and down to the next
deck below, Merriwell’s brain was working rapidly.

It did not seem possible that De Cordova could have
left the precious document in a stateroom which he
shared with some one else, unless, of course, that other
man was one of the gang. The name George Man-
ning conveyed little, and Dick did not know the fellow
by sight. Nevertheless, the searching of that state-
room was the only way by which he could be absolutely
sure that the paper was not there. So he went at it
as he did most things—coolly, easily, and with a mind

ready for any contingency.

He was dealing with thieves, scoundrels, and plotters
against the government of the United States, and his
patriotism demanded that ordinary scruples should be
put aside. He wanted one thing, and that only—the

_ state paper that had been stolen.
As he entered the room and locked the door behind
him, faint strains of music from the saloon told him
that the concert was still in progress.
“And I hope to goodness it'll keep on till I’m out
of here,” he thought, switching on the light and glanc-
ing swiftly around. “It would be rather awkward to
have Mr. Manning catch me in the act.”

He might have guessed, however, that things had
gone almost too smoothly so far. Such luck could
 ipearcely. last—did not, in fact. He had barely gone
through the bag marked “L. De C.,” before he heard
some one come down the passage and stop before the
door. ‘There was a second’s pause, the grating of a
key—it was a spring lock—and the door swung open,
revealing a tall, well-built young fellow, with dark,

~ curly hair and brown eyes, who stood staring at Dick

with a surprise which changed swiftly to anger.
~ “Well!” he said shortly, stepping into the room,

a “eee who are you?”

- For an instant Dick did tot speak. He was busy
“studying the other’s face, and what he saw there seemed
to, give him considerable satisfaction, for he smiled |
_ pleasantly,

“Youre George Manning, aren’t you?” he asked

 

 

WEEKLY. rg

“IT am!’ retorted the other. ‘What the mischief are
you doing in this room?”

“You're a Harvard man,”
no heed to the question.

“What if Iam?’ Manning demanded.
seen you

He stopped abruptly, his eyes fixed on Dick’s face,
and his forehead crinkling in a boyishly perplexed
manner.

“Think again,” Dick smiled. “Three years ago you
played center field on the varsity.”

“Dick Merriwell!” gasped the brown-eyed fellow,
in amazement. “Well, I'll be hanged! Put it here, old
fellow. Why, this is great. I must be woolgathering
in my old age. I remember, now, passing you on deck
yesterday, and never knew you.”

“Same here,’ Dick returned. “At the time your
face seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place you. We've
only seen each other a couple of times, you know.
I've got to beat it, though. This roommate of yours,
Manning, he’s not any particular friend, is he?” ,

The Harvard man laughed.

“Cordy?” he asked. “Gee, no! I had to take the
little runt in because I wasn’t wealthy enough to plank
down for a whole cabin. Were you here after him?”

Merriwell hesitated, wondering how much of the
story he could tell without giving it all away.

“Not exactly,” he gee at last. “The fact is, he
and another man have robbed a friend of mine ofa

valuable paper. It’s a diplomatic matter. De Cordova
is a Cuban spy. He and another man chloroformed
Durand and stole the document, the loss of which is
likely to get Durand into a peck of trouble.. I-came
here to see if I could find it.”

“Did you?”

“Haven't looked through everything yet.”

“Well, hustle, then. He may show up any time.”

Dick smiled.

“I fancy not,” he returned. “I’ve got him tied up
and locked in a stateroom where he'll be safe for a
while.”

“Whew!” chuckled Manning delightedly. . “Serves
the little scoundrel right. Go ahead; I’m deaf, dumb,
and blind, Merriwell. A thief, is he? [ve had no
liking for the rascal’s eye.”

The paper was not to be found, so Dick, after cau
tioning Manning to silence, hastily ‘departed to seek
Durand and report unqualified failure.

As he passed the saloon door, the concert was just
ending and people were leaving their seats to move
about. There was no time to be lost in freeing Claflin.
Reaching the deck, he fairly ran back to where he had
left his friend, and found Durand peering anDRaeaT oe
from his place of concealment by the boat. ae

Whipping out his knife, Dick bent over and slit, the! re
cords which bound the captive’ s hands behind his back, _
‘thrust the keys into the man’s side pocket, and then,

Dick continued, paying

“T’ve never

 

taking his friend by the arm,  Fushed him down the f

deck,
As they ran, they heard, ae behind, a ‘humping
oe a ora

Loree Pp ees

 
  
 

16 | TIP TOP

and scraping on the deck, followed swiftly by a stream
of profanity, which told them plainly that Claflin was
freeing himself without the loss of a moment.

CHAPTER X.

AN ASTONISHING DISCOVERY.

“Either they've got a special hiding place in some
other part of the boat, or there’s another member of
the gang who has been intrusted with the paper,”’ said
Merriwell, leaning back in the wicker chair and fold-
ing his arms.

Durand sat opposite him, his face somewhat down-
cast. They were in Dick’s stateroom, and the latter
had just finished an abridged pccount of his experi-
ences.

“It certainly looks that way,’ the blond chap re-

turned, in a discouraged tone. “You looked thoroughly, ;

of course? Even a bulky envelope like that will go
in a beastly small space.”’

~~ “You wouldn’t ask that if you could see Claflin’s
cabin,” Dick said significantly. ‘I'd be willing to wager
anything that it’s not there. As for De Cordova’s
leaving it about in his room, with Manning. in and
out all the time, it’s absurd.”

“It’s hardly more likely that they’ve hidden it else-
where,” Durand said glumly. “There must be a third
one in the secret. Who he can be I haven’t any more
idea than a child.”

“It’s puzzling,’ Merriwell admitted. “But we've
got to find out. We'll have to keep track of Claflin,
and be on the lookout for the most inconspicuous signs
between him and this unknown man. He probably
pretends not to know him just as he does with De
Cordova, but there must be times when he gives himself

_away, if we watch him closely enough.”’

“And how are we going to do that?’ demanded Du-
rand. “After what's happened to-night he’ll be mighty
careful what he does when any of us are around.”

Dick shrugged his shoulders.

“He doesn’t know for sure that I’m in it,” he said.
“Besides, there’s Manning. J think we can enlist his
interest, and he's in a corking ve to find out about
De Cordova.

- Before Durand had a chance to reply,
opened and Buckhart appeared.

“Well?” he demanded eagerly.
Did you catch the old fox?”

Merriwell smiled. :

“We did, but there was nothing doing.”’

He detailed the happenings of the evening for his
chum’s ‘benefit, and then asked whether their absence

chad been particularly noticed.

Brad grinned.

‘“T gave the widow such a rush she wasn’t thinking
about much else, you bet!” His expression suddenly
changed as he went on: “Say, that kid of yours is
g-tting a heap too fresh, you hear me!”.

.."\Vhat’s the matter?” Dick asked, in surprise.

“Tle’s got a crush on Ma—Miss Ford and spent

the door

“How’d she go?

 

WEEKLY.

the whole evening glued fast to her, just about holding

her hand. He needs a good, proper tanning, the little
runt, and I’d like to——”

He stopped and stared at Dick, who had burst into
a roar of laughter.

“Good boy!” Merriwell chuckled. “I asked him to
keep her amused, but I didn’t think he’d go it quite so
strong.”

Brad sniffed.

“Humph!” he grunted.
better not get the habit.”

“I don’t think 'there’s much danger,” Dick smiled.
“Tt’ll be a couple of years or so before he really enjoys
that game. Well, suppose we turn in so’s to be ready
for our campaign bright and early.”’

Breakfast next.morning was certainly a curious meal.
John Claflin appeared at his usual time and took his
seat, with his customary greetings to the others, quite
as if nothing had happened; but Dick, who was observ-
ing him closely, though he seemed to be devoting all
his attention to Mrs. Travis, noticed an odd, scarcely
perceptible glint in his gray eyes, and thought ae de-
tected an undercurrent of hardness in the man’s face
which was not usually there.

His manner toward Durand seemed, too, just a little
brusque. But that might have been because Merriwell
was looking for something of the sort. The widow
was even gayer than usual. While she chided Dick
a little on’his desertion of them the night before—
the Yale man had excused himself on the plea of hay-
ing had some work to do—she did not seem to be
very much troubled over it.

There was, nevertheless, a slight constraint apparent
at the table, for it was impossible for the three Yale
men to be absolutely themselves, knowing what they
knew. ‘They did their best to be easy and natural,
however, and made no effort to slip away when the
others adjourned to the deck:

More than once during the morning, Dick found
himself wishing that they had not become quite so
intimaté with the Fords and Mrs. Travis. So far it

“That’s it, is it? Well, he’d

had been very pleasant, but it could not help but be

hampering to the freedom of movement which was now
so essential to the discovery of that mysterious and
unknown third member of the firm of: Claflin, De
Cordova & Co.

The situation was made even more complicated by

the slight coolness which seemed to have developed be-
tween the two feminine members of the little party.
‘There was nothing in the nature of a quarrel or open
rupture, but any girl who has had a man as devoted
to her as Buckhart had been to Miss Ford, cannot
help but feel annoyed when he suddenly and inex-
plicably switches off to another woman. She could

“not know, of course, that Brad’s behavior of the night

before had not been of his own volition, nor that it
was the widow who had “put her claws into him,” as
he expressed ‘it, directly after breakfast, making a
impossible for him to do anything but sit by her side
and amuse her, whether he wanted to or not:

 

 

 

 

4

+

 

‘

 
   
 

 

Me 5a

the minds of all three men.
which he and young Hammond.had drifted into that
, little morning tossing of a baseball in a secluded part
‘) of the deck, for it-gave him a perfectly legitimate rea- °
‘|. son for leaving the others, and allowed him a chance

Tiley,

 

 

Tie SOE

In. spite of the necessity of smoothing things over
in a number of quarters, Dick found time to do a
little investigating in the matter which was occupying
He blessed the manner in

to keep an eye on Claflin.

Try as’ he might, however, maneuver as he would,
his efforts to discover the mysterious third party were
quite fruitless. Either the older man had his sus-
picions as to the nature of the work which had caused
Merriwell’s absence from the saloon the night before,
and was on his guard, or else he was simply being per-
sistently cautious. His intercourse during the morning,
so far as Dick could see, was absolutely innocent in
character. He played a couple of rubbers of bridge, in
the smoking room, with men who could not possibly be
suspected. He walked the deck alone, placidly puffing
on the eternal cigar, and then spent fifteen minutes or
so chatting with the captain on the bridge. At no
time while» MerriweN was observing, him did he so
much as make a sign to De Cordova, or to any other
person that could possibly be considered a confederate.

At luncheon he had quite recovered his usual calm,
and even told one or two stories in his dry, clever
manner ; and, by the time the meal was over, Dick had
become seriously disturbed over the possibility of fail-
ing to accomplish his purpose. -

The more he thought over the situation the more cer-
tain he became that Claflin had still a third confederate,
to whom he had passed the stolen document. If that
person was not discovered by the time the ship landed
at Havana the next afternoon, they might as well give
up all hope of ever r€overing the paper. ' Even know-
ing the identity of this person, it was going to be a
task of extreme difficulty to accomplish their purpose ;
but when he might be any one of a couple of hundred
passengers, the affair was hopeless.

After luncheon Dick deemed it wiser to take his place
with the others and. give Buckhart a chance to do a
little sleuthing. Durand could be of no help what-
ever in that regard, for Claflin must be so sure of his
share in the events of the night before that he would

be on the lookout against betraying himself when the

government man was about.

‘Durand, therefore, devoted himself to amusing Mrs.
Travis, while Dick made himself entertaining to Miss
Ford; and so the afternoon wore away. is

Toward four o'clock Durand excused himself to

_ go below and write an important letter, and the widow,
left alone, adjusted herself in a becoming attitude in

the steamer chair and began to glance through the
novel she had been so long in starting. In spite of his

_ apparent absorption in the girl at his side, Merriwell

noticed a moment or two later that Claflin was ap-
proaching along the deck, hands in his pockets, and the

inevitable cigar in his mouth.

“Oh, dear!’ yawned Mrs. Travis presently. “T do

WEEKLY. ry

wish this man would introduce one character who isn't
a millionaire or a member of the four hundred. lI get
so bored reading about nothing but high-life people.”

John Claflin paused in his tramp, and smiled.

‘“Haven’t you learned that that’s what makes a best
seller?” he inquired sarcastically.

Dick felt a sudden thrill go through him at the glance
he had intercepted between the two while apparently
oblivious to everything but what Miss Ford was saying.
It was almost instantaneous, but there was a signifi-
cant meaning in it which was unmistakable. Could it
be possible that he had stumbled upon the answer he
had been seeking so long?

“T suppose so,” drawled the widow. Perhaps some
day some one will write a different sort of best seller. |
surely hope so.)

She closed the book with a petulant gesture and
dropped it into her lap, from which it slid to the floor.
Instantly the older man sprang politely forward, and,
picking it up, restored it to her with an old-fashioned
bow.

“Thank you so much,” said Mrs. Travis. “It’s
hardly worth while keeping it, but perhaps some one
will find it iftteresting.”’

Claflin smiled, plunged his hands back into his
pockets, and resumed his tramp, leaving Merriwell
scarcely able to restrain the joy which filled him. Swiit
as the restoration of the book had been, he could have
sworn that a little scrap of paper had been thrust be-
tween the leaves with a skill worthy almost of a presti-
digitator.

Unthought of as it had been, incredible as it still
seemed, it certainly looked as if the fetching, fascinat-
ing Mrs. Travis was that mysterious third person on
whose identity hinged matters of such tremendous im-
portance.

CHAPTER XI.

) TWO; CONS PTRATORS.

The dusk was rapidly deepening into darkness when
Dick Merriwell appeared suddenly on the deserted deck
at a walk so rapid as to be almost a run. Making no
sound in his whité, rubber-soled shoes, he gained tive
spot where they had been sitting all afternoon, hesitated
an instant, and then, with a swift backward glance;
dropped down flat on the deck close beside one of the
steamer chairs.

He was playing the spy. He hated it intensely, but
there seemed no other way. Almost certain that the.
scrap of paper Claflin had so dexterously slipped into
Mrs. Travis’ book was an appointment for a meeting .
of some sort, he had only pretended to go to his state-
room when the crowd broke up to dress for dinner, and
instead, had stationed himself in a shadowy corner of
the main saloon, from which he had a good view of the
long corridor on which the widow’s cabin was located. .

When she appeared there, some ten minutes after —
having left the others, he slid from his place to the
outer door. She had thrown a cloak over her shoulders —

 

 
     
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
   
 
  
 
  
  
   
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
  
    
   
   
  
    
   
  
 
 
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
 

18 ERS 224g

and a veil was twisted around her head, from which he
atetied to hitiself that the rendezvous was evidently
somewhere on deck. He could think of nowhere more
secluded than the spot on which their chairs still re-
mained, and so he darted thither, trusting to luck that
he might be right, and also that he might reach it ahead
of Claflin. ‘

He was successful in the latter ré$pect, and had
scatcely hidden hitnself beside Miss Ford’s steartier
chair, where her rug, carelessly flung over the chair,
helped to hide him, when his keen ears caught the
heavy pad of masculine feet mingling with the light
tapping of Mrs. Travis’ high-heeled slippers. Then
came the rustling of skirts, and a moment later the
widow’s voice sounded :

“I was afraid you might not make it. ) Are you sure
no one is following you?”

“No fear of that,” returned Claflin, in a low tone.
“You can trust me to give them the slip, can’t your”

“T suppose so.
me to stay here too long. I really ought not have
come at all. But your note was imperative.”

“Tt had to be. We land to-morrow, you know, and
we have not yet planned how to dispose of the paper.
You know Sefior Raviedo, De Torre’s right-hand
man?”

“No, I’ve never seen him.”

“Humph! Well, it doesn’t matter shh. He'll have
certain passwords, which are unmistakable. Listen
carefully. now: When we land, you will go to the
Barcelona Hotel and register. If it is necessary to
explain to these people you have taken up with, say you
are tired of the ship and want a night on shore before
proceeding to Panama. Go in and order dinner. When
you have eaten it and returned to the hallway, Raviedo
will be there. He’s short, dark, and smooth-shaven,
but he has an accurate description of yourself, so you
need not trouble to look for him. He will approach
you and bow, saying, ‘How delightful it is to meet
you again, sefiora, after our pleasant day in New
York last winter! You will look a little puzzled and
suggest that the encounter did not take place in New
York. Whereupon he will correct himself and re-
member that it was at the New Willard, in Washington.
Having heard that much, you will, without further
question, stroll with him to the door, conveying to him
_ your long glove, into which you have previously placed
the paper in question. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly,” she answered. “But what are you going

to do?’ |

Claflin chuckled.

 *T shall. be leading these meddling young fools a
chase to keep.them away, from the hotel. They think

_ I have the paper and will follow me to recover it.

_ After the steamer has sailed in the morning, Pu meet
you at the hotel and we can settle what comes next.”

“But my trunks!” protested Mrs. Travis. “You

forget that my passage is booked for Colon.”

ay nro be sure: (Well, send word that ce to the

  

eR

  
  
  

 

   

Well, what is it? It isn’t safe for

WEEKLY.

steamer, saying that you have decided to stay over a
week in Havana. That wall be simple enough.”

“Yes, 1 suppose so. . Is that all?”

“Yes. You'll not forget the instructions?”

“Of course not,” she returned impatiently. “They
are too simple to forget. I'll see you Thursday morfi+
ing, then, at the Barcelona. You'll bring the money?’

“Naturally.”

“Av. revoir, then.”

Without ariother word she swished away down the
deck, Claflin remaitiing for some moments in silent
meditation by the rail.

Presently he chuckled and felt for a match to light
the cigar, which had gone out. As the flame lit up his
triumphant face, Dick caught a glimpse of it through
the slats of the ‘chair, and a moment later heard him
miirmur, in accents of extreme satisfaction :

“Another tine they may send a real man to look
after their affairs. These schoolboys are so easy it’s
a shame to fool them.”

When the sound of his measured tread had died
away, Merriwell emerged from his hiding place and
stood erect.

“Tt- is too bad,” he chuckled. “y shouldn't like to
bank on your. repeating that remark about ane
hours from now.’

CHAPTER XII.
THE GLOVE OF MRS. TRAVIS.

You see, of course, how impossible it is for-any
of us to do it,’ Merriwell said. “But it would come
plausibly and naturally from you, if you're only will-
ing to help us out.’

“Of course I am,” Georges Manning returned
promptly. 4 ll be only too glad to if you'll tell me
what to do.”

Dick smiled, .

‘‘That’s simple,” he said quickly. “You speak Span-

ish, I think you said?”
Manning nodded.

7

“Yes, I’ve picked it up during my two years’ stay at

Panama,” he answered.

“Well, the situation is this: Mrs. Travis has the _
paper and will\turn it over to a certain Sefior Raviedo
at the Barcelona Hotel after dinner to-night. She

doesn’t know him, but-he has an accurate: description
of her and will speak to het. when she cothes out of
the dining room.

living in Havana who will, I think, be ready to take
the place of this Raviedo. My brother befriended him _

several years ago in the States, and he'll be willing to
do almost anything for a Merriwell.. Before that would

be possible, though, we'll have to get the real Raviedo |

out of the way, and that’s what I want you to do.”
“Delighted,” Manning returned, at orice, “Shall I
knock him on the head, or what?”

“Nothing so strenuous as that,’ Metriwell laughed. PA:
“T'll get an accurate description of -the man’ the in-
stant we land and give it to you. I know hint om name ;

Now I happen to know of a Cuban po

 

 

 

 

——> — et ts ee ht

 
 

eh el SE

 

 

 

 

meh ti ete

about all now,

clear night in Havana.

Li? ;- tOFP

as an important member of the opposition party. At
dusk you can station yourself near the door of the
Barcelona. When he appears, brace him at once. Tell
him, with every appearance of secrecy, that Mrs.
Travis is watched and cannot hand over the paper to-
night. Tell him that Claflin will meet him at the hotel
to-morrow morning at nine and talk the matter over
with him. If he questions who you are, you can say
you are a friend of Claflin’s, and add anything you
may think plausible. The main thing is to get him
away and clear the field for my man.”

“That ought to be easy,” the Harvard man smiled.
“T reckon I can workit all right. What will Claflin and
the little dago be doing while all this is going on?”

Dick laughed.

“Decoying us out of the way,” he chuckled. “Claf-
lin has no idea we suspect Mrs. Travis. He imagines
that we still believe him to have the paper. It’s his

idea to lead us a wild-goose chase—just where I don't
know—so there won’t be a possible chance of our
hanging around the hotel while the document, is being
turned over.”

“Looks as if he was going to be fooled to the
limit,” Manning said, with considerable pleastfe.
“Well, I'll be delighted td do what you want. It'll be
great fun paying these fellows back in their own coin.

. Where’ll I see you to get the description of this Ra-

viedo? I don’t suppose you'll want to come back to
the ship.”

“No, that wouldn’t do. None of them have got wise
to the fact that we know each other. Suppose we

meet in front of the Tacon Theater an hour after

landing. You know where that is, don’t you?”

Manning’ rose.

“Sure,” he said. “I'll be there, all right.
isn’t it?”

“Yes. Just let me take a look first and make sure
there’s no one hanging around the corridor.”

It proved to be empty, so Manning slipped out, leav-
ing Merriwell to follow five minutes later. —

* * k * * x *

That’s

It was dark—as dark, that is, as it ever gets on a
Across the little square, filled
with shrubbery and gay with flowers, the lights gleamed

- brilliantly from the rows of windows in the Barcelona
Hotel, making denser the shadow in which stood

Dick Merriwell and another man.
So far not a plan had miscarried. Dick had landed

as soon as the steamer made fast to the dock, while
Buckhart and gh Pe lingered as if to keep an eye on

Claflin and his Cuban confederate. No doubt. by this
time the two Yale fellows were being led a futile chase
through the city, for when Manning met Dick he told
him that all four had left the ship. Claflin little knew

that when he supposed he was keeping his pursuers oc-
cupied i in order that the stolen paper might be turned

over in safety, he was in reality being fooled to the
limit by one of the men he had contemptuously char-

x _ acterized as a schoolboy.

Dick had no trouble 1 in locating dean Atares, and was
{

Xe

ie a6 tings

y
“e i

fr ery

e sa

ayes i) ?

Sa IE elk
5 0 aS at haa i all ae Dt aR
Ga nO NRE Ie

WEEKLY. 19

welcomed with every evidence of pleasure by the man
who owed so much to Frank Merriwell. When the
subject of the impersonation was broached, the Cuban
agreed without the slightest hesitation. Merriwell did
not tell him what the document in question contained,
or even give him a hint as to the condition of affairs;
but Atares was opposed politically to Torre, the head
of the opposition, and’ that was quite enough to make
him anxious to thwart him in every way possible.

Superficially, Atares was rather like Raviedo, so that
absolutely no make-up was necessary to deceive Mrs.
Travis, who had never seen the man before. The pass-
words were easily mastered, and, when Dick returned
from keeping his appointment with Manning, his friend
was quite ready for the attempt.

They did not issue forth until dusk, and now, from
where they stood, they had an excellent view of the
hotel entrance and the wide hallway beyond,‘ at one
side of which they could see Manning reading a news-
paper, as he waited for his man. That newspaper had
been a fortunate thought, for it had enabled the Har-
vard chap to keep his face hidden when Mrs. Travis
appeared in evening toilet and’ crossed into the dining
room twenty minutes before.

Raviedo had not yet appeared, and Dick was be-
ginning to wonder what they would do if he was much
later, when Atares caught him suddenly by the arm.

“Raviedo!” he breathed softly.

Following the direction of his finger, Dick saw a
short} dark, smooth-shaven individual walk briskly
down the street and enter the hotel. He recognized him
instantly from’ the very accurate description Atares
had furnished and which he had passed on to Manning,
and watched with some little anxiety to see what would
happen.

As the Cuban appeared in the doorway, Manning
glanced swiftly up from his paper and instantly arose
to his feet. The two watchers saw him accost the new-
comer and speak rapidly for a moment. Raviedo
seemed surprised and decidedly uneasy. He asked a
question, which the American answered at once. The
next instant they turned about and hastened out of the.
hotel together. In another moment they were gone.

Dick gave a soft sigh of relief.

“That worked,” he murmufed.
up to you to do the rest.
must do?”

The Cuban’s perfect teeth showed in a wide smile.

“Have no fear, sefior,” he returned confidently. “I
forget nothing. In one short half hour—less, even—
you shall have in your hands the paper you seek.”

He waited a little while, not wishing to enter the
hotel a moment sooner than necessary. At length, it
being almost time for Mrs. Travis to appear from the
dining room, he bade adieu to Dick and crossed slowly
to the: entrance. .

The Yale man watched him with the greatest possible
interest. Was he going to succeed, or would there
= some hitch at the last moment? The presence of —

“Now, Juan, it’s
You remember just what you

i RRR aiiaat Banh
coals

 
   
  
   
   
  
 
  
  
   
   
  
    
   
   
  
     
    
    
    
       
 
   
    

se TOP

an acquaintance in the hotel, the unexpected return
of either of the spies, the least, the most trivial thing
would be enough to bring about complete failure.

Suddenly he bent forward, his eyes narrowing. Mrs.
Travis had appéared in the hallway and sauntered
slowly across it, glancing idly from right to left. She
wore a dinner gown of sitimmering black and held her
long black gloves carelessly in one hand.

An instant later, Atares entered, cool, nonchalant,
and easy of bearing. He, too, glanced casually around,
and when his eyes fell upon the widow he gave a slight
start and moved toward her.

The rest was admirably done. The sparkling eyes,
the laugh, the courteous bending over her hand, and
Dick mentally patted the fellow on the back. There
was quick interchange of words, all in that easy, casual
manner, and they moved slowly toward the door to-
gether. |

Keen as his eyesight was, Merriwell could not tell
when the precious, glove changed hands. He only
guessed that it had done so from the fact that the
Cuban did not linger. A moment later he was sure,
for, as Mrs. Travis turned away from the door, after

.a laughing good night, he saw that only one glove re-
mained.

“You have it?” he asked eagerly, when the Cuban

had reached his side.

‘Atares drew the glove from his pocket and passed
it over, + ;

“T think.so, sefior,” he smiled. “It is of a stiffness
which shows something to be in it.”

* Taking it swiftly, Dick plunged his hand within
and drew. forth a long, plain envelope. It was rather
bulky and had been folded once down the long way

to admit of its going into the glove.

In silence they’ hastened to the nearest street light,
where Merriwell looked the envelope carefully over.
It bore no address—simply two initials, but it was
sealed twice with a seal which Durand had described
too accurately for him to be mistaken. The seals
were intact, showing that the envelope had not been
opened.
As he placed it carefully in an inner pocket, Dick
‘smiled, »’
“For a trio of schoolboys, we've done rather well,”
he murmured. “I wish I could see Claflin’s face to-
morrow morning about nine.” ;

THE END.

i ‘All who have followed the fortune of Dick Merri-

  

- United States he chanced to find himself, it was in-
_ evitable that he soon should be engaged in some more
_ or less hazardous adventure. In the next issue of this
_ weekly—Number 817, to. be published on December
_ oth—will appear a story which will show that equally
_ lively experiences awaited him in the tropics. The
_ story is entitled “Dick Merriwell in Panama; or, Pitted
Against the Unknown.” Not only will the reader find

  

  

well have learned that, no matter in what part of the-

our hero engaged in an extraordinary task of inter-

 

WEEKLY.

Pa

national importance, but he will be afforded glimpses
of the canal makers at their work—glimpses which will
familiarize him with some of the difficulties attending pe) fe

4
cs
1

 

one of the most marvelous engineering feats ێver at- E :

tempted by man. Above all, however, it is a story of cs

startling surprises, and constant, vigorous action—a cl
story that will quicken the pulses of all admirers of

the Merriwells. i

ba

et

The Dynamo Plot. §:

ey]

Pe “1

By W. BEALL BALDWIN. ae

Two Part Story—Part I. + g

} b

CHAPTER I. ; iF

AN INSTITUTION OF TOLIMA. y

“Duke” Ember graduated from Cornell in his twentieth — i :

year, with high honors as a half back. He also had some- es

thing called a diploma and a practical working knowledge . 1

of electrical engineering. It is on record that he was
offed a considerable sum to coach the eleven of a
Western college which had plenty of good football timber,
but little science. Nevertheless, Duke rejected the at-
tractive offer and—yanished. .

That is to say that he was heard to remark that it was
high time he was finding some method of earning an
honest living; and a year later rumors floated up to Find-
lay, Ohio, where Duke’s people lived, that Duke was
“running” the plant of the Guajira Illuminating and Trac-
tion Company, Limited, of Tolima.

The Republic of Tolima is a rough-hewn, square half
inch in ‘shape, and very yellow, except on the eastern
edge, which is ragged and deep-fringed with sickly green,
where the pale blue of the Caribbean Sea washes over a
the coast line and disagrees with the saffron hue of the
land. On this side there is a small black spot from which ie
italics straggle out upon the face of the waters, spelling y ae
Sabanilla—Guajira’s port of entry. oe

The inwards of the yellow are covered thickly with =|
much neat shading, and black-faced type is scattered there- ee
upon promiscuously, indicating that, here a spur of the ae
Cordilleras rushes down precipitously to bathe its feet
in the sea. A

The population of Tolima is indeterminate, principally
because it regards census enumerators with suspicion, ‘—
And suspicion in Central America is unhealthy for the _
suspected; therefore, there are few, if any, candidates
for the office of census taker. The country is peopled
with a sprinkling of all nationalities, some Jamaica ne-
groes, several Chinamen, and a number of Carib Indians __
in the mountain fastnesses of the interior. Its principal —
products are mosquitoes, yellow fever—in the swamps —
around about Sabinalla—taxes, and civil wars. | It im-
ports men, coffins, munitions of war, and German ma- —
chinery ; and exports ex-presidents and revolutionary ru-
mors. | . . PORES AM

Now, Gaujira is the capital of this country, and.ex- —
citable; it sits back comfortably in the midst of moun- —
tains, is hotter than most places, and is connected with
Sabanilla by five miles of narrow-gauge railroad, mostly
onend. Af pif TO ei alee
So much Tod Ember gathered from an atlas and an >

 

ee ay ie ae

 

ee PO ee Se ee ee eee ee,

 

 
        
     
     

  
 
 

 

  
     

TEP YOR

occasional brief note from his brother. Tod was then
in his second Cornell year, and a promising candidate
for varsity right tackle. Unfortunately, just about this
time, there came a crash in the fortunes of the Ember
a family, and Tod was informed that he could either
|. work his way through college or look for a job. Tod
| chose the latter course.

“My name,” he explained, “bestowed upon me by my
sponsors in baptism because I had a rich uncle similarly
*  abusted—who by rights should have left me a small for-
| tune—but didn’t—my name is Theophilus Theophrastus
Y Todhunter. Ember. Tod, for short, praises be! And as
|. I’m inclined to think that all that name would sort of
slop over the edges of.a diploma, I'll work’ for a living.”
ee And he wrote a long, earnest letter to Duke.

Which explains many things, but in particular how it
' was that Tod Ember came to be right-hand man to his

Satis:

) E.L& T. Co, Ltd, of Tolima.

r His other able assistants were Yung Ki, known as
Pooh-Bah, the Chinese cook; and the O’Hara, practical
electrician and lord, lover, and slave of the dynamos.
_ The four flocked together in a hacienda near the power
‘b house; and attended to business with a simple-minded
F

 

exclusiveness of other interests. Their most intimate ac-
quaintances were a young man of infinite leisure and
_ good nature, Mr. Yancey, the United: States consular
agent; and one Dagberg, a heavy, rough, slow-spoken
German, who was the German consular agent and the
Toliman representative of Bilt Brothers, of Berlin.

_ Bilt Brothers, you must know, owned and operated the
fleet of old-fashioned sidewheel ‘steamers which plied be-
tween New Orleans, Kingston (Jamaica), Curacao, and
Sabanilla. They enjoyed a monopoly of the country’s im-
_ port trade, and had funded the national debt. For this
reason they, to all’ practical purposes, owned Tolima,
and, had they been so inclined, could have foreclosed their
| mortgage on the land and turned it over as a present to
Kaiser Wilhelm almost any fine morning—but for one
_ trifling obstacle, known as the Monroe Doctrine of the

 

 

United States of America, which forbids the acquisition

e of American territories by foreign powers.
o e - However, Bilt Brothers were satisfied with their actual
|. ownership, and presumably enjoyed the profits thereof.
rae Vt He only fly in the amber of their complete content was
| the fact that American capital was invested in the land,
and—worse yet—making money for its owners!
_ This enterprise was the electric-lighting concern which
Caialeyied the Embers and furnished illumination on the
streets of Gaujira. Bilt Brothers never, quite under-
_ stood how it happened that the Yankee promoters of the
company had managed to slip in a lower bid for the
- franchise than they had; but the fact remained’that such
had been the case, that the contract had been awarded
to the United States concern, and that its profits were
flowing north to be invested in New York .real estate,
rather than northeast to be deposited in the strong boxes
_of Bilt Brothers, of Berlin. Wherefore, Bilt Brothers
were wroth, and decided that they would crush out. this
insolent manifestation of Yankee “hustle.”
Their plan was simple, and convincingly. feasible by
that token. Having the president of Tolima in their
‘power, as they made a point of having him as many

   
    
  
  
   
  
   
  
    
  
  
   

 
  

  

 

   
 

joying: an sept ere of the national finances as

WEEKLY.

| brother, Duke, who was general manager of the Gaujira .

timés as became necessary in the course of the year, by
reason of the frequent changes of government; and-en-

     

they did on account of the money they had advanced
from time to time, Bilt Brothers were in a position to
dictate as to what disposition should be made of the taxes,
custom duties, and internal revenues.

“If we refuse to permit the bills of the lighting com-
pany to be paid,” they reasoned, “they will be forced to
shut down. If they shut down, they will sell out at a
low figure to us, who will thereby come into possession

. of the finest plant in Central America at about one-third

its actual cost.”

Another thing upon which they counted was an almost
forgotten clause in the contract of the Gaujira E. [. &
T. Co., which provided that, in event the company should
fail to furnish light to the streets,;on three successive
nights, its contract would be canceled and a forfeit of
five thousand good American dollars be paid into the
national treasury of Tolima.

And so Bilt Brothers waited until the proper time and
then put the machinery of their schemes into operation.

CHAPTER II.
THE TERMS OF A CONTRACT,

The power house squatted at the head of a gorge, about
two miles out from Gaujira; by its side ran the Rio
Quitaro, which, in the immediate rear of the station,
plunged down from the cliffs above in a nice, healthy,
little waterfall, quite pictutesque, and of practical value,
inasmuch as it furnished the power which ran the four
dynamos.

There was plenty of noise. The waterfall anes
its little quota of thunder, and the three smaller dynamos
-attled and hummed and droned steadily, and their brushes
spat and hizzed every once in a while. But the big
dynamo—of which Duke Ember himself had superin-
tended the setting up—furnished the dominating note
of the uproar. The band had a way of howling as it.
ran over the drum—a defect which troubled both Duke —
and the O’Hara, who could find no way to remedy it;
and the eternal grumble of the iron core was as steady
and insistent as the surge of heavy surf on a rocky shore.

One afternoon the tinkle of the telephone bell filtered
thin through this maelstrom uproar. Tod Ember heard ©
it, by a fortunate accident, and ran into the stuffy hole -
which Duke called the office.

The instrument was nailed agaipst the wall, and of
somewhat primitive design; Duke’ had manufactured it
himself at odd times, and had put the thing up and con-—
nected it with the Gaujira residence of Mr. Yancey,
that they. might enjoy closer communication with the
American consul, The four men at the power house had —
plenty of time to get tired of each other’s company, and_
cared little for the society of the Spanish-Americans.
But Yancey was a chap from,God’s country, and they.

liked him excellently well.

Tod lifted down ‘the receiver, and,put it to his ear, ©
He recognized the voice that trickled over the wire halt- |
ingly—there was a defect in the insulation which some- _
times made communication a matter of aaamace’ Ni ace oe
that voice for Yancey’s. tt

anes !”” he responded. GRIER Ty Oo Bae:
ello! That you, Tod?” it p
“Yes, Mr. Yancey. What is it?” . |
“Ts Duke there? I want to spaak to him.” a
“Duke? Why, no. He went to town two hours ago—
about two o ‘clock. Said he would call 0 TO |

Le
22

“Oh, all right.
to call me up when he comes home.
Tod!”

“Yee, Bit.

“Tf I should miss Duke—or if he doesn’t come back
by nightfall—well, you had better switch on the lights
to-night. That’s what I wanted to tell you.” —

“Why, thank you.. But—why, Mr. Yancey?”

“Well, they’ve been off two nights already, you
know 7

“Ves.”

“And President Zuleyas has remembered—or been re-
minded—that there’s a clause in your contract which
forfeits the whole business and five thousand plunks ‘if
you fail to furnish light for three successive nights.
Get that?”

Tod whistled. “News to me,” he replied. “All right.
(Thank you, sir. But—what about paying?”

“I was going ‘to tell Duke that he would have to find
some other way to make Zuleyas disgorge. This way
you stand to lose everything.”

“Well, fell Duke to get back as soon as he can, if you
see him, please. I’m second in command) here, but I
don’t like the responsibility a cent’s worth. Good-by.”

Tod hung up the receiver, frowning, stepped out of
the, “office,” and stood scowling at the big dynamo. It

He hasn’t been around yet. Tell him
Good-by—oh, I say,

seemed to him that the dynamo scowled back, and for’

the moment he half believed the O’Hara assertion: that

Pooh-Bah worshiped the big machine secretly, and re-
garded it as big Joss.

It seemed almost alive—a captive sort of monster,
roaring its discontent. It was beautifully clean and
polished—the O’Hara’s doing—and shone with the rays
of the afternoon sun that percolated through an interstice
in the side of the power house.

Farther down the shop two of the smaller machines
were doing their work more quietly, but, all the same,
making a considerable pandemonium with spitting steam,
singing straps, and jigging ball valves.

The floor of the place vibrated with the eternal racket
and movement, and made Tod’s head swim. ‘The brushes
began to spit on the big dynamo, and_ to throw off blue
flashes. Tod went out, rather thankfully, and told the
O’Hara, who at once got up and swore and went inside
to attend to the trouble.

Outside there was some relief from the din. Tod sat
him down on a bench, in the shade, prayed for a breath
of breeze to soften theNharshness of the day’s tremendous
heat, and looked down the valley toward Gaujira.

_He was rather a good-looking young fellow, frank-
faced, and clear of eye. He wore, for the present, duck
trousers and ‘a shirt which lay open at the throat; the
tropic sun had bronzed his face and neck, and the line
where the tan ended at his collar bone was quite distinct.
He twisted his hands together, wondering what he would
best do. .

The situation’ was rather complicated. The republic
was postponing the payment of its bills for lighting for

some unknown reason, and the delay had passed endur-.

ance, so thought Duke, who had been invested by the
New York office with full powers to use his own judg-
ment in the premises. Through some strange error,
~ Duke had not been informed of the “three nights’ ”’ clatise,
and he had used the very natural lever of “no pay, no
lights” to force the republic to meet its obligations. —

"He had gone down to the Palacio Federal, in Gaujira,

_ that very afternoon to discuss the matter with President

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

=

Zuleyas, and try to bring him to reason; but he had
said nothing about turning on the lights that night, should
he not return. Tod was accustomed to obey his brother’s
orders, and he didn't like to do this, as things stood, with-
out instructions.

The O’Hara came back and resumed his seat by Tod’s
side, sucking at a very black clay pipe.. Tod discussed the
difficulty with him.

“You'd better tur-rn ’em on, thin,” the O’Hara advised,
waving the pipe argumentatively. “’Tis a quare way thim
dagos have av doin’ business—but that’s naythur here nor
there. Th’ point is this: that we cannot afford to be
losin’ av th’ conthract. Misther Ember will be’ tellin’ ye
th’ same whin he comes home.”

“Well, I wish he’d, get a move on,’ Tod voiced his
perturbation.

“T’m thinkin’ that’s him, now,” said the Irishman.

He pointed down the path to an approaching figure of
a man on horseback.

“You’ve got another think coming, then,” said Tod.
“That’s Dagberg. Wonder what he’s after?”

From the elevated position where they sat, the two
commanded a view of the entire valley; Gaujira, set in
circling hills, lay below them like a toy city of mud
houses, white, flat-roofed, and odd to Northern eyes.
In the center of the place there was a tiny patch of green,
which Tod knew to be the central. plaza, where the band .

’

‘

played after nightfall, and where the Gaujirans usually |

promenaded to the music, or, at times, assembled to over-
throw the government. Most of the buildings were qne -
story in height, but a few were of two stories; and the
one big, white building that gleamed in the glow of the
setting sun was the seat of the ephemeral government—
the Palacio Federal.

From the outskirts of the city a rough, narrow road |

/

wound out by the side of the Rio Quitaro, leading up the

slope to the power house; it was yellow and dusty, sun-

_baked. And-just emerging from the last clump of foliage

that veiled it was Dagberg, the German consul and agent

for Bilt Brothers.

“An’ phwat ar-re ye thinkin’ Dagberg will be afther?”

said the O'Hara.
“T don’t know,” responded the boy slowly.

: He did not
like the Gegman, although Duke seemed to think he was
all right.

r ” 4 {

[he man rode up presently, dismounted, and threw
the reins over the head of his horse—a small, rough-
coated, wiry, victous-looking animal, native to the country. —

Dagberg himself was a huge Brute of a-man, some-. |)

what stupid of expression. When he walked, his enor-
mous arms and*legs swung rather loosely from his thick,
heavy trunk, conveying to the casual observer the im-
pression that they were not properly connected at the —
joints, or that Dagberg was too indolent to force his brain -
to properly direct their motions.

3ut dull as was his face, his eyes were clear, keen, in-
telligent, and—unfriendly. Or so they seemed to Tod
Ember. His manner was just a trifle discourteous, as if

46

the man really tried to be polite, but was unable to dis- /
guise his contempt for any human being that »was not —

Dagberg. And Tod resented that, not unnaturally,
“Good evening,¢Tod,” he greeted the boy with a trace

of accent in his English; he ignored the O’Hara, as a

laborer and beneath his dignity to notice.

| “Can I ‘see
your brother?” . he yetsh

Tod had risen to greet him. ‘Good evening,” he re-

‘4

4

 
   

  

: plied briefly, but respectfully. “Duke has gone to town.
I thought that he’d probably see you.’
ie: “He didn’t,” answered the man, somewhat sharply, with

-| a quick, nervous glance, first at the boy, then at the
| O’Hara, then all around them. Tod thought his manner
_ that of a man suspicious of something.

i. “Will he be home soon, do you think?’ Dagberg
ae went on. si iver

i “I can’t say, sir, Won't you sit down and wait ?”

ie, “Hrumm!”’ The German ‘cleared his throat loudly.
| “Well, yes, I will—for a little while, at least.”

p The ©’Hara got up and went inside the power house,
| Dagberg produced a dainty, begemmed cigarette case and

| offered it to Tod. Tod shook his head, and Dagberg se-
lected a cigarette for himself, with care, and lit it.
a “You don’t smoke, Tod?” he said conversationally.
eS No.
B Dagberg inhaled deeply, blowing the smoke through
} his nostrils in a purple cloud. ‘That's foolish,” he said
_ argumentatively, “A good cigarette hurts nothing.”
“I don’t care for it,” Tod replied shortly.
“You deprive yourself of a great pleasure and a com-
fort in this country so Gottforsaken. Better try one.”
He offered the case again.
“T don’t care to, thank you,’
“Tm. out of training, anyway.
} tuna hundred yards without snorting like a
A Dagberg laughed.
4 “Or one of your machines in there like?” he suggested.
Dynamos ?”?~

 

’ Tod repeated obstinately.
I don't believe I could
locomotive.

 

 

“What you call them ?
Todd nodded.
“Myself,” the German went on, “I haff never seen a

dynamo at work. Could you so kind be as to show them

~ to me, while I wait?”
¥ “Certainly, sir.”’

is Tod led the way inside, and undertook the part of lec-
turer on the subject of electric, lighting. He found the

German a willing listener—nay, almost eager. Several

times Dagberg interrupted the boy to ask questionssas to

_ the matiagement of the dynamos; and when he found that

the big machine right in front of the door was respon-

_ sible for the major part of Gaujira’s street illumination,
he seemed to become intensely interested in the great,

whirling mechanism.

At his request Tod took him around to the side of the

   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

q machine‘ and explained how the current was shot into the |

  

- feed wires by means of the switch; he swung the switch
around and ‘explained that, with it in that position, it
eae be certain death to touch the front of the ma-
chine.
Nevertheless, the inquisitive German approached so
; near the bare terminals that Tod had to catch him by the
coat and pull him back.
“Careful!” he cried, pointing to them. “Great Scott!
Mr. Dagberg, if you should touch those terminals, you'd
| go out like that!” he snapped his fingers.
 Dagberg laughed uneasily and backed away.
- “Is-it so bad as that?” he asked, his face a little more
pale than usual.
 “Worse—there’s. current enough there to electrocute
two hundred men!”
The O’Hara, who had been watching, grunted to him-
olf and stepped: to the switch, which he reversed. aaeae
ag-

   
  
     
   
   
  
   
   
  
  

       
     
     

erg’ went without hastily.

x “Himmel!” he cried, mopping the perspiration from
face. He monn ~ ‘lit another Cate ‘with,

   

TIP TOP WEEKLY. 3 - 23

shaking fingers. Tod watched him with a quiet sinile;
somehow it pleased him to see the German so palpably
frightened.

Dagberg looked at his watch;

‘Himmel!’ he said again, more composedly.
comes. I must be off.”

“Any word to leave for Duke, sir?’ Tod mquired.

The consular agent considered, with his finger on his
nose, meditating.

“Ja,” he said finally. “You might your brother tell that
Mr. Dagberg has it on good authority—Ja, most high

now it was near sunset.
“Night

  

authority, tell him—that Zuleyas is about to give in and ©

settle the bill. The people are angry because they have
had no lights for the last two nights, and El Presidente
dares not provoke them further. Already, too, there is
a smell of revoluntionary sentiment in the air. To bring
matters to a head, it would not a great deal take.”

“Yes.” Tod was for the moment puzzled. “And what
would you advise, Mr. Dagberg?”

“I should advise,” he said heavily, ‘that you hold off
for a night or two longer—that you do no lighting give
until Zuleyas makes payment. So will you bring him to
terms.”’

“That’s good advice, I think,’ Tod commented, trying
to fathom the German’s motive in making this statement
sO at variance with Mr. Yancey’s.

Something in the boy’s tone made Dagberg glance at
him sharply for a second time. Was he being made game
of? But Tod’s face was absolutely: guileless in expres-
sion.

With the O’Hara, who had followed them, it was dif-
ferent. He bent over suddenly to knock out the dottle
from his pipe against the sole of his shoe. When he
looked up again, he seemed to be laboring to suppress some
powerful emotion, for his face was of a shade of crimson
deeper than the sun ‘had given to it.

“Ye're thinkin’ that they do be onaisy, is ut?” he ins
quited gravely. “Yis? Shure, ‘tis a most conthrary-
moinded payple they do be, thim dagos. Onaisy-is the

- worrtid—loike a hin thryin’ to hatch out doorknobs, now.

Will they be raisin’ ructions, d’ye think ?’

“Maybe,” responded the German impatiently, ‘You've
heard what I think, Tod. It would be a policy the worst
in the world to give them light to-night. You'll tell
Duke ?”

“Tl tell him,”
night, sir.”

“Th—what?”’ Dagberg stared in astonishment, unable
to comprehend that he’ was being dismissed by a mere.
youth. He flushed angrily, mounted suddenly and
gathered up the reins. “Good night,” he muttered, and
rode off. Eat

Tod watched him with a kindling gaze, “That settles
it!” he told the O’Hara. His tone was unpleasant. “I
don’t trust you, Mr, Dagberg.”

“Ye’re a woise lad,” commented the O’Hara approv-
ingly.

‘‘He’s up to some “dirty work,”
lights go on to- -hight.

said Tod-coldly, averting his gaze.

said Tod. “Those

_ ing about.”

“Roight ye ar-re, Tod.”

Tod nodded. Already it was growing dark. The last : ;

ruddy gleam of sunlight was touching the peaks of the
ae mountains. Dagberg’s heavy form astride the
re

Ee ig Irishman arose and lumbered into: the aynamo,

‘Good -

*

Mr. Yancey knows what he’s talk-

reating pony was almost invisible in twilight shadows.
“O'Hara,” cried Tod suddenly, “switch on the lights!" ANE

 

 

 
   

    

house, the sky suddenly blackened to the zenith. The
sun was abruptly gone, and the heavy wings of tropic night
folded down over the landscape. Overhead stars, big and
gaudy, leaped out of the sky.

Tod stood up, peering through the night toward the
city. He could fancy the O’Hara stumbling about in
the darkness, searching for the switchboard. “Now he
will have found it,’ he guessed.

Before Tod the land lay invisible, as if blanketed with
the impenetrable blackness. Then, without warning, long
lines of light threaded the streets of Gaujira, and a wreath
of incandescence encircled the dome of the Palacio Fed-
eral. A second later the frequent arcs which the company
maintained along the valley road sputtered into life, mak-
ing the path bright as day between walls of night.

Tod saw clearly the German, pausing in the middle of
the road, beneath a lamp. He turned in his saddle and
shook a fat fist at the power house, shouting something
guttural.

Tod laughed.

CHAPTER III.
LOOKING FOR TROUBLE,

Tod ate his dinner in silence, despite the good-natured
chaff which passed between the O’Hara and Pooh-Bah.
He did not listen to them; Duke had not returned, and
he was worried.

- When the meal was finished he arose quickly. and
stepped over to the power house, but any lingering hope
which he may have harbored of finding his delinquent
brother there was quickly dispelled by a glance within
the empty office and around the deserted, thundering
dynamos. The din was deafening, the interior, lit by the
bluish rays of a single arc lamp, a seeming chaos, of
whirring, whirling machinery. The O’Hara brushed past
him to have a look round and pet his best beloved, the
big dynamo; and Tod went out into the night again.

For a long time he stood just outside of the door,
gazing down the road, hoping every moment to see the
figure of Duke round the bend. He failed to imagine
what was delaying him; his absence from dinner was not
unprecedented, but heretofore Duke had never stayed
away without notifying his brother.

__A furrow crept between Tod’s «brows; he looked at
his watch, holding it up to catch the light from within.
It was eight o’clock. ‘Thunder!’ he said briefly; and
went in to,the telephone.

“Probably,” he was thinking, “Duke is dining with Mr.
Yancey. If so, two words over the wire will set every-
thing right.”

Things, however, were not to be set right just yet, he
found. He twirled the bell handle several times without
hearing the tinkle of the hammer on the metal hemi-
spheres. \

“Hello!” he cried. «““What’s wrong now ?”

| He lifted the receiver from the hook and put it to his
- ear; if the wire was in order, he knew that he would
hear the humming of the wind upon it. To the con-
trary, it brought him no sound—none save. the rushing

of his own blood in his eardrums—which seemed sud-

ae -denly and terribly distinct to the boy, even in the midst,

- of that veritable inferno of sound. et
The wire was “dead”—cut, grounded, disconnected, or’
shert-circuited somewhere along the line. ; !

“That’s. funny,” said Tod; but he didn’t mean that it

\

Tie TOF

WEEKLY.

Who could have been tampering. with

was laughable.
the wires? And why? He ran out of' the office quickly
arid a little distance down the road.

Here the roar of the dynamos was appreciably sub-
dued; the crashing of the waterfall was but a deep-toned
background to the other sounds of the night. Tod lis-
tened intently, picking out the different motif chords from
the nocturnal symphony: the shrill of a cricket; the crash
of bushes as some invisible animal prowled through the
jungle to drink at the brink of the Quitaro; the rustle
of leaves in the breeze; and, farther away, more indis-
tinct, the fitful blare of the brass band in Gaujira’s plaza.

The wind veered and blew from the east, over the
city, bringing to Tod sharper, clearer snatches of melody
from the brazen instruments; he stood with his hand to
his ear, imagining the familiar scene on the plaza—the
swarming crowd of dark-skinned Tolimans, clothed im-
maculately im soft white, strolling listlessly; the dashes
of color where lights flared beneath the restaurant’s gay
awnings; the ceaseless shuffle of many feet.

It was not to last—the vision. Tod suddenly jumped,
almost as if stung.

He stood, trembling with a vague terror, for a brief
moment,

The music had ceased. :

Not naturally—the volume of sound had been sliced

off as sharply as if each musician had been struck dead in

the midst of a flourish. The tune had been a Spanish-
American favorite, “La Paloma,” and Tod caught him-
self subconsciously completing the phrase.

“Well!” he muttered. “That’s queer.”

He thought he heard a yell, and a growl as a mob gives
vent to. Again, standing as if he himself had been turned
to stone, he fancied that he heard—or actually did hear—
the crack,\of a musket.

Turning on his heel, Tod ran swiftly to the hacienda,
his mind made up.

“Pooh-Bah,” he called, adding, when the Chinaman >

appeared: “Saddle me a pony—lively, now!”

Pooh-Bah disappeared, running, startled out of his cus-

tomary composure by the change in the nit manner. Tod
swung about and entered the power house.

The O'Hara was bending over the big dynamo, fussing .

with an oil can about one of the coils. Tod caught, his
arm and drew the Irishman’s ear near to his lips. For
thus only, shouting, could the human voice be heard
within the building.

“O’Hara,” he shrieked, “I’m going down to Gaujira to
look around. There’s some trouble-—don’t know what.
But I’m not easy about Duke.”

“Good, la-ad!” said the O’Hara, nodding his grizzly
head. é

“Come outside.” Tod felt the necessity of further ex- |

planation, and the impossibility of making himself under-
stood so near to the monster machine.
obeyed the pull at his arm.

“Look here,” continued the boy, as they reached the
comparative quiet without the building, “I suspect that

that Prussian sneak,, Dagberg, is up to some mischief.

Understand ?” |
“I do that. Yére roight, as usual, la-ad.” The O’Hara

approved of Tod, as one who is not too “fresh” with his

elders. : nes ar

“T don’t know why, but I think he’s going to’ do
something to try to make us shut off the lights to-night.

I don’t get his motive at all, but I feel it in my bones,

EN ey

 

 

The O’Hara

   
   
  

  
 
  
 
 
  
  
   
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 

 
 

ee bak‘. ple

  
   
 
  
        
  

”
f
i
-s
+
ist

LEP: TOP

shots

_  O’Hara. So don’t you let anything interfere with the
lighting until I get back with Duke.”

“Be aisy, Misther Tod, sir. The dynamos will kape
going ontil Aurora's rosy gleams
¥ But Tod was gone into the obscurity that obtained

without the fan-shaped illumination from the open door.
- The O’Hara shook his head s&gely and went withif,
. muttering. Neither was he pleased, nor at his ease; he,
' too, felt “in his bones” that something was wrong.

Pooh-Bah had Tod’s pony ready for him when he re-
. turned to the house. The boy sprang up the veranda and
; _ jumped astride of the restless, obstinate, flea-bitten beast
—which might have passed for a twin brother to Dag-
berg’s. He held out his hands for the reins, and his
: fingers encountered the cool smoothness of metal.
& “Hello! What’s this, Pooh-Bah?”
|. “Plistol,” explained Pooh-Bah seriously. “Mlist’ Tod
_-takee care himself, allee samee man. Velly muchee tlub-
” ble He waved the hand that held Duke’s revolver
* toward Gaujira to indicate the seat of trouble.
5 “Oh, I don’t want that blame thing, Pooh-Bah, Likely
I'd blow myself to flinders—alle samee firecracker—eh?
~ —what?”
a Pooh-Bah was. still motioning frantically toward
| Gaujira. Tod. felt impelled to listen. The night was
split suddenly by the cracking of rifles.
4) “Gimme that!’ Tod “cried suddenly. The revolver
| passed to his grasp and he thrust it into his hip pocket.
) “Duke may have use for it,” he explained to himself,
| striking his Heels into the flanks of the pony. The ani-
| mal jumped viciously and swept down the road to the
city.

 

te

 

4

TO BE CONCLUDED.
. > Ho

The Wreck That Saved Singleton.

EA By HUGH A. C. WALKER.

’ For a long time he gazed at the big, yellow envelope
in his hand, unable to reach a decision. He was not alto-
gether bad, for then he should never have been placed

te

Detss HE EE

_ on the other hand, he certainly was not altogether good—
- not good enough, at least, to be beyond temptation.

_. But he was sorely in need of money, and the opportu-
nity could hardly have been more favorable.

Had tle amount been fifty thousand, instead of five,
_ the very greatness itself would undoubtedly have deterred
him from even the contemplation of such an undertaking ;
but with five thousand the risk was slight—to 4 mar of
. Singleton’s dramatic ability the role was an easy one.

. Within an hour’s time his train would be creeping over
- Crooked Creek in the gathering night; they always slack-
ened speed before reaching the trestle to avoid the possi-

bility ofan accident.
. Just after the crossing, he would aah into the rear
cars, and do his melodramatic stunt: Believing the knock
upon his door to be that of the conductor or one of the
train crew, he had opened the door without dreaming
} of danger, when two masked men had sprung inside, and

| covered him with their weapons; he had been taken com-
pletely by surprise, and was unable to make a y resist-

 

‘was carrying—fortunately, only five thousand dollars—
and his revolver; then had jumped from the train just
efore it reached the trestle and had escaped into the
darkness.

  

 

in such a responsible position in the express service;

nee. They had forced him to turn over what cash he .

WEEKLY. 25
’ j

It would all sound reasonable enough—such things had
happened in that part of the country—and, anyhow, who
would ever suspect Hartwell Singleton of stealing a few
paltry dollars, and then having the audacity to remain
quietly at his post?

Back and forth within his heart the battle wavered,
between conscience and fear of detectida on the one side,
and greed for the money on the other. In the end, Sin-
gleton’s weakness conquered; he slipped the envelope
beneath his white overalls into a secret pocket on the in-
side of his heavy flannel shirt, and went on with his work
with perfect unconcern.

No. 7 was almost an hour late, and Buttrick, the
new engineer, was holding the throttle open trying to
make up the lost time; on and on they tore through the
thickening dusk, the cars lunging recklessly from side to
side.

Finally, the whistle shrieked out two long, despairing
moans, followed by two quick gasps—the signal for the
‘road crossing just a quarter of a mile fromm Crooked
Creek.

Singleton coolly braced himself for his performance.

3ut the train Conia its frantic course.

“What's wrong with the fool?” he exclaimed to him-
self, as, without even slackening his wild speed, Buttrick
dashed on toward the long trestle.

Scarcely had Singleton gotten the words from his lips
when he felt his car give a sudden leap forward and
downward, and with a resounding crash the whole train
plunged headlong through a broken trestle.

The knot of loafers at the little railway station of
Delmar, three miles distant, heard the noise, and easily
guessed its meaning. At all times greedy for some ex-
citement, they at once started off down the track toward
the scene of the disaster.

A. few minutes later, a boy came dashing into Delmar
on horseback, and soon the horrible news had spread
all over the village. Immediately heroic efforts began to
be put forth for the relief of the sufferers; the women
threw open their homes and prepared beds, bandages, and
hot water, while the men flocked to Crooked Creek in
vehicles of all kinds.

The spectacle that met their eyes, although seen but
dimly by the weak light of the stars and the lantern that
had been brought, was ghastly in the extreme. .

At the bottom of the ravine lay No. 7, torn into ten
thousand splinters—the engine lying helpless on its side
moaning and shrieking along with the wounded and dy-
ing, the steel rails twisted and bent like so oy pieces
of wire, the rotten bridge timbers piled up in a shattered
heap.

The rescuers Suited Widsclves into groups of je
ot three, and set to work without. delay looking for th
unfortunate victims.

One of these groups stumbled upon the body of a man,

clad-in bloody white overalls, lying near a pile of rub-

bish.

His pallid; boyish face turned toward the sky was ,

drawn with suffering. Upon examination he was found
to be still alive, but unconscious; his external injuries
consisted of a badly crushed leg, a broken collar bone,
and severe bruises on different parts of his body. —

ea

After his leg had been bandaged as well as possible

by the rough, amateurish hands, he was carried out care-

fully, placed, upon a cot in one of the wagons, and sent

Sp of? he weet ons ee Nil a nae oak al ed ed .
iis i ala mali ‘ a

~~.

acti 27s a Sis ian enpig ele
Bee kT foie 7 ed ao

     
   
 
  
  
   
 
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
   
 
    
    
    
   
   
   
     
    
  
  
   
   
    
    
       
       
     
     
       
     
     
     
          
         
   
 
      
    
      
       
  
   
 
 
 
   
   
 
  
  
 
   
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
    
 
 
 

26 Dhak | ah Wee
on at once to Delmar. The villagers labored all through
the night with willing hearts and ready hands.

Within two-hours after the accident a relief train
arrived, and the work of removing the debris was begun
vigorously. From Columbia a special came, bringing
‘several officials of the road and Dixon, the express route
agent. 7

Most of the articles from the express car were found
missing—either destroyed or stolen by sneak thieves. The
safe, which evidently had been open when the wreck
occurred, lay upon its side with the door torn off; the
most careful and patient searching failed to, give any
light as to the whereabouts of the five thousand dollars.

* a 2 2 * *

08 in the afternoon of the day following the disas-

, the express route agent, the physician of the road,

a several others were seated at Singleton’s bedside,

watching the sufferer, and talking in low tones about the
horrors of the night before.

Singleton’s clothing had been removed, his injuries
treated, and everything done that might possibly help to
give him relief; still he remained unconscious.

One of the men, happening to pick up from the floor
the wounded boy’s flannel shirt, discovered the express
envelope in an inside pocket; he tossed it over to the

Sie express official, and Dixon was,ov erjoyed at finding that
- it contained the five thousand dollars, untouched.

“Well, gentlemen,” he exclaimed, with subdued enthu-
siasm, “that’s the pluckiest express messenger I’ve run
across yet; 1 understand the whole business now. He
must have dragged himself to the safe after he was crip-
pled up, and got this stuff—likely as not it was the exer-
tion that’s helped to get him in this fix.
hear of presence of mind or grit to beat that?”

Just as he finished speaking Singleton groaned with
pain, and his eyes slowly opened—consciousness had re-
turned, At first he was struck with wonder at his strange
surroundings and his suffering; then in an instant the

 

mind. ~

- His next thought was of the stolen money ; sickening
terror filled his soul, and he turned his eyes upon the men

beside him in a wild stare of interrogation.

over him asking questions about his injuries; but Sin-
_  gleton did not hear, for in Dixon’s hands he beheld the
Pee envelope, and knew that he was ruined.
fi The next moment Dixon was standing by him, holding
his hand, and smiling down upon him with admiration.
What could he mean?
ie “Singleton, old boy, you’re the gamest yet; I found
the stuff. where you hid it—you’ve saved the company

 

as your sand and coolness of last night deserve. Hurry
and get straight, and you'll find ‘a job waiting on you.’

acting, after all, and even in his suffering proved equal
to the demands. With a queer expression of resignation
‘on his pale face, he answered steadily : pe
“Vou are mistaken, Mr. Dixon. I did not try to save
that: money; I—I meant to steal it. Tvonght to be in
prison, not here.”
Dixon glanced at his companions. The’ admiration in
his voice was SRO PEE, even than before.

    
 
   
 
 

 

Did you ever’.

awful experience of the night before flashed into his’

with him.”

The physician had risen quickly, and was now bending.

five thousand, and I'll see that you get a promotion such
his photograph.

‘Singleton was to have an opportunity for some Star.

- was yo weet Hoy and the en apr ge ine ph on

WEEKLY. j

‘There's a chap for you,” he said. ““He’s as modest as :
he is brave. And he would joke with one foot in the b
grave. (Singleton, my boy a

 

But the express messenger had mercifully fainted.

SNOW LODGE.

By Edward Stratemeyer. ie
CHAPTER I

WHAT HAPPENED ON CHRISTMAS MORNING.

 

<—

“Hurrah, Joe! It has. stopped snowing at last, and
the wind has swept Pine Lake almost as clean as “ ‘a
whistle.”

“If that’s the case, Harty, we can go skating this morn-
ing, instead of waiting until after dinner. But how do:
you know the ice on the lake is clear?

“Didn’t I.just come from there?” Harry Westmore |
held up a shining pair of ni¢kel-plated skates. “Couldn't =}
resist trying ‘em, you know. Say, it was just all right; — x
of Uncle Maurice to give each of us a pair, wasn't it?”

“Tt certainly was,” returned Joe Westmore, who was |
his brother’s sehior by just a year and a day. “But 1 |
rather think I love that double-barreled shotgun a little
better. I am fairly aching to give it a trial’on a bird or
a rabbit, or something larger.” *

“Well, as for that, I don’t go back on the camera Aunt
Laura sent up from New York. Fred*Rush was telling
me it was a very good one, and he ought to know, for »_
he has had four.” es

“What did Fred get for Christmas?”

“A shotgun something like yours, a big bobsled, some x ee
books, and a whole lot of other things. One book is on |
camping out, and he is just crazy to go. He says a
fellow could camp out up to Pine Island, and have a
bang-up time.

“To be sure!” ejaculated Joe enthusiastically. isk
the thing! If he goes I’m going, too!” ak
“You don’t know yet if father will let “you. go.” He
says no boy should go hunting without some old hunter _

 

 

     
    
      
    
    
   
    
     
   
   
    
   

“T’m: seventeen,’ answered Joe, drawing hienbel? Map
to his full height; he was rather tall for his age. “And —
Fred is almost as old. I reckon we could take care gb
ourselves.” a

“Tf I went I’d like to take my camera,” said Harry: |
“I was reading an article in the paper the other day about) |
how to hunt game with a snapshot machine. That would
just suit me. Think of what a famous collection of ©
pictures I might get—wild turkeys, deer, and nye an
bear .

“Tf you met a bear ‘I don’t think you'd stand. to take
I'll wager you'd leg it for all you were
worth—or else shoot at him. But come on. If skating
is so good there is no use of our wasting time here talk-
ing,” concluded Joe, as he moved off.

The Westmore family were six in-number, Mr. Horace
Westmore and his wife, the boys just introduced, and
two younger children, named Laura and Bessie. Ire
Westmore was.a flour and feed dealer, and ran the | rin-
cipal establishment of that kind in Lakeport, at the |
end of Pine Lake. While the merchant was not rich, he

      
       

 
      
 
     
    
 
   
   
   
 

 

 
     
     
     
    
     
     
     
    

 
 

   
   
  

   
«

sie ar

{ot

society that the lake district afforded. On Mrs. West-
more’s side there had once been much wealth, but an
unexpected turn of fortune had left her father almost
penniless at his death. There was a rumor that the dead
man had left to his daughter the rights to a valuable
tract of land located at the head of the lake, but though
> Mr. Westmore tried his best, he could not establish any
i} such claim. The land was there, held by a miserly real-
estate dealer of Brookside, named Hiram Skeetles; but
Skeetles declared that the property was his own, free and
+. clear, and that Mrs. Westmore’s father had never had
| any right to it whatsoever.

. “What’s mine is mine, and don’t ye go for to forgit
| it!” Hiram Skeetles had snarled, during his last inter-
| view with Horace Westmore on the subject. “Ye ain’t
| got nary a slip o’ paper to show it ever belonged to Henry
_ Anderson. I don’t want ye to bother me no more. If ye
} do, I'll have the law on ye!” And Mr. Westmore had
} come away feeling that the case was decidedly a hopeless

one.

4% “It's a shame mother and father can’t bring old Gicee-
_ tles to time,” had been Joe’s comment, when he heard of
the interview. “I wouldn’t trust that old skinflint to do

cat % ay >

 

-} the square thing.” j

ha Se “Nor I,” had come from Harry. “But if Grandfather
4) Anderson had any deeds or other papers, what did he do
| with them?”

  

“I’m sure I don’t know. Mother said she saw some
papers once—years ago, when she was a young girl—but
she never saw them after that.”

It was Christmas morning, bright and clear. Half an
hour before it had been snowing furiously, with a strong

wind from the horthwest, but the storm had shifted as
if by magic, and now the sun, shining through the scat-
tering clouds, made the snow-laden trees and bushes
_gilisten as/if bedecked with diamonds. Already on the
main street of Lakeport, a thriving town of several thou-
sand inhabitants, could be heard the tinkling of sleigh
bells, and nearly every passer-by was greeted with a lib-
eral dose of snowballs, for the lads of this down-east
- town were as fun-loving as are boys anywhere, and to
leave a “good mark” slip past unnoticed was considered
nothing short of a crime. }

When Joe and Harry reached the lake front they
found a crowd of fully fifty men and boys, with a fair
sprinkling of girls, engaged in skating and in ice boating.
The majority of the people were in the vicinity of the
steamboat dock, for this was at the end of the main
street, and a great “hanging-out” Spot during the sum-
mer. But others were skating up the lake shore, and a
few were following Dan Marcy’s new ice yacht, Silver
» Oiuteen, as she tacked along on her way to the west shore,
_ where an arm of the lake encircled the lower end of Pine
© TSlarid..: PO EET
_“Marcy’s going to try to beat the lake record,’ Joe
heard one boy call to another. “He says his new boat
has got to knock the spots out of anything that ever sailed,
on the lake, or he'll chop her up for firewood.”

“Well, she’ll have to hum along if she beats the time
made by the old Whizzer last winter,” came from the
other boy. “She sailed from the big pine to Flallett’s
_ Point in exactly four minutes and ten seconds. My, but
didn’t she scoot along!”

, It took but a few minutes for Joe and, Harry to don
their skates. As they left the shore they ran into Fred

 
    
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

   
     
       
     
       
  

 

WEEKLY. 27

Rush, who was swinging along as if his very life de-
pended upon it. 3

“Hello, so you fellows have come down at last!” sang
out Fred, who was short and stout, and as full of fun as
a lad can be. “Thought you had made up your mind to
go to bed again, or stay home and look for more Christ-
mas presents. Been having dead loads of fun—had a
race and come in second best, got knocked down twice,
slipped on the ice over yonder, and got a wet foot in
a hole some fellow cut, and Jerry Little hit me in the
shin with his hockey stick. Say, but you fellows are
positively missing the time of your lives.”

“I want to miss it, if I’m going to have all those things
happen to me,” returned Joe dryly. Then he added:
“Harry tells me you got a double-barreled shotgun almost
like mine. How do you like it?”

“Like it? Say, that gun is the greatest thing that ever
happened. I tried it just before I came down to skate—
fired both barrels at once, because I didn’t have time to
fire em separately.\ It knocked me flat, and a snowbank
was all that saved my life. But she’s a dandy. I’m going
to bring down a bear with that gun before the winter is
over, you see if I don’t.”

“How are you going to do it?” put in Harry. “Offer
to let the animal shoot off the gun, and kill him that
way?”

“Don’t you make fun of me, Harry. You'll see the
bear sooner or later, mark the remark.”: .

The three boys skated off, hand in hand, with Fred
in the center. The fun-loving youth was the only son
of the: town hardware dealer, and he and the Westmore
lads had grown up together from childhood.
Fred had proved himself far from being:d dunce, but by.
some manner of means he was almost constantly in “hot
water’”—why, nobody could explain.

“Let Fred Rush pick up a poker, and he’ll get the hot
end in his hand,” said one of the girls one day, and this
remark came close to hitting the nail squarely on the
head. Yet, with all his trials and tribulations, Fred rarely
lost his temper, and he was always ready to promise bet-
ter things “for the future.

The boys skated a good half mile up the lake shore.
At this point they met several girls, and one of them,
Cora Runnell, asked Joe if he would fix her skate for
her. '

“Certainly I will,” replied the youth, and on the instant |

he was kneeling on the ice, and adjusting a clamp that

had become wedged fast to the shoe plate of the skate.

Cora was the daughter of an old hunter and trapper of
that vicinity, and as he worked Joe asked her what her
father was doing.

“He isn’t doing anything just now,” was the girl’s

answer. “He was out acting as a guide for a party of
New York sportsmen, but they went back to the city last
week.” . ‘ a
ae you hear him say anything about game?”
“Ves, he said the season was a very good one. The
party got six deer over at Rawson Hill, and a moose
at Bender’s, and any quantity of small game. I think
pa’s going out alone in a day or two—just to see what he
can bring down for the market at, Brookside.”

“T wish he’d take me along. I’ve got a new double-

barreled shotgun that I want to try the worst way.”

_ “And I’ve got one, too,” broke in Fred, “I’m sure we

could bring down lots of game between us.”

Cora Runnell looked at the stout youth, and began to

“he.

‘ {

At school ’

       
   

 

28 TIP: TOP.

giggle. ‘Oh, dear, if you went along I guess pa’d have
to hide behind a tree when you took your turn at shoot-
ing,”

“Whoop, you’re discovered, Fred!” burst out Harry.
“Cora must have heard how you shot off both barrels at

once, and
“Oh, [ can shoot straight enough,”

 

came doggedly from

Fred. “Just you give me the chance, and see.
“Well,-you'll have to see pa about going out with
him,” answered Cora, and then started to skate after her

girl friends, who had moved .off a minute before, and
were getting farther and farther away.
“Hi, there!’ came suddenly in a shout from the lake
shore. “Beware of the ice boat!”
“The ice boat?” repeated Harry.

“Where Oh!”

 

He glanced up the lake, and saw the Silver Queen.

coming along as swiftly as the stiff breeze could drive the
craft over the glassy surface. The ice boat was headed
directly for the three boys, but now the course was shifted
slightly, and the craft pointed fairly and squarely for
the spot where Cora Runnell Was skating along, all. un-
conscious of her danger.

“By gracious, Dan Marcy will run Cora down!” ejacu-
lated Fred. He raised his voice to a yell. “Stop! stop!
you crazy fool! Do you want to kill somebody ?”

“Save my girl!’ came from the shore, ‘Cora!
Beware of the ice boat!”

But the girl did not heed the warning, and now the ice
boat, coming as swiftly as ever, was almost on top of
her. Then’the girl happened to glance back. She gave a
scream, tried to turn, but slipped, and then sank in a
heap directly in the track of the oncoming :peril.

Cora!

CHAPTER II.

A QUARREL ON THE ICE,

It was a moment of extreme peril, and the heart of
more than one onlookér seemed to stop beating. The ice
boat was a heavy affair, with runners of steel, and a
blow from that bow, coming at such a speed, would be
like a blow from a rushing locomotive. It looked as if
‘Cora Runnell was doomed.

But as all of the others stood helpless with surprise and
consternation, Joe Westmore dashed forward with a
speed that astonished even himself, He fairly flew over
the ice, directly for Cora, and, reaching the fallen girl,
caught her by the left hand.

“Quick! we must get out of the way!” he cried, and,
without waiting to raise her to her feet, he dragged her
over the smooth ice a distance of four or five yards.

Then the Silver Queen whizzed past, sending a little drift

of snow whirling over them.
‘“Git out of the way!” came rather indistinctly from
Dan Marcy. “Can’t you see I’m frying to beat the rec-

: ord?’ And then he passed out of hearing.

_ “Are you hurt ?” questioned Joe, as he assisted the be-
wildered girl to her feet.
“T_T guess not, Joe,” she stammered.
- a narrow escape!” And Cora shuddered. —
fur Van Metey ought to be locked up for such reckless
sailing.”

“TT think so “myself. f Cora paused for a moment, “It
was awfully good of you to help me as you did, » she
went on gratefully. :

C By this tions, sane nies were coming up, and the story

“But, oh, what

_ Harry. )

WEEKLY.

 

of the peril and escape had to be told many times. Among |
the first to arrive was Joel Runnell, Cora’s father, who me
had shouted the warning from the shore. He had been
out hunting, and carried an old-fashioned shotgun and 1.
a game bag full of birds. .

“Not hurt, eh?” he said anxiously. “Thank fortune aa
for that! Who was sailing that boat?’ And when told, y
he said he would settle with Marcy before the day was i
done. “Can’t none of ’em hurt my girl without hearing ea
from me,” he added. aw

The-excitement soon died down, and the skaters scat- NK
tered in various directions. In the meantime, to avoid 1%
being questioned about the affair, Dan Marcy, who was
a burly fellow of thirty, and a good deal of a bully,
turned his ice boat about, and went sailing up the lake
once more,

 

Some of the lads on the lake were out for a game of PA}
snap the whip, and Joe, Harry, and Fred readily joined ‘
in this sport: At the third snap, Fred was placed on the |
end of the line. \

“Oh, but we won't do a thing to Fred,” whispered

  

one of the boys, and word was sent along to make this |
snap an extra sharp one, ae
“You can’t rattle me!” sang out Fred, as the skating Lye
became faster and faster. “I’m here every time, I am. fs
Let her go, everybody, whoop!’ And then he had to. |
stop talking, for he could no longer keep up. The line |
broke, and, like a flash, Fred spun around, lost his foot-.
ing, and turned over and over, to bring up in a big snow- ae
bank on the shore. ae

  

“Hello, Fred, where are you bound?” sang out Harry. es
“Where—where am I bound?” spluttered the’ stout
youth, as he emerged and cleaned the snow from out of
his collar and sleeves. “I don’t know.” He paused to
catch his breath. “Reckon I’m in training for a trip to
the north pole.” a
Half an hour later found the Westmore boys at home
for dinner. There was something of 4 family gathering
this Christmas Day, most elderly people, so neither Joe
nor Harry had a chance to speak to their father about
the hunting trip they had in mind. Everybody was inthe
best of humor, and the table fairly bent beneath the load
of good things placed upon it—turkey with cranberry _
sauce, potatoes, onions, squash, celery, and then followed _
pumpkin and mince pies, and nuts and raisins, until ~
neither of the boys could eat a mouthful more. Both |
voted that Christmas “dinner ‘just boas: and the other i
folks agreed with them, pe
The middle of the afternoon found the lads at the
lake again. It had clouded’ over once more, and they
were afraid that another fall of snow might stop skat- °°
ing for several weeks, if not for the balance of the season.
“We want to take the good of it while it lasts,” said —

 
  
  
   
   
  

 

  
   
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
    
 
   
 
 
 
 
  
 

Dan Marcy was again out on his ice boat, and jos and
Harry, accompanied by Fred, followed the craft to. a) 7.
cove on the west shore. There seemed to be something
the matter with the sail of the Silver Queen, andyMatcy
ran the craft into a snowbank for repairs, ae

“Say, what do you want around here?” demanded Dan
Marcy, as soon as he caught sight of the Westmore boys.
His foce wore an ugly look, and his tone of voice was
far from pleasant. Pe

“T don’t know as that is any of your business, Dan
Marcy,” returned Joe.

“Ain't it? We’ ll see,

 
 
 
 

    
   
       
       
     
   
   
     
 

; understand you've been ‘eling

    
 

TIP TOP

folks that I tried to run into you and that Runnell girl
on urpdse.”

‘ou didn’t take much care to keep your ice boat out
of ie way.’

“It was your business to keep out of the way. You
knew I was trying to beat the record.”

“Do you own the lake?’ came from Harry,

“Maybe you’ve got a mortgage on the ice?” put in
. Fred.

Now, the year before Dan Marcy had been in the ice
business, and had made a failure of it, and this remark
caused him to look more ugly than ever.

“See here, for two pins I'd pitch into the lot of you,
and give you a sound thrashing!” he roared.

“Would you?” came sharply from Joe,
haven’t the pins,”

“T’ll give you an order on our servant girl for two
clothespins, if they'll do,” put in Fred.

“Then you want that thrashing, do you?” growled Dan
Marcy ; but as he looked at the three sturdy, lads he made
no movement to begin the encounter.

“If anybody needs a thrashing it is you, for trying to
run down Cora Runnell,” said Joe. “It was a mean piece
of business, and you know it as well as we do.”

“You shut up, Joe Westmore!” Marcy picked up a
hammer with which he had been driving one of the blocks
‘of the sail. “Say another word, and |’ll crack you with
this!”

He advanced so threateningly that’ Joe fell back a few
steps. As he did this, a form appeared on the lake shore,
and an instant later ‘Dan Marcy felt himself caught by
the collar and hurled flat on his back,

“T reckon as how this is my quarrel, ” came in the hi mp
pitched voice of Joel Runnell. “I’ve been looking
you for the past hour, Dan Marcy. I'll teach you to run
down my girl, If it hadn’t ’a’ been for Joe West-
more she might have been killed,”

“Let go!” roared Marcy, and scrambled to his feet,
red with rage. He rushed at the old hunter with the
- hammer raised as if to strike, but before he could land a
blow, Joe caught hold of the tool and wrenched it from
his grasp.

“Give me that hammer! Do you hear? I want that
hammer!” went on the bully. Then he found himself on
his back a second time, with his nose bleeding profusely
from a blow Joel Runnell had delivered. .

“Have you had enough?” demanded the old hunter
_wrathfully. “Have you? If not, I'll give you some more
in double-quick order.”

— “Don't—don’t hit me again,’ ’ gasped Dan Marcy, All
his courage seemed to desert him, “It ain't fair to fight
four to one, nohow!”

~“T ean take care of you alone,” retorted Joel Runnell
quickly. “I asked you if you had had enough, Come,
what do you say?” And the old hunter held up his
clenched fists.

“TT don’t want to fight.”

_. “That means that you back down. All right. After
- this you let my girl alone-—and let these lads alone, too.
‘If. you ion & you'll hear from me in a way you won't
¢; kes”

‘ "There was an awkward pause, and Dan. Marcy wiped
the blood from his face, and shoved off on hig ice boat.
“We'll see about this some other time,” he called out,
when at a safe distance. “I shan’t forget it, mind that!”

“Sorry I

 

    
  
  
  
 

 

   
    
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
   
   
 
  
  
    
 
  
  
  
  
  

  

  

 
 

; ‘Hels a Tally if Atere ever was one, " observed Harry. :

WEEKLY.

29

“And a coward in the bargain,” put in Joel Runnell.
“Watch out for him, or he may play you foul.”

“T certainly shall watch him after this,” said Joe. \,

“We're glad you came along,” came from Fred. “We
want to ask you something about hunting. I’ve got a
new double-barreled shotgun, and so has Joe, and we
want to go out somewhere and try for big game.”

“And I’ve got a new camera, and I want to get some
pictures of live game,” added Harry.

“You can’t get any big game around Lakeport. If you
want anything worth while you'll have to go out for sev-
eral days or a week.”

“We're willing to go out as long as our folks will let
us,’ explained Harry. “We haven’t said much about
it yet, for we wanted to see you.”

“We thought you might like to take us out, or, rather,
go with us,” came from Joe. “If you’d go with us we'd
pay the expenses of the trip, and give you your full share
of whatever game we managed to bring down.”

At this Joel Runnell’s gray eyes twinkled. He loved
boys, and knew-the lads before him very well. All the
powder and shot he used came from Mr. Rush’s hard-
ware establishment, and his flour from the Westmore
mill, and ‘he was always given his own time in which to
pay for the articles. Moreover, he was not the one to
forget the serviee Joe had. rendered his daughter.

“Tl go'out with you willingly,” he said. “I'll show

you ‘all the big game 1 can, and what you bring down
shall be yours.’

“Hurrah! It’s settled!” ete Fred, throwing up his
cap. “We'll have just the best time that ever was!”

“Where do you want to go to?”

“T'was thinking of camping out up on Pine Island,” —
answered Harry. “But of course we have got to see my
father about it first.” .

“Pine Island is a nice place. There is an old lodge up
there—put up five years ago by some hunting men from>
Boston. It’s a little out of repair, but we could fix it up,
and then use that as a base of supplies.”

“Just the thing!” said Joe enthusiastically. “If we
liked it would you stay out with us for two or three
weeks ?”

“To be sure. There is a little game on the island, and
we could easily skate to shore when we wished. When
do you want to go?”

“As soon as we get permission,”
find out about it to-morrow.”

After that the boys could talk of nothing but the pro-
posed outing and what they hoped to bring down in the
way of game. Harry wanted pictures worse than he
wanted to bring down game; nevertheless, he said he
would take along a gun and a pistol. “Then I can snap-
shot my bear first, and shoot him afterward,” he said. —

It was not until the day after Christmas that the West-
more lads got a chance to speak to their parents about -
what was uppermost in their minds. At first Mrs. West-

said Harry. “We'll :

more was inclined to demur, but her husband said the ; Ned

outing might do their sons some good. iis
“And eel couldn't go out with a better fellow ‘than .
Joel Runnell,” added ‘Mr. Westmore. 1, They'l be as sate *
with him as ‘they would be with me.” . ;
As soon as it was settled that they were really to go oy
Barry rushed over to Fred's house. Fred had alr oat:
received permission to go, and now all they had to settle
on was the time for their ees and what \ was to be

  

 
     
     
       
    
       
      
         
   
  

30

“was decided to leave home on the following Monday
morning, weather permitting. As to the stores to be
taken along, that was to be left largely to the judgment
of Joel Runnell and to Mr. Westmore, who alsd knew a
good bit about huriting and life in camp.

 

CHAPTER IIL.
TWO CONVERSATIONS OF INTEREST.

“T’'ll tell you one thing I am going to take along,” said
Harry. “That is a pair of snowshoes,”

“Right you are,” returned Fred. ‘Never had so much
fun in my life as when I first put on those things. . I
thought I knew it all, and went sailing dqwn a slide about
a mile a minute, until one shoe got caught in a bush, and
then I flew through the air for about ’steen yards, and
landed on my head kerbang! Oh, they are heaps of fun
—when somebody else wears ’em.”

It was decided that all should take snowshoes. In ad-
dition they were to take their firearms, plenty of powder
and shot, a complete set of camp cooking utensils and
dishes, some coffee, sugar, condensed milk, flour, bacon,
salt pork, beans and potatoes, salt and pepper, and half
a dozen other things for the table. Me. Rush likewise
provided a small case of medicines and a good lantern,
and from the Westmore household came the necessary
blankets,
change of underwear.

“It is going to be no easy work transporting that load
to Pine Island,’ observed Harry, gazing at the stores as
_ they lay ina heap on the barn floor at his parents’ place.

“We are to take two low sleds,” answered Fred. “We
have one and Joel Runnell will furnish the other.”

The sleds were brought around Saturday morning, and
by afternoon everything was properly loaded. Joel Run-
nell examined the new shotguns with care, and pro-
nounced each weapon a very good one.

“And I hope you have lots of sport with ’em,”’ he
added.

Late Saturday evening Harry ‘was sent from home to
the mill to bring over a sack of buckwheat flour his
mother desired. On his way he passed Fred’s home, and
the latter readily agreed to accompany his chum on the
errand,

The promise of more snow had not yet been fulfilled,
and the night was a clear one, with the sky filled with
countless stars.

“T only hope it stays clear,” said Fred. “That is, until
we reach the lodge on the island. After that I don’t care
what happens.”

“It might not be so jolly to be snowed in—if we run
short of provisions, Fred.”

- “Oh, old Runnell will be sure to keep the larder full.
a | told me that the woods are full of wild turkeys and
rabbits.”

Having procured the sack of flour and placed, it on a
hand sled, the lads started on the return. On the way
they had to pass a small clump of trees, back of which
was located the district schoolhouse. As they paused to
rest in the shadow of the trees they noted two men stand-

ie ing in the entryway of the schoolhouse conversing ear-

_ nestly.
“Wonder who those men are?” said. Harry.
“It’s queer they should be there at this hour,”

x red. “Perhaps ee are up to no good.”

returned

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

Each lad was warmly dressed, and carried a

have told: me so.’

 

“They wouldn’t get much if they robbed the place,”
laughed Harry. “A lot of worn-out books and a stove
that isn’t worth two dollars as old iron.”

“Let's go a little closer, and see who they are, any-
way.” i

This was agreed to, and both boys stole along through
the trees, and up to the side of the entryway. From this
point they could not see the men, but could hear them
talking in earnest tones, now high and then very low.

“Tt ain’t fair to be askin’ me fer money all the time,”
they heard one man say. “I reckoned as how I’d settled
in full with ye long ago.” :

“It ain’t so, Hiram Skeetles,”’ was the reply, in Dan |
Marcy’s voice. “I did you a big service, and what you’ve ee
paid ain’t half of what I ought to have.”

“It’s more’n you ought to have. Them papers wasn’t ‘
of no account, anyway.” : me

‘““Maybe—but you were mighty anxious to get ’em ee
when ” And the boys did not catch what followed.

“And that’s the reason,” came presently from Hiram
Skeetles.

“Do you mean to say you lost ’em?” demanded Dan
Marcy.

ees

“Where?” ;

“One day when I was sailin’ down the lake in Jack
Lasher’s sloop. We got ketched by a squall that drove
us high and dry on Pine Island. I jumped to keep from
getting hurt on the rocks, and when we got off after tlie _
storm my big pocketbook with everything in it was”
gone,”

“Humph!” came.in a sniff from Dan Marcy. “Do you
expect me to believe any such fish story? Not snuch | I
want fifty dollars, and I am bound to have it.”

A long wrangle followed, in which the bully threatened
to expose Hiram Skeetles. This angered the real-estate
dealer from Brookside éxceedingly.

“Tf you’re a natural-born idiot, expose me,” he cried.
“But you'll have to expose yourself fust.”

Dan Marcy persisted, and at last obtained ten dollars.
Then the men prepared to separate, and in a few min-
utes more each was gone. a

“Now, what do you make of that?” questioned Fred, | |

Pt hardly know what to make of it,” replied Harry.
“But I am going to tell my father about this just as soon
as I get home.”

Harry was as good as his word, and Horace West-
more listened attentively to. what his son had to relate.

“It is certainly very mysterious,” said Mr. Westmore.
“The papers that were mentioned may have been those ©
which your grandfather once possessed—those which
showed that he was the owner of the land at the upper
end of the lake which Skeetles declares is his property. —
Then, again, the papers may be something entirely dif- f
ferent.” .

“I think we ought to watch Dan Marcy, father.”

“Yes, I'll certainly watch him after this.” Rae
“You haven’t been able to do much about the land,
have you?” ¢
“T can’t do a thing without the popes lawyers

a

  

 

     
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
   
   
 
 
  

 

  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  

          

  

    
     

. “TE old Skeetles lost them we couldn’t make him give /”
them up, even on a search warrant.”

“That is true. But they may not have been lost, even”
though he said so. He may have them hidden away

 

    
         
  

 

  
 

 

  
  

 

 

   

WP TOP

where nobody can find them,” concluded Mr. West-
more.

Sunday passed quietly enough, the lads attending
church with their families, and also going to Sunday
school in the afternoon, In the evening Joel Runnell
dropped in on the Weéstmores to see that everything was
ready for an early start the next morning.

“Funny thing happened to me,” said the old hunter.
. “T was over to the tavern Saturday night, and met Hiram
_ Skeetles there. .He asked me how matters were going,
and I mentioned that I’ was to take you fellows up to
Pine Island for a hunt. He got terribly excited; and said
you had no right to go up there,”

4% “Had no right?” questioned Joe. “Why not?”
“He claims that Pine Island belongs to his family,
being a part of the old. Crawley estate. But I told him
that old Crawley didn’t leave the island to him, and he
had better mind his own business,’ went on Joel Run-
nell. “We had some hot words, and he flew out of the
tavern madder nor a hornet.”

1s: “Can he stop us, do you think?”

 

 

~Crawley was only a fourth-handed relation of his, and
the property is in the courts, and has been for three
_ years. At the most, Skeetles ain’t got more’n a sixth
interest in it. Sheriff Clowes is taking care of it.”
. This news made the boys wonder if Hiram Skeetles
would really try to prevent their-going to the island, but
when the time came to start on the trip the real-estate
dealer was nowhere to be seen.

“Gone back to Brookside,” said a neighbor.
word to come at once.”

Down at the lake there were a dozen or more friends
_ to see them off, including Cora Runnell, who came to
say good-by to her father. The start was, made on
skates, and it was an easy matter to drag the two heavily
loaded sleds over the smooth ice.
_ “Good-by, boys; take, good care of yourselves,” said
Mr. Westmore. 3
“Don’t let a big buck or a bear kill you,” said Mr. Rush
| to Fred, and then, with a laugh and a final handshake,
the hunting tour was begun. °°

 
  

 
 
 

“He got

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 
 

_ Silver Queen was nowhere in sight. Dan Marcy had
failed to break the record with his new ice boat, and had
hauled her over to a carpenter shop for alterations.

~“T don’t believe he is doing a‘ tap of regular work,”
observed Joe. “If he keeps on he will become a’regular
town loafer. - He has already gone through all the money
his folks left him.” . Ay er
. There was no sunshine, but otherwise the atmosphere
was clear, and as the wind was at their backs they made
_ rapid progress in the direction of Pine Island. The
lodge which Joel Runnell had mentioned was located
near the upper shore, so, they would have to skirt the
island for over a mile before reaching the spot. —
Inside’ of an hour they had passed out of sight of Lake-
port, and now came to a small island called the Triangle,
for such was its general shape. Above the Triangle the
lake narrowed for the distance of half a mile, and here
the snow had drifted in numerous ridges from a footito a
yard high. _/ ! 4 |

_ “This isn’t so ni
the ropes of the sleds.
_ “Pll go ahead, and break the way,’

  
    
 
   
   
  
  
  
     
   
 

 

 

 
  

    
  
 

  

,

said Joel Runnell,

       

 

“He shan’t stop me, and I shall protect you boys.

As the party moved up the lake they noticed that the.

ce,” observed Harry, a8 they tugged at,

d then he continued suddenly; “There is your chance!”

  

WEEKLY. 31

“Chance for what?” asked Harry.

“Chance for wild turkeys. They've just settled in the
woods on the upper end of the Triangle.”

“Hurrah!” shouted Joe. “Where is my gun?’

He had it out in a jiffy, and Fred and Harry followed
suit—the latter forgetting all about his precious camera
in the excitement.

“You can go it alone this time,’ said the old hunter.
“Show me what you can do. I'll watch the traps.”

In a moment they were off, and five minutes of hard
skating brought them to the shore of the Triangle. Here
they took off their skates, and then plunged into the
snow-laden thickets.

“Make no noise!’’whispered Joe, who was in advance.
“Wild turkeys are hard to get close to.”

“Oh, I know that,” came from Fred.
more than half a dozen times.”

As silently as ghosts the three young hunters flitted
through the woods, each with his gun before him, ready
for instant use.

Presently they saw a little clearing ahead, and Joe
called a halt. They listened intently, and heard the
turkeys moving from one tree to another.

“Now, then, watch out—and be careful how you
shoot,” cautioned Joe, and moved out into the open.

A second later he caught sight of a turkey, and blazed
away. The aim was true, and the game came down with
a flutter. Then Harry’s firearm rang out, followed by a
shot from Fred. ._Two more turkeys had been hit, but
neither was killed.

“They mustn’t get away!” cried Fred excitedly, and
blazed away once more. But his aim was wild, and’the
turkey was soon lost among the trees in the distance.

Harry was more fortunate, and his second shot landed
the game dead at his feet. Joe tried for a second turkey, .
but without success. ;

‘Never mind, two are not so bad,” said Harry. “It’s
a pity you didn’t get yours,” he went on, to Fred. .

“Oh, I’ll get something next time, you see if I don’t,”
replied the stout youth. “I don’t care for small game,
anyway. A deer or a bear is what I am after.”

_ ‘Well, I hope you get all you want of deer and bear,’
put in Joe; and then they hastened to rejoin Joel Run-
nell, arid resume the journey.

“Tye tried: it

_ CHAPTER IV,
THE FIRST DAY AT SNOW LODGE,

“Got two, did you?” came from Joel Runnell, when the
ede came up. “That’s a good deal better than I looked
me re Ea
“T hit a third, but it got away from me,” said Fred,

“You mustn’t mind that. I’ve seen young gunners go
out more than once, and not bring a thing down,” re-_
turned the old hunter. . .

Once more the. journey up the lake was resumed, and
an hour later they came in sight of Pine Island; a long,

narrow strip of land, located half a mile off the western. 3h
shore. The island lay low at either end, with a hill about —

a hundred feet high in the middle. On the hill was _
located a patch of trees that gave to the place its name, —
and trees of other varieties lined the shores, interspersed

here and there with brushwood. There were halfadozen _

little coves along the eastern shore, and two small creeks _
near the southern extremity. _ oe on Pe ere re ine

 

 

   
x - away in front of the lodge.

  

32 Tig  t0P

 

As the party drew closer to the island they saw that
all the trees were heavily laden with snow, and many of
the low bushes were completely covered.

“Pretty well snowed up, isn’t it?” remarked Joe.

“T’m going to take a picture of the island,’ said Harry,
and proceeded to get out his camera, which was a com-
pact affair, taking film pictures four by five inches in
size.

“Is the light strong enough?’ questioned Joe. “I
thought you had to have sunlight for a snapshot.”

“T’ll give it a time exposure, Joe. Fred, how long do
you think it ought to have?”

“About ten seconds with a medium stop,”
reply.

The camera was set on the top of one of the sleds, and
properly pointed, and Joe timed the exposure. Then
Harry turned the film roll around for picture number two.

“That’s a good bit easier than a plate camera,’ came
from Joel Runnell. “I once went out with a man who
had that sort. His plates weighed an awful lot, and he
was always in trouble trying to find some dark place
where he could fill his holders.”

“This camera loads in daylight; so I'll not have any
trouble that way,” said Harry. “And I can take six pic-
tures before I have to put in a new roll of films.”

It was high noon when the upper end of Pine Island
was gained. All of the party were hungry, but it was
decided to move on to the lodge before getting dinner.

The lodge set.back about a hundred feet from the edge
of a cove, and ten minutes more of walking over the ice
and through the deep snow brought them in sight of the
building. It was a rough affair of logs, twenty by thirty
feet in size, with a rude chimney at one end. There
was a door and two windows, and the ruins of a tiny

-porch. Over all the snow lay to a depth of a foot or
more.

“T’ve got a name for this place,” said Joe. “I don’t
think anything could be more appropriate than that of
Snow Lodge.”

“That fits it exactly!” cried Fred.
eh, Harry?”

“Ves, that’s all right,” was the answer;
Lodge it was from that moment forth.

There had been a padlock on the door, but this was
broken off, so they had no difficulty in getting inside.
They found the lodge divided into two apartments, one
with bunks for sleeping purposes, and the other, where
the fireplace was, for a living room. Through an open
window and through. several holes in the roof the snow
had sifted, and covered the flooring as with a carpet of
white.

“We'll have to clean up first of all,” said Joe. “No
use of bringing in our traps until then.”

“Our first job is to clean off the roof and mend that,”
came from Joel Runnell. “Then we'll be ready for the
next storm-when it comes. After that we can clean up

inside, and cut some firewood.”

“But dinner ” began Fred.
“T’ll cook the turkeys and some potatoes while the
others fix the room,’ said Harry.

This was agreed to, and soon they had a fire blazing
. To dry-pick the turkeys was
not so easy, and all the small feathers had to be singed
off. But Harry knew his business, and soon had an ap-
petizing odor floating to the noses of those on the roof of
the lodge.

was the

“Snow Lodge it is,

and Snow

 

WEEKLY.

The young hunters thought the outirig great sport, and
while on the roof Joe and Fred got to snowballing: each
other. As a consequence, Joe received one snowball in
his ear, and Fred, losing his balance, rolled from the roof
into a snowbank behind the lodge.

“Hi, hi! let up there!” roared old Runnell. “This isn’t
the play hour, lads. Work first and play afterward, s

“It’s no play to go headfirst in that snowbank,” grum-.
bled Fred. “I’m as cold as an icicle!”

“All hands to dinner!” shouted Harry.
come while everything is hot!”

“Right you are!” came from Joe, as he took a flying
leap from the roof to the side of the fire. ‘‘Phew! but
that turkey smells good, and so do the potatoes and cof-
fee!”

They were soon eating with the appetite that comes
only from hours spent in the open air in winter. Every-
thing tasted “extra good,” as Fred put it, and they spent
a good hour around the fire, picking the turkey bones
clean. The turkeys had not been large, so the meat was
extra tender and sweet.

TO BE CONTINUED.

“Don’t wait—

oo

A TALKING DOG.

The following story is told of a ventriloquist, now
famous, but at the timé of this incident he was so poor
that he used to walk between the cities where he was to
appear. On one of these tours he came to Philadelphia
on foot, and on the road he picked up a miserable little
dog becatise it looked so much like he felt.

The first house he came to was a saloon, and of course

he wanted a drink. He had no money, but went,in, any- —

how, to see what he could do. The proprietor, who was
a German, Said sith"

“Well, what will you take?”

He said: “I'll take a little whisky.”

And then, turning to the dog, he asked: |

“What will you have?’ The answer came very
promptly :

“Tl take a ham sandwich.”

The German was so surprised he almost fainted.
1ooked at the dog a moment, and then asked :
you say?”

_ The dog replied: “I said I’d take a jase sandwich.”

Hans thought it wonderful that a dog should. be able
to talk, and asked who had trained him, how long it had
taken, and.wound up with:

“How much will you take for him?’

“Oh,” replied Mr. Ventriloquist, “I wouldn’t sell fim if

at any price, but I ama little hard up, and if you will loan
me fifty dollars I will leave him with you until I are
back the money.”

“All right,” said Hans, “I just want him for a little
eG so I can show him to some people I know around —

ere

So everything was settled, the money paid the dog left
withthe proprietor, and as the ventriloquist went out he
turned and waved his hand to the dog, and said : .

“Well, good-by, Jack; I’ll come back soon.’

The dog looked at him, and said:

“You thean, despicable man, to sell me for fifty dollars, |

after all I’ve done for you. So help me Moses, ithe never

speak another wordvas long as I live.”

And he didn’t.

tHe:
“What did,

   

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Seow iY NUMBERS OF: ee

TIP TOP WEEKLY

WILL BE FOUND IN THE NEW MEDAL LIBRARY

 

 

A few years ago we were obliged to disappoint thousands of readers who wanted the
stories of the early adventures of Frank and Dick Merriwell which were published in Tip

‘Top, because we did not have copies of the numbers that contained them.

It was impossible

for us to reprint Tip Top Weekly, so we made the stories up in book form and published
them in the New Medal Library at intervals of about four weeks beginning with No. 150.
Here is a list of these splendid books which contain Nos. 1 to 509 of Tip Top

Weekly.

Our experience with these books has taught us that thousands of boys are

overjoyed at this opportunity to secure their favorite stories in a more compact and
permanent form.

150—Frank Merriwell’s School-days.
167—Frank Merriwell’s Chums.
178—Frank Merriwell’s Foes.
184—Frank Merriwell’s Trip West.
189—Frank Merriwell Down South.
193—F rank Merriwell’s Bravery.
197—Frank Merriwell’s Hunting Tour.
201—Frank Merriwell in Europe.
205—Frank Merriwell at Yale.

209—F rank Merriwell’s Sports Afield.
213—Frank Merriwell’s Races.
217—Frank Merriwell’s Bicycle Tour.
225—Frauk Merriwell’s Courage.
229—Frank Merriwell’s Daring.
233—F rank Merriwell’s Athletes.
237—Frank Merriwell’s Skill.
240—Frank Merriwell’s Champions.
244—F rank Merriwell’s
247—Frank Merriwell’s Secret.
251—Frank Merriwell’s Danger.
254—Frank Merriwell’s Loyalty.
258—Frank Merriwell in Camp.
262—Frank Merriwell’s Vacation.
267—Frank Merriwell’s Cruise.
271—Frank Merriwell’s Chase.
276—Frank Merriwell in Maine.
280—Frank Merriwell’s Struggle.
284—Frank Merriwell’s First Job.
288—Frank Merriwell’s Opportunity.
292—Frank Merriwell’s Hard Luck.
296—Frank Merriwell’s Protégé.
300—Frank Merriwell on the Road.
304—Frank Merriwell’s Own Company.
308—Frank Merriwell’s Fame.
312—Frank Merriwell’s College Chums.
316—Frank Merriwell’s Problem.
320—Frank Merriwell’s Fortune.
324—Frank Merriwell’s New Comedian
328—Frank Merriwell’s Prosperity.
332—Frank Merriwell’s Stage Hit.
336—Frank Merriwell’s Great Scheme.
340—Frank Merriwell in England.
344—Frank Merriwell on the Boulevards
348—Frank Merriwell’s Duel.
352—Frank Merriwell’s Double Shot.
356—Frank Merriwell’s Baseball Victories
359—Frank Merriwell’s Confidence.
362—Frank Merriwell’s Auto.
365—Frank Merriwell’s Fun.
368—Frank Merriwell’s Generosity.
371—Frank Merriwell’s Tricks.
374—Frank Merriwell’s Temptation.

STREET & SMITH, Publishers,

Price, Fifteen Cents

Return to Yale.

per copy.

Merriwell on Top.
Merriwell’s Luck.
Merriwell’s Mascot.
Merriwell’s Reward.
Merriwell’s Phantom.
Merriwell’s Faith.
Merriwell’s Victories.
Merriwell’s Iron Nerve.
Merriwell in Kentucky.
Merriwell’s Power.
Merriwell’s Shrewdness.
Merriwell’s Set-back.
Merriwell’s Search.
Merriwell’s Club.
Merriwell’s Trust.
Merriwell’s False Friend.
Merriwell’s Strong Arm.
Merriwell as Coach.
Merriwell’s Brother.
434—F rank Merriwell’s Marvel.
437—Frank Merriwell’s Support.
440—Dick Merriwell at Fardale.
443—Dick Merriwell’s Glory.
446—Dick Merriwell’s Promise.
449—Dick Merriwell’s Rescue.
452—Dick Merriwell’s Narrow Escape.
455—Dick Merriwell’s Racket.
458—Dick Merriwell’s Revenge.
461—Dick Merriwell’s Ruse.
464—Dick Merriwell’s Delivery.
467—Dick Merriwell’s Wonders.
470—F rank Merriwell’s Honor.
473—Dick Merriwell’s Diamond.
476—Frank Merriwell’s Winners.
479—Dick Merriwell’s Dash.
482—Dick Merriwell’s Ability.
485—Dick Merriwell’s Trap.
488—Dick Merriwell’s Defense.
491—Dick Merriwell’s Model.
494—Dick Merriwell’s Mystery.
497—F rank Merriwell’s Backers.
500—Dick Merriwell’s Backstop.

377-—lFrank
380—F rank
383—lrank
386—F rank
389—F rank
392—F rank
305—l rank
398—F rank
401—F rank
404— Frank
407—F rank
410—F rank
413—F rank
416—F rank
419—F rank
422—F rank
425—F rank
428—F rank
431—F rank

503—Dick Merriwell’s Western Mission.

506—F'rank Merriwell’s Rescue.
5s09—F rank Merriwell’s Encounter.
512—Dick Merriwell’s Marked Money.
515—F rank Merriwell’s Nomads.
518—Dick Merriwell on the Gridiron.
521—Dick Merriwell’s Disguise.
524—Dick Merriwell’s Test.
527—Frank Merriwell’s Trump Card.
530—Frank Merriwell’s Strategy.

533—F rank Merriwell’s Triumph.
530—Dick Merriwell’s Grit.
539—Dick Merriwell’s Assurance. .
542—Dick Merriwell’s Long Slide.
§45—Frank Merriwell’s Rough Deal.
548—Dick Merriwell’s Threat.
551—Dick Merriwell’s Persistence.
554—Dick Merriwell’s Day.

557—F rank Merriwell’s Peril.
560—Dick Merriwell’s. Downfall.
5603—F rank Merriwell’s Pursuit.
506—Dick Merriwell Abroad.
569—-Frank’ Merriwell in the Rockies.
572—Dick Merriwell’s Pranks.
575—F rank Merriwell’s Pride.
578—Frank Merriwell’s Challengers.
581—F rank Merriwell’s Endurance.
584—Dick Merriwell’s Cleverness.
587—Frank Merriwell’s Marriage.
590—Dick Merriwell, the Wizard.
593—Dick Merriwell’s Stroke.
590—Dick Merriwell’s: Return.
s90—Dick Merriwell’s Resource.
602—Dick Merriwell’s Five.
605—Frank Merriwell’s Tigers.
608—Dick Merriwell’s Polo Team,
611—Frank Merriwell’s Pupils.
614—Frank Merriwell’s New Boy.
617—Dick Merriwell’s Home Run.
620—Dick Merriwell’s Dare.
623—l*rank Merriwell’s Son.
626—Dick Merriwell’s Teammate.
629—lrank Merriwell’s Leaguers.
632—lIrank Merriwell’s Happy Camp.
635—Dick Merriwell’s Influence.

Published about September 19, 1o1t.
638—Dick Merriwell, Freshman.

Published about October I0, Io1t.
641—Dick Merriwell’s Staying Power.

Published about October 31,
644—Dick Merriwell’s Joke.

IQIT.

Published about November 21, Ig1t.
647—Frank Merriwell’s Talisman.

Published about December 12, tort.
650—F rank Merriwell’s Horse.

Published about January 2,
653—Dick Merriwell’s Regret.

1912.

NEW YORK CITY