ICK

ERRIWE

and

UNE
ARLINGTON

> Ol-w

he Trail o
‘the Great
rquois

STREET 5 SMITH
PUBLISHERS
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No. 101

JULY 4

 

 

 
 

 
 

 

 

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_ No. 108.

NEW YORK, July 4, 1914.

Price Five Cents.

Or, THE TRAIL OF THE GREAT TURQUOISE.

i

By BURT L.

CHAPTER I.
ON THE DIAMOND.

All the baseball fans in Santa Fe, soldiers and civilians
alike, had apparently read the advice of the famous: Irish
uthority, which says:
“Cheer whin ye can, f’r sometimes ye can’t!”
_ So they roared and bellowed, yelled encouragement to
their favorites, and conducted themselves altogether as if
old Santa Fe, in the State of New Mexico, wasn’t about
a thousand miles more or less from the next place. One
might have thought they were in the wilds of a ball field
in, New York City.
Yet there was a solid basis for the excitement.
/ Dick Merriwell was pitching for the local nine, in a hot
ame with a nine from the United States military post.
About all the people of Santa Fe were out, men and
women; for, aside from their natural pride in the local
nine, Dick Merriwell’s fame as'a pitcher was a drawing
card.
Yet Dick had some rather poor material to work with.
There were good ball players in Santa Fe, but for a
ariety of reasons some of the best players, those he had
st relied on, were not able to be in the game.
ick had licked the Santa Fe nine into shape in a very
f time. He had been in Santa Fe but a few days, hav-
come there direct from. Phoenix, on a matter of busi-
. He would not have undertaken it at all if, instead
the two or three days he had expected to remain, he
not discovered that in all probability he would need
ry in Santa Fe that many weeks. The man Dick
come to Santa Fe to see had not arrived there; and,
- his artival, there would be work to do that would

a : : fs
ther reason which had induced Dick to assist the

STANDISH.

+.

“Santa Fe boys,' in addition to his natural liking for the

game, was that the soldiers at the post had been con-
stantly challenging the Santa Fe nine, and the Santa Fe
nine had not felt equal to the task of crossing bats with
them.

Yet it was only after there had been consultations all
around, and the regulars had consented that Dick should
take the bush team in hand and pitch for it, that the Santa
Fe boys were willing to accept the oft-repeated challenge.

Now the much-heralded game was on, with Dick in the —
pitcher’s box.

Dick turned the soiled sphere slowly in his fingérs and —
looked\at the batter as if sizing him up. Tall, dark, and
handsome, a supple athlete, not even the stained and shape-
less baseball clothing he wore could hide the fine lines of
his manly figure. ee

One foot lifted, his atm gave a peculiar swing, and.
the ball went whistling over the plate. *

“One strike !”

, A wild yell rolled out from grand stand and bleachers.

- But there was a good man at the bat—one of the best

amateurs Dick had ever gone against; a lieutenant of the
army, who had been on one of the famous nines of West.
Point. . fe
Dick had met him first in a game that Yale had played —
with West Point. Other members on the nine from the
military post. were also West Pointers, and good players, .
too.. 60h epee
Again Dick sent in the ball, with blinding speed and
sharp drop. saat
“Strike two!”
Dick repeated it. a
“Batter out!” ee

The cheering of the Santa Fe enthusiasts rose up
thunder. — + . a a es

 
 

 

nA - “NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

Two men were out, and the first had been put out in
the same way.

Dick Merriwell’s pitching was even more headwork than
it was arm work. He had learned how to save his arm
with his body, shoulder, and swing, thus putting much
work on the body and shoulder. But more important
even than that, he had learned how to make the batters
do, to a large extent, what he willed them to do.

Tt is done by a study of each individual batter, and
is not so difficult as it sounds. When a batter is trying
#0 sacrifice, Dick had found it well to keep the ball high,
as it is difficult to make a place hit on a high ball. Ifa
batter was inclined to strike high, Dick gave him a sharp
drop, which is a hard thing for ‘that kind of a batter to
get. For the batter who made a practice of standing as
close to the plate as was allowable, Dick put the ball close
in; so that if the batter struck it at all,he struck it well
up on the handle of the bat, and could not do much with
#. A batter who stood well away from the plate Dick
tried with an outcurve; and this, when connected with, was
apt to be-caught on the end of the bat, and could not
be controlled nor generally sent out with force. .

One, two, three—down they had gone, under Dick’s wiz-
atd pitching; some of the best men the other nine could
furnish. . .

Yet Dick could not ‘Hae the game alone successfully,
and that was what it seemed he was trying to do, or must
do, to win. His support was ragged, erratic, rotten.
Players whom he had thought fairly good were failing
him now, as though they were hypnotized by the regulars
from the post.

Five innings had been played. Dick had scored twice
for Santa Fe, and that was all the runs the local nine had.
The regulars also had two runs to their credit.

‘In the seventh inning the pitcher for the regulars ‘went
wild, and the Santa Fe batsman, after four balls, walked
to first.

Dick Merriwell was next up.

He put the ball into right field, and took the sabpnd
bag, driving the runner from first ahead of him to third.
A good ruriner would -have gone home, and could have
made it readily enough, for Dick had sent the ball far
out. But. having gained. third, the runner danced toward
home, then danced -back. ‘Yelled at by the. coacher -he
started agaitt and went back. :

‘The ball cameéin frorh deep right, and the chance was
gone; Di¢k was ‘driven for safety back to second.:

. There the runners died, for two men were quickly struck
out, and,:as one was out before, the side was retired.
“*Too bad!” thought Dick. “If that fellow had gone
on we could have put our score up to four.” He cast
the thought aside. “It is the fortune of war, and one who
is a good winner, must in his turn be a good loser.”

Before Dick’s blinding balls,
down—one, two, three,

The pitcher for the regulars was still “in the air”; so
Santa Fe filled the bases. Yet, even in this inning they
did not get a man across. The Santa Fe score was still
but two.

the batters again went

Dick fought like a tiger through the rest of the game.

But through the poor fielding of his’ nine, the crack bats-
man of the regulars, from a little tap off the end of the
bat down the first-base line, gained second bag,.then third
om a fumbled throw to.third, and: finally came in before

 

the fielder at third got tired of chasing the ball round
with his feet and shot it to the plate.

Dick could do no more, though he continued the contest
to the end. He took second bag himself, But he could
get no farther,

When the game ended the regulars from the post were
happy with a score of three to two for poor old Santa Fe.

It was not Dick’s custom to watch anything but the
game, when he was playing. So he had no eyes for: the
spectators, and no ears for their wild uproar.

Therefore, he had not seen in the grand stand the be-!
witching, dark-eyed young woman who had fluttered her
handkerchief for his encouragement, nor the ‘well-built, sun-
burned, muscular young fellow who. sat there beside her.

They made their way to Dick, however, as soon as they *
could wedge through the crowd; the young fellow using
his muscular shoulders in opening a lane for the young
woman.

Dick Merriwell seemed to feel the lady’s presente before
he actually saw her. He glanced up and around. Thén
high color flew into his face, and his eyes sparkled. ©

“June!” he said; and he caught her slender, gloved
hand, “June Arlington!”

“Not forgetting the ramping steer from the burning
plains of Texas?”

Then Dick beheld the young man who had made a way
for her through the crowd.

“Brad Buckhart!” he cried.

“Same old Texas longhorn.”

“Where did you come from?” as he wrung Brad’s hand.

“Dropped from a balloon—Miss Arlington and myself 5
heard about your great game, and we had to see it.”

Dick’s smiling eyes looked into June’s for an explana-
tion.

“The balloon was the Santa Fe railway train.”

“The plug—up from the main line,” said Brad. “Miss —
Arlington has been seeing the sights and enjoying the
baths at Las Vegas—as you. know even better than I do;
and, yesterday, as. I happened to stumble into that resort:
of wealth, frivolity, and fashion, I sought her out, at. the
Las Vegas Hotel, and sent up my card. When. we had
talked each other ‘to death over old times and about old
friends, chiefly Dick Merriwell, we agreed that we both
wanted to come down here and see the great game. Why,
pard, the Santa Fe paper, that I saw in. the hotel, there,
was so full of it that after I had read the dope I couldn’t
stay away.. Miss Arlington wasn’t quite so anxious—for
she said you were soon coming there; but I persuaded
her. Now, ain’t you glad to see us?”

“Nothing ever pleased me more, Brad—and- teaken ws
a treat! And you must stay, now that you’re here. This
is a better place than Las -Vegas—more interesting, I
mean; it gives one a chance to see the oddest life in the
United. States,”

“The gréasers?” said Brad.
Texas.”

“More than the greasers; a bit of old Spain: set tig
down here in the United States.” |

“Begging your pardori—but this isn’t the United States ;
people only call it that: It’s Mexico, flavored with Ameri-
can officials and American soldiers; the hot tamale and
the chile con carne are watered a little, that’s ae

It was not an. easy place. for friendly and familiar
conversation—the center of that. yelling crowd,. half. of

rh eet enough af them in

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NEW TIP TOP’ WEEKLY. 5

whose members seemed bent on pushing into Dick’s pres-
evice and shaking him by the hand.

Dick glanced at June, when he saw that the situation
was becoming unpleasant for her; twice her hat had been
nearly knocked from her head.

“1 think,” he suggested, “you had better let Brad escort
you to your hotel; you can see that these fellows aren’t
willing for me to leave yet.”

“I'm visiting with Mrs. Oliver,” said June, “an old ac-
quaintance.”

“Oh, I see; the wife of that officer who came here first
in the territorial days?”

“And is still here,” said June, “with a better official
position, under the State, than he had under the Terri-
tory.”

“Tl see you there this evening,” said Dick, with a final
touch of the hand that lingered.

Brad Buckhart hurdied an opening, through which June
Arlington disappeared. But she had left behind in Dick’s
memory a vision of a dark, piquant, handsome face, deep,

wonderful eyes, and the warm memory of a personality

that he had always found singularly alluring.

“June Arlington here—and Buckhart,” he kept saying
over and over in a wordless way, as he shook hands with
the many who crowded up for.a touch of his fingers and
a word with him. “Dropped down out of a balloon,
Buckhart said; well, it’s as surprising.”

Not the least pleasant thing about it was that June
Arlington had not waited for him to visit her at Las
Vegas, but had let Buckhart persuade her to come on to
Santa Fe.

CHAPTER II.
AT THE GENEALOGIST’S.

Old adobe houses are a quaint feature 6f Santa Fe. It
is almost a city of adobes, like so many of the towns and
smaller cities of Mexico. Such houses are peculiarly
adapted to the climate and to the corfdition of the people,
who cling to their old customs quite as tenaciously as they
do to thei- old houses.

In one of the streets that face the plaza, on that pleasant
afternoon of the ball game, an elderly man, dark-faced and
Spanish in appearance, sat by an open window, on the
second floor, horn-rimmed spectacles on his high nose, and
an ancient book on his knee.

Now and then he turned from the book he was read-
ing and looked out into the plaza, at the time almost de-
serted, for the people were hurrying to the ball grounds.

He found the old plaza a pleasant place to look into, and
had so found it through many years. Theré the military
band from the post played each Saturday afternoon. There
the people walked and talked, gossiped and flirted. Across
that strip of soil for more than three hundred years, life
had flowed ceaselessly; first the Conquistadores, with the
Indians before them; the early American hunters and trap-
pers, Kit Carson being one—by a short walk one could see
the monument that had been erected in Santa Fe to his
memory—the traders of the old Santa Fe trail days; the
giittering-eyed gamblers who had followed them; soldiers
—and soldiers of fortune; then the railway had come.
And still the plaza was there—flanked on one side by the
more than three-hundred-year-old Governor’s Palace, built
Of adobe by the old Spaniards—that old “mansion” that
had seen and) made history, in one of whose rooms Lew

Wallace, when territorial governor, wrote a portion of
his famous “Ben Hur.” The old plaza had seen war and
pestilence and famine; had seen battles, and had seen
men shot and hanged; had seen through many years the
flying flag of Spain—the yellow-and-red “banner of blood
and gold”; and now saw the Stars and Stripes—the
meteor flag of the newest of the great nations.

Small wonder, then, that the old man always looked with
interest out ifto the old plaza of the old city of Santa Fe.

As he looked now, with the plaza almost untenanted, his
horn-rimmed glasses pulled down on his nose, he beheld
a small, dark man come hurrying across from the corner
of the mansion, reach the street, and pass along it as if
looking for something.

The dark-eyed young man passed slowly now, examining
sign after sign on the doors of the adobe houses. Sud-
denly his dark eyes lighted: “Ramon Ruiz, Genealogist.
Heraldry.”

The gilt letters were tarnished—faded with age, like
the owner of the name, who sat in his liftle office above,
the horn spectacles on his beaklike nose, the book on his
knee, K

It was the sign the young man sought. ,

He turned to the narrow doorway that opened in the
thick adobe walls, and began to mount the dark, narrow
stairs.

At the top of the stairs, he found another sign, repeat-
ing the statement of the one below, and as this door was
also open, he turned into the room and into the presence
of Ramon Ruiz himself.

For a moment he stood looking at the scholarly, elderly
man by the window. Ruiz had put down his book. And,
as he was observant, too, his shrewd old eyes took in
the measure of the young man before him—a man of
the Spanish type, slight of stature, with a pale, dark face,
dark eyes, and hair black as the wing of a raven. The
young man stood erect, his shoulders thrown back, like @
soldier at attention.

Apparently satisfied by his survey, the young fan came
on in, and took the chair that Ruiz, rising, pushed out for
him.

“As a searcher of genealogical records,” hé said, “I
presume that you find a lot of interesting things in your
work; and also”—here he shot Ruiz an inquiring glance
“that you are, like a priest at the confessional, expected
to keep strictly to yourself the things that you discover?”

Ruiz smiled indulgently. He was accustomed to dealing
with queer men. Usually, however, they were of a class
who desired the widest publicity to be given to the fact that
they had Spanish ancestors reaching back in a long line to
the Conquistadores and the dons and patricians of old
Spain.

“I think I can be trusted,” he said quietly.

“Very well, then, you are just the man I want.”

Forthwith he began to state the nature of his errand:

“You have a library of Spanish genealogical books,
and have access to others, and have made yourself a spe-
cialist in the work of tracing out Spanish ancestries. I
am a descendant of one of the old Castilian families. It
has always been our family tradition that one of our
ancestors was that Porfirio Duranzo who was the confi-
dential adviser of Ferdinand and _ Isabella when Co-
lumbus went to the Spanish court in quest of aid; that it
was through the influence of that Duranzo that Isabella

 
4 | NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

sought the friendship of Columbus, and even sold her
jewels to aid in his enterprise.”

“The books tell us of Porfirio Duranzo,” said Ruiz; “he
was one of the greatest men of Spain, when Spain was
great. If your family tradition is correct, your ancestry
is old and brilliant; and if your name is Duranzo, it is
one of which you may well be proud.”

Appreciation of the compliment reddened the young
man’s face. But almost instantly he paled again, and
glanced round. Then he hitched his chair closer to Ruiz.

“My name is Duranzo,” he said; “but here in Santa Fe,
for the present, I do not wish to assume it. You will
see why, when I have explained. My name is Eugenio
Duranzo. One of my ancestors, in the direct line, settled
here in New Mexico, two hundred or more years ago.
One of his descendants later removed to South America.
I am of the South American line. But to trace my an-
cestry, the New Mexican records are required.

“Further,” his voice dropped, “I have been a lieutenant
in the United States army; a graduate of West Point,
and for a time I was stationed at the United States army
post here in Santa Fe. We South Americans recognize
that West Point is the finest military academy in the
world, Therefore, when I would become a soldier, my
father wished me to be educated there, and as at the
time he had a residence in Louisiana, I secured an appoint-
ment from that State.”

Ramon Ruiz lowered the horn abiebaaiel on his nose
and looked over them at the young man more intently;
whereupon the young fellow flushed hotly.

“Ah, I see!” said Durango, with sudden bitterness in
his voice. “You recall the fact that here in Santa Fe I
got into trouble, and was dismissed from the army service!
Therefore, you will readily understand why, for a time,
I have dropped the name of Duranzo, If we have fur-
ther dealings, I am to be known to you only as Rafael
Reyes; it is the name of one of my cousins.”

He stopped, flushed and annoyed.

“Rafael Reyes.”

Ruiz drew a book to him, and wrote in it, for future
reference:

“Eugenio Duranzo—Rafael Reyes.”

“Sefior Reyes,” he said softly; “very good.
as you wish it.”

“And nothing is to be said of the matter of my dis-
missal from the army?”

“Nothing.”

“Then, we will go on. Yet I think you have all the
facts needed—or will have, as soon as you have looked
over the paper I have here prepared; a paper giving my
genealogy, so far as I have been able to trace it my-
self.”

“How long since you were at the post here?” said Ruiz,
taking the paper that Duranzo gave him.

“Does that matter?” A hot flush came to his cheeks
again. “It does not. Yet, as you can ascertain by a
reference to your papers, no doubt, I will save your
curiosity the trouble of making that search. I was dis-
honorably discharged, at this place, more than a year ago.
Tt was my first station after my graduation from West
Point. Not a brilliant military career.”

It shall be

He laughed hollowly, and in a grating way:that Ruiz did,

not now like to hear.

Ruiz looked at the paper, made some marks on it, and
put it in a file.

“I will begin work on this immediately,” he promised.
“You will be some time in Santa Fe? I may wish te con-
sult you occasionally.”

“IT am stopping now at the Alcalde; where you will find,
if you look on the register, the name of Rafael Reyes,
and the number of the room I occupy; I shall be pleased.
to see you there at any time, or I can come to you here,
if summoned by letter or telephone.”

Ruiz pulled the paper from the file, and made more
annotations. ;

“Very well,’ he said, and thrust it back. “A fee i
usual, when I begin work, and I shall begin at once.”

Duranzo produced his purse.

“About how much?”

“Ten dollars to start. The final fee will depend on the
amount of work required to be done.”

Duranzo laid a ten-dollar bill on the desk.

“T have not been in Santa Fe since I was dismissed
from the service, until my arrival half an hour ago? as
soon as I had secured my hotel room I came here. You
have heard of no notable changes at the barracks?” ~~

“None.” | ~

“I shall keep away from the post, and I hope ott
sight of any one who would know me. One does not care
for insults,’ he added bitterly. “To every on@ T am

Rafael Reyes, and if any one calls me Duranzoé T shall ft

deny that I am he. I have been in Denver, where T lived

under the name of Reyes, and I can appeal to my frtends

there, to show that I am really Reyes, and not Durango:
This old military charge against me——’ He shriigped
his shoulders. “Pouf! One does not live in the past, and

why should I care for it?” é

He stopped as he was about to turn away, and stared
through the window.

The plaza and street had filled with people;
and shouting throng. In the street were carriages and
motor cars. The ball game was over, and players and
spectators were streaming back into the town.

Duranzo’s dark eyes widened as he looked, and his
dark cheeks became a chalky yellow; he caught his breath
with a gasp.

“The young man in the carriage?” he said.

Ruiz was looking from the window. He smiled.

“In the forward carriage,’ said Duranzo; “the ball
player with those other ball players about him? Hear
the huzzas! The crowd is cheering him. Who is he?”

“Don Ricardo,” said Ruiz.

“Don Ricardo?”

“I but used the Spanish. Mr. Richard Merriwell, other-
There has been a .

wise; they call him Dick Merriwell.
ball game, and the people are now returning. We are
becoming American down here; a ball game now draws
the people even as a bullfight does in Mexico and Spain
—ot in South America. Don Ricardo is a famous ball
player; the papers have been full of him the past few days
—all about his playing at Yale, his travels, adventures,
his unique career.” The old man smiled a little.
would think that he and his brother Frank are the only

people in the world, if you believed the papers. Once,
when I was younger, I loved the bullfight 3 J have
not yet learned to love the American game.” ty 3

Duranzo had sunk into the vacant chair by the de”
of Ruiz. He was trembling. Even his voice shook when
he tried to speak.

“You.

a talking

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“Dick Merriwell!” he said, under his breath. “He is
here just to play a game of baseball?”

“Not at all,” said Ruiz, wheeling slowly round in his
chair; “that is but an incident—an aside. He came here
on’a matter of business. You have not been seeing the
Santa Fe papers?”

“TI haven't seen one in a year.”

“Then, of course, you do not know.” He looked at Du-
tanzo, who sat trembling, and felt a dull wonder; Du-
ranzo was plainly startled, even alarmed. “He is your
enemy—this Dick Merriwell?”

“No,” said Duranzo,” sitting up, and seeking self-control ;
“I do not even know him; I never met him. I—I was
thinking of another matter entirely; I recalled suddenly
that in leaving Denver I forgot to lock the safe in my
room, where I have some valuables.”

Ruiz smiled skeptically.

“But—tell me about this wonderful ball player—this
Dick Merriwell,” said Duranzo.
of business?”

“New Mexico has long been famous for its turquoise
mining,” said Ruiz; “but the old mine, the principal one,
you know, has long been worked out. It is claimed that a
new ofie has been discovered—a new one that is really a
véry old one; a mine that was worked by the Indians
long before the Spaniards came, but the Indians had
blocked it up, to keep the Spaniards from knowing about
it; so that it was long forgotten. Now it has been re-
discovered. So at least the story goes.”

“You do not believe it?”

Ruiz gave a Spanish shrug.

“Quién sabe? We.hear many things, in this wonderful
A place has been opened. Who knows
what is in it? I have heard of salted gold mines, so
why not a salted turquoise mine? But I am not an expert.
The mine, or hole in the ground, is for sale, and they say
an Englishman is coming here to buy it. He has written
to Dick Merriwell, and as soon as the Englishman ar-
tives, Merriwell is to look into this mine for him, as an
expert; Merriwell is then to tell him whether he shall buy
it, or whether hé shall abstain.”

“Merriwell ?”

“T forget that this Merriwell is a man unknown to you.
Permit me to explain. This Dick Merriwell has a brother
Frank. Down in Phoenix, under the law of Arizona, they
have, with some others, organized the Merriwell Company.
Its business is to give expert advice on many things—
on mining enterprises, irrigation, forest surveys, and the
like. They are well known, it seems, and very familiar
with this entire Southwestern country.. Observe, I am in
effect quoting from the Santa Fe newspapers, that have
teemed with such information since Dick Merriwell’s ar-
rival here. So, you see, the investigation of this turquoise
mine, or this new-old hole in the ground that is supposed
to be packed with turquoises, is right in the line of the
wetk they have undertaken. It seems that they have
advertised far and wide—even in English periodicals, and
I presume in that manner they came into contact with this
Englishman, who has been bitten with the desire to buy
this mine, but who, before he leaps, wants to be sure that
he is not leaping into the fire.”

“Ah, I see!”

Duranzo’s dark eyes seemed flaming; peculiar eyes they
were and in a time of excitement, like this, they not only
widened and glittered, but actual sparks, or the red of fire,

   

“He is here on a matter

 
   

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. s

 
   

seemed to lie behind their pupils. His face was an ashen
gray, a hue that made his black mustache, his black eye-
brows, and his heavy black hair take a midnight color.

The carriages and automobiles, and the enthusiastic pro-
cession of baseball fans had passed on and out of sight, but
the street and plaza still resounded with cries and the noise
and confusion of moving men.

Ruiz turned again to the window.

“A great day in Santa Fe,” he said, and smiled; then
he sighed, adding: “yet it has seen many, many days that
were really great.”

Duranzo was on his feet again. :

“T must be going now. Pray hasten the search for
the Duranzo ancestry.” He stopped. “The name of this
Englishman, who is thinking of buying the turquoise
mine ;\I believe you did not tell me that?”

Ruiz took up a Santa Fe paper, and glanced at the
local columns.

“It is here. Rupert Hampton, of Hampton Manor, Sus-
sex, England.” He thrust the sheet into Duranzo’s hand.
“Take it, and look it over at your leisure. It seems, from
the account given there, that he is anticipated in Santa Fe
now at any hour.”

Duranzo was- reading the report as he strode out of
the office.

But he did not forget his manners; he stopped at the
door, and, coming back, shook hands in friendly fashion
with Ruiz; then bowed at the door, with hand on his heart,
when he again took his way to the stairs.

Ruiz, wheeled round in his chair and drew down. a big
dusty book, which he spread out on the desk before him.

“Porfirio Duranzo,” he mused, “adviser of the great
Queen Isabella; we shall be able to get on the genealogi-
cal trail here, if there is one. But a queer fellow that
Eugenio—I mean this young man, named Rafael Reyes.”

CHAPTER III.
DICK’S DISTRUST.

Dick Merriwell felt that it was unfortunate that he
did not like the looks of Rupert Hampton, the English-
man. That furnished no reason, though, why Dick should
not do his best to serve the man who had sought the aid
of the Merriwell Company.

Dick met Hampton on the morning after his arrival at
his hotel in Santa Fe, and he found Hampton to be a
florid-faced, undersized man, with peculiar, whitish, shifty
eyes, resembling those seen in tricky and treacherous
horses. Dick was a good judge of character, and if he
had permitted himself to make it, his mental estimate of
Hampton would have been that here was a scoundrel.

Dick and Hampton visited some of the turquoise work-
ers of Santa Fe, where they saw turquoises of all kinds, —
some of them in the original matrix of light-colored por-
phyry.

They also visited some of the shops of the silver filigree
workers, while they were about it; and took a look at
various curiosity shops, where it seémed that almost any-
thing might be purchased, from the mud house of a trap-
door spider to a high-priced Mexican saddle of hand-
wrought leather, or a flaming Navaho blanket.

Early the next morning a small cavalcade set forth from
Santa Fe. Its destination was the Los Cerillos Mountains,
twenty miles to the southeastward of the ancient city. It
was in charge of Dick Merriwell, and in the party was the

 
 

; me ae haa eT, Se LE

SEE EE
& ¥

6 : NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY,

Englishman, June Arlington, and Brad Buckhart. Riding
with the Englishman was his secretary, employed by him
in Santa Fe—a small, dark man who gave the name of
Rafael Reyes; in short, this man was Duranzo. In ad-
dition, there were laborers and servants, and June’s elderly
Mexican maid, secured in Santa Fe—a feline creature,
suggesting a sleek brown kitten, but who had been highly
recommended to June as a traveling companion, as well as
a maid.

Following the riding animals came a train of pack ani-
mals, burdened with tents, mining, tools, and many other
things, including food supplies.

Though Dick had not liked Hampton, he had put the
feeling aside. Now, he knew that he disliked Hampton’s
secretary much more than he had disliked Hampton, and
this feeling he found it impossible to put aside.

Dick could not understand what it was about the
Spanish-looking little man that gave him so singular a
sense of dread. Physical fear was a thing nearly unknown
to Dick; yet he caught himself almost shivering when his
gaze fell on Rafael Reyes.

Catching the gaze of Reyes wandering in an odd way
in June’s direction, Dick dropped to the conclusion that
danger of some sort threatening June was the real cause
of his queer sensations.

After that he began to wonder if in the past June had
not been in some peril, with which Rafael Reyes was con-
nected.

He decided to speak to her about Reyes; and found
an opportunity, as they rode together near the tail of the
procession. x

“What do you think of Reyes?” he asked, beginning cau-
tiously.

“Do you really want to know?” June asked.

Dick saw that at the mention of Reyes her face had
paled.

“T hope,” she said, “that he hasn’t disturbed you as he
has me. I’m afraid of him, Dick; that’s the truth.”

“I have had the same feeling. I wonder why? I never
saw him before this morning ?”

“But perhaps we have,” June urged. “There is some-
thing about him that is singularly familiar; yet, as you
say, I can’t recall that I have ever seen his face.” But
now and then it seems to me that I am recalling him—
that I am just about to remember, and then it all goes
away. I think Hampton employed him in Santa Fe?”

“So I understood.”

“And Hampton,” said June—“what is it about Hampton
that makes me dislike him so?”

“Those peculiar white eyes,” said Dick,

June shuddered.

“They're bad eyes,” Dick added; “treacherous eyes!”

“It almost makes me wish that I had not come.”

“Still, there can’t be any danger,” Dick urged.

“I thought I. should enjoy it so—this trip to the
Cerillos; and now I am beginning to be afraid.”

“There’s nothing to fear, June,” said Dick, repenting
now that he had spoken of the matter.

Later, Dick spoke to Brad about it.

“That Spaniard, or Mexican, or whatever he is,” said
Brad, “is a rattlesnake. But I’ve got my Texas eyes on
him, pard. Just the minute ‘his rattles sing danger I’ll
shoot his head off, same’s I would a real. snake, out in
the Texas Panhandle.”

“What troubles me is, the feeling that I’ve known him
somewhere; have met him, and had trouble with him.” 7.

“Tt’s just the breed,” said Brad. “Whenever you see one
rattlesnake, it makes you think of all rattlesnakes. I’ve
met up with hundreds of ’em in my time; they’re ‘all
alike. That’s why his looks are familiar to you. Though
you've never seen this particular individual rattlesnake
before, you’ve seen lots of them.”

Dick returned to June Arlington, with these philosophi-
cal gems, and tried to comfort her with them; yet June's
fear of the secretary was not thereby lessened.

The afternoon was nearly spent when they reached the
famous abandoned old turquoise mine of Los Cerillos.
They found that, viewed from the top of the cliff, it was a

great pit, two hundred feet or more in depth, and three

hundred wide—a quarry of extraordinary extent excavated
in a granular, light-colored porphyry. Pine trees more
than a hundred years old were growing on the débfis in
the bottom and about the sides.

The excavations, as Dick knew, had been made princi -
pally before the conquest of the country by the Spaniards, —

and little had been done there since, for the turquoise-bear-

ing porphyry had been exhausted; but the Pueblos still

resorted to the spot and made toilsome searches among
the débris for more crystals.

small ones, though now and then one of considerable size
and value.

It was too late that afternoon to cates the oldie mine, '

which was reserved as a task for the next day; the camp
was pitched, therefore, and soon a little colony arg tents
crowned the slope. -
The talk that evening, about the camp fires, was of
turquoises, those wonderful blue and green stones that
were so prized by Montezuma, which the Aztecs valued
more highly than they did even their gold, and of the gift
of rare turquoises that Montezuma sent to his new Span-
ish sovereign across the sea, King Ferdinand of Spain.
There was talk, too, of the great turquoise talisman, with
a verse from the Koran engraved on it, that is so valued
by the Arabs; and of the old superstitions about the
magical qualities of turquoises, for it was once believed
that a turquoise loses its color dufing the illness of its
possessor and regains it with his convalesence.

The night was one of those perfect nights, for which
New Mexico is so famed. The moon rose over the eastern
rim of the mountains, and, ascending higher, hung white
as silver in the sky. The moonlight was so bright one
might have read any good-sized print by it.

In her tent, with her maid on a cot at her feet, June
Arlington lay long, looking at that silvery moon through
an opening in the canvas; listening to the night sounds.
It seemed almost that the mountains breathed and were
alive. But now and then a coyote gave tongue—a clamor
of maniacal barking, that was caught up by another, and
another, until it sputtered away into the distance and
silence, like the dying out of the noise of snapping me
crackers.

June was marveling now that she had persuaded her-
self: to come into the Los Cerillos. Dick had urged that
it would be all right, with a Spanish or Mexican maid to
accompany her, and plenty of servants. But June had

not then seen Rafael Reyes, nor had she seen the English: ;

man.

Usually their rewards were
scanty; yet sometimes they found turquoises, generally ~

 

PRN Ek

 

 

 

 
 
  

 
etna OC Ms

eo ee

 

 

 

 

“were many Indian words.

NEW

Looking at the moon hanging on high like a silver lamp
that burned with its own substance, June found quiet and
repose at last, and slept soundly until the dawn.

CHAPTER IV.
THE GREAT TURQUOISE.

In the morning, June Arlington looked so tired that
Dick Merriwell was unwilling she should go farther, until
after she had rested.

But as the Englishman wanted to proceed without delay
to the newly discovered mine, Dick decided to go with

Thim, as he felt in duty bound to do, taking only the Eng-
Tishman’s secretary,

Rafael Reyes. June and her Mexican
maid were to remain in the present camp, with the mule

‘boys, laborers, and servants, and Brad would be left in

charge.

“However, Ramon Reyes was attacked with such a vio-
lenf headache, after breakfast, that he declared he could
not go, and Dick and Hampton rode away without him.

Dick regretted this necessity. He wondered, too, if the
dark-faced little man was not shamming. Yet he was
sure, with Brad at the camp, all would go right. Brad
disliked Reyes, and was watching him.

With nothing to do but the ordinary work incident
to a-camp, the servants found time hanging idly on their
hands. Sitting on their heels, they rolled and smoked in-
numerable cigarettes, in which they were joined by the la-
borers, who had nothing to do, while the.clatter and hum
of their interminable conversation filled the air.

June found it interesting to watch them, and listen
to their talk. It was not the Spanish of Spain. There
Yet she discovered that the
main. difference between this Mexican speech and pure

- Spanish was in the way in which it was accented; it

was as if these Mexicans were almost singing their Span-
ish: She found it rather musical, as soon as she grew ac-
customed to it, and had no difficulty in understanding. it.

‘Very naturally, as they were camped beside the old tur-

“-quoise mine, the talk now and then turned to-that, and she
~-heafd<many remarkable stories about the turquoises that,

it was said, had been found here from time to time by
the’ Pueblo Indians and others.

There are few things that a Mexican so loves to do ‘as

- to sit and smoke and talk: He will work, and work hard,

- stones they might find.

‘would do it to-morrow;

‘but only because he has to, and when he has to; he does

not work from choice. He puts off everything until it

‘can be put off no longer.

All through the morning hours the Mexivsns talked of

‘going down into the old mine and searching about there

They even discussed the value of the
Sometimes there were startling
But—mafiana! -They
or they would do it next. week,
when they came back from the new mine, which they
expected to visit.

for chance stones.

sums which they wrought out.

The’ afternoon sun was in the sky when June Arlington
herself, as a diversion, set out for the depths of the old
excavation, accompanied only by her maid.

Yet’ June and the sleek Mexican woman were no sooner
down in the deep hole, which was easy of access, and were
looking round there, than all the Mexican ‘men caine
trooping down after them; the Mexicans ‘were ‘excited
now, roused from their lethargy, because some one -had

TIP TOP WEEKLY. ,

led the way, and they were all sure that they would each
find a treasure.

They went scrambling from point to point, and from
one heap of débris to another; they kicked at the soil and
pebbles with their shoes, and scratched in’ it with their
fingers. Those who had been thoughtful enough to bring
picks or shovels tore away with them.

June and her maid roved about, listening to the cheery
chatter of the now furiously toiling men, and they searched,
also, turning pebbles and small bowlders and chips of
porphyry here and there.

Suddenly June felt a shadow fall on her, and turning
about she saw that Rafael Reyes was close at hand; a dis-
covery that sent an unaccounable chill through her.

June had been glad that Reyes had not gone on to
the new mine with Dick Merriwell. She had felt that her
fear for Dick’s safety was not based in reason, yet she
had not been able to shake it off.

Now her fear was personal. As before, it seemed to
lack any basis of reason. Yet when she saw Reyes near
her, and felt that he had been watching her, she was sick
and faint, with that horrible shock of feat one sometimes
has when a rattlesnake lifts its spade-shaped head out
of the grass, and sounds its ominous rattle.

June was too courageous to show this fear. She’ even
smiled upon Reyes. But instantly she turned. from ‘him,
and began poking with the toe of her shoe at the heaps of
débris.

Reyes had drawn nearer.

An astounding thing ‘occurred then: June had ‘not ex-
pected to find even the smallest splinter of turquoise in
ground that had been gone over. so industriously. and so
many times; but as she pushed aside earth and pebbles a
great turquoise, flawless and.blue as the sky, lay revealed
to her astounded gaze.

The Mexican maid chattered excitedly, and Reyes, see-

_ ing the stone, came gliding forward, and, putting forth

his hand, seemed about to snatch it up.

June, too quick for him, stooped and caught it in her
fingers; then she held it aloft, so that not only the maid,
but the Mexicans near by, could see it—she did not intend
that Reyes should ¢laim it as his own,

“Madre de Dios!” mumbled the maid, atid crossed wate
self ds ‘though she béheld’a‘heavenly vision.

_ “One great turquoise!” grunted’ Reyes, biting his lips
until it seemed the blood would spurt, his ‘dark eyes were
flaming, his face twisted with avarice.

June felt herself trembling; for an instant she could
hardly speak—even her breath seemed caught from her.

“It’s a wonderful find,” she said faintly ; “T never saw a
turquoise so large and perfect; how it. ever escaped all
the searching, for.me to find it——”

“It is a. miracle!” said Reyes,
His shaking, brown hand,. reaching over, caught it out

of June’s fingers.

The Mexicans were crowding about, with exclamations
of astonishment now when they-beheld the great turquoise;
their excited sentences rolled and. sputtered.

Reyes held the turquoise up, between himsélf and. the
light—for down in the mine the light was not great, and
the Mexicans, pushing close, looked. with him, at the mar-
velous stone he helt on ‘high, for the light to shine
through.

With a sigh he restored it to june: his eyes ‘were still

 
8 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 4

death face that June looked into, and the greedy eyes
seemed burning into her soul.

‘She’ shrank from the touch of his fingers, as she ‘took
the turquoise. |

The men were already turning away, flinging themselves
frantically now at the ground, where they began’ to dig
and burrow like scared badgers; there were other tur-
quoises in that mound, they fancied, or hoped.

The yellow white of Reyes’ face changed slowly until
it burned dully—a brick-dust red, He kept close to June,
and he talked a stream. She felt that he was watching
for a chance to snatch the turquoise away. Yet that would
have been a foolish deed; tie could not make it his
own by taking it from her.

_ At last Reyes began.to dig with the others; he caught
a pick out of the hands of a laborer, and began to swing
it, smiting the earth apart.

‘The digging became: furious: The men seemed each
to fear that his neighbor would be first to reach the tur-
quoise his excited mind beheld. They worked as if life
were at stake,

June turned away. She was glad to have the eyes of
Rafael-Reyes busied in that manner, She took hold of
the arm of her maid. ‘

“We will climb-out now,” she whispered.:

-The maid did not want to go; at any moment she was
expecting to see another great turquoise appear before
her: startled eyes. - ‘

“Corie!” commanded June. °
_ Fhus summoned, the maid set out with June, and they
walked aeross to the slope by which they had descended.

“But the sefiorita—why does she not stay?” the maid
begged. “Ah, the Sefiorita is so lucky; she will find an-
other turquoise!”

““T have been here long icnaiy” said June.

“But the climbing out is hard,” the maid urged;
be well if we waited here for the men.”

“So that you could go back and watch the digging?”

“Even I might find the lucky turquoise,” said the maid.
“The sefiorita will stay—no?”

: June went on to the incline, and the maid followed.

“T shall need your help here,” said June; “come!”

“The turquoise—you have it not; it is not in your
hands?” cried the maid.

“T have it. Come!”

They began to climb together.

The descent had been comparatively easy, but the ascent
—it was heart-breaking. June Arlingtow climbed on in a
fury of energy. Rafael Reyes was not near, yet she could
feel his avaricious eyes boring at the back of her head;
he seemed ‘to be near, though he was frantically digging
at. the bottom of the great pit.

Halfway up the slope June rested, giving heed to the
protests of the Mexican woman.

A wild clamor rose out of the pit. The Mexicans were
running crazily about, digging here, digging there; some
of them even fought each other for the privilege of tear-
ing apart certain of the small mounds of ancient débris.
The old mine seemed to have been transformed into a den
of wild animals.

Looking down, the maid crossed herself,

“It is better that we are out of there,” she said;
are wild men!”

“St would

“they

blazing, his face a yellow wax in its pallor, it seemed a

   

    
       

June was stirred by the words to renewed activity. She
commanded the maid, and again they climbed toward the
high rim of the pit.

   
 

 
 

CHAPTER V.

THE LOSS OF THE TURQUOISE.

 

i Fs rare rs

Brad Buckhart came scrambling down over the rim to
June’s assistance. She was white and faint when he
reached her and gave her his hand. The remaining dis- 4
tance he almost carried her. a a

were. +

. ter

“What's all the row about?” he asked, when they
at the top and the maid came over the pit rim
them. “I was away, you know; and—I ought to
stayed right here. Those cowards been troubling ¥ .
I never thought mids do ee :.

  

him, Brad had gone for a wale along the mountgill 3 :
secure in his belief that no harm could come to Jae in
his absence. Brad had not meant to be gone long.”

When the wild clamor from the turquoise pit reached
him, Brad had hurried back.

“Tf it’s that snake-faced secretary,” said Brad, “Til wipe
up the earth with him. Is he down there?”

“No; he has said nothing—done nothing,”
murred; “no one has troubled me.”

June sank to a seat on the ground,
less.

June ide:
wearied, breath-

"Tt ees the great turquoise,” said the maid; “the great
turquoise have gone to the head, and now they. afe mad-
men; eet makes me have the fear to look at them”

From the bosom of her dress June Arlington drew is
matchless blue giants

“This is the cause,” she said; “I found it down thei,
and now every one is weaning there frantically, hoping
to find another like it.”

Buckhart blew out his astonishment in a low whistle. ”

“Great Texas tarantulas!” he gasped, as June put mm
his hand. “You found this down in the old mine? (Pye
seen turquoises, a heap of ’em—but gevet one like it, Ly.
don’t wonder those Mexicans are crazy.”

eee

tap

“Reyes was there when I found it,” said June, ‘ ‘and ie
way he looked at it, and at me, made me shiver, ‘Hes
digging there now, as mad, as the rest of them.” _ ij ey

Brad whistled again,’'and looked down into the pit.
“Even makes me want to go down and take a handy” he
admitted. “Say, you're in luck!”

“She ees sure wat you call lucky,” said the maid, atieyaale
at the blue stone with devouring eyes. “For the Mexi¢an ~
lottery I shall have her geev me the number of the ©
ticket I shall buy. I am sure it will draw much money.
To be born lucky is better as to be the rich. She Rave ~
both the great turquoise and Meester Deek Merriwell; and .
he is rich, too—no?” Ps

June flushed. 5; \ we

“I think we had better go on,” she said, rising. “I want
you to keep the turquoise, Brad—take charge of it until
Dick comes. I am afraid to keep it myself.”

“Anything to accommodate,” said Brad, who would have A
preferred it otherwise; and he dropped’the turquoise into
his pocket. “I’m afraid it will burn a hole, though; and ¥
Pil lose it, I’m sure wishing that Dick was heré how.
I think he’d advise a trip straight off to Santa Fe, forget

 

 

 
 
 

 

 

 

 

    

 

 

 

  

 
NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

the thing under lock and key in a bank; that’s the only
place where it will be safe.”

There was not a person in the camp when they. reached

‘ it; even the cooks had deserted, afd were down in the pit.

From June’s tent, the maid fetched a stool, for June’s

use, and June dropped down on it before the tent. Brad
sprawled himself on the ground. The maid vanished
within.
- Brad took the turquoise from his pocket and examined
it more closely than he had yet done. June took it out
of his hand and looked it over, and held it up to the
light.

“Not a flaw in it, so far as I can see,” she said.

The maid stared from the door of the tent, then dropped
back and busied herself again within.

“Perhaps you had better keep it,” Brad suggested. He
bent closer. “Inside there—she saw you hand: it to me,
and heard you tell me to keep it, and a Mexican woman—
well, none was ever known to hold a secret. I might
be robbed, you know; some of these greasers, if they
know I had it, might frisk me. Still-——”

“Yes?” June questioned. t

“Perhaps I’d better keep it, after all. Some of the
devils might try to get it away from you—if the maid
gives out the word that you’ve got it.”

“You think she isn’t to be trusted?”

“No Mexican is,” said Brad; “I know the breed. So
do you, when you come to think of it; for they’re about
the same as the South Americans, and you had ex-
‘perience with them good and plenty, as I’m remembering.
It smakes me wish that Dick was here.”

“ae thought he might be able to return this even-_

ing,” June reminded.

“And he and the Englishman may, be gone a whole lot
longer; no one can tell about that. Depends on what
they find to do there. Well, I’ll keep it, and if any one
gets it away from me there will be a lively fight before
it happens.”

Hearing footsteps he looked up.

“Hello, here comes some of the Mexicans already; next
thing, they'll be wanting to know who has got the great
‘turquoise, and asking to see it. Tell ’em you lost it—
tell ’em anything, but we'll not let them see it.”

The Mexicans, four of them, came straight to the
tent.

“We like see um,”
chalchihuitl.”

“That’s the old Indian name for it/” Brad interpreted
“these fellows are half Indians, you know.”

He looked at the men, and scowled fiercely,
> “Clear out!” he said.

“First see um chalchihuitl”” The Mexican pronounced
it chal-chéw-we-te. He spread out his hands.

“Didn’t I tell you to clear out?” Brad shouted.

The man went away, giving Brad black looks. A min-
ute later they were talking in voluble/language with an-
_ other group that had come climbing hurriedly toward the
camp.

“You can see how wise it is for you to keep it,” said
. June; “those men looked at me, and think I have it.”
oi ox kick their heads off if they céme fooling round

’ said Brad angrily, “or if they trouble you!”
ace Reyes appeared, gliding along the slope.

Sie shows up the. rattler,” said Brad; “he’s worse
Me ~— i Mexicans! When Hampton took gach a creature

na

said the one in front; “like see

along for secretary, Dick ought to have refused to have
anything to do with him. Why does the Englishman need
a secretary here, anyway?”

Reyes came up, smiling and shrugging his shoulders.

“Mees Arlington is lucky,” he said.

“We've heard that about a dozen times already,”
growled.

“But is the turquoise as fine as. at first glance it
seemed?” said Reyes, ignoring Brad’s manner.

“Well, I’m not an expert—and I don’t suppose that
you are; you’re a good secretary, no doubt, and I know
cattle. But when it comes to saying what the turquoise is
worth, we'll submit it to a man who knows. I reckon
he isn’t this side of Santa Fe.”

“Meester Buckhart is pleased to be facetious. No? |
am judging by his words. But perhaps,” and he turned
to June, “the owner of the marvelous turquoise will be
willing that I shall again have a look at it?”

“I should prefer not to place it on exhibition again,”
said June, “for already it has created too much excite-.
ment.’ You will pardon me, Sefior Reyes.”

Reyes. shrugged again.

“As the sefiorita pleases; her word is law—I lay my-
self at her feet.”

He spoke in Spanish, and, placing his hand on his heart,
he shrugged again and withdrew.

“I wish I could have had an excuse for kicking his pie
face in,’ Brad was muttering; “how I hate that man—
and I haven’t any reason to!”

A number of the Mexicans remained in the turquoise
mine until the thick darkness down there drove them up
into the clearer light of the waning day. They returned
to the camp burning with excitement.. All seemed to talk
at once, as fast as their Latin tongues could run.

Lying before the opening of his tent, in the late after-
noon sunshine, Brad listened to their talk, without appear-
ing to do so, It was all about the wonderful turquoise
that June had found, and about. their own Jack of suc-
cess, for, aside from a few insignificant bits of blue
stone, they had nothing to show for their feverish activi-
ties.

The men who had tried to see the turquoise, and. had
been repulsed by Brad, became the center of a buzzing
knot, and. Brad heard his refusal. commentéd on in’ all
sorts of uncomplimentary terms.

“Let the heathen rage,”
talk—that’s what they live for.
at me as if they'd like to eat me.

Brad

he growled; “they've pa to

“T hope that chatter doesn’t annoy you—or worty you! »
he ‘said to June.

“’m not letting it,” she replied.

“That’s right; it doesn’t amount to anything.” a

The Mexicans were still talking—apparently they could

not sleep—when, at a late hour, June Arlington retired —

for the night, within the security of her tent, the Mexican an
woman again on a cot at her feet. a

Brad had stretched himself before the door of her balk
and was guarding~it in that way, rolled in his blanket.
The Mexicans continued to talk, but they did nothing
else; yet by the time midnight had come they were
ceasing to babble of the great turquoise, and were see .
asleep, x2: ;

June tried to sleep. Toward morning she drappéd ‘ies
a light —— out of which she was aroused a Py ae

 

But they Sa: look e a
    

She. knew. that some one. within the’ tent

was trying tocfind-the turquoise, believing that she had it.
Being aroused ‘thus .:suddenly,. and. startled, June
sereamed, and heard a rustling and fluttering as of swish-
ing garments. She heard Brad: leap up by the door, and
his voice: sounded there, .Then June heard the Mexican
maid stir in-the cot she had been o¢cupying.

“What ees it?” sounded in the maid's trembling voice.
“TY am-hearing you. scream out, mees.”’

Brad was shaking the tent flap violently.

“Hello!” his voice thundered. “What's up?”

June put out her hand, found the candle on the box
close. by, the matches beside it, and struck a light.

‘The Mexican womah was sitting up in her cot, staring
round. _Brad’s hand was.on the canvas of the tent, at the
front. His voice and the flashing forth of the light had
aroused some of the Mexicans; questions were flying

_ round,

met am all right,” said Sune, but her voice was startled.

“You didn’t sound like it,” said Brad skeptically. “Do
you often yell out that way when you're all right?”

“I—must have been dreaming; I thought some one was
by .me in the tent here, and was searching .me; I felt
fingers.”

-“Are you-still in bed? oo

“Yes, but I’ve lighted my candle.”

“TI. saw the light... Well, say—just get up and poke
round in there; see if you’ve got company. No one under
your cot, I suppose?”

June made the search. The maid,

cot, stared at her,
- “Tt-ees a man—under the cot?”

“No one is here,” said June;
myself and the maid,”

 “That’s funny !”

Brad stood looking about, and he listened to the talk
of the awakened men. Some one had tried to steal the

turquoise, thinking that June had it. Brad believed that

it was the Mexican maid.
He put his hand into the pocket where he had thrust

‘it, to reassure himself. The turquoise was not there!

_ «Brad searched through another pocket, then through all

his pockets. Having done that, he went back and searched
all of them again. The turquoise was gone. Brad felt,

the red blood im his face; his heart was jumping.

_ “T’ve been sleeping like a fool; when I should have ment

_ my eyes wide open. Oh, say, this is awful!”

_ He went through his pockets again. - .

_ He wanted to kick somebody; yet he was sure that he
was himself to blame. He trembled and his brain spun

round. When he had searched through his pockets still

another time,-and there could no longer be a doubt, he
spoke to June: ©

"You're -up dnd dressed? I’ve heard you stirring in

there. Something Awful has happened.”

June'came running to the door of the tent.

es, em Me) ang dressed,” she said; “what has hap-

‘searching, hery.

  

sitting up in her

“no one, positively, but

 

 
 

  

 
  

 

‘Brad lowered his voice, and choked as he tried to

  

hat turquoise, you know? It’s gone!
ing lke a fool, and I’ve been robbed.”

The turquoise?”
y fault, “4d 4, bia

Ive been

- NEW.TIP TOP WEEKLY.

’ ground, passing in under a porphyritic formation, and it

‘ing here and there had been pushed aside, and where

| “But its still in the camp. —

 

 

      
 

How to find out who has got it, though——”
“I opine it’s’ that secretary.”

“But you can’t prove it,
heard her sob. ;

“I ought to be kicked,” Brad declared. “I ought to be
set up against a doby wall and shot. That’s what I. de-
serve.” .

“That wouldn’t bring back the turquoise.”

“No, ,it;wouldn’t. But, see here, don’t go to worrying;
I'll get it back. I’m forming a plan.. My head has been
too thick for thinking. But—how’s this for a plan?
We know who was here—I do, and we’ve got a list of
the names of the men from cook to captain, If one of
the Mexicans took it—shook it out of my jeans while I
was pounding my ear—he’ll be gone from here in the
morning. Then he can be followed, and we can get him.
If none is gone, I’ll watch the whole bunch, and Reyes
’special; none of them will get away from me. You ¢
don’t know how I feel about it.”

‘T think’ I do.”

“You can’t. But I wish Dick was here. Nobody could
have frisked that turquoise away from him, I ere
now, too, to help me watch.” :

“We'll Jet it go,”-said June, though she could not keep
her disappointment out of her voice; “it’s only a bit -of f
blue stone, Brad, after all.”

“Oh, is it? Worth bullion, that stone is.
ment of it. You found it. But I’ll get it.”

He groaned.

 
 

Gone!” said June,

and Brad :

  
   
      
        
     
  
    
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
 
 
   
    
   
   
 
   
 
   
   
  
    
   
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
   

Then the senti-

CHAPTER VI.
AT THE NEW MINE.

When Dick Merriwell and the young Englishman, Rupert
Hampton, arrived at the recently discovered turquoise mine,
distant nearly half a day’s ride, they found there the
owner, and a few workmen. ;

The owner was a shrewd-faced, hard-eyed American,
named Marcus Day.’ Dick had been in correspondence '
with him, and had met him in Santa Fe. He had. no
very high opinion of Day, for in Santa Fe Day had dropped
a hint or two that savored of a desire to bribe him into _
making a better report on the turquoise mine seer
worth demanded.

. However, Dick had put that aside; he had come to se-ve
the Englishman, not Day, and he meant to. serve ae
with faithful honesty.

The mine opening had been at first but a hole in. ‘the

had been screened by a small landslip and bushes that.
grew thickly.

The bushes had been cut away, the fallen el re-
moved, and now the opening, much ree showed
some attempts at timbering. +! ¢

Day had a tent for himself, erected at the entrance in 4 Ho
such a way that it blocked the mine, and there he re-_
mained nearly all the time, and slept there. Having one
man whom he thought he could trust, that man had been
left in charge when he made his trip to Santa Fe,and.
the man also took turns with him in guard duty... mf

Within the mine not much work had been done,
had’ reported; the choking masses of fallen eart show-

     
 

 

 
 
    
       
       
      
   

   
  
 
 

 

 

    
 

there seemed danger of more earth falls tienare see been
set as braces.

    
    

   
 

Sn wit Re

eo

See,

a Pe

Seer se ete

 

 

 

  

jest picked out, as ye may say, with my fingers.

NEW TIP’ TOP WEEKLY. f =

visible in the porphyry had been gouged out, or the por-
phyry broken down to get them, and Day had them in a
box in his tent. .

One of the first things he did after Dick’s arrival was
to produce this box, and put his turquoises on exhibition.
They were fair specimens, and so many in number that
their value ran well up into the thousands. Dick had
seen some of them when Day came to Santa Fe.

“You see what I’ve got here,” said Day, speaking to
Hampton. “You won’t find finer turquoises in the hull
world, I’m thinkin’s~ They say they get some fine ones in
the East—across the big pond, I mean—in Araby—some
o’ the mountains out there, and that the Czar of Rooshy
has got a lot of ’em, but look at these. Any king would
be glad to sport ’em. Here’s a peck o’ turquoises, that I
And the
old mine is jest full of ’em—bustin’ with ’em. How fur
back the porph’ry runs I don’t know; but it’s enough. This
porph’ry hole in the ground is a world beater; there’s
millions in it.”

The Englishman was handling the stones, turning them
in his fingers, holding them to the light, scrutinizing them
with a magnifier; he was asking questions. His queer,
whitish eyes were half veiled, as though to hide his
thoughts. Suddenly he laughed skeptically.

“If the mine is what you say it is,” he remarked, “why
do you wish to part with it?” ’

“T reckon, stranger, it’s because I’m easy—I ain’t a
business man; if that answer don’t go deep enough, I’ll
say I don’t want to bother with it. In addition, I ain’t
got the capital to do it right. Only people you can git
to work here is prob’ly Mexicans. If I wasn’t afeared
0’ skeerin’ ye, I’d say, also, that I don’t like to mix. with
"em, and maybe wake up some fine morning with a knife
in my back, or my head shot to pieces. But I can see
that you don’t skeer easy.”

“Five thousand dollars would cover the value of all the
turquoises you have here,” said Hampton.

Day snorted.

“Say fifty thousand, mister.”

“Tf I was making an offer for the lot,
what I’d offer—five thousand dollars;
thousand pounds, English money.”

“What does Mr. Merriwell say?” asked Day.

“l'll give an opinion, after I hate had some of. them
looked over in Santa Fe.”

“But you’re an expert. Ain’t they worth nearer fifty
thousand than the sum he names? Five thousand dol-
lars!” Day snorted again.

“An expert may be a man who knows how to employ
other experts—at times,” said Dick.' “I should never ven-

that’s about
or, say around a

ture my eamapotted opinion on a matter of huge im-

portance.”

“Then you're not an expert!” Day sneered.

“A doctor, when he has a very difficult case, calls in
another doctor; sometimes he calls in half a dozen, and
they talk it over. When they have exchanged opinions,
they jean strike a mean, and be near the truth. So with a
lawyer, when he has a difficult question before him; he
would be a fool to rely on his own wisdom alone. In
the matter of this turquoise mine, I expect to look it over
very thoroughly, see just what is in it, or is not in it, and

\ then, with those facts fixed as nearly as they can be fixed,
I shall talk with men who know more about turquoises

than I do.”

Marcus Day took his turquoises and locked them up.

“I’m ready to show you the mine,” ‘he said to. Hamp-
ton, “jest as soon as I can git my man here.”

Stepping to the door, he shouted.

A hulking fellow appeared. :

“This is my man Robinson,” said Day. “He looks after
things when I can’t. Robinson, you keep guard, while [
show these here gentlemen what we’ve got down here in the
way of jools; I reckon that what I’m goin’ to show ’em
now will make their eyes bulge out some. This way,
gentlemen.” .

He took up a miner’s lamp, stuck it in his hat, gave
one each to Dick and Hampton, and, thus prepared, he en-
tered the timbered gallery.

“There’s nothin’ right here,” he explained, “except that
here’s where the porph’ry begins. When we git beyond
this timber we'll have to do some crawlin’.”

At the end of twenty feet the walls pinched in, the
timbering ended, and Day squeezed into the hole be-
fore him.

Dick followed, and behind him came Hampton.

Day was still talking.

“It’s a queer thing,” he said, “how I found this mine.
I’m an old prospector; been at it more years ’n I can re-
member. Gin’rally I looked fer gold and silver. After
I’d had a look at that big turquoise mine you fellers came

by, I began round in these mountains to look for tur-

quoise porph’ry; that’s the matrix rock, ye know, that the
turquoises is found in. ‘I found spots of it in a good many
places, but no stones to speak of. ‘Turquoises ain’t like
diamonds, ye see; one diamond may make ye a fortune,
but not one turquoise, unless it’s so pure, or odd, or so
something or other, as to make it extry valu’ble; I’ve seen
a few of them, but not many. The Czar o’ Rooshy has
got one o” that kind—a turquoise fit fer a king’s crown
But, gin’rally, ye’ll need a peck of ’em to make any big
stir with in the money line.

“You've seen the peck of ’em I’ve already got; well, in
here I can show you porph’ry indications that guarantees
they’re in here by the bushel. But turquoise minin’ ain’t
in my line, so I want to sell out. I won't, unless I git
my price—which is one hundred thousan’ dollars. The
man who buys will sure take out five hundred thousand,
and prob’ly more.”

It was evident that this talk was intended to impress
Hampton, as well as Dick Merriwell, but particularly
Hampton.

Day stopped at last, and flashed his light on the por-
phyritic. wall.

“Looky there, will ye!” he cried, pointing a crooked and.
dirty finger. “What d’ye say to that?”

Dick and Hampton inspected the wall closely. What
they saw was not turquoise, but little indentations, small
pits in the wall of rock, like the marks of smallpox on
the human face.

“Here’s where I got some o’ the stones I showed you in —

‘

that box, but most of the ones that had been here had |
been taken away, prob’ly hundreds 0’ years ago, by the,
Indians; fer, ye know, this is-an old Indian mine, that.”
was stopped up and forgot about after the Spaniards

\ came into the country.”
Day went on farther, and showed more of the indenta- j
4

tions in the rock—larger ones.
“Put a charge o’ dynamite into that and throw out a

ton es it, and I don’t doubt you'll find it filled | with ture os

      
   
 

  

 

  
   
  

    
   
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
  
 
   
  
 
  
     
    

    
   
    
  
    

 

  
  
    
   
   
  
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
    
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
    
  
  
   
  

Indians

\

quoises, All that was on the surface here the
gouged out and took long ago.”

After another advance they came to the end of
an¢ient, rock-choked tunnel.

“Ye can see,” said Day, “that the porph’ry runs right on
from here—no tellin’ how. fur, and it’s rich as cheese,
though evérything in sight here has been pried out and
taken away. I got all them stones here, and back there
where I showed ye.”

He turned to Merriwell.

“How does it strike ye?” he demanded.

“I know nothing about it yet,” said Dick. \

“You don’t? You can see the indications.”

“True enough; I’ve seen what there isto see.
telis little.”

“How you goin’ to
piciously.

“IT should have to blast out some of this porphyry.
These side walls may be only a skin of porphyry, for all
I know, though they may be all you think they are. And
this porphyry extension—I should want to do some ex-
cavating in it—riin a diamond drill deeply into it, and

into the side walls. Then I could begin to reach conclu-
sions.”

“So that'd be your way?”

“How else?” said Dick.

“It wouldn't take an expert to do that,” sneered Day,

“That’s all right. But you ought to know, Mr. Day,
that an expert never guesses; he digs for information
until he knows,”

_ “When you goin’ to do this?” Day demanded.
“That is for Mr. Hampton to say, with your consent;
I’m employed by Hampton.”

‘Dick recalled that Day had, in effect, tried to offer him

a bribe in Santa Fe.
at The return to the tunnel entrance was filled with talk
by Day and Hampton, who. fell into a discussion of the
value of the turquoise Day had shown, and of all tur-
quoises in general.
At the entrance Day dismissed his man Robinson.
Hampton requested to see the box of tuirquoises again,

and Day brought it out.
_ “T want to buy this mine,” said Hampton, “and I stand
ready to pay for it the amount that Mr. Merriwell de-
cides it is safe for me to pay. But the determination of
its value by him will take time. Also, a good deal will
-- depend on what the Santa Fe experts tell me about the
’ samples you have here. The value of these stones is
y variable; some are worth a great deal, others are nearly
valueless. So I’m going to ask you to let me take this
box of turquoises to Santa Fe and have them inspected.
Or,” he added, “‘you can take them—accompany us, and
have charge of them yourself.”
_. Day went outside, walked round there, and talked with
_ Robinson.

the

Yet it

tell more?” Day demanded sus-

 

 

  

_ There» was a shine in his white eyes that Dick did not
Mie)
a

  

‘

  

“was. proceeding to do this, when es reappeared.
ked at Hampton and Dick with keen suspicion.

 

‘NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

 

“What do you think of the stones, Merriwell?” said

” “ ( about
all SP he saa “I know how many a. aire, i

 

 

  

%

     

  
 

and we can count ’em. What was you takin’ them out of
the box for?’*

“We'll let
there.”

Day counted them carefully. When he had done that
he set down a statement on a slip of paper, showing how
many stones were in the box. Abruptly he changed his ;
mind.

“I was thinkin’ of gittin’ a receipt fer ’em from you
and Merriwell, and lettin’ you take ‘em, but I think I’ll
jest go with ye, and carry the box myself. I know #
you're honest, of course—both of ye, but I’d like to hear i
fer myself jest what them Santa Fe experts says about
‘em. If I haven’t got a world beater here, as I think,
{ want to know it,”

He locked the box.

“I brougtrt.pack animals,” said Dick, “and in their loads
I have a diamond drill, and a very light but strong gas i
engine to run it, also dynamite for blasting. Still, 1 :
can return to Santa Fe with Mr. Hampton, if he
wishes it.”

“I can go with Day alone,’.said Hampton.

_ Again Dick did ‘not like the look in Hampton’s eyes.

“T think it will be well if we all go there together,” he
said, but as if this part of it did not greatly interest
him.

Yet the unpleasant thought that had come to him Dick
put aside, reflectimg that the Merriwell Company had not
undertaken this investigation blindly.

The Merriwell Company had looked into the record oi
Rupert Hampton, of Hampton Manor, England. Hampton
had been shown to be a man of wealth and business relia-
bility. Bradstreet’s and Dun’s commercial agencies gave
him high financial rating. He had gold mines in South
Africa, a sugar plantation in Jamaica, and a silver mine
at Leadville. He came of an old and honored English
family, though he was not of the nobility. So there
could be nothing suspicious or crooked about him. — i

“But those white eyes and that crafty look,” Dick
thought; “yet he is not to be blamed for the color of his
eyes. Just because white-eyed horses are usually tricky,
is no reason why a white-eyed man is bound to be so,”

“We can rest here to-night,” said Dick, “then set out in
the morning, and that will take us to the old turquoise —
mine for our stopping place for to-morrow night.”

“Suits me all right,” said Day.

  

you handlt them,” said Dick; “they’re all

 

ag a aE -

CHAPTER VIL.

INVESTIGATING THE THEFT.

Brad Buckhart’s plan for the recovery of the great
turquoise found by June Arlington did not work well, ex-
cept that in trying to carry it out: he ‘increased: his sus-
picion of Rafael Reyes. ‘

Brad watched the camp sleeplessly thiotaglionl ie rest
of the night. Toward morning, seeing a man moving,
Brad walked toward him, and discovered it was Reyes.
Apparently, Brad had been too hasty; Reyes seemed to
have startéd toward the horses, when he heard the step ante
the Texan, and stopped.

Turning about he came “company front” with Bead.

“Anything wrong?” Brad asked, turning the matter of t:
in that way. “I thought there was—seeing yn aren

   

 

    
  
 

 
    
     
        
    
     
 

 

 
    
      
 
  

“Ah, . said ps st ae his ee on ae heart, “ec
  

e

 

 

 

.

IS, Sr ies

 

ars

. does others!

loss. So she could smile at Brad’s lamentations,

a

the night so beautiful that it makes not for sleep; I am
awake many hours, looking at the sky! What do I see
in the sky? Dreams. Dreams of my old home, of my
friends, of what you call the auld lang syne. {i am trou-
bled in the heart, so I dress, and walk about.”

“You were born in New Mexico?” said Brad.

“Si, senor; in Albuquerque.”

“Seems to me that I met up with a Reyes there once,”
Brad mused. “But he wasn’t your kind; he was on a
water wagon.”

“He had been drinking?”

“No; he sold water—went about with a cask of it
mounted on a cart. Everywhere he went he kept shouting
—aqua pura.”

Reyes shrugged.

“None of my family ever labored, sefior.”

“T didn’t know,” said Brad; “I’m giad he wasn’t a
relative. For he was a thief. He charged me ten cents
just for a glass of water, and I could have got whisky
for that.”

Reyes did not see the queer,
which Brad was regarding him.

“T thought you were going down to the horses just
now,’ Brad added. “Better keep away from them—there
are some kickers in that lot.”

Reyes ducked as if he had been struck a blow.

Brad kept Reyes talking a little longer, studying him;
then went back to his tent, leaving Reyes at his own
tent, on the way.

“Something out with that fellow, even if -he didn’t frisk
me for that turquoise,” Brad sat thinking afterward, “For,
look here—he talks better United States sometimes than he
When I get back to Santa Fe I'll find out if
he was born, as he says, in Albuquerque.”

If Reyes had intended to take one of the horses and
leave the camp in the night, and that was what Brad
thought, Brad’s action had stopped him. Reyes: did not
again leave his tent. ;

When breakfast was served in the morning, Brad had
a roll call at which all the people of the camp were ex-
pected to answer to their names. This developed that
none had left.

After that, Brad’s plan showed its inherent weakness.
There was a movement on the old turquoise mine again.
Even Reyes went down into the deep pit. And how was
Brad to know that the thief did not find opportunity down
there to secrete the stolen turquoise, with the idea of re-
turning for it later?

The Texan had been so much distressed that he had
not been able to eat anything. After the men descended
into the old mine, he sat talking the matter over with June
Arlington.

“T ought to have searched them, and Reyes first,” he said.
“But it looked so big a job that I hesitated to undertake
it. I think Reyes is our man, though, and I could have

humorous, smile. with
1

searched him and knocked him on the head if he made a
fuss about it.

Now it’s too late. You see, I need Dick to
tell me what to do. If he had been here it wouldn't have

happened. Me for ranges—it’s the only place I’m fit for.

Sometimes I think I’m sane and civilized and educated
and all that, then again I know [f ain’t.” /

June Arlington had recovered from the shrinks of her
She was

resolyed to be philosophical. If the turquoise was not

' restored to her, she was still as well off as before she

 

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. rae ee

‘found it.

but did not comment on it.

   
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
    
 
    
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
  
    
   
  
   
  

Still its loss was’ regrettable. But Brad
was not to blame; she told him that again and again.

“It would have been stolen from me, if I had had it, a
she urged. “I was being searched—that’s what waked me.”

“Searched by your Mexican maid?”

June glanced round to make sure the maid was not near. x

“T think so, but I have no proof.”

“The maid and Reyes are in cahoots?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

“’Twouldn’t surprise me;/nothing is going to surprise
me now. Why, I thought I was about as smart as—well,
nearly as smart as Dick Merriwell is, and I’m not fit to
be left alone. I didn’t even know I had gone to sleep;
I thought I was sitting up there before the tent, wide
awake, when, in fact, I was in my blanket, on the ground,
Of course, I was dreaming. Then you screeched——

“You're not complimentary !”

“No—a lady never screeches; you just hollered. That
woke me up, and. I knew I had fallen asleep. And then,
later—I found that while I was asleep some one had gone
through my jeans and taken your turquoise. If there
had been any other donkey there but my own self I’d
have backed up to the critter and coaxed it to kick me.
Dick ought to give it to mé good when he comes, and I
hope he does.”

Dick came into the, camp late that afternoon, accom-
panied by Hampton and Marcus Day., Day had his box
of turquoises lashed to his saddle, and’ when he was as-
signed a tent, he stowed the box in the entrance, and used
it as a stool to sit on.

Many of the Mexicans were still scratching through
the débris in the old mine—a fact that had at once at-
tracted Dick’s attention. Brad Buckhart set forth the
reason.

Having met Dick at the camp entrance, Brad had clung
to his stirrup leather; and he acquainted Dick with the
story of the loss and finding of the great turquoise, be-
fore Dick met June Arlington. ;

“I’m all to blame, pard,” said Brad, in his - humility;
“honest, I didn’t know I was such a lunkhead and sucker! —
Throw the harpoon into me good and hard.”

,Dick had no harpoon for his old friend and comrade.

“Do you think, Brad, that I don’t know it couldn’t be
helped? So get that off your mind. June isn’t blaming
you?”

“She’s too kind-hearted—that’s the only reason she
ain't,” said Brad. “June Arlington is a lady. But she’s
feeling the loss of that tutquoise good and plenty, only
she isn’t talking about it.”

The camp was astir over Dick’s return; men were hurry- —
ing toward them to offer greetings in the Mexican fashion, ©
and take the horses. Dick saw June standing in the door
of her tent, With her handkerchief she waved hima wel-
come. ‘ae

“Reyes has sure got the stone,” Brad was adding, “and
only my discovery kept him from making his get-away.
We haven't liked that little greaser from the first. He’s
plum’ crooked.”

      

Brad’s sojourn for a number of months recently on
the Texas cattle ranch affected his manner of speaking
at times; it was as if his cloak of education and East-°
ern culture had dropped away, revealing the raw cowboy
that he was when Dick first knew him, Dick noticed it,
Whatever Brad was—whether

    
      
 

 
  

        
  

  

         
14
polished or -6f the rough-diamond variety, he was pure
gold, and Dick Merriwell knew it.

When June and Dick met before her tent, she repeated
the story that Brad had already told, with certain extra
touches in her version, showing her viewpoint, that Brad’s
narrative had lacked.

Dick could not say much to comfort her, though he re-
peated Brad’s statement that they would get the turquoise.
He could see that Brad was right—June was distressed by
its loss.

“It was such a Paneer ti stone,” she declared; “flawless,
very large, and of the most beautiful and attractive color

I ever saw in a turquoise; why, Dick, it looked’as perfect
as if it had been through the hands of a lapidary.”

“We'll watch Reyes,” said Dick. “He will occupy Hamp-
ton’s tent, as he is Hampton’s secretary’ I wonder if it
would be a good idea to put Hampton wise? If Reyes
is a thief, he may steal something from Hampton.”

Brad twisted a wry. face.)

“I can’t get up any liking for that Mr. Hampton,” he
grumbled. “My natural guess would be that they’re two
of a kind; though, of course, they ain’t—can’t be.”

After a long talk with June, which Dick did not hurry
to a termination, for he found June, as always, a marvel-
ously fascinating girl, Dick went over to the tent that

had been assigned to Marcus Day, and found Day sitting
in the entrance on his box of turquoises.

“What’s this yarn goin’ about,” said Day, “tellin’ of a
big turquoise that was found and then stolen? I heard
the Mexican chatterin’ about it. They seem to be all het
up. Jedgin’ by what they say, it must have been some
turquoise.” oy:

“It was,” Dick admitted *
never another like it.”

“Some o’ them Mexicans has got it, you can bet !”
said Day. “They're all thieves. She’s got a Mexican

woman in her tent with her, ain’t she? Then, I’d suggest
searchin’ that woman. But I s’pose the critter has had
time to hide it. You suspectin’ any one in pertickler?”

Dick told him what he knew, without mention of
Reyes.

- “Tt couldn’t have been June’s maid,” he said, “for, yau
see, Buckhart had it, and it was stolen from him.”

“You kin trust Buckhart?”

“With my life,” said Dick.

“U-m! I wouldn’t trust my own grinddndde that fur.
All humans look purty much alike to me, when it comes,

“my friends declare there was

- to some things.”

_ “IT can see that you’ve played against some hard luck, in
your time,” Dick remarked, sitting on the ground beside

Fer thirty years I’ve roamed
In that time I’ve

“Well, I have, young man.
these Western mountains, prospectin’,

been robbed and stabbed and near murdered, jest because

some one wanted vallyble stuff I happened to have; and

I’ve been swindled out of prospects and mines enough

times to.’a’ made me a millionaire, ef I could ’a’

them. There’s lots o’ honest men, I don’t doubt—I’ve

read about ’ em, only they allus happened to be livin’ in the

* next county.”

- His hard eyes glittered.

E se understand this greaser ling®, he said, “and I’ll keep

If any o’ these Mexicans learns

has got it, ier can’t ee still about it; they'll be
ang, Tl hear about ae 25:

helt onto |

 

NEW TIP ‘TOP WEEKLY.

Dick thanked, him, and went on to Hampton’s tent, where
Reyes was already installed with Hampton. There he
repeated the story of the finding and loss of the big tur-
quoise, for Hampton’s information, watching Reyes at the
same time for any facial indication of Reyes’ guilt.

There was a suspicious shine in Reyes’ eyes, but as for
his face it was sphinxlike.

When the afternoon drew to its close, Dick Merriweil
had no more information of the missing turquoise than
at the start.

CHAPTER VIII,
ROBBERY AND FLIGHT.

Dick Merriwell did guard duty at the camp that night,
though he appeared to be doing nothing of the kind, for
he remained in his tent, with Brad Buckhart. They sat up
late talking, then extinguished their light, and apparently
retired.

Dick and Brad lay in their blankets, but the tent wall
on Dick’s side was lifted a little, and propped, and Dick.
could see all over the camp, for there was moonlight until
a late hour, and the tent was pitched well up on the slope
of the hill, giving it command of all the others. This
view of the camp was a thing Dick had meant to secure,
when he had the tent placed there. j

“You say for me to go to sleep,” Brad grumbled from
his blanket, “but I don’t feel that I ought to; you’ve been
riding and working, and I’ve done nothing, and I fe hd
altogether too much last night.”

“That’s all right,” said Dick, “but you do as I tell you,
there is no need for both of us to remain awake.”

After Brad had fallen asleep, Dick lay watching the
moonlight, and listening to the various sounds that drifted
to him. The camp had sunk into quiet, but the moun-
tains were vocal. Now and then a coyote howled, and
was answered from another ridge; these bandits of the
night were out hunting. Occasionally one of them gave
tongue close by the camp, to which they were drawn by
the camp odors of cooking. The cuckoolike calls of the
little prairie-dog owls arose.

Dick was a lover of outdoors. So, for a while, he
would not have slept, even if such had been his mood. But
later he needed to use some ingenuity to keep himself
awake, as the slow hours crawled along.

‘He did this by turning his mind actively to various mat-
ters, of business and pleasure. One may be sure that much
of the time his thoughts hovered round June Arlington.
He had anticipated a meeting with her, but not so soon; he
had not known that she had run down from Denver fo
short visit to the famous springs and baths of Las Vegas,
so he had been delightfully surprised when she appeared
in Santa Fe, which is not distant from the noted Las,
Vegas resort.

Dick thought of his brother Frank—generous, whole-
hearted Frank. What did he not owe to Frank? By mix-

‘ing up in a Valdivian revolution, in South America, in an

unselfish effort to save to Chester Arlington an endangered

asphalt concession, Dick had lost his whole fortune. Ches-
ter’s fortune and June’s had been saved—but at what a

personal loss to Dick! Yet Dick did not regret what he

had done, and he knew he would do it again ere similar cs

circumstances.

Forced to turn to something for a living, Dick had — ace ‘ ee

eae a fine offer at Yale, and had been head coach Rais

 

 
  

 

could have the

   

the sport and athletic teams there. He
position again, if he wanted it.
i . But just now he was assisting his brother Frank,. who
i _ had organized the Merriwell Company, with its first head-
i quarters at Phoenix, and he was here now in New Mexico,
| trying to put through for the Merriwell Company this im-
i » portant matter of the sale and purchase of the new tur-
i quoise mine, He recalled how generously Frank had been
to him—the position that had come to him through Frank,
of secretary and treasurer of the new company, and of
the very acceptable salary; it was really greater, Dick
thought, than his services were worth; yet he was resolved
to come as near earning every penny of it as he could.
§  ~How well the brothers understood each other! Dick
was capable of making his own way in the world; he would
have: scorned the helping hand even of his brother Frank,
if in. the least degree it had suggested charity. Frank
knew it, and gave him instead this excellent position,
where he could render service of a kind few other men
é could give, and so earn the.money. he now needed.
_ How he was ever to rehabilitate his fortunes Dick did
“not.now. know. Yet knowing that the Merriwell Company,
+ with Frank as its head, was sure to succeed, and’ would
ee pile up handsome dividends, his thought was that, as he
was able, he would from time to time, out of his savings,
- buy ‘stock in the company, so that in time he could be-
come a considerable shareholder.

‘From these contemplations, Dick ratirned to. thoughts
tof the work he had now in hand. He brought up a mental
picture of the new turquoise mine, as he had ‘seen it.
Bit by. bit he went over it, in vivid memory. He recalled

- the words and manner of Marcus Day, in their bearing
~ on the probable value of the mine.

Then he thought of the lost turquoise, and the suspicions
that had been aroused against Rafael Reyes, The fact

that he had not liked Reyes’ whitish eyes and furtive
} looks, Dick put aside; that could not be urged in proof
Sg of the man’s possible guilt, In his large-mindedness, Dick
‘was resolved not to do Reyes an injustice.
_ Dick was almost inclined to laugh, when he thought of
Brad Buckhart. Brad was the last man in the world Dick
would have expected to be robbed in that manner. Ac-
cording to Brad’s own story, he had been sleeping like
.  a.hobo, while dreaming that he was wide awake and
: _ watching the camp, and while he thus lay sleeping, some
i one had.come upon him, and gone through his pockets,
: with as.much ease as if ‘Brad had been but a Weary
BAe Willie; snoring on a park bench. This was his old friend,
We Tt g Brad Buckhart, who had been half around the world with
him and hack again; Brad, the keen-eyed, the alert, the
aia _ kenneled bulldog. Had the Texas ranch done that much
iS i % for Brad? It was to laugh.
Filling his mind with thoughts of many things, Dick
: a: _,had no trouble in keeping himself awake. In that way,
i
i

ie.

 

 

 

: he had kept himself awake many times, when it had been

_ necessary. It was more effective than any amount of

counting imaginary sheep jumping over Baran) pasture
bars...

! The white moon sank slowly into the west, and its

ight. waned, then went out; after that there were only
e stars and darkness. Dick attuned his.ears to a keener

itch,

 
 

  

a long time nothing occurred to excite him, Then
ought he heard subdued.sounds. He could not locate
ior even guess what they meant.

 
 

“NEW: TIP TOP WEEKLY. — | 15

By and by he

 
   

    

 

was sure he caught sight of a shadowy figure moying. in
the midst of the tents.

Thereupon Dick hoisted his tent wall quietly, and slipped
through the opening, without waking Brad.. As soon. as
he. was erect he began to slip along in the direction taken
by the shadow.

This. brought him out below the camp, at the point
where the horses were lariated. There he beheld a man.
The man, keen of hearing, heard him, and turned. Dick
was face to face with Rupert Hampton.

“Hello!” said Dick, advancing, chagrined that Hampton
had detected his presence.

“T thought there was trouble among the horses,” said
Hampton, “so I slipped down here to see what it meant.
But I can’t discover that anything is wrong. Probably
a coyote came nosing round, and that disturbed them.”

Dick had heard no noise among the horses.

“You are a light sleeper,” he said. hae

“Thoughts of that turquoise mine disturbed my usual
slumbers,” said Hampton. “Frankly, Mr. Merriwalt I’m
afraid that man Day is trying to swindle me.’

He took Dick’s arm and then turned toward the camp.

Dick did. not reply to Hampton’s statement, as it seemed
to question his fitness for the work he had undertaken in
Hampton’s behalf.

“Do you think Day is honest?” Hampton asked.

“I think some rough experiences he has had have made
him wary and suspicious. And, as a matter of shrewd busi-
ness, he will try to get the better of you; he will think
himself justified in doing it, if he can.”

Hampton -spoke of the horses again—of the noise he
claimed to have heard, and they were still talking of it
when they reached Hampton’s tent.

“Good night,” said Hampton; “I hope I shall sleep now,
after that round in the night air.”

He glided into the tent.

Dick went on slowly to his own, troubled by thoughts
of Hampton. What had Hampton been doing there .by
the horses? If Dick had found Reyes there, instead of
Hampton, he would have said that, having stolen June
Arlington’s turquoise from Brad Buckhart, Reyes meant. to
get a horse and clear out, before his guilt was discovered.
But Hampton!

If possible, Dick Merriwell was from this time on more
wide awake than he had even been before. He kept his
ears on the alert. He could not see Hampton’s tent clearly
in the darkness—it was but a faint, whitish blur on the
black background of the night. But soon he heard a move-
ment there or somewhere in that direction, and again he
lifted his tent wall and rolled through.

He got to his feet hurriedly but silently, and stole away
again,. He heard stealthy feet moving before him, once
more going toward the horses, a

“If it is Hampton this time, I shall ask him some dace
questions,” Dick resolved; and was determined not. to
be put off with any fairy story about a noise being heard
among the horses. He was beginning to think that Hae,
ton had lied.

When Dick came close up to the horses he did not at
first see or hear any one, but soon he detected that the
horses were uneasy, caused either by a coyote prowling.
near them, or a man, moving in their midst.

Dick stood still,- awaiting developments. int}

He was hardly prepared for them, when they came. Ot
the farther side of the group, a horse broke ‘suddenly into a

      
    
   
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
   

“o0

aa

 
 
 
        
           
     
        
 
    
  

 
 

         
‘16

gallop. It was proof that the man had hastily pulled a
picket pin, had flung himself on the back of an unsaddled
and unbridled horse, and was galloping off, for he had not
been given time'to bring up saddle and bridle and place
them.

“Halt!” Dick shouted.

The command was of no effect, and, snatching out his
revolver, Dick fired, and shouted again. He had not aimed
at the sounds, for he did mot care to shoot the man, who-
ever he was, or whatever was his meaning.

The horse, now at full speed, bore the rider away quickly
into the night.

The shot and the shouts had aroused the whole camp.
The Mexicans came boiling out of their sleeping quarters
like prairie dogs scared out of their holes by a spring
flood. Dick heard Brad shouting at his tent, and close by
Brad he heard June Arlington asking questions, The
Mexicans and Brad came running toward the horses, yell-
ing inquiries.

Dick turned to meet them. Who the man was—if he
had been a member of the camping party—he would now
soon know.

“Some one rode off with one of the horses,”. Dick ex-
plained to the Mexicans; “I heard him, and shot to make
‘him stop, but I don’t know who it was. Look round and
see if any of the men are missing.”

To Brad he said:

“Come, pard, we "11 do some. searching on our own ac-
count.” ©

En route to Hampton’s tent, he stopped and explained to
June Arlington, to quiet her fears, Then from his own
- tent he took a candle, and lighted it as he and Brad went
on together.

When the candlelight was flashed into Hampton’s tent,
they saw that Rafael Reyes was the only one in the tent,
and lie was lying on the ground bound and gagged.

At the same instant the bellowing voice of Marcus
Day, heavy with anger, reached. them.

“Get the gag out of that fellow’s mouth,” Dick com-

-manded, “but don’t untie him yet.”

He turned aside to meet Day, who came plunging toward

him,

“Pye been robbed!” Day yelled. “Everything is gone—
lock, stock, and barrel!” .
“The turquoises?” said Dick,

“The hull kit an’ b’ilin’ of ’em; box, too! That shootin’

and yellin’ woke me, and TI lay listenin’, wonderin’ about ’

_ the meanin’; then I heard some one sayin’ a man had

_ tun off with a horse—and that set me to lookin’ round my

- tent. Then I found ’em gone, I had ’em right by me, in
ad, te et Now they’re gone!”

_ Day’s ‘howling voice was choked with rage and tears.
_ “Who got off on that horse?” he demanded.

— “T don’t know yet,” said Dick; “that’s. what we're try-

‘ing ‘to find out. Come into Hampton’ s tent with me, will
your”
_ Brad Buckhart had cut away the gag cords, and. with
the gagging stick thus removed, Reyes was sitting upright
on the ground, glaring and muttering, while he worked his
jaws and made grimaces, as if he were a wild man, and
had found himself suddenly in a trap.

“What's the meanin’ of this here ?” Day demanded.
“Where’s Hampton ”

Reyes worked his jaws; then, glaring like a maniac, he

 

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

spat out savagely, without a.trace of the Mexican: ey ;
cent, as Dick noticed. ee ee

“The scoundrel robbed me!” c 2g

. “Hampton?” Day yelled. “What you givin’ us?” i

“He robbed me; took me by the throat-while I-slept, —
choked me, and then tied ‘and gagged me, and then’ ie
went through my pockets and took everything. He left
lying here in the tent, and went out. Then he came back
stirred me up with the toe of his boot, and told me if
moved he would kill me. Later he went out again.
don’t know how long it is since he went out the fir
time, nor how long he stayed when he came back, - ]
know I’m nearly dead.”

He stopped for breath, and began to work his
again,

“Why don’t you take these cords off me?” he sh
“They’re cutting my wrists in two. And thetes Oo
ropes on my legs, I can’t move.”

Day whipped out his knife, but Dick’s hand »
his arm and stopped him. Reyes saw this, and it W
him into a fury of anger. .

“Perhaps you’re mixed up in this, Merriwell,” he yell
“if you are, I’ll settle with you! Take these cords «
me!” ;

“Cut him loose,” said Dick,

Day performed the operation with as much neatness
dispatch as if it were an every-day thing with him. —
Reyes did not rise. He stretched his arms, kicked
with his legs, and worked his jaws once more.

“I’m going to kill Hampton,” he raged; “T’ll_put a |
in him for this.” tng

“Ketchin’ is before hangin’,” said Day; “if .it was .h im.
bolted on that horse, ketchin’ him ain’t goin’ to be nowise.
easy. Eh, Merriwell?” od

“What did he rob you of ?” Dick asked.

“Everything I had—pocketbook, revolver, knife, pipe, e
tobacco—everything I had!” Reyes wailed.

“Robbed me, to,” said Day; “of course, it was the sam
man; took my box of turquoises!” He turned to Dick
“How is that for an honest man that you brought out to
buy my mine? I’m sold again, but it ain’t the first time
by a long shot. Robbed again! But it’s better to be
robbed than swindled by him, I reckon. Merriwell, yo
gaye me to oe that Hampton was the straigh
goods!”

“I did,” said Dick, “and I thought it. I'll make a
loss good, if we can’t restore your turquoises.” | ;

At the same time he was wondering how long it would Mat
take him to do it, out of the ee of his salary.

“I didn’t like his white eyes,” said Day, “and what's
more, I didn’t like his manner.” re Ne tle

Dick could have said the same, but forbore.

He began to ask Reyes questions, and Reyes, ee ge ee

up his jaws again, snapped out answers.

“You thought Hampton was all right,’ said Dick, “or,
you me have hired to him as his secretary.”

any Mexican accent ; now he seemed to feel a e
caution, the pitch ut his voice subsided, and the Me x
accent came into play again. Dick noted it. ‘
Reyes only went over the story he had told at
of how he had been robbed, and the Brin that,

taken,

 
: i “You spoke before you thought, Day,” said Dick.

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

“Hampton couldn’t have stolen any turquoises from
you?” Dick shot at him.

Reyes’ black eyes narrowed.

“What a question, Meester Merriwell!”
yon should ask eet of me is surprising.
owner of a turquoise mine.”

“Stealing turquoises seems to be getting common, and
you might have found one in the old mine, you know.
Miss Arlington found one there, and it has disappeared.”

“Hampton stole that one, too!” Day shouted.

he said. “That
I am not the

“Miss

Ae y Arlington’s turquoise was stolen from her while Hampton

excited I can’t think straight.

was with us at your mine.”

“Sure,” Day admitted; “I’m a blockhead. But I’m so
How are we goin’ to fol-
low that fellow, Merriwell?”

“J. don’t know; perhaps we can’t. We'll see about it

CHAPTER IX, °
A WARM oo

‘ton was not the honorable shalt ‘that Dick Mertiwvell
thought him. Hampton was the only one missing from the

: camp. - That was one of the ‘first: things Dick took pains

Ag to ascertain after his flight:

Hampton had not taken the

a horse he had: been using, but the first one he could lay

his hands on readily. Dick knew now that when he had
os surprised Hampton by the horses, it had been Hampton’s

intention to go then. That proved that already he had
‘robbed Reyes and -bound him, and had robbed Marcus
Day. -

_ There was no doubt that Reyes had been robbed. He
had been treated too roughly, and his anger was too sin-
et and unstudied to let it'be questioned. Yes, Hamp-

ton was a thief, and had fled, and his talk of buying

ie

the turquoise mine had been bluff and guileful moon-
shine.
There remained the questidn of Reyes’ entire sincerity,

and the question of his guilt of robbing Brad Buckhart.

Dick believed now that Reyes had stolen the big tur-
quoise from Brad, and then that Hampton had stolen it
from Reyes. If so, it disproved the saying, that thieves
can trust each other. And it proved that Reyes, in manipu-
lating Brad so cleverly, was a sneak thief of no mean
order, Dick knew now that Reyes could talk United
States as readily as he could. himself, and his Mexican
accent was assumed.

What was Reyes’ game? Had Reyes and Hampton
known each other before their meeting in Santa Fe, or
had it been merely a case of like attracting like? Dick

, wished he knew the answers to those questions. It

helped to account for Reyes’ furious rage, if he had
been really robbed and maltreated by a pal whom he was
se :

- Dick was sure that Hampton was an Englishman, but
he was not sure now that Hampton was his name. It was
not possible that he. could be the man whose integrity
nd high financial standing had been vouched for in the
.. received about him by the Merriwell Company.
As soon as it was light enough to make out hoof marks,
Dick went down to the point where the horse had been

taken. He was accompanied by Brad and by Day, and
nearly all the Mexicans trailed after them. Dick had to

47

order the Mexicans to starid back, to keep them from
rushing about and obliterating all traces.

Dick Merriwell’s experience and training had made
him the equal of an Indian tracker, and he found that
Marcus Day also knew a thing or two, while Brad’s skill
was not to be despised.

June Arlington had walked down with them, and stood
watching their efforts.

But a few minutes were required to find the first sharp
pricking of the horse’s hoofs, as Hampton lashed him into
a run.

“We've got the whole day before us,” said Dick, “and
while we’re eating a few mouthfuls, the Mexicans can
be getting our horses ready. We three will follow the
trail.”

“Order my horse saddled and bridled, too,” said June.
~ “Tt will be a hard ride; we haven’t the slightest notion
where we're going,” Dick urged. “June, don’t you think
it would be better to stay in the camp?”

“With only these Mexicans, and that Mexican woman
that I am beginning to detest and fear? She watches me
like a cat.”

“T’ll stay with you,” said Brad, with a sigh.

“Very gallant of you, I’m sure,” said June, pursing her
red lips, “to offer to’ stay with me, when you don’t want
to, and would be miserable all day if you did. But I’ve
made up my mind to go. You don’t know what a horse-
woman I am, when I try to be. Perhaps youre afraid
I'll ride you out of your saddle, Brad?”

Brad looked sheepish.

“T guess I’m getting clumsy—the way I put things.
you oughtn’t go.”

“Still, I’m going.” \

When Dick saw that June was not to be dissuaded, he
ordered her riding horse to be brought up: and saddled,
with the others» Then they went back to the camp, and—
had a hurried breakfast.

Before setting forth, Dick gave June a revolver, and’
ordered her to buckle it on.

“We don’t know wliat ‘we’re going up against,” he said.
“You can shoot .as well as a man, if you have to. I’m
hoping that none of us will have to.”

With the revolyer, June buckled round her slender waist
a fluted belt crammed with cartridges.

“You look. warlike,” said Dick; “but—I wish you weren't
going.”

“You may be glad before we ride back that I am with
you;” she told him; “I can recall a time or two in the past:
when a thing like that happened. But this time, if it
wasn’t for Day’s turquoises,-for whose loss he seems to
be holding you responsible, I should advise you to let
Hampton go. My own turquoise, much as I valued it, I
wouldn’t trouble about.”

But

Dick knew well that June Arlington was no weakling;
he had seen her tested. As a rider she was the equal of —
almost any man. But Dick knew, too, that recently June

had done no hard riding—nothing more than the gentle
horseback exercise that ladies customarily take. The tide a

out from Santa Fe had wearied her.

He said as much, further objecting, but June would eens
snot be left behind. }

When they took the trail of the running horse full day: ee
light had come, though the sun had not yet risen. There
was at first no trouble in following it, for the horse had

 
  

struck into an ‘old mule path that circled round the base

of the mountain.

This path, nearly Ghinecated by time, in - places, ended
before some rotting timbers at the mouth of an old and
abandoned mine,

The difficult work began here. The tracks of the horse
passed round the mouth of the mine and along the rocky
side of a hill.
it, by turned pebbles and faint marks in the stony soil.

Then came a long stretch of sand, covered with pines
and pifions, through which the horse had wound its way,
making a trail that a blind man might have kept.

Beyond that came another hard-graveled ridge, over
which the horse had gone slowly. Then the trail vanished
where the gravel was packed hardest.

They kept on, pushing their horses, looking this way
and that, and closely scanning the ground. Though con-
tinuing in the direction the horse had been. going, they
could be sure of nothing, for in this favorable place Hamp-
ton might have swung his animal off to the left or the

right. When they came to the end of the impenetrable
area, and found no tracks there, they were sure this..was
the thing he had. done.

So they turned about, hoping for better luck by closer
searching, and they were thus engaged, with their eyes
held..to: the ground when a cry from June Arlington
_ drew their attention,

June had ridden to the top of a little ridge, and,
sitting her horse there, she was pointing into a low val-
_ ley on the right.. She made an attractive picture, in her
dark riding habit, her cheeks aglow, her soft dark eyes
luminous.

_ “Hampton?” said Dick, starting up.

. “A viderless horse,” she said; “it may be his, or it may
be a wild mustang, if there are any here, or only a stray
ranch animal.”

They were soon up beside her.
Dick unslung his field glasses, and looked off at the
horse.
“The one Hampton took, I think,” he said;
lariat on it.” ;
He passed the glasses to June.

“We'll ride down there and see,” Dick added.

Bier _ Brad took a turn at the field wiser, and then Marcus
Day.

“May be a ranch stray)”
_ there ain’t none round here.
ton’s beast that got away from him.
- sure round him up.”
ba _ When they had ridden down to it, they found that. it
i was the horse Hampton had _ taken.
on it, and roped it in cowboy fashion, then they took

 

 

 

 

“there’s a

said Day; “as for mustangs,
But I’m hopin’ ‘it’s Hamp-

it had been tethered.
The tracks of the horse, leading to the point where it
ad been discovered, gave them a new start. They fol-
owed back on these tracks for nearly a mile through
sand and brush, and came then to the spot where the

Ly
wd

. had thrown Hampton and broken away.

  
 

NEW: TIP TOP WEEKLY.

With careful trailing they could still follow’

said June. 4m hs

if he’s afoot, we'll

Brad crowded up |

it in tow, leading it by the lariat with which, at the camp,

that all sits

 
     

 

one ‘direction, with those of Hampton, as he followed it,
trying to coax it to return to him, __ ; é

Hampton had not succeeded and had gone only a short
distance; then he had turned about, and headed for a
high, rough hill not far away. ie zips

“On that hill, or not fur from it,” said Day grimly,
tightening his revolver belt. “I hope he surrenders prompt,
so that I won’t feel no call to shoot him.”

Hampton’s fleeing feet were easy to follow so long as
the sand lasted. It ended at the foot of the hill, aig
nothing could be seen beyond, !

It was Dick Merriwell’s opinion, after a ook about, that
the sandy character of the ground continued round the
hill, and he suggested that they should ride round it, as
in that way it could be determined if Hampton was in
hiding on the hill, or had departed. ‘
_ When they had circled the hill and found it of conside
erable extent, with outflanking spurs, but sand all: around,
they knew that Hampton was MNRENHER on the hill in.
hiding.

“He saw us coming,” said Dick, “and igor lean to. iatee .
his chances up there in the midst. of the bushes and
rocks, to an open run through this sand waste.”

“Right you are,” said..Day,. his hard eyes elittering.
ae ve got him bottled.” :

        
       
       
     
       
     
     
  
     
  
   
  
  
   
   
 
 
   
  
  
  
   
  
 
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
    
   
   
  
   
 

   

AF ag sins Sab

 

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/ ' CHAPTER X.
AT BAY, Rick

“You and June,’ said Brad, “stay. here, here you're
safe, while Day and I crowd this coyote; if anybody’s
going to be shot in this round-up it isn’t going to be
June Arlington, nor Dick Merriwell. You mee my war
whoop!”

“T’m going up with you,” said Dick, “but Tine will hay:
to stay here and look out for the horses,” |

“Oh, June will—not!” Cp peed

“What’s to be done, then?” Dick demanded. Eee ot

“Why, I’m going with you; that’s what I came for, Aap
wasn’t it ?” with ne eae Ds ee

“But the horses?” said Brad, 1 kot aie

“Tf you’re anxious about them, Pl ee you to stay,” ane |

 

 

Brad groaned. “f

“The foolishness of a girl—the taints: ofa woman!" . - oe |,

“The silliness of a great big man! Will it hurt.me = = |
any more to be shot than it will you or Dick?” eke. Cae

“Dick !’ Brad exploded. .“That’s what I thought. You're
afraid Dick is going up there to be killed. That's like a
woman, toe. Of course, he won’t be hurt. I’m going
to be there to see that he doesn’t. I’m going to stand =
in front of him. I'll catch the bullets in my teeth. ‘June 4)
Arlington, you can’t go.” } |

Dick paled a little, thinking of Sil danger. . He ee: PEON
how stubborn she could be, when she made up: her. mind —
to it:

 

   

 

      
  

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And when she won't, she won't; and there's an end oni

 
     
 
 

 
 

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NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 19

June; “we've come for that man, and now that we’ve
cornered him, we’ve got to get him.”

“T know it,” she said. “I’m not holding you back; I’m
simply going with you. If you’re killed——”

Her voice broke. When Dick looked at her he saw
that her face was white, and that her eyes filmed with
tears.

“Tf anything happens to you, June, I can never forgive
myself,” Dick told her.

Then they proceeded to picket the horses, and set out for
the slope, where bushes grew thickly. Dick and Brad led
—Brad said, in jesting that was half serious, that this
was so he could jump in front of Dick, if he saw that
Hampton meant to shoot—and behind them came Day and
June.

June’s pallor had left her—her face flamed with color
now, and the tears were gone. In part this was due to
the climbing that began almost at once; in part it was
due to the fact that her pulses were beginning to tingle
with the wine of high excitement. There is nothing like
a man hunt to stir the blood, and the greater the danger
the more the heart is set jumping.

When they had come near the top of the hill, where
there were rims of rocks and ledgy holes, Dick Merriwell
called out to Hampton to surrender.

“Jest stand out and throw up yer hands,” shouted / Day,
“and we won't pepper you; but if you don’t, and try to run,
I’m here to say that I sure will shoot you all full of
holes.” ;

There was no reply to this, and they moved on, almost
expecting the flash of a revolver before them.

But when they had reached the top of the hill they
saw no one.

As they could look over all the surrounding country
from this height, and so could have seen Hampton if, he
had fled out into the sandy land, they were sure he was
still somewhere on the hill. Hence they began to beat

‘around in a search for his hiding place, all the while call-

ing out, ordering him to show himself and surrender.
As they passed thus round a bushy ledge, in Indian
file, Dick Merriwell leading with June Arlington; ashiver

‘with excitement, tiptoeing at the rear, there came a flutter

of footsteps, followed by June’s scream. And the men,
whirling about as if on pivots, saw that June was strug-
gling in the arms of Hampton, who had dashed out of
a bush-hidden hole and seized her, after the other mem-
bers of the little party had passed.

Hamptbn fhad thrown his arms about her, and was
thus pinioning her arms to her sides, while his right hand
held ‘his own revolver, and his left hand closed on the
handle of June’s.

June Arlington was not submitting to this without vio-
lent resistance. Yet Hampton, though not a large man,
was stronger than the girl, and began to draw her back
toward the hole out of which he had rushed.

At a glance his intentions were plain; he meant to use
June as a shield, and then with her in his power, held in
front of him, he meant to bargain for his own safety.

In her fear and excitement, June screamed again.
Wrought to a tremendous pitch df desperation she partly ®

- broke Hampton’s hold, and turned half round.

‘Dick was advancing on him with Brad and Day.
“Release her,” Dick shouted, “or I will shgot you

dead!” ,

Hampton ducked behind June, and, as they were swaying

°

about as June struggled, it was manifestly impossible for
Dick to shoot without endangering her life. Hampton
knew it.

“T call your bluff,” he screamed at Dick. He turned
the muzzle of his revolver against June’s body. “Your
bullet can’t possibly kill me so quickly that I can’t pull
trigger, and at the first motion you make I shall send a
bullet into this young lady’s body.”

Dick drew up with a jerk. Day stopped, and so did
Brad. There were flecks of foam on Brad’s lips. His
eyes were glaring like those of a wild animal. Dick Mer-
riwell, however, kept a cool head, evén in this desperate
moment. But his face was as white as a sheet.

“You won't live a second, if you harm her,” he said;
and though there was not a speck of color in his lips, they
did not tremble. “Be sensible, and release the lady; you
can’t escape.”

But June had not surrendered.

With her right hand she caught the muzzle of the re-
volver that had been turned against her, and pushed
it aside; then she whirled still farther round. Now she
began again to fight desperately. Hampton tried to back
toward his hole in the rocks, but the bushes that had
screened it hampered him.

Dick and those with him were compelled to witness the
struggle without: lifting a hand; in Hampton’s desperate
state, they knew that he would certainly shoot June if he
was crowded, and could do it. They dared not take the
chances.

Suddenly there came an opening. June was still cling-
ing to Hampton’s revolver, pushing it out and away from
her, while he, to maintain his advantage, tried to draw
it inward and turn it again toward her. The wonder was
that in the struggle it did not go off, for the hammer was
raised and Hampton’s finger was on the trigger.

The opening came when the revolver muzzle was pushed
farthest away by June. Dick swung up his weapon.

“Release the lady!” he yelled.

It caused Hampton to exert his full strength. With
a jerk he swung his revolver inward. June struggled
and fought. Then there sounded a muffled explosion.

Brad yelled in agony. Even Day paled. Dick gave a
frantic leap. They were sure that the desperate man had
fired a bullet into June’s body. But it was not so, though
that was what Hampton intended to do, if Dick had
fingered the trigger. :

Almost instantly Hampton himself paled, swayed, then —
crumpled downward. June spun, reeling out of his grasp.

In the wild struggle Hampton had unintentionally pulled
the trigger, and had shot and killed himself. For him .
it was a terrible and dramatic ending.

CHAPTER XI,
BACK IN SANTA FE,

Within the hole under the ledge, Day’s turquoises were
found in their locked box, and lying on top of the box
was the great turquoise that belonged to June Arlington.

June was in a state bordering on hysteria. Seeing it,
Day offered to remain with the body of Hampton, while
Dick and Brad accompanied June back to the camp. On
their arrival there they were to send out Mexicans / with
horses. ak

Although June was so weak that she could hardly get —
down the hill, and swayed in the saddle when she mounted, _

  
  

strength came to her as they journeyed, so that by the time
they reached camp, after slow progress, she was in much
Kasra better condition.

bat A bit of news that they had half anticipated greeted

them there. Rafael Reyes had mounted his horse during
their absence and had ‘ridden off in the direction of
Santa Fe.

uty. The death of Hampton had, of course, shattered Dick’s

plans. There was no one now to bargain for the turquoise
mine, and pay for its investigation. So there was noth-
ing to do but to return.

As soon as a body of Mexicans had been dispatched to
the point where Marcus Day was awaiting them, Dick or-
dered the camp to be struck. Within less than an hour
afterward the movement toward Santa Fe had begun.

Dick would have remained in camp by the old turquoise
mine but for the fact that June Arlington was so anxious
now to be on the way to town. She was still badly
shaken, Dick had urged that a rest there would be the
best thing for her, but June would not hear of it.

1s Though the distance was twenty miles, and the roads
Ke not of the best, the weary cavalcade came in sight of the
lights of the old town before the hour of midnight. June
hhad stuck to her saddle and refused to stop.

She was nearly exhausted when she reached the home
of her friend, Mrs. Oliver.

Dick and Brad first saw to the needs of the horses, and
Dick paid off his men and the servants. After that was

 

he, done, instead of going to their hotel, Dick and Brad
it strolled round the town, seeking information of Rafael
. Reyes.

Reyes was not to be found. He had returned his horse
to its stable, and before he had left on his trip out from
te : Santa Fe, as Hampton’s secretary, he had given up his
room at the Alcalde Hotel.
beans Dick and Brad visited the Santa Fe railway station, and
the station of the line running into Santa Fe from the
north. They gained no information. The hour was late,
and the night men at the stations knew nothing. Reyes
had reached Santa Fe some time during the day, and he
might have taken a day train out of the town.

Brad sent a telegram to an acquaintance in Albuquerque,
asking if Reyes was known there, or had even been there,
_ with an additional request for information if Reyes came
there now, and urging that his movements should be

‘noted.
_ “TY think,” said Brad, when no word came back from
_ Albuquerque, “that it’s about time for this Texan bison
to hit the tall grass for a wee bit of slumber. And you,
~ old man—TI should think you’d be about dead!”
Yet Dick Merriwell, though he looked tired and haggard,
was still full of energy, and could have remained awake
_ and busy for another twenty-four hours, had it been neces-
‘sary. — .
“You're sure the human dynamo,” Brad remarked;
“pretty soon I’ll have to keep my eyelids apart by bracing
# them with a pair of toothpicks.”
In the morning Dick found a letter awaiting him in the
: ‘hotel to which it had been sent from the Santa Fe post
office. ‘It was dated at Kansas City, and ran:

“Dean Mr. Merriwett: I regret that I have been de-
d, and shall be compelled to remain here a day or so,
but you may expect to see me soon. En route to this

 

  
  

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

 

nt, on i ‘train pee oe I was robbed - my

  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
   
    
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
   
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 

 

 

 

purse and valuable papers. You may be sure that this ;
placed me in an embarfassing position, on my arrival at "te
this point, and necessitates the delay 1 am now enduring
as best I can, while awaiting funds with which to prosecute ;
my journey and my enterprise. I am sincerely hoping i
that it will not put you to great inconvenience. Perhaps
you can employ the interval in searching the records, mak-
ing the necessary inquiries, or whatever your experience
may show to be needed, to determine Marcus Day’s title
to the turquoise mine. Then as soon as I can reach Santa
Fe, we will proceed with the investigation we have con-
templated. With best wishes, I am, sincerely yours,
“RuperT Hampton.” |

 

“Hampton!” Brad shouted, when Dick showed him the
letter. “Then who was the man that was killed?”

“That’s beyond me,” Dick admitted. “My guess is that
he was the man who robbed the real Hampton of his
purse and papers, He had papers that identified him, when
he came to see me here, so that, though [| didn’t like his
appearance, I couldn’t doubt that he was Hampton.”

Brad scratched his head, and read the letter again. |

“But, see here—what was his game, then? He couldn’t
buy the mine—didn’t intend to buy it; didn’t care a hoot
about it!”

“You saw what his game was—he showed his hand. Yy
Yet he may have had several plans, Perhaps he intended ;
to make a payment, to bind the bargain, in the sale of
the mine—and to offer Day: a check of such a figure that s
it would induce Day to pay him, as change, a sum of .
money. And’of course he intended to steal anything he
could lay his hands on. The opportunity came to him 1
to rob Reyes of the turquoise Reyes had stolen from 1

|

aE ag ete

in Me Ein Tg Mas

you, and to steal the box of turquoises from Day. Then
he cut out. To what refuge he meant to fly I don’t |
know; he may not have had clear plans of that him- (3
self. Of course he intended to strike the railway some- \
where, and get out of the country as soon as he could.” i
Brad blew out his breath in a low whistle. . es
“The nerve of the fellow!” 1
“When Hampton arrives, he may be able to identify i
the body of the man we thought was Hampton; he was |
an Englishman, and he must have had knowledge of ;
Hampton’s plans. He couldn’t have dropped in and oenee: ;
so readily as Hampton otherwise.” i

“Right you are,” Brad agreed. “Reyes couldn’ have lL
been in with him, of course, and I had got it through my 4 ite
wool that he was. But, say—what if this fellow is another B
faker?” He tapped the letter. “But that couldn’t be;
there couldn’t be two fake Hamptons. I guess I’m rattled.”

“Well, this case is enough to rattle any one,” Dick
declared.

Dick and Brad went forth at once, seeking Marcus Ker
They found him at one of the smaller hotels. He was
in his room, guarding his box of turquoises, as he did want
to leave them at a bank. ;

“Whoop—another. Hampton!” he ed when Dick |
showed him the letter. “Well, let’s hope that this time _
he’s the goods. This last time plum’ soured me.” .

e He added soberly:

“Me and the Mexicans got in jest before daylight, ek
the body we brought in is at the undertaker’s. There was
a reporter ‘here not ten minutes ago, asking me more
questions than I could think of in a week. He got the
hull story. Lagk, out fer some Lae ema ‘

    
    
     
     
     
   
       
    

  

     
    
      

    
 

in his paper, about the great Dick Merriwell, and

words,
op the battle on that hill; yes, and about the big turquoise,

and the little turquoises. He’s got it all. There will be
red letters in a scare head a yard, high, I bet ye.”
; In this respect, Marcus Day was a prophet.

CHAPTER XII.

RAFAEL REYES,

 

Fe gee” Sg

That same day, while crossing the plaza, Dick Merriwell
came almost face to face with Rafael Reyes, who but a
minute before had descended to the street from the office
of Ramon Ruiz.

“Hello!” said Dick.

; Reyes whirled round. His face paled, but seeing he
eB could not escape he stood rigid as a soldier at atten-
tion,
“T’ve been looking for you,” said Dick.

“I have not been looking for you, Meester Merriwell.”
13 “In fact, you would prefer not to see me?”

! “Not at all. Why should you say it?”

‘? “The way you cut out from the camp, for one thing.”

“Had I not a right to do that?”,said Reyes, watching
Dick through narrowed eyes. “My employer, Mr. Hamp-
ton, had departed. You said that he was a thief, and that
he had run away, and—how shamefully he had treated
me!’ Fire came into his dark eyes again. “He beat me,
and he tied and gagged me, and he robbed me—my em-
ployer. After that, why should I have remained in the
ii camp, even if he had returned, or had been brought back
to it? There was no reason; so I left.” »

f “You are not stopping at the Alcalde?” said Dick.

i; Reyes’ glance was venomous.
. “You have been there to inquire? Was it your affair?
yi I stop where I please. Just now, though—for no doubt
l. you or your spies will learn it—I am stopping at the
home of my good friend, Ramon Ruiz, the genealogist,
‘whose sign you may see on the door there, if you choose to
look.” A

Dick drew forth a telegram; which a short half hour
before Brad had received from Albuquerque. Brad's
friend in that place had wired him that Ramon Reyes was

: unknown there.
; “So?” said Reyes, eying it, when Dick exhibited it.
iy “Why does Meester Buckhart concern himself to learn
j if I am known in Albuquerque? It is none of his beesi-
ness.”

a

nine

a
.

i; “You informed him that it was your birthplace, and he
aay understood that you had lived there up to a time so recent
can that you would be remembered. You will recall his refer-
. ence to a Reyes he had seen there, who was on a water
wagon?”

“And Meester Buckhart preferred whisky to water.”

}

|

; Dick laughed.

‘ “Did he say that? Brad is always on the water wagon.”
le. ‘! Reyes shrugged.
yy 5 “Are you through with me, Meester Deek Merriwell?”
| he asked.

“JT seem to be for the present,” Dick admitted, “I bate

_ some thoughts about yon in the back of my head, but just
_ now I'll let them stay there,’

f Chaves narrowed eyes,

came‘into view, and his pallor
deepened. |

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY... , 21

_ The burning spots, as of fiery light back of the pupils of

    
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
 
   
  
  
   
    
 
   
   
    
   
  
 
    
    
  
   
 
   
  
  
     
      
     
       
 
      

“Beware!” he warned; “eef you seek to trouble me——”

“Pouf! As soon as I get anything against you that I
can make a case on in a court, I’ll dare to trouble you,
all right.”

“Beware!” repeated Reyes; but he was frightened, and
hastened to put the plaza between them.

Dick stood looking after him.

“Where have I seen that fellow?” was his thought. “I
have seen him, and I’ve had trouble with him. Perhaps
the recollection of it will come back to me.”

While Dick Merriwell was writing his report of what
he had done, and everything connected with it, for the
enlightenment of his brother Frank and the Merriwell
Company, a group of Santa Fe baseball boys came to
call on him.

“That game with the regulars,” they said; “we were to
cross bats with them, you know, if the missing members
of our Santa Fe nine could be rounded up while you were
here. We've got them, and the game is on for this after-
noon, with Mr. Dick Merriwell pitching for Santa Fe.”

“All right,”-said Dick; “I’ve been through some strenu-
ous experiences, but I’ll be with you, and we'll give them
a run for their money.”

Outside Dick’s room the baseball boys lined up, and
their cheers, prophetic of coming victory, rent the air.

Dick Merriwell was in the box that afternoon for Santa
Fe. And the memory of their recent defeat was wiped out
by a victory of so smashing a character that it set the
old town wild.

THE END,

“Dick Merriwell’s. Turquoise Tussle; or, The Fight for
the Mine,” is the title of the story that you will find in
the next issue of this weekly. Old readers and new ones
will find this a story of unusual interest. The Merriwells.
are back in Trp Top, and they are back to stay, and Burt
L. Standish has not lost any of his dash and fire in telling —
of the doings of this famous family and of their friends—
and enemies.

SECRETS OF SNAKE CHARMING.

A snake charmer can, by a simple motion of his hand, —
make a moving snake stop instantly. The reason is this:

The snake is a most timid animal. His eyes, while
dull to color and form, are quick to motion, especially
if it is rapid. If any large thing moves very quickly too
near him, he gets frightened and scurries off; while at_
certain distances the motion stops him, if he be moving.

He stops from astonishment, fear, or the wish to see :
what it is that moves. Hence he glides on, unconscious _
of the charmer’s presence near him so long as the latter —
remains perfectly quiet; the snake doesn’t know him from *,
a tree or a rock. ;

But when he gives a sudden evidence of life, the date:
is astonished, and immediately remains stock-still.

In India and Africa the charmers pretend the snakes
dance to the music, but they do not, for they never hear
it. A snake has no external ears, and perhaps gives evi-
dence of sound only thréugh its skin, when sound causes:
bodies in “contact with him to vibrate. . RG

They hear also through the nerves of the tongue, but
do not at all comprehend sound as we do. However, the —
snake's eyes are very much alive to the motions of the

 
 

   

 
SO gs MET

  

  

charmer, or to the moving drumsticks of his confederate,
and being alarmed, he ‘attempts to strike.

A dancing cobra—and no other snakes dance—is simply
a cobra alarmed and in a posture of attack. He is not
dancing to the music,- but is making ready to assail the
charmer. '

Men and Treasure.
By R. KEENE THOMPSON.

(This nnd story was commenced in No. 100 of the NEw Tip
TOP WEEKLY ack numbers can be obtained fom your news
dealer or the publishers.)

i CHAPTER VI.
; THE BLACK BAR.

Brood broke the thoughtful silence that hung upon the
party on deck, still facing toward the point on the
ocean’s heaving expanse where the burial had taken place.

“Well,” he said, “night’s coming on!”

Vaine turned from the rail.

“That’s true,” he said. “We'd better be finding what-
i ever lamps or lanterns.there are on board, and getting
them lighted. I don’t want to run across any more un-
Py pleasant surprises in pitch darkness!”
es “I was going to say,” the engineer began.
“Hist? The reporter beckoned him out of earshot

of the others. “I’ve just thought of something. Funny

it didn’t strike me before.’ This—what cargo is the ship
carrying ?” ;

_ Brood stared at him. “Cargo?” he repeated.
should I know ?”

“You shouldn’t,” Vaine remarked.
think a minute about what that idea suggests.
i gests anything to you?”

“It doesn’t.”

“Um! It dawns on me that a ship this size could carry
almost anything. From a consignment of caged beasts

 

 

“But you might
If it sug-

 

_. for the circus and menagerie business, to—but I see you
catch my drift now. Yes, what if this ship’s cargo should
be ~wild animals—tions, tigers, and the like? Some of

them may have got loose and caused the crew to duck—
a prowling leopard or two may be roaming the ee
deck now——”

_. “That’s preposterous!” Brood scoffed. “Wouldn’t we
have had some indication of it before now if that was
the case? Remember, we’ve pretty thoroughly over-

hauled the ship. I haven’t seén anything on four legs
prowling about yet, nor anything that looks like a cage,

and neither have you.. This is alittle attempt at humor,

isn’t. it?” .

_ Vaine was rubbing his knuckles.

“No,” he said. “I’m serious, Cut out the wild-animal

part; that was the first thing that popped into my head,

and I guess there’s nothing in it. But the cargo—what-
ever it is, I’ll take a dying chance and bet a hat it’s that
that caused the sailors to fly the coop!”

_ “And murder the captain?”

“Yes,” the reporter mused, “that, too, for all I know.
Look here. You're as sure as I am that it wasn’t any

Teak that drove everybody off before we came along,
is you? Believe me, the shooting: up oP the avert

;

  

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

“How |

~ te ‘
rr; rere eens eee eS

didn’t’ provoke the exodus, either. Then what did send
every man jack helter-skelter off the craft as though the
devil was at his heels?

“The cargo, that’s what. You mark my words, you’ll
find there’s something funny about it before long. I don’t
know what, but—here, listen. Once I read in some book
or other of a-vessel loaded with chemical substance that
was almighty-valuable, but had the unfortunate trick of
drawing all the nails out of the boat. That was fiction,
you understand. They say fact is stranger; but we'll
say, for the sake of argument, that fact and fiction run
neck and neck.

“Now, what’s to hinder this ship being freighted with
some sort of stuff that will cause her to sink after a
while? The crew, we'll suppose, finds out about it, tells
the captain he’s got to throw the whole business over-
board, shoots him when he refuses, and deserts in a body
through sheer fright——”

“Oh, that’s enough!” Brood checked him. “Who
wants to listen to such idiotic theories at a time like
this? Not I.”

He moved away.

“As I started to say, night is almost at hand. ~We
ought to be doing something to get off this ship. Night
offers us the best chance of being seen by another vessel.
Rockets—every boat has a stock of them, I’m sure. Let’s
scour the ship for all the Roman candles, torches, and
skyrockets we can find, and set ’em off at regular inter-
vals when there’s a dark-enough background.”

“Great!” cried Hawkins, starting for the companion-
way.

His descent was blocked by Professor Hoxley, hurry-
ing up the ladder just then, agitated by some peculiar ex-
citement which caused his eyes to glisten and his breath
to whistle through his teeth.

“Mr. Vaine!” he cried, bustling forward. “Mr. Vaine
—where. did you get this?”

He held out, by a severe muscular effort, one of the
blackened bars that the reporter and Reegan had carried
up from the hold.

“Down below,” said Vaine indifferently. “Why, Wuat’s
the matter?” ;

The scientist was actually trembling,

“Whereabouts ‘down below’?” he persisted.

“In the hold among the cargo.”

“The cargo!” Hoxley laid the brick on deck and
mopped his face with a crooked elbow.
were more of these where you found this?”

The reporter laughed shortly.

“About a thousand or two,” he said.
—Cesar’s ghost!”

He flashed a look at Brood, then stepped toward
Hoxley.

“T get you!” he said abruptly. “These Pm aA ica
bricks—they’re not quite so innocent as they look ; are
they, eh?”

“No,”

“Why—Professor

said Hoxley, “they are not!”

* Triumphant now, Vaine looked the engineer in the eve on

and smiled a superior smile.

“You're a metallurgist, sir,” he addressed the dated

“and you can tell. us just what those black bars are.
Can’t) you! ” race

“i Cah,

“The—there

 

lean

 

 

 

    
    
    
    

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/

,

-“And the name ‘is——’ :
The scientist bit his lips to stop their quavering.
“The name,” said he,

| less. familiar, is solid gold!”

AS of NORAP TER: VIET.
QUEER CARGO,

As if paralyzed by the professor’s announcement, they
rei all stood staring at him in dazed silence.
8 Then Hawkins walked forward and kicked the brick of
metal on the deck dubiously.

“You mean to say,” he snapped at the professor, “that
{\ this stuff is—is. gold?”
rt Feverishly Hoxley’s hand dove in his pocket.
1. “T'll_show you!” he said, laughing tremulously. “You'll
i. see!”
I Pulling out a eiakitike, a: fell on his knees over the
4 bar.- The steel flashed, and bit into the surface of. the
oblong. Layer after. layer of black verdigris peeled off,
And there lay ‘an inch-square surface of yellow, the yel-
low of ripe oranges, pure sunshine, gold!

 

“There, sir!”
the heart ofthe shining patch and presented it to Hawkins
on the knife blade. “There—that’s worth just about ten
dollars. Only that much. You saw how soft it. was?
That’s because it’s pure—without alloy—the most won-
derful, wonderful gold I have ever seen—ever handled!”

He rattled on like a babbling child.-
“This is rare—old—more@phan antique. I should say
' that it came from some storehouse of. the Aztecs, per-
haps.
race of people long forgotten. Pure, pure gold! From
the South—yes, unmistakably from some rich vein in
southern territory—perhaps in South America——”
ae Hawkins was turning the morsel of metal over and
over in his pudgy fingers, eying it gloatingly.

pes Sneha ented

i i

“And to think,” he snarled, glowering up suddenly at
Vaine, “that you threw three bars of this overboard with
that bag of lifeless flesh not fifteen minutes ago! Thou-

? :

sands of dollars gone to the bottom of the ocean!
“There’s plenty more,”
“where those came from.”

the reporter said brusquely,

= oem Seng asenat atic
a as tl ee

nine

“You're sure?” the financier asked eagerly. “You're
positive—there’s as many bars as you. said in the hold?
Surely ?”

“Thousands ‘of ’em, Vaine answered laconically.

‘Brood touched his arm, —

“And why,” he said, with a nod toward the black brick
over which Hoxley was still bending, “do you think the
ship was deserted now?”

_ The reporter said nothing. But he rubbed his knuckles
frantically with the palms of both hands.

Be Up the companionway behind them came Reegan, stag-
ay gering with the weight of a square, péculiar-shaped ‘box
_ in his arms. °
professor cleared the companion ladder, bent on finding
the rockets to which Brood had referred.

¥ ‘Lumbering forward, the heavy case Against his brawny
chest, the man called out:

_ “Here y’ are, boss!”

The engineer looked around.
And as he did so, his face turned suddenly from. bronze
to ash gray. His mouth opened. His eyes seemed popping

 

 

 

  

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

“with which you are all more or

The professor sliced out a piece from -

Surely it was modeled into’ this form by some

The stoker had gone below as soon as the’

the difficulties of getting this treasure out of the wilds

heels and Pople a Jig for om:

23
from his head as they fastened on the queer casket that
the stoker laboriously lugged with him.

He took a step toward him.

“Where—where did you get that?” he asked, in a
strained voice.

Reegan, at sight of his face, stopped.

“Down below,” he answered, as Vaine had done be

fore. “It’s—it’s the Roaming candles and the skyrollickers
you was askin’ fer, boss. “Leastways, I guess that’s what’s
Ba naccbeinlat?

Brood had never ceased staring at the box in the
stoker’s arms. Made of some odd wood, curiously carven
and fitted with hinges and trimmings of strange design
and workmanship, it appeared to fascinate him. Now he
raised his arm slowly, with tense purpose in the gesture,
and leveled a finger at Reegan.

“Put that down!” he said distinctly. i

All too literally and with overzealous promptness the ia
stoker obeyed him. Startled by the look on the young
man’s countenance, as well as amazed at his menacing
manner, he let the case slip from his hold,

Crashing, the thing fell to the deck. The force of im-
pact proved too much for the old wood and quaint hinges. p
Simultaneously with the thud of the box, as it hit the
boards below, sounded a crunch and splintering, a rend-
ing and ripping

And out of the sprung sides of the casket ran a widen-
ing stream of flashing, sparkling, unset jewels!

Dozens, hundreds, thousands of them, rubies, sapphires,
emeralds, glinting, gleaming, gorgeous, they ran in a
never-ending flow from the burst box. Somé they re-
covered by the scooping handful; others rolled away,
bouncing like worthless pebbles over the deck, dribbling
off the scuppers and into the sea.

“What have we got here?” Hawkins was chortling glee-
fully, as he hopped around, retrieving all the stones
that rolled his way. “What have we, here, eh? What—
what have we got!” .

‘ Brood rose, stretching up to his full height.

“Tl tell you what we’ve got!” he roared, in a tone
so loud that the rest stopped, looking up at him in
wonder. “We’ve got my treasure—the one I found in
Peru last winter—the one I was taking you, Hawkins, and
you, professor, to see when that blamed steamer sank and
stranded us! Yipee

“Oh, I can prove it! This bar of gold that. Hoxley’s
opened up for us—didn’t he say it must have come from late
South America; that it could only have been modeled in
that brick form by an old-time race like the Aztecs ¢ or ~~
Incas? :

“This box, here—ask the professor if he doesn’t recog: i
nize it as the handiwork of those same ancient Incas. He
knows. He’s been below Panama times enough, and _
studied South American customs and tribal wore often ei
enough, to tell you that I’m right. +

“Think of it!” Brood threw up his arms. “Think of a
the howling, unheard-of luck. Here I am, on my way
back to Peru, with a capitalist in tow, whom I’m trying -
to persuade to put up enough coin to help me surmount *

 

 
   
   
 
 

and into civilization and circulation—and I suddenly blun-
der on it, all crated, marked ‘handle with care,’ and de-
livered to my door! ' Can you beat it?”

With a jubilan: whoop, the young man kicked up

 
      
      
      
      
_ several million dollars to our credit, marooned
fectly seaworthy vessel without a crew, unable to sail -

ie; fifth, Vaine, with Hawkins’.

NEW TIP_TOP WEEKLY

CHAPTER VIII.
A PASSENGER.

Vaine grinned at Hawkins.

“So that was what you were bound South for, eh?”
He poked the millionaire in the ribs. “You swallowed a
story of buried treasure, and came down to investigate?
Well, I’m darned!”

Hawkins drew back pompously.

“T don’t understand your references to my ‘swallowing’
anything, sir!” he declared indignantly. With a look out
‘of the corner of his eye for Brood, he went on: “When
I first heard the story of what this gentleman had found
in Peru, I was much impressed. I saw not only truth in
his story, but_a generous heart in him, who at the time
_ of our initial meeting made me the offer of a half share
in his discovery, which I gratefully accepted at its face
value in business fairness as well as prospect of ae
return !”

He stopped, panting. Out of the corner of his as
eye he peeped at the engineer.

“What do you think of it, eh?” the latter was still ex-
ulting, slapping Vaine on the back as he came to the

akdown at the end of his jig. -“Did you ever hear of
such luck? Landing on this boat, a derelict, stowed away
in whose hold is my own treasure!” ,

Hawkins suddenly frowned.

“But,” he put in sharply, “how does this stuff happen
to be here? You said it was in Peru—that you were the
only one who knew anything about it——”

“I don’t ‘know,” Brood answered soberly.
derstand: This is a mystery, for a fact!”.

Vaine began to rub his knuckles; then caught Himself,
and thrust his hands behind him. He nudged the en-
gineer.

_ “Now, why do you suppose,” he asked, “that the stig
was deserted with a treasure on board the size of this?”
Brood replied gravely.
straight

“T don’t un-

“That’s a deeper mystery,”
“Everything seems to be a mystery, though,
through this business!”
“I wonder,” mused the reporter, “whether anybody
else was ever in a fix just like this? Here we,are, with
‘on a per-

ourselves, and standing an excellent chance of never
altering our situation in the slightest degree. Of course,
now we couldn’t desert this ship to swim to any other
one that comes in sight of us. We’d lose our precious
treastire then. And we can’t allow ourselves to be taken
4 into port by the crew of another craft. We’ re technically
a derelict, and the salvage would gobble ‘up our cargo

» .

“You talk pretty
You're

“Rubbish !” interrupted the financier.
big, it seems to me, of ‘our’ this and ‘our’ that.

not in on the treasure, Aner steat. You don’t figure any-

- where——”
_ “Oh, yes, he does!” announced Brood. “We're all to-
gether in this, share and share alike. You'll get your
So will’ you, professor.
_ And you, too, Reegan.” :
‘The stoker slouched forward.
_ “Would you mind puttin’ that in writin’?”
“What”
“A bit 0” sishiclaibihey offern comes in handy,” Reegan
er € eee when dealin’ with gent’men, I allus

sez. Gent’men, they’ve got short mem’ries at times.
Werry short at times!”

“I side with Reegan,” said Vaine. “A little written
agreement would make me feel better, as—er—I’m dealing
with a financier !” :
To settle the matter at once, they adjourned to the

cabin. There writing paper, pens, and ink were found.

-Rustling’ around in ‘the drawers of the table, a bottle

of brandy was encountered. This was set out for a dram
all around to celebrate the final drawing up the partnership
document.

It fell quite naturally to the lot of the reporter to
take the pen and indite the memoranda of agreement.
Seated at one end of the table, he scribbled industriously
while the others sat talking on the opposite side.

Suddenly Brood, looking up, saw the pen swinging idly \
in the newspaper man’s fingers, while he was propped
bolt upright in his chair, staring straight before him with
wide eyes and hanging jaw. The engineer looked over his
shoulder. The breath escaped his lungs in a sigh as he
gazed at the object of Vaine’s fixed vision.

Framed in the open doorway of a stateroom opening
into the cabin-was a young and beautiful girl,

CHAPTER IX.
A TALE OF TREACHERY.

As the five men stared at her in blank amazement,
the girl put up her hand and leaned, as though very,
very tired, against the jamb of the door. Her lips
moved.

“They are really gone,’
for that!”

And then she swayed forward in a dead faint, Bisod
caught her in his outstretched arms. He carried her
slight form over to his empty chair without much effort.

“Let me have that brandy bottle here!” he ordered,
“Tip the head up—not so far, you fool! There, that’s
better. Gently, now. So!” e

He managed to pour a little of the fiery liquid down
her throat. With a shudder, she stirred, opened her
eyelids, and looked blankly about her; |

“There, Miss Deveraux!” said Alec Brood, smiling.
“You feel better now?” .

The wide, blue eyes of the girl surveyed nae ——

“Do I know you, sir?” she asked.

Swiftly she glanced around at the others, and the color
the spirits had brought to her cheek faded, leaving her
pale. She half rose from her chair, “Have I made a mié-
take? Are i metbers of that horrible band-—”

’ she whispered. “Thank Heaven —

smile peitieieibat: “Be quite ‘satisfied that we are not
members of any ‘band’ that could be given such an ap-
pellation as that. As you seem to have been on this boat ©
before us, and could well look upon our presence as a
trespass if you chose, let me introduce the party and
tell you the story of \how we come to be here.” eae
Forthwith he gave an account of their shipwreck, cide’
on the island, and rescue bythe abandoned vessel. ' .
“You do not know me, Miss Deveraux, ” he sai i
“nor have I ever met you before. ‘But I have s
often enough—as La Tosca, Juliet, Carmen—from a box |
at the Theater Royale, in Brazil, the Alcazar, in Lima;
and in several other opera houses in’ South America: I
would recognize you anywhere, out of costume though

 

m you +
  

| you are, and even without the identification of your superb
voice!

The girl contrived a smile and a tiny bow.

“But to find you here!” Brood went on.
deserted ship! I cannot but believe that it was against
your will you came in such a plight. Am IJ right?”

The young woman lowered her head for a moment in
an effort to collect herself. In the light of the swinging

“Alone on a

ae damp that had been lighted above the table, her fair hair

ey shone like spun gold, its heavy masses over brow and tem-
ples casting a softening shadow on the drawn and
pathetically thin face below. At last she looked up.

"You are right,” she began, in a low tone that had
milisic in its every syllable. “That is, partly right. It, was
fot entirely of my own choosing that I came to be in
that stateroom from which you saw me come just now.
But, perhaps, my story had better be begun at the be-
[ ~ > ginning.

 

» “The opera company with which I have been touring
the South American countries for the past three years,
Me, Brood, met with utter failure in Peru not long since:
‘Stranded’ is the technical term for every member of the
troupe in Lima two months ago who hac no private
finds on which to return north.

tg "[—my salary, barring traveling and living expenses,
has always gone for the support of my family back home.
“Therefore, when the company failed, in arrears with the
pay roll, of course, I-was stuck in the Peruvian capital
hard and fast. -

a "1 wrote to friends for steamer fare home. While I
. Waited for response, I was isolated in a cheap hotel owned
by @ Portuguese. Days and weeks passed, and still no
 “mohey came. Soon I was in debt for a three weeks’
| ‘Board bill. Every day I felt that’ I was likely to be
put into the street. My predicament was terrible, terrible
Salone in a country of strangers, where even my own
tongue was not spoken.
| And then, one day, a man who had followed me, off
and on for many months wherever I sang, found me out.
He wormed out of the Portuguese proprietor my financial
' state. Then he came to me with an offer of relief from
nee dilemma. The offer was in the form of a proposal
of marriage. And the man was Captain Jack McGar!”
For the first time Vaine spoke.
“Pardon. me,” he asked, leaning forward interestedly,

 

 

 

 

: > “do you mean the McGar—the so-called ‘Hell-bent

7 sack r”

“Ves,” said the diva. “You have heard of him?”

a The reporter stniled grimly. \

“4 "Very few who know anything of the doings of the

KS _ world’s famous bad men,” he answered, “have escaped

34 hearing of the captain. In wickedness it might be said

A \ of him that ‘the is of a vintage.” :

id “a "Yes, he is a man more utterly devoid of the one spark
“Hee Goodness we are told the worst have in them than any

vs “Other Of God’s creatures I have ever read or heard of,”
Said the girl. “A rascal, double-dyed and deceitful. As

r es shall hear from me.

a is was not the first time that Captain McGar had

- .. Stl for my hand, nor was it the dozenth, but I de-

ate ed his compliment. A week he pleaded with, me to}

I ange my mind. Then he went away.

gh “A fortnight dragged by. Still no remittance came from

the friends to whom I had appealed. My landlord was

     

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. - 25

  
  
 
  
   
     
  
     
  
  
   
  
  
   
 
   
   
   
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
 
   
  
  
   
   
 
    
   
     
  
     
     
     
       
       
     
 

growing surly, insulting. Things were truly at a desperate
stage when the American consul appeared.

“A pleasant Yankee youth he was. He told me that he
had heard of my straits—the Portuguese, he said, had re-
ported to him that I, an American, was defrauding him
out of lodgings and board, and had appealed to the United
States government, through its representative, to settle
my due and deport me—and he knew of a way to help
me out.

“A party of my fellow-countrymen tourists were re-
turning to San Francisco in their sailing yacht. They
would take me with them if I cared to go. He, the
consul, would pay my bills and debit the government for
them in the regular course of business. Would I accept
such help?

“I was willing for almost anything. I packed my trunks,
had them sent to the good Samaritans’ boat, and waited
in a fever of impatience for night, when I was to go on
board. All was quiet on the yacht when I arrived about
ten o'clock of /a pitch-black, moonless night. I went at
once, to my stateroom.

“And we were far out to sea the next morning, when I
opened my door and came face to face with the ‘tourist’
who. was_so kindly bearing me away from my trou-
bles

“Captain Jack McGar!”

 

CHAPTER X.
THE DESERTERS.

For a few moments, Miss Deveraux was silent, her
face buried in her hands.

“Tricked,” she continued at last, “by this man, who had
laid his trap—so cleverly that he had fooled even the con=
sul—to get me on board a ship of his own, and who
meant| to marry me in spite of myself by so doing, for [

was absolutely helpless.

“No use, out of sight of land, to appeal for aid to any-
body on board the vessel. Such a. crew—the men with
whom Captain McGar had surrounded himself were, like
him, rascals to the core!

“IT had sooner been among savages than on the: sea
with these rakings of the lowest type of ruffians to be
found in a month’s journey up and down the South
American coast—cutthroats, thieves, smugglers, what not
that was. criminal and depraved.

“And with what a leader! From the’moment I shrank ,
back at first sight of him on the threshold of my state-
room, Captain MeGar held me in mortal terror in or out
of his sight.

“Quite plainly, now that I was in his power, he told

me that I should be his whether I would or no. He
would make me wed him.
“Taking a small but serviceable revolver from my

corsage, I showed it to him.

“With this,’ I promised, ‘the first time you so much
as lay your finger’s. weight upon me, I will kill myself.
Remember.’

“McGar laughed; nevertheless, I was unmolested for
several days as the ship sailed on—where to? I did not
know. What our destination was, and the fate that
awaited me there, I could not tell. Can anything worse
be imagined than my situation at the mercy of this arch
rogue and his pack of underlings? Every hour, minute,

 
  

26

second was torture of the keenest sort to nerves and body
harassed to the point of distraction.

“Then one night, things came to a crisis. Captain Mc-
Gar and his men had been drinking heavily for several
days. Coming from a breath of air on deck, as I passed
through the cabin where my would-be husband and a
chosen few of his- fellow knaves were sprawling, the cap-
fain threw his arm around me at the threshold of my
room.

“IT shook him off, stepped inside, and slammed and
bolted the door in his face. There was a look in his
eyes, half doubt, half fear, as I struggled out of his
clasp and shot a significant glance at him before the door
separated us.

“He remembered my promise, and he knew that his
action had called for a settlement of my part of the
agreement. But would I do as I had threatened? Of
that he was skeptical, and at the same time afraid, fear-
ful lest I should take my own life, and so cheat him
out of the aim he had wrought mightily to accomplish.

“Inside the stateroom I did not falter. Walking to the
center of the apartment, I took out my pistol and cocked
it with a firm finger. Then I pressed the muzzle to my
forehead. .

“For the sin of suicide I hoped I would be forgiven
in that I was. avoiding in this way a greater crime. Then
I threw up my head, curved my finger around the trig-
ger——

“And just then an. eerie, blood-curdling scream rang
out in the cabin.

“Startled, I lowered the weapon. Another fearful,

wailing screech, as of a lost soul going down to eternal
torment. And then a riot of excited voices filled the
cabin outside my. door.
_ “In the general din I could not make out what had hap-
pened. Then there was a lull, and on the silence fell
the voice of Captain McGar. It was plain that he ad-
dressed his crew. From what I heard, they wanted to
leave the ship—for what reason I do not know—and he
was urging them to stay.

“A stemless torrent of refusal welled up fromthe cut-
“throat rabble; - Out of the Bedlam rose the shout of, one of
thé captain’s henchmen; siding with his chief in. the argu-
ment that the crew remain. His voice was snuffed out
in the crack of a pistol. Again pandemonium reigned.

“Then another lull, and Captain McGar agreed to de-
sert the ship with his crew. Scampering footsteps run-
ning out of the cabin rose.at once. All outside my
door was silent. From the deck above I heard “hoarse
shouting, rough commands, and the noise as of the small
boat being lowered over the side.

“And. then, lightly, craftily, somebody’s fingers) went
scraping up and down and across my stateroom door.

“The cabin was not entirely deserted. It was as I had
begun to suspect. This was a ruse to draw me out.
The crew, in their frantic demands to be allowed to
abandon the vessel, were only playing their parts in an
impromptu theatrical, arranged and stage-directed by Cap-
tain Jack MeGar. There was no intention of leaving
the ship at all!

“The screams, the shots I had heard, and that tramping
about and shouting on the deck above, all—all were tricks
being played upon me. And now, waiting outside my

“door, the captain himself lurked to catch me unaware.
I raised my revolver ‘and deliberately

“All was silence.

 

 

 

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

aimed it at the panels of oak before me. Intending t
foil that villain outside with. a bullet that might pierce the
wood and find his heart, so ending forever his machina-
tions against me afd others, | fired.

“When the reverberations of the report had done
ricocheting from the .walls around me, I listened. An
instant only the silence held. And then there was a fat-
tle of pulleys and blocks from above, I heard a smash
of something solid striking the water, and then—silenee
deeper than before.

“That was three days ago. Three——” The gitt
stopped, the color streaming from her face, and gripped
the table edge before her tightly. “Three days sinee”—
she smiled faintly—‘“since the silence-~and——”

With a sigh, she collapsed.

Chafing her wrists, trying to force brandy between
her clenched teeth, Brood on one side and Vaine on the
other sought to restore her to consciousness. . At last she
opened her eyes.

“What is it?” asked Brood.

“I—I’m just a little hungry,” said the opera star we akly.
“I didn’t dare step out of that stateroom. ever sifite=
since three days ago, till to-night!” A

The engineer started for the galley.

“Good Lord!” -he muttered. “She’s starving —beer half
dead for the want of food all the time we've kept her
talking. What beasts we were!”

He brought back biscuits, tinned meats, a. sumptuous
repast of all the delicacies afforded by the well-stocked

larder of the ship. These the girl devoured daintily, Hl |

she could eat no more.

“Miss Deveraux,” said Vaine, when, she sat. back: at
last, “one question, if you don’t mind? It’s this: Did you
ever hear anything of what the cargo of this vessel was
while you were on board with that gang?”

Her eyes lighted.

“Oh, yes!” said she. “I almost forgot.
derful treasure down in the hold some place.
tell you all about it!”

TO BE CONTINUED.

There’s a won
Let me

 

HOW THEY SHOOT THE NILE RAPIDS,

Arab boys are expert swimmers, and, like boys in gen
eral, are fond of- displaying. their skill before- strangers,
if only they are rewatded by some small coin.
the. rapids of the Nile in the following manner:

Seating themselves astride a log of wood about six feet
long, and buoyant enough to support them waist-high out
of. the water, they ride it with the. seat and gestur#s of a
jockey, and with hands and feet keep it straight with the
line of the current.

The fall is shot with an ease and grace that dows away
with the sense of danger one would expect to feel ab see-

ing a man hurried along amid such a\ boil and turmoil of
waters; but once at the bottom they have a hard struggle .

to induce their horses to turn out of the course.

To do this they avail themselves of the impetus ace

quired by the log in its shoot, and ‘thtowing: thempelves

full length upon it, they seem, with a sudden stroke ye .

the left leg and arm, to drive it and PRESB ELS ott of ee
current.

To fail in this would be dangerous even to Arab Swim-
Immediately below lie the ugly rocks, on which the ait

mers,
heavy stream breaks with frightful violence. ©

They shoot ‘

’

   

Milt iieieh

 

 

   
 
 
 
  
 
Books for Trainets and Athletes.

So many inquiries reach us from week to week con-
cerrling the various manuals on athletic development,
which we publish, that we have decided to keep a list of
‘them standing here. Any number can be had by mail by
_ remitting 10 cents, and 3 cents postage, for each copy, to

the publishers.
“Frank Merriwell’s Book of Physical Development.”
: Ee he Art of Boxing and Self-defense,” by Professor

hysical Health Culture,” by Professor Fourmen.

Should be Pleased Now.
EAR Epitor: Please find inclosed a few comments for
Applause Column.
s I have been reading Tip Top for some time, I thought
yerhaps you would like to hear my verdict on the ‘sto-
es you publith.
do not like the Owen Clancy stories very: well, and I
Ye you are about through publishing them.
hy can’t you give us readers some more stories about
ip Merriwell and his Dutch pard, Villum Kess; also,
Mose, the colored cook?

JI don’t think Tre Top will ever be the same unless ©

ou have Chip back in the pages of it. Well, still wishing
for Chip, I will close. Yours truly,

A Constant Reaper.

Cheat-Haven, Pa.

&

Gets “Tip Top” Every Week Now.
Dear Eprror: Have been reading Tie Tor for nearly
three years, off and on, but have been getting it every
week from No. 1 of New Tre Tor WEExty until the pres-
ent time. ;
I like the Merriwells best, but like the Clancy stories,
too. I would like them better if there were more base-
ball, running, et cetera, in them.
Will you please send me a set of Tir Top post cards?
aot R. Courtney.
- Box 778, Andover, N. Y.

We have mailed you the cards.

Has Read “Tip Top” from No, 1.

ar Eprror: My weight is about 190 or 104 pounds

eralls; my waist is 42 inches. I am 25 years old.

1 you please tell me what my correct measurements

ould be? I also would like to reduce my weight to about
or 175 pounds.

shave read Tip Top and Top-N otch from number one,

others have written. Will you please send me a set of
Tip Top post cards, and oblige, yours truly,
370 Water Street, Clinton, Mass. Cuas. F. Janpa.

We cre glad to hear from you. Write to us again.
The cards have been mailed to you.

You should have sent us your height. From your letter,
we gather that your proper weight should be 175 pounds.
A man weighing 175 pounds should have a height of 71.9
inches, and his other measurements should be as follows:
Neck, 15.9 inches; chest, contracted, 38.6 inches; chest,
expanded, 42.7 inches waist, 34.4 inches; forearms, 12.1
inches; upper arm, down, 13.1 inches; upper arm, up,
14.4 inches; thighs, 23.5 inches; calves, 16.1 inches.

Work off your extra weight—“dip” and “pull-up” exer-
cises will help you get your waistline down. Have you read
our books on physical culture?

Fine, Clean Reading.

Dear Eprror: Please send me a set of Tip Top post
cards, as I like the Weekly so well. It sure is fine, clean
reading. Yours truly, T. L. Crements.

Stanberry, Mo.

The cards have been mailed to you.

A Tall Boy.

Proressor FourMEN: Being a reader of Tre Top, I take
pleasure in writing you and telling you that I think Tie
Top is a fine paper, but I think they are much better
with Chip in them.

I am sixteen years old, six feet seven inches tall. I
would like to know my correct measurements.

I notice you are giving away sets of post cards.
you please send a set to a Hoosier reader?

Clifford, Ind., Box 24. Nem SutLivan.

Are you sure about your height? If you write me. that
you have it right, 6 feet 7 inches, I will try and give
you your proper measurements, but I have never had the
pleasure to look up to a bor 6 feet 7 inches.

Will

% | Two Lovets of “Tip Top.”

Dear Epitor: My friend Herchel Taylor and I have :
been reading your good Tip Top Weexty for four or five ~
years, and we like it very much. ‘

We took six weeklies regularly every week for a long

_time, but we have decided to only take the Tre Tor, and _

one other now.

We have been very much interested in mate aera Peach
and Dick Merriwell in school and in their after adven-
tures, also, in reading of Chip’s thrilling experiences on
track and_ field, and we were again inaerenneyt: in the

 
  

28 | NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

brave fight made by his chum, Owen Clancy, to regain
the lost fortune of the Clancys, and were much pleased
to note the success, with which he overcame his difficulties,
but we are anxious for him to take Jimmie and join his
chum, Chip, again.

We would be glad to have a set of your Tip Tor post
cards, which you have sent to the other readers.

Hoping for your continued success in rounding up our
old friends of the past Tip Top, for the stories which are
to follow the. Clancy series, we are very truly yours,

2227 Mo. Avenue. Witt Wricat.

2312 Mo. Avenue. HerscHet Taytor.

Granite City, Ill.

We have mailed both of you a set of the cards.

From One of Our Girls.

My brother buys Tir Top, and we all
I would like to have a set of the

’ Dear Epiror:
think that it is fine.
Tip Top post cards.

I am seventeen years old, and my brother has taken
Tir Tor for twenty years. If you publish this letter, just
give my initials, please. Miss H. L. C.

Reno, Pa.

Thank you for your letter. We have mailed you the
cards, and we hope that you will be pleased with them.

Likes Chip’s Adventures Best.

Dear Epitor: I have read Tre Top for three years, and
consider it the best weekly published.

I like the Owen Clancy series, but I like the adventures
of Chip Merriwell better. I would like to have a set
of the Tip Top post cards, also the catalogue of your
weeklies.

Trusting that you get this letter, I remain,

509 N. State Street, Litchfield, Ill. Grorce HAL.

We have mailed you the cards. How do you like the
stories now?

Praise for Butt L. Standish.

Dear Eprror: 1 like the Owen Clancy series very well,
but they are not up to the Merriwell stories by any means.

I have read Trp Top Werxiy for about four years. I
certainly appreciate the work of Burt L. Standish. I think
he should have a high place among the authors of the
world.

Would you please send me a set of post cards and a
catalogue? Yours sincerely, ANDREW Tinrcens.

726 Thirteenth Street N., Fargo, N. D.

We have mailed you the cards.

None Better,

Dear Eprtor: I have been a reader of Tir Tor for over
five years, and there is none better. The new series is all
right, but give me the Merriwells, both young and old.

Will you please look over my measurements, and send
me correct answers? Age, 16; height, 5 feet 11 inches;
weight, 170 pounds; chest, contracted, 36 inches; expanded,
39 inches; neck, 15 inches.

I need a lot’ of developing, especially on my chest and
neck. Please send me your books on physical development
and boxing, also send me a set of post cards. Yours
truly, Gro, Hrmonp.

38 N. Chicopee Street, Willimansett, Mass.

Your weight is good, but get after your chest. It should

be full two inches larger when contracted, and full three
inches larger expanded. 1 feel sure the books will help
you. We have sent them to you, also the post cards.

Thinks Clancy Seties Best.

Proressor FourMEN: I have been a constant reader of
Tip Tor for nearly two years. I like Frank Merriwell,
junior, all right, but think that the Owen Clancy series
are better. Would like to see them continued for some
time longer, and with King as his pard..

Will you please tell me what my measurements should
be? My height is 5 feet 7 inches, and I weigh 142 pounds.

[f you have another set of the post cards, I would be
pleased to receive a packet of them.

Well, will close, hoping-to see this in the Compass, and
to receive a set of the post cards, I remain, yours trul y;

Gainesville, Texas. H. F.
Your measurements should be: Weight, 137.8 pounds;
neck, 13.9 inches; chest, contracted, 34 inches; chest, ex-

panded, 37.2 inches; waist, 29.3 inches; forearms, 10.5
inches; upper arm, down, 10.6 inches; upper arm, up, 12
inches; thighs, 20.1 inches; calves, 13.7 inches.

Has Read Every “Tip Top” Stoty.

Dear Eprror:
ever published, and anything that I missed in Tie Tor
I read in the New Medal Library. Am very glad to see
that Frank, junior, is coming back agate, and I hope you
will never change again. \

I have every New Tip Top on file, and will have them
bound soon. Let me know if there are any special binding
cases. made.

Will you please send me a set of Tip Tor post cards,
and oblige, yours truly, Vincent L. Mort,

275 Atlantic Street, Paterson, N. J.

P. S—I am a drummer in a theater here in Patera:
and have got the whole orchestra to read Tre Top. Even
the ushers have got the fever and go wild over it.

We have mailed you the cards, Sorry, but we have
no special binding cases for Trp Top.

Hope You Liked Them.

Dear Environ: L am a constant reader of Tip Top.
Please send me a set of your Trp Top post cards. Yours
for success, J. P. WiutaMs.

P, O. Box 344, Dillon County, Lalla, S. C.

Always Finds Time to Read “Tip Top?

Dear Epitor: Have read Tip Tor for the past fourteen
years, and I have grown to look upon dear old Frank and
Dick as personal friends. Therefore, you may imagine
my feelings when, upon opening a recent number, I read
of your proposed change. (A change which, in my opinion,
would take the “pep” out of Tip Top.)

My time is so occupied that I find little time for reading,
but, despite this fact, I have always found time to read
my Tie Top. . And why? Simply because of the irresistible
charm and personal magnetism of the Merriwell brothers,

and not through any liking for outsiders, as your new ie
By this you can readily
see that without my true friends and memories of past

characters would necessarily be.

days, there would be no inducements for me to read your
wonderful weekly.
A glance through nearly all the letters favoring a change

I have read every Tip Top story that was.

 

  

 

 

 

   
 
  
   
   
  
 

 

 

 

  
 

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,
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NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

he
shows that they are new readers, to whém our beloved
friends, Frank and Dick, mean nothing. To me, and to
countless other old readers, they are game to the last and
true blue, and no others can take their place. Not even
Chip Merriwell !
1, want a Merriwell to be the central figure in every
Tre Tor to be published.
_ Why not have a reunion of the old flock every year, at
least? Yours truly, A True Tir Topper.
Newport, R. I.

One of the Big Majotity.
Proressor Fourmen: I have been reading Tir Tor for
quite a while, and like it fine.
I like the Owen Clancy and Chip Merriwell stories, but
I like the Chip Merriwells the best.
Please send me a set of Tip Tor post cards, and oblige,
Correctionville, Lowa. B9.' Sh

Seite

We have mailed you the cards.

A New Reader.

Dear Epitor: I have been a reader of Tir Top for
only a few months. I find the Clancy stories the best I
have ever read. I see the Clancy stories end in the
> winety-fourth issue. I hope to see the Clancy stories in
> print for about one hundrediissues. I hope to be a reader
| of Tip Top for some time.

|) Please send me a set of cards and a catalogue, and I

' eo . Wwill be greatly obliged to you. Please do not print this
> Wetter unless you only put my initials. Yours truly,

__ __ Erete, Neb. C.F.

We have mailed you the cards.

Likes “Tip Top.”

Professor FourMEN: I am a reader of Tre Top, and
like it very much. I have heard you are giving away sets
Of post cards. Would be very glad if you would mail me
a set. Yours truly, Jas. Moroney.

1841 Melpomene Street, New Orleans, La.

We have mailed you the cards.

Get After that Chest.

Proressor FourmMen: Having been a reader of Tre Tor
for.a long time, I take the liberty of asking a few ques-
Please criticize my measurements. Age,
15 years; height, 54 feet; weight, 133 pounds; chest, nor-

mal, 31% inches; expanded, 33 inches; waist, 20% inches;
wrist, 634 inches; thighs, 20% inches; calves, 1334 inches;
upper arm, up, 10% inches; upper arm, down, 934 inches;
forearms, 10 inches; neck, 13 inches.

Please send me New Tip Tor Weexty post cards and
catalogue. Yours truly, Harotp Corr.

185r Erie Street, Toledo, Ohio.

Get after your chest, Harold. You must put three inches
more on it. Your other measurements are good, but the
lungs are the main thing.

An Old-timer,

Dear Epitor: I will write a few lines to express my
opinion of New Tip Top Weexty. Up to date I haven't

~ noticed any letters in the Applause Column from. this

State. But, nevertheless, it does not escape our notice.

Now, as this is my first attempt at writing to the Ap-
platise, it does not naturally follow that I am a. new
i

 

 

29

reader, for I have been a reader of Tir Tor for the past
twelve years, and I have quite a few of the stories that
were printed in the Medal Library. Now, I think that
the Owen Clancy series are very interesting, but they can
never equal the’ Merriwells. I see in one of the letters
in the Applause where one reader states that Dick’s story
is unfinished, and I agree with him. We read in the pages
of Tir Top where he went broke in a revolution, and then
he was the universal coach at Yale. What has become of
Jim Phillips, Bill Brady, and Harry Maxwell? I think
you might mention these characters once in a while.
What has become of Hal Darrell and Doris Templeton?
I think it would be a good idea to mention Bart Hodge's
family once in a while. There has not been very much
said about Bart’s daughter for some time. Now, in re-
gard to printing a series of eighteen stories of dif-
ferent characters, I will say that if we are not going to
hear of Merriwell soon, I think it would be a good idea
to print a series about Dale Sparkfair.

I would like a set of post cards if you have any. I hope
you will excuse this lengthy letter. Yours sincerely, an
old-timer, H. Haynes.

423 Jessus Street, Portland, Ore.

You will hear of all your old friends now.

“Tip Top” Getting Better.

Dear Eprtor: Being a reader of Tir Top for the last
fifteen years or more, and a great admirer of all Burt L.
Standish’s works, and also of the Merriwells, will say that
Tip Tor is getting better all the time, but I would like
more of Frank Merriwell, junior.

If you see fit to publish this letter in Tre Tor, please sign

Kansas City, Mo. Oxtp Reaper:

P. S.—You may hear from me some time again. Best
of wishes for Tre Top and all its readers.

1909 East Sixteenth Street, Kansas City, Mo.

We will be glad to hear from you soon again,

Clancy Stories Can’t be Beat,

Dear Epiror: I have been a reader of Tie Tor for a
long time, and I like it better than any other weekly pub-
lished.

[ like the Merriwell stories, but the Owen Clancy stories
can’t be beat.

Will you please send me a set of Tie Top post cards?
Yours truly, Haroip F. Davis.

Woodstock, Ore., Box 36.

The cards have been sent you. Glad you liked the.
Clancy stories. We thought them good, too.

The Longer He Reads It the Better He Likes It.

Dear Epiror: I have been a reader of Tip Top for the
last year, and the longer I read it, the better I like it. I am
glad that Chip is coming back again. Please send me a
set of post cards, and oblige, yours, ever,

Chicago, Ill. A, CHENICEK, JUNIOR.

P. S.—Please send me a catalogue,

We have mailed you the cards and the catalogue.

Runs Away With Circus, Returns With Wealth,

A family party was held at Tomah, Wis., at the home
of Frank Taylor and all the relatives from the neighbor-
ing country were assembled. While they were discussing
Albert Taylor, who as a boy of 1§ ran away with a circus

7
'

——— = noe depen r mene

 
 

30

in 1884 and had been reported dead soon afterward in
the West, a well-dressed stranger opened the door and
walked in.

“Hello, mother!” -he-cried, and grasped an aged woman
in his arms. It was Albert Taylor, who is now a wealthy
merchant at Seattle, Wash.

Rat Robs Gun Slot Machine.

The discovery of a rat working a slot machine averted
suspicion: from several boys who it is thought had been
robbing it, in the Toledo & Ohio Central passenger station,
at Findlay, Ohio, of gum and pennies. Four hundred
sticks of the former and fifty pennies were missed when
a rat was seen climbing up the wall near the machine. It
jumped on the trap in the machine and in this way re-
leased gum and pennies.

Alarm fot Spattows Fails.

Charles A. Boyd, of Cleveland, Ohio, built a bird house
and welcomed the swallows to it, but he resented the fre-
quent visits the sparrows made, Being an ingenious per~
son, he invented an alarm which rang an electric bell
whenever an undesirable English immigrant alighted on
it, It was supposed to scare the sparrows’. However, the
birds seemed to like it and instead of flying away hastily
they went and told their friends about it. Now there
is no room in Mr. Boyd’s’ yard for swallows and he has
abandoned his idea of keeping the bird house vacant for
them.

Gitl’s Hair Torn Out by Belt in Silk Mill,
Frances Perry, daughter of a police sergeant, is at
her home at Paterson, N. J., in a serious condition fol-
lowing an accident in a silk mill where she worked. Her

hair became entangled in a belt and was torn out by

the roots,

Other girl operators heard her scream and saw her
lifted into the air, her hair caught in the slow-moving
belt. Several fainted, but one retained enough presence
of mind to shut off the power.

* Holds His Tobacco Twenty-two Yeats.

W. B. Hampton, a prominent farmer, from Bahama,
sold on the Durham, N. C., market’ 1,296 pounds of tobacco
that was 22 years old. It is said by local tobacco ex-
perts to be the oldest tobacco ever sold on any market.
‘It was in good shape and sold for an average of $70
per 100 pounds. It would have sold for only $15 per
100 pounds twenty-two years ago.

Gets Fortune for Kindness.

Otis Glidden, a milkman, of Princeton, Me., has just in-

herited $45,000 from Thomas Kelley, a market gardener
at North Andover, Mass. In 1891 Glidden lived at North
Andover, near the farm of Kelley, who. lived alone.
When the gardener became ill Glidden nursed him. The
fortune which Glidden has just received, it having taken
lawyers three months to find him, was left as a reward for
his kindness.

To Cross Country in Ox Cart Again.

Every one knows Ezra Meeker, the venerable pioneer
of the Northwest, who has traveled over every part of the
United States in an old cart drawn by oxen. But Meeker
wants to get better acquainted and has just started on

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

 

another trip, which has for a purpose the boosting of a
national highway to the Northwest over the genera} route
of the old Oregon trail. He also will advertise the Panama
Exposition.

Meeker left Seattle by steamer, but at Tadowa he hitched
his two old oxen “Dave and “Dandy” to their cart and
started for Olympia. Thence he will go to Centralia, Che-
halis, Vancouver, and Portland. He proposes to touch
at Salt Lake City, Utah; Denver, Col.; Kansas City, Mo.,
and Chicago on his way to the New Engiand States. He
also plans a visit to the White House at Washington, D.
-. where he will try to get an audience with President
Wilson for the purpose of interesting him in a national
highway along the Oregon trail. Seven years ago he
made/a similar trip and called on President Roosevelt.

The Oregon trail is the hobby of the old veteran, who
came to Puget Sound sixty-one years ago, traveling be-
hind oxen and following that historic route. Meeker says
the trail is the only logical route for a national highway
from Missouri River points.
fact that for one stretch of 800 miles the grade is
than eight feet per mile, evenly distributed.

While in Olympia Meeker will endeavor to interest that
town in a monument whch he proposes to erect commiemo-
rating the advent of the first American settlers on Puget
Sound during the month of October, 1845.

less

Digger Finds Bag of Money.
While excavating for a building at Boonville, Mo. @

workman struck a sack of gold, silver, and paper money

with his pick. The sack is supposed to have been. buried
in the basement of an old building during the Civil War,

It is,not known how much money was found, as the

workmen scrambled for it and nearly all got a »ortion,

One negro got $460.

Bees Are Sent by Parcel Post.

Uncle Sam’s parcel post will carry about ‘6,000,000 bees
from Parkertown, Ohio, during the coming summer im
small packages destined to all parts of the world.

One shipper last year shipped queen bees with their
“escorts” of working bees in little parcel-post packages to
all parts of America, Europe, Japan, Cuba, China, and
the West Indies.

Coaches Team in Hawaiian,

Hugh Jennings, who has made himégelf and the Detroit
Tigers famous by his unusually weird methods of coach-
ing has found a new way to attract attention and at the
same time help his team win.
in the Hawaiian language. He has learned a few
from his Honolulu pitcher, John Brodie Williams. Most
of the words he uses sound like a cross between a Chi-
nese laundryman saying “Yes” and the cackle of a satis-
fied hen. But they have their meaning to Williams and the
Detroit team.

words

She Beats, Feeds, and Lectures Two Tramps.

Mrs. George Burns, wife of a farmer, was awakened
by a noise and descended the stairs to find two tramps
seated at the table eating a luncheon which they had taken
from the refrigerator.
| Seizing a heavy broom, the woman knocked one of
the tramps against the stove and then laid him out with

As proof he points to the

He is coaching this season ©

a smash on the head. The other she hit on the jaw with

   

 

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a blow that curled him up against the ice box. Mrs, Burns
beat both men until they pleaded for mercy.

Touched by the sight of the havoc she had wrought,
Mrs. Burns then fed and lectured the tramps, and later sent
them on their way with a blessing and generous quantity

of bread and meat for the morrow.

Boy Best Wireless Operator.

Fred Irodson, 14 years old, is the best wireless operator
in the vicinity of Battle. Creek, Mich. He takes mes-
Sages occasionally from fast professional “senders” and
knows quite a bit of what is going on at wireless stations
over the country, Young Irodson began in a small way
and talked by wireless with the other boys in the neigh-
borhood. Then, he went to work and made money enough
to construct a steel tower 125 feet high. An “aérial” on
top of this puts the youngster in touch with stations all

Over the country.

jilted Girl Crazed; Fear She May Die.

Physicians have been unable to help Miss Mildred Voor-
helmay 19 years. old, a prominent social and religious
worker, of Binghamton, N. Y., who became delirious when
her fiancé broke an engagement to marry her.

The announcement of the engagement was made several
weeks ago, and it was understood the wedding would
take place this summer. The young man then broke the
engagement and the girl became hysterical and later re-

lapsed into unconsciousness.

The young man is at her bedside constantly as it is

) believed the only chance of her recovery rests with the

 

_ to take through the large telescopes.

 

possibility of her becoming partially conscious and find-
ing her one-time fiancé at her side.

~ “Talks by Wireless to Man on Moving Train.
While an eastbound Lackawanna train was speeding over
the fifty-three miles between Scranton and Stroudsburg,
Pa,, C.. V..Logwood, an engineer, sat in a little compart-

-ment.in one of the coaches and talked easily with an-

other engineer who was sitting in the wireless operator’s
room in the railroad station at Scranton.

The train did. not stop between Scranton and Strouds-

burg and its speed was never less than fifty miles per
hour, but a continuous conversation was .maintained by
the two men. It was the first successful trial of wireless
telephoning between a moving. train and a fixed station.
It proyed. conclusively that, wireless telephony will soon
revolutionize the railroad world.
. The Blade some time ago told how the Lackawanna
system had installed wireless-telegraph instruments on its
trains. The recent telephone experiment was the develop-
ment of wireless telegraphing from a moving train to a
station.

Scientists Discover Water on Planet Mars,

The theory that water exists on the planet Mars has
been confirmed by photographs which it is now possible
The speetograms,
as the photos are called, were taken at an observatory at
Flagstaff, Ariz., by Doctor Percival Lowell, who has been
a close student of Mars for many years.

Scientists have long claimed that water exists on Mars,

. but in 1894 several astronomers gave what they considered
g00d proof refuting the theory. Professor Lowell claims

his photos are indisputable, It is estimated. that the at-

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY:

 
 

31

mosphere of Mars contains about one-third as much mois-
ture as the atmosphere of the earth.

Although Mars is approximately 94,000,000 miles away
it was proved long ago that it had an atmosphere and sea-
sons similar to those of the earth. Many astronomers
claim Mars is inhabited. Huge ditches, which are very
plainly seen through powerful telescopes, are said to ‘be

the work of the people of that planet,

Veteran Hearse Driver Attends 9,000 Funerals.

Charles Turner, of Detroit, Mich., has attended approxi-
mately 9,000 funerals within twenty-four years, yet he re-
tains a cheerful, happy disposition. Turner, who is a
hearse driver, says he believes he has established a world’s
record in the matter of frequent attendance at burial cere-
monies.

“T regret that I have not kept any record of the funerals
I have attended,” Turner said. , “However, I’m .abso-
lutely safe in estimating that I have attended 375 funerals
a year for the last twenty-four years. That’s just a
little better than one a day.”

Turner has been in every cemetery within a radius of
twenty miles of Detroit. He is only 42 years old.

Herd of Cattle Jumps Off Fifty-foot Cliff.

Over a cliff, fifty feet high, twenty-six cattle deliberately
jumped to their death near the Wenaha forest reserve,
according to Ray Hester, who returned to Lewiston, Idaho,
from his stock ranch in Washington, adjoining the reserve.
A 2-weeks-old calf, one of the last to jump off the preci-
pice, was uninjured.

‘The animals were being taken to pasture by men living
in the Anatone district. After camp had been pitched
for the night the cattle started to move and became friglit-
ened when those in charge of them tried to head them
off. The animals ran up to the edge of the cliff and with-
out hesitation jumped. Twenty-six were killed before the
herd was headed the other way.

~ Mayor Unmuzzles Town’s Dogs.

The first official act of Mike Boylan, boy mayor, of
Virginia, Minn., was to rescind the order to muzzle all
the dogs in Virginia.

“It breaks my heart to see all the dogs in town muzzled,”
the mayor said. “I want the things taken off. I have in-
structed the police to see that this instruction is carried
out to the letter.”

Boylan is the owner of several fine dogs. —

Swims in Eggs; Cost Him $550. “a4

Mystery surrounds a peculiar accident which befell
Morris Elbloom, an egg merchant, as he was driving a
wagon of “hen fruit” across some railroad tracks in
Chicago. Elbloom doesn’t know what happened and’no one
else does, for there were no witnesses, but it is supposed
the wagon was overturned by a train.

When Elbloom recovered he was underneath the wagon
swimming in eggs, 9,000 of them. They were in his hair,
his hands, his face, and his clothing. The bath cost him
$150, the price of the eggs. ;

_

Holds Court in Ambulance.
_ Tiring of repeated delays in the hearing of Joseph
Eldered, charged with burglary, County Judge Neimann
held court in an ambulance, at New York. The vehicle

  

 
 

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32

was taken to Eldered’s home, he was carried into it on
a stretcher, and was driven to the courthouse. The judge
then went into the ambulance and held court. Eldered
pleaded not guilty and was released on $1,500 bond. He
was found in the basement. of Wesley B. Smith’s oyster
house, underneath a trapfoor made to catch burglars. His
leg was broken by the fall.

His Train Two Months Late.

President Ellis Thorwaldson, of the North Dakota Rail-
road, which runs twenty-two miles from Concrete to Edin-
burgh, called on President L. W. Hill, of the Great North-
ern, and borrowed a locomotive from him recently.

“Mine’s sick,” said Thorwaldson, “and we haven't pulled
a train for two months. Farmers along the line are
beginning to think our train must be late.”

Thorwaldson lives beside his line at Mountain, N. D.,

where he is president of the bank, postmaster, and well

digger.

Louvre Burglar Alarm,

The French government is determined that Mona Lisa
shall not be stolen again.

Extraordinary precautions have now been taken to pre-
vent this or any other of the treasures of the Louvre from
being taken away.

One of the first steps taken to safeguard the Louvre
was to employ a number of dogs of the clever breed known
as police dogs. One of them guards every 50 feet of
wall space day and night. No man can now put a hand
over the railing in front of the pictures without having
a dog after him. \

The next protective measure was to connect the pictures
by a rod so that all those along a certain wall space can be
locked up from one lock. Formerly each picture hung
separately.

Under the new afrangement each line of pictures hangs
upon one flat rod By hooks in the frame, which only admit
the rod when it is turned edgewise to the opening in the
hook. Then the rod is turned so that the picture cannot
be removed from it and is locked in that position.

Little chambers have also been constructed behind the
carved moldings near the ceiling from which the guardians
of the Louvre can secretly watch every person in the
rooms. The knowledge that a hidden guardian is watching
them is expected to have a terrifying effect on would-be

thieves.

The pictures have also been connected by electric wir-
ing. Any tampering with them closes a circuit and causes

- an electric bell to ring loudly.

The return of Mona Lisa has only emphasized the neces-
sity of guarding against occurrences in future. The con-
fession of Vincenzo Perugia has revealed the astonishing
ease with which he was able to walk away with what is
probably the most valuable art treasure in the world.

Two Planes Will Try to Cross Atlantic.

When Rodman Wanamaker is ready for his proposed at-
tempt to send an aéroplane across the Atlantic Ocean for
the $50,000 prize offered by Lord Northcliffe, he will have
two machines to make the start instead of one.

Glenn H. Curtiss, who came to New York recently, after
consulting with Mr. Wanamaker announced that an order
had been placed for the second machine, and that both
will start from Newfoundland at the same time. He did

a ES = Sa

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

not say that the affair would be a race, but one machine
will be piloted by Lieutenant Porte, an Englishman, and
the other in all probability’ by an American, indicating a
race may develop.

When Lieutenant Porte arrived from England recently,
he brought with him some new ideas, the development of
which has caused work on the original machine to be sus-
pended, so that the two big flyers will be different from
the one first planned.

Detailed descriptions of the craft are not obtainable. It
is not believed the flight over the ocean will be attempted
before September.

Busy Bees Make New Potato.

The busy little bee is responsible for a new variety of
potato, which was grown on the farm of Harvey K. Brad-
ley, at Spokane, Wash. It is a cross between the “Bur-
bank” and “Million Dollar” varieties. The bees carried
pollen from the blossoms of one patch to the blossoms
of the other and started the new variety which is said to
be better than the other two.

Rolls Three Miles on Wager.
G. Howell Parr, conspicuous in the social and club life of

Baltimore, at eight o’clock one night recently, begat €F

three-mile roll over fields from the Elkridge Kennels to
Charles Street—extended—and University Parkway. By
the terms of a wager made with some friends, Mr, Parr

nc i ntti ANOS OIE tia a

‘agreed not to get on his feet after he began to turn over

until he reached the end of the course.
a football suit.
At six o’clock the next morning Mr.
ered the three miles.
Rolling long has been a popular outdoor sport in India,
but has never had much vogue in the: United States,

Parr had coy-

Gives Own Funeral Sermon,
Francis M. Fowler, for many years justice of the peace,

at Muskegon, Mich., who is 76 years old and expects to ©

live another twenty-four years, is taking no chance on the
sermon to be delivered at his funeral and proposes to
preach it himself.

Fowler has just completed the sermon and repeated it
into a phonograph record, so that at his funeral, instead
of a pastor, the phonograph will be used. | ©
PHOTOS 9:20" 074 cup_roe, tom vcon

ple with catalog, 10¢

GLOBE PUB. CO., Box 18, nn he MICH.

 

 

 

POST CARDS FROM EVERYWHERE |

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Membership Exchange ane c ope Aurora Post Card Magazine >

Coin, 3 Months 25c. &. L. GAMBLE, Publisher, EAST LIVERPOOL, 0.

 

OLD COINS WANTED

$4.25 each pee for U. 8. Eagle Cents dated 1856. We

pay a CASH premium on hundreds of old coins. Send

10 cents at once for New Illustrated Coin Value Book,
4x7. It may mean YOUR fortune.

CLARK & CO., Coin Dealers, Box 67, LeRoy, N. v3

Tobacco Habit Banished —

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q

 
 
_ 799—Dick Merriwell on the ¢

SOME OF THE
BACK

NUMBERS OF

W TIP TOP
WEEKLY

SUPPLIED

 

 

—Frank Merriwell in Diamond Land.
—Frank Merriwell’s Desperate Chance.
—Frank Merriwell’s Black Terror.
—Frank Merriwell Again on the Slab.
Frank Merriwell’s Hard Game.
—Frank Merriwell’s Six-in-hand.
43 —Frank Merriwell’s Duplicate.
i 32—Frank Merriwell on Rattlesnake
‘ Ranch.
'33—Frank Merriwell’s Sure Hand.
Merriwell’s Treasure M¢ yy
Merriwell, Prince of the Rope.
6—Dick abgeriwenl, Captain of the Var-

Bier riwell’s Control.
- Merriwell’s Back Stop.
Merriwell’s Masked Enemy.
ck Me rriwell’s Motor Car.
Merriwell’s Hot Pursuit.
—Dick Merriwell at Forest Lake.
—Dick Merriwell in Court.
—Dick Merriwell’s Silence.
5—Dick Merriwell’s Dog.
46—Dick Merriwell’s Subter fuge.
47—Dick Merriwell’s Enigma.
48—Dick Merr iwell Defeated.
49—Dick Merriwell’s “Wing.”
50—Dick Merriwell’s Sky Chase.
51—Dick Merriwell’s Pick- ae
52—Dick Merriwell on the Rocking R.
53—Dick Merriwell’s Penetration.
54—Dick Merriwell’s Intuition,
5—Die k Mer r ‘iwe ll’ ’s 3V ante ge.

57—Dic Kk Moeriwe IV’ s Howe ue,
58—Dick Merriwell, American.
59—Dick Merriwell’s Understanding,
60—Dick Merriwell, Tutor.
aa ae k Merriwell’s Quandary.
: 2—Dic k Merr iw ell on the Boards,
683—Dick Merriwell, Peacemaker.
64—Frank Merriwell’s Sway.
65—Frank Merriwell’s Comprehension.
}6—F rank Merriwell’s Young Acrobat.
i7—F rank Merriwell’s Tact.
768—Frank Merriwell’s Unknown.
69—Frank Merriwell’s Acuteness.
70—Frank Merriwell’s Young Canadian.
71—Frank Merr iwell’ s Coward.
72—Frank Merriwell’s Perplexity.
3—Frank Merriwell’s Intervention.
41—F rank Merriwell’s Daring Deed.
ew
i
7

5—Frank Merriwell’s Succor.
6—Frank Merriwell’s Wit.
7—F rank Merriwell’s Loyalty.
8—Frank Merriwell’s Bold Play.
9—Tr ‘ank Merriwell’s Insight.
80—F rank Merriwell’s Guile.
81—Frank Merriwell’s Campaign.
32—Frank Merriwell in the
Forest.
8—Frank Merriwell’s Tenacity.
84—Dick Merriwell’s Self-sacrifice.

8) 5—Dick Merriwell’s Close Shave,
786—Dick Merriwell’s Perception.
787—Dick Merriwell’s Mysterious Disap-

pearance.
788—Dick Merriwell’s Detective Work.
789—Dick Merriwell’s Proof.
790—Dick Merriwell’s Brain Work.
791—Dick Merriwell’s Queer Case,
792—Dick Merriwell, Navigator.
793—Dick Merriwell’s Good Fellowship.
794—Dick Merriwell’s Fun.
795—Dick Merriwell’s Commencement.
796—Dick Merriwell at Montauk Point.
797—Dick Mérriwell, Mediator.
798—Dick Merriwell’s Decision.
rreat Lakes.
800—Dick Merriwell Caught Napping. |
801—Dick Merriwell in the Copper Coun-

. try:
802—Dick Merriwell Strap
ck Merriwell’s Cooln
ick Merriwell’s Reliance.
—Dick Merriwell’s College Mate.
—Dick — ell’s Young Pitcher.

National

. ‘CENTS PER COPY.

vs dealer, they can be obtained direct from this office.

807—Dick Merriwell’s Prodding.
$08—F rank Merriwell’s Boy.
$09—Frank Merriwell’s, Interference.
810—Frank Merriwell’s Young Warriors.
811—F rank Merriwell’s Appraisal.
812—Frank Merriwell’s Forgiveness.
813—F rank Merriwell’s Lads.
814—Frank Merriwell’s Young Aviators,
815—Frank Merriwell’s Hot-head.
816—Dick Merriwell, Diplomat.
817—Dick Merriwell in Panama.
818—Dick Merriwell’s Perseverance.
819—Dick Merriwell Triumphant.
820—Dick Merriwell’s Betrayal.
8: 21—Dick Merriwell, Revolutionist.
—Dick Merriwell’s Fortitude.
—Dick Merriwell’s Undoing.
Dick Merriwell, Universal Coach.
-Dick Merriwell’s Snare.
—~Dick Merriwell’s Star Pupil.
—Dick Merriwell’s Astuteness.
8: 28. _Dic k Merriwell’s Responsibility.
oa —Dick Merriwell’s Plan.
830- —Dick Merriwell’s Warning.
a ea k Merriwe ‘1l’s Counsel.
2—Dick Merriwell’s Champions.
3—Dick Merriwell’s Marksmen.
34 —Dick Merriwell’s Enthusiasm.
35—Dick Merriwell’s Solution.
86—Dick Merriwell’s Foreign Foe.
37—Dick Merriwell and_ the
Warriors.
888—Dick Merriwell’s Battle for the Blue.
839—Dick Merriwell’s Evidence.
840—Dick Merriwell’s Device.
841—Dick Merriwell’s Princeton
nents.
842—Dick Merriwell’s Sixth Sense.
843—Dick Merriwell’s Strange Clew.
844—Dick Merriwell Comes Back.
845—Dick Merriwell’s Heroic Crew.
846—Dick Merriwell Looks Ahead.
847—Dick Merriwell at the Olympics.
848—Dick Merriwell in Stockholm.
849—Dick Merriwell in the
Stadium.
850—Dick Merriwell’s Marathon,

22
59
°

Carliste

Oppo-

Swedish

NEW SERIES.
New Tip Top Weekly

1-—F rank Merriwell, Jr.
2—PF rank Merriwell, Jr., in the Box.
8—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Struggle.
4—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Skill.
5—F rank Merriwell, Jr., in Idaho.
6—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Close Shave.
7—Frank Merriwell, Jr., on Waiting
ders.

S—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Danger.

9—Fr rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Relay

thon.
10—Frank Merriwell, Jr., at the Bar Z
s, Golden Trail.

Ranch.
a. rank Merriwell, Jr.’

—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Competitor.
—Frank Merriwell, q r.’s, Guidance.
—Frank Mer riwe ll, Jr.’s, Scrimmage.
—Frank Merriwell, Tr. Misjudged.
Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Star Play.
Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Blind Chase,
i

I

]

I

I

Or-

Mara-

Peels
8—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Discretion.
’s, Substitute.

Justified.

1
\y
1:
1
1
1
1
1
1

‘rank Merriwell, Jr.

‘rank Merriwell, Jr.,

“rank Merriwell, Jr., Incog.

‘rank Merriwell, Jr., Meets the Issue.

23—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Xmas Eve.

24—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Fearless Risk.

25—F rank Merriwell, Jr., on Skis.

26—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ice-boat Chase.

27—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ambushed
Foes.

°8—Frank Merriwell, Jr., and the Totem.

29—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Hockey Game.

30—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Clew.

51. ~

99.

1—F rank Merriwell,
J—-Frank Merriwell,
3—Frank Merriwell,
j—
36 ‘rank Merriwell,
—Vrank Merriwell,
s_ —~Frank Merriwell,

Race.

°
o
32
>
”
o
»
»
o
o
>
on
o
2
ox

39—Frank Merriwell,
40—F rank Merriwell,
‘rriwell,
‘rriwell,
‘rriwell,

41—I’rank Me
42—Frank Me

43—Frank Me

44—Frank Merriwell,
45—F rank Merriwell,
46—Frank Merriwell,
47—F rank Merriwell,
48-

50—
ture.

51—F rank Merriwell,
52—F rank Merriwell,

ble.

53—Frank Merriwell,

Doctor.
54—Frank Merriwell,
55—Frank Merriwell,
56—Frank Merriwell,
57—Frank
58—Fr

mate.

60—F rank Merriwell,
Merriwell,
Merriwell,
63—Frank Merriwell,
Merriwell,
65—Frank Merriwell,
rank Merriwell,

61—F rank
62—Frank
64—F rank
66—F

Black Box.

67—F punk Merriwell,
ywnk Merriwell,

68—kI
emy.

69—F tank Merriwe ll,

70O—Frank Merriwell,

Honors.
1—F1

3—F
cation.

74—Frank Merriwell,

Wolves.

75—Frank Merriwell,

76—Frank Merriwell,

‘rank Merriwell,
‘rank Merriwell,

Frank Merriwell,
49—F rank Merriwell,
Frank Merriwell,

Merriwell,
‘ank Merriwell,
59—Frank Merriwell,

rank Merriwell,
2—F rank Merriwell,
3 rank Merriwell,

tas
or
JT.

OTs:
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JT.’
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JT.,
Jets Ba
Jt,’
JT,
Jr,’
Jr.’
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Pit Pi
Jr.’

Ss, Adversary.

, Timely Aid.
i te the De ‘sert.
s, Grueling Test,
s, Special Mission
s, Red Bowman,
S, Task.

s, Cross-Country ©

s, Four Miles. ;
s, Umpire. ¥ ry
Sidetracked. gee
Teamwork,

s, Step-Over.

in Monterey.

s, Athletes.

s, Outfie Ider.

s, “Hundred.”

’s, Hobo Twirler. i,
s, Canceled Game.

8,

Weird Adven-

Jr.’s, Double Bigader 4
Jr.’s, Peck of "Trou-

Jr

Jr.
JT;
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’s, Sportsmeée ane
Ten-Innings.

s, Ordeal.

on the Wing.

s, Cross-Fire.” a

s, Lost Team-

s, Daring Flight.
at Fards ule,
Plebe. q

*’s, Quarter

i. Touchdo

’s, Night Off.

+4 and the,

s, Classmates
s, Repenta

and the “8
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s,. Chris

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on the Bord e1
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77—Owen Clancy’s Run of ', uck.

784

Owen Clancy’s Square Deal.

79—Owen Clancy’ 's Hardest Fight.

sSO—

-Owen Clancy’s Ride for Fortune

81—Owen Clancy’s Makeshift.
82—Owen Clancy and the Black Peg

83-

84—Owen Clancy

86

Owen Clancy and the Sky Pilot
and the Air Pirat
-Owen Clancy’s Peril.

-Owen Clancy’s Partner.

&7—Owen Clancy’s Happy Trail.

88
89
90
91-
92-
93
94-
95—Frank Merriwell,
96—Fr
97—Frank Merriwell,
98-
99-

Owen Claney’s ‘

Dated
100—F
Dated

Dated July

102—Dick Merriwell’s

Dated July

rank Merriwell,

July
101—Dick Merriwell and
10th,

ak.

Jr.
dT,’
-The. Merriwell Comp: nay.

—Frank Merriwell’s First Comm
June 2
rank Merriwell,

7th,
Ob Ay ryptg

Owen Clancy’s Double rodnae

Owen C laney’ s Back Fire.

Owen Clancy and the “C lique ¢ 0

Diamond”

—Owen Clancy and the Claim Jum
Owen Clancy Among the Smu
Owen Clancy’s Cle an- Up.

Deal.

s, am
: Diam

Great ¢

1914.

3d, 191

June Adi
1914. @

Turquoise

17th,

1914.09

103—Dick Merriwell Tracked.

If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them trout

Postage stamps taken the same as money,

& Smith, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Ave., New York City)»