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or The Winning Streak

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An Ideal Publication For The American Youth

  

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Issued Weekly. Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York Post Office, according to an_act of Congress, March 3, 1879. Published by
STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave.. New York. Copyright, 1914, by STREET & SMITH. O. G. Smith and G. C. Smith, Proprietors. ‘

 

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No. 123.: ~ NEW YORK, December 5, 1914. Price Five Cents,

 

DICK MERRIWELL’S POLO PLAY;

Or, THE WINNING STREAK. eae

By BURT L.

CHAPTER I.
THE FLASH OF THE CREESE,

S-w-i-t-c-h! S-w-i-s-h!

The whistling swing of the blade, reaching apparently
for his head out of the darkness, made Dick Merriwell
retreat with astonishing célerity from the shadows by
the piazza.

Some one on the flat roof of the piazza, or overhang-
ing balcony, had swung over*and struck at him with
some such weapon, as he was about to
step on the piazza, after coming in by the side of
the house from the. street.

The house was Chester Arlington's, in the city of Den-
ver, and, seemingly, almost the last place in the world
where a man could expect to encounter such a peril.

Having leaped away from the shadows, Dick Merri-
well stood crouching while he vainly peered through
the darkness to see the murderous scoundrel who had
tried to hew his head off in that manner.

He could see nothing. But he heard suppressed breath-
ing on the roof. Involuntarily his hand swung back.

Having arrived recently from an adventurous experi-

ence in wild places, in which a revolver had been his
constant companion, for the moment he forgot that he
was armed now with nothing more formidable than a
lead pencil. ;
_ The assassin slid over, closer to the house, and moved
toward the end of the roof. \ :
' At that moment a door opened on the lower floor and a
young man stepped forth.

“Look out, Chester!” Dick called. “There’s a villain

on the roof with a sword, and he tried to get me. Switch
onthe piazza lights, will you?”

“Instead of following the suggestion, Chester Arlington

 

 

ree

. corner, and the man turned to run.

=

     

STANDISH.

  
 
  

ran toward the street end of the piazza, whi
a sound. Be . ;

Dropping to the grass as Chester came up, running?
the villain swung at his head with a blow that sheered —
away the crown of his hat.

Seeing the blade lifting again, Chester
ward, escaping by a close margin.

Dick Merriwell came with a jump round the piazza
Apparently he tripped
on his weapon, for it was suddenly twisted out of his
hand and fell to the bricks of the walk with a ringing
clatter.

Dick catght a gleam of white, the flapping of a shirt,
and thought he beheld a whipping pigtail, as the man
dashed behind the screen of the blue spruce that stood
before the house; then he was gone.

Running onto the pavement, Dick saw nothing there,
nor in the street; so he turned back. When he came
to the sword, he picked it. up and saw that it was of
Oriental shape. ees
- “A scimitar, or an East Indian creese,” he thought, and
went on with it to the piazza, where Chester had now
turned on the lights.

“You haven’t had an East Indian or a Chinese servant
that you discharged after a row?” Dick questioned. “If
this thing had been half a foot longer, it would have
sliced my head off. What does it all mean?”

Chester Arlington stared at the short, curved sword.
Then went to the end of the piazza and caught up his
hat. He looked at it curiously, and his face was pale.

“Sliced off a piece of my hat as if it were an onion,”
he said.

Dick held up the curved. sword in the light. It, was_
a wicked-looking weapon, with a blade sharp as a cary- —
ing knife. ae

“Tust before I went to Cripple Creek we had trouble

 
 

flung back-

   
   

      
      
 

       
  

Boe with a Chinese cook, and I discharged him,
. “He went away in a rage.”

“That first swiping blow was meant for your head, then,
rather than mine. You'd better have that cook arrested,
if you can get at him. Know where he hangs out? It’s
clear enough that he’s got it in for you, and a fellow
desperate or angry enough to come back at you in that
way will come again. This sword might help to fasten

, the crime on him, if he can be caught.”

Chester telephoned to the nearest police station.

Still, he had not much hope that the police could do
anything. Finding this particular Chinaman would now
be difficult, as he would go into hiding. Still, there were
not as many Chinamen in Denver as had been there a
few years before, and it might be possible to dig the
rascal out.

The police officer who soon came up the house was
skeptical, even after he had looked at the murderous
sword and -heard the story.

“T don’t think we’ve got any bighbitiders here,” he said.
“I know about all the chinks in this city, and they seem
ite be a rather decent, hard-working lot. I think that
keyou hadj{has gone on to Frisco. I'll look round,
, and 1) take this thing down to the station, Too
n’t get a good look at him.”
‘ e who else would try to get at me in

ay/”.said Chester. “If a white»man had wanted
t-mu have laid for, me with a revolver.”
Merriwell’s belief, too.

It was.in the papers. that
down in Colorado Springs with.a Hindu.
Poanibly that fellow was here in hiding, and reached, for
you, mistaking you for your brother. No one knew where
that Hindu went after he left Colorado Springs. ‘
“He wasn’t a Hindu, though,” Dick objected. “And
if, he reads the, paper he would know that Frank and
his wife are now over in Silver Plume and Georgetown
for a: few days.. I think this rascal tried to get Chester.”
Again the officer looked at the sword curiously.
“Tt’s a’ singular weapon,” he admitted.
When he departed, he took with hiss the ‘shining blade,
well wrapped in heavy paper.

CHAPTER II,
\
CROWFOOT’S QUEER ADVENTURE.

- Old Crowfoot, though proud of’ his grandson, was yet

secretly scornful of much of the white man’s learning which
young Joe had accumulated, and particularly scornful of
_ the white man’s clothing that young Joe wore when he
was with the white men.

On their arrival in Denver, young Joe had promptly
abandoned his Indian belongings and became a very up-
; to-date Indian, indeed. Crowfoot still clung to his feather
-and-his braided hair, to his moccasins and his blanket.
_ So, naturally, he attracted a good deal of attention as he
walked with young Joe about the streets of Denver.

 
  
   
 

singular aitempt on his life by a man who was sup-
posed to be Chester Arlington’s discharged Chinese cook,
Crowfoot and’ young Joe regarded with natural suspicion
every Chinaman they encountered.

‘Tn addition, young Joe incautiously stated that “China-
men, were ‘Notorious as gamblers. It was a declaration

 
 

  

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” said Chester.

Having heard from Dick Merriwell the story of the

to make Crowfoot intensely and covetously interested in
every chink he saw.

If he came on one when young Joe was not with him
to pull him along, Crowfoot would go up to the China-
men with a stealthy and secretive movement, and, having
cornered him, would pull a pack of greasy cards from
under his blanket and exhibit them alluringly.

“Heap nice card game,” he would insinuate, and wink.
“You know where man like play fine card game?”

Usually the chink got away from him in haste.

So Crowfoot was beginning to think that Chinamen were
poor sports. He would have let them alone and gone
hunting a card game in some other direction, if it’ had
not been for that story of the Chinaman’s attempt to
slice Dick Merriwell’s head: off.

That, with his hope of a card game, kept him so in-
terested in Chinamen that he located their laundries and
prowled round them, pretending to pick rags and -old
paper out of) the containers he found here and there
along the street.

Dick Merriwell and Chester Arlington found Crow-
foot prowling thus one evening, and stopped for a talk
with him. At first it was Chester’s opinion that old Joe
was lost; though Crowfoot had never been ‘lost in his
life, in’ city or wilderness, for “he had that Indian ‘in-
stinct which is so like the’ instinct of a homing pigeon.

“Me no lost,” said Crowfoot indignantly. “Me watch
um chink. ary! cut Dick's “head of ag’in mebbyso, so me
watch um.’ of

“But there are no chinks round here,” Chester Facto

“Huh! You come see what me show.” +

He conducted them first to a Chinese laundry, on a
small side street; then round, it, to the rear ‘of another
building. Even the shine of the street lights did not reach
this black hole.

“You watch um now,” he whispered ;
where light make um shine.”

The -light..fell.. into. an alley, and ahd watched . the
alley... :

The wait was’ so ag that Clickdes in his -impatience,
would have gone’ away, but “Dick restrained him, © Dick
had himself been trying to watch some of the -China-
men; ‘ : -
Into: the alley. slipped’ a Chinaman, by-and-.by, coming
apparently fromthe street in front, or from a side door
of the laundry, iy eoers grunt announced: his ‘satis-
faction.

Chester Arlicigton was even more satiehed

“My Chinese cook!” he whispered. “So he-is still here.
in Denver!  That’s important.”

The Chinaman passed within two yards of: peas turned
into the darkness beyond, and vanished.

When they were sure he had disappeared, they ecuntiied
the hole and found a door set .in a wall under a ‘stair-
way. =

“Gone through that door,” said Chester. “I wonder if
we ought to summon the -police and raid the place?”

Dick Merriwell thought ‘not. ‘They could ‘furnish rio
proof against him. Their stirmise that he was the -man
who had swung at them with: the curved sword had no

“you see um come

other basis’ than stesework, ‘and. that never goes. far |

in court.

When ‘Chester and Dick went’ away at sit ‘crswitedt Sy
followed them to the street, os no teithe; i wide as

\ m4 ry

     
  
  
   
   
   
 
  
   
   
   
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
   
  
 
  
    
    
  
  
   
   
  
   
    
   
    
   
   
 

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ie were out of sight, he was back through the alley,
crouching again in the darkness and watching.

At. the end of half an hour, Crowfoot: saw another
Chinaman sneak in through the alley from the street
or the laundry and go to the door at the end of the dark
hole. He vanished there, like the other.

“Mucho queer,” Crowfoot muttered, and wondered
vaguely what it meant.

When he had grown tired of waiting for the third
‘Chinaman, he slipped into the dark area and found the
door. Feeling over it, he touched the knob, which he
turned. The door opened. Before him was an exten-
sion of the dark hole, with a stairway.

“Muy malo! Me git killed mebbyso now!”

The fear of being killed was not enough to deter him.
He began to ascend the dark stairs, his moccasined feet
moving as softly and silently as if he wore felt slippers.

There was a guiding light at the end of a corridor,
which led from the top of the stairs.. And when: Crow-
foot stood under the light he looked into a vapory
room.

He had stumbled into an opium-smoking den, and didn’t
know it. He beheld divans and couches and Chinamen
lying about, some smoking queer pipes, others stupefied
with the opium fumes. Crowfoot did not like> the
peculiar odor that assailed him.

He did not see the Chinaman ‘he sought—the one who
had been Chester Arlington’s cook. Nor did he know
what he would do if he saw him. -He was simply ex-
ploring round, hoping he would strike against something
that would be interesting to himself, and of benefit to
Dick Merriwell.

As he stood by that door, he was observed, and a san-
dal-footed Chinaman came bobbing to welcome him.

“You hitta pipe?” asked the bland Celestial.

Crowfoot’s answer was a grunt of surprise, which
showed a lack of comprehension, but, apparently, the
Chinaman took it for a gurgle of assent; he’turned around,
beckoned, and Crowfoot, peering and staring, followed on
into the room, with his right hand under his blanket
clutching a very serviceable hunting knife, that he knew
well how to use.

“Two dol,” said the Chinaman, stopping and holding
out his cupped hand. “Chalge two dol for hitta pipe.”

The two strangely contrasted men, one representing the
oldest civilization of the world, the other a blanketed North
American Indian, stood facing each other, though on the
face of neither was there a sign to indicate his secret
thoughts. The bland countenance of the Chinaman was
like that of a guileless child, while the Indian’s face was
the stoical mask of the savage.

“Good tobac,” said Crowfoot;
plenty good tobac.”

From the mysterious regions of the beaded and belted
pouch he carried under his blanket came a two-dollar
bill, which he dropped into the Chinaman’s waiting hand.

The Chinaman turned and beckoned again, and led to
one of the couches, where Crowfoot was asked to deposit
himself while his pipe was being brought.

Crowfoot sat on the edge of the couch and looked
round—at the room, with its garniture of Chinese lan-
terns and gaudy paper dragons, at the dim lights, and at

“two dollar buy heap

_ the smokers in various attitudes, as they lay curled up
on the cots and couches.  *

‘“Mucho queer!” he mutteréd.

NEW TIP. TOP WEEKLY.

‘which he moved was remarkable. He reached the door,

  
  
    
    
   
    
   
    
    
 
   
  
  
  
   
     
   
   
   
    
  
  
   
   
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
   
   
  
   
  
 
   
  
   
   
  
   
  

And he wondered where the Chinaman was that had
been pointed out by Chester Arlington. }

He saw that two or three of the smokers were white
men, and another, he believed, was a white woman. One
was a negro. Apparently, any person who. had “two dol,”
and was not suspected of standing in with the police,
could visit the place.

Yet the true reason why Crowfoot had found ingress
so easy was that the Chinese guardian of the lower
door had been for a moment or two inattentive to duty
and absent from his post. So the Chinaman who had
welcomed him supposed he had passed the scrutiny of the
guard.

In blissful ignorance that he was an “intruder,” Crow-
foot studied his surroundings, until the Chinaman came
back with a queer pipe of metal that had a huge bamboo
stem, and with an opium pill for the pipe, and a lamp
with which to keep it alight.

These being deposited, he hastened off to wait on some
other customer of the joint who had begun to clamor
for attention.

Crowfoot looked at the pipe and at, the opium, sniffed
them, and swept them to one side. Out of his, pouch
he brought his own pipe and some tobacco.

“Heap bad,” he whispered, wrinkling his nose as
whiffs of the old opium pipe struck it. “Me no Tike” His
eyes roved round again. “Sleep smoke no (
Crowfoot.”

   
 

A smoke that made men fall over as if they wi
was not good for any one, in Crowfoot's opitiio
he had not paid his two dollars just for the privilege of
enjoying a smoke; he could have a better smoke in the
street than was offered here and be out nothing but the.
expense of his tobacco.

ark

Dropping over on the lounge, so that his position would
not be conspicuous by being different from that of the
other occupants of the place, Crowfoot ligt ted his tobacco |
pipe at the flame of the little lamp, and lay watching all
that went on.

 

It was a dull enough time he had for an hour. Now
and then a man shambled out of the room. Now and then
one came in. Nobody troubled the old Indian; apparently,
no one aside from the Chinaman who had received him,
kriew that an Indian was in the room. In truth, most of
the smokers were not in a condition to take stock of their
surroundings. ;

Crowfoot’s waning interest was rearoused by seeing the
Chinaman he was seeking come from an alcove and slide
off across the room in slippered’ feet and disappear.

The door through which he vanished was not far from
the place occupied by Crowfoot, and the Chinaman was
hardly gone before Crowfoot was moving toward it.

For a man of his years, the softness and celerity with |

turned the knob, and was out and into another room
without a sound, and without his movements being no-
ticed.

With the door closed behind him, he stood in darks.
ness. 4
He was glad to get out of the opium den, where the
sickening fumes had begun to affect him. Out here’ the .

air, by comparison, was pure.
Not knowing what to do, Crowfoot edged to one side
cautiously, and then to the other, until his hands came

 
  

  
      
     
      
 

 

 

  

‘cee

 

4 NEW

in contact with a wall, along which he moved, feeling
out before him with his feet.

eT RSET
tet; ee ae

    
    
  
   
  
    
   
    
  
   
  
   
  
  
 
  
   
     
   
    
  
  
   
  
 
 
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
 
 
   

ii The place he came to, after a bend in the wall, was
ss even more singular in his eyes than the place he had
Fi left. |

fe It was a tinseled room, strung round with’gilt dragons
Ee and glittering paper lanterns, some of the latter furnish-
i ing the light that gave it a queer illumination. But the
o, thing that struck old Crowfoot like a blow in the face
‘ was the horrible papier-maché monster at the farther end.

It was like a huge man in shape, and not like a
mam:

It was a cheap imitation of a stone joss.

Crowfoot stopped in histracks as he saw it; All his
My life he had heard of devils—the devils of the hills and
e. mountains, ‘wicked spirits who were the enemies of men,
and who must be propitiated. Some primal instinct stir-
ring, he felt that he was now looking at one of the
devils which all through his life he had feared. yet had
never seen.

Crowfoot would have beaten a quick retreat and stumbled
blindly down to the street, or made the attempt, it he had
not been stayed in this by again seeing the Chinaman he

‘been ing to follow when he squirmed into this

ace.
Wmaman came gliding out of the darkness beyond,
ac Hed the monster, laid before it food, burned some
“prayers, lighted a‘ candle, and disappeared with the

andie in he hand. behind the joss.
“Whe sight of the candle seemed to strike through the
the joss. The watching Indian thought he heard
steps, then a door opening. Then the candle went out.
“Muy malo!” he muttered, falling back on his heaviest
~malediction. And added: “What um mean?”
“ It would have taken a Chinaman to tell what it meant.
But it had to do with the worship of the god.
’ Having stepped back softly, Crowfoot stood a long time
waiting for the Chinaman to reappear, and when he did not
do so, the Indian moved on the joss.

yet

 
  

Stopping before it, he looked at the wafers of bread,
picked one up, and tasted it. He spat out the morsel
and scattered the rest of the wafers on the floor.

Like a prowling cat he crept round to the back of the
Col i JOSS.

Seeing that again a light—this time from one of the lan-
terns—struck through the seeming stone, he investigated

_the phenomenon, and found that the joss was not only hol-
low, but that at the rear there was a door into it, by which
a man might enter in a stooping posture.

Crowfoot let his eagerness and curiosity lead’ him into
opening the ‘door and entering. The door swung to behind
him noiselessly.

But before it closed he had seen that there was a
little platform, with steps leading up to it, and when
he had climbed quietly to the platform, he made the fur-
ther discovery that now he could look out into the
room through the holes in the eyes of the big idol. \

CHAPTER III.

MORE QUEER ATTRACTION S.

  

As Crowfoot looked out through the eyes of the Chinese

idol, a recognition of thé peril of his position came when
- several Chinamen entered abragely, into the room before
Pinas 7,

   
 

   

 

TOP WEEKLY.

Crowfoot would have retreated precipitately if he eould
have done so without discovery. Fearing to retreat, he
crouched where he was and stared out, while his hand
under his blanket clasped his knife.

Of just what the Chinamen were doing, Crowfoot had
no proper conception. But he saw their genuflections as
they bowed before the idol, and he not only saw them
burning paper prayers but caught a whiff of the acrid
smoke, for the paper was burned where the smoke would
ascend as incense into the idol’s nostrils. Crowfoot got
so much of it, finally, that with difficulty he kept from
sneezing and coughing.

When he looked again, the Chinamen had vanished, and
a white man was entering the room.

The white man threw a glance around, and called the
name: “Ching.”

Crowfoot thought he said “Chink!” and supposed, quite
correctly, that he was calling to the Chinaman who had

_been first seen in the room.

This white man had a peculiar face.
in the prominence of its beaked nose. Heavily bearded,
hair and beard were a coppery red, or bronze. The eyes
were the strangest of all. Deep set and glittering, they
were also staring, so that the whites were seen round
them as circles.

“Ching!” the man called again. Then he muttered some-
thing, though what he said Crowfoot did not know, for
the language certainly was not English.

Other Chinamen now glided into the room, and the man
with the foreign look, the staring eyes, and the copper-
bronze beard and hair, drew back against the wall at one
side, as if he recognized that he did not rightfully belong
there, and by being found there he invited and might get
into trouble.

The glances that some of the slant-eyed Celestials threw

It was eaglelike

‘at him were neither kindly nor reassuring.

Seeing the man drop his hand into the pocket of his
loose sack coat, and the angry glances of the Chinese,
Crowfoot was quite prepared to behold a fight and perhaps
a tragedy.

The white man drew farther back as the Chinese pressed
upon the idol.

They stood chattering, siete Te discussing the sac-
rilegious intruder.

Crowfoot was stopped from listening to them further
by the opening of the little door below and back of him,
and the entrance into the idol of the Chinaman who was
probably the attendant priest.

That any one was inside the papier- -maché idol was un-
known to the Chinaman until’ he attempted, after closing
the door, to advance to the position which Crowfoot was
occupying.

Probably it was his custom to mount to the little plat-
form and look out through the eyes at the worshipers who
had gathered in the room. At least, Crowfoot was sure
that this was now what the Chinaman desired to do.

Willing to permit it, Crowfoot tried to slide down
and past him, But the space was too contracted. He
would not get by withoat brushing against the China- a
man,

With a snarl of surprise and rage the Chinaman flung
out his. hands, trying to seize the man who had been

reckless. and sacrilegious enough to invade this sacred
place; and found, at the same time, neers digging ey et
into his throat. of vi Seid eng ee

 

 

 
 
   

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‘gestures that were fully as illuminating.

door with a bang and went plunging and stumbling down

 

 

With a gurgled howl he fell from the steps to the
floor,.Crowfoot being pulled down and falling on top of
him.

There were screeching yells from the Chinaman as the
commotion arose within the idol, and a stampede flight
when the idol went over, falling forward, as if, with its
horrible teeth, it struck at them.

Crowfoot, sure that his life was in peril, and that he
could not combat safely all the Chinamen in the room,
tore himself free, and darted away, without much regard
to where he was going.

As he scampered off, he saw the Chinaman he had
overthrown pick himself up from the floor, draw a knife
that had apparently been concealed under his yellow shirt,
and dive in pursuit. -

Nothing more was needed to give the scared Indian
wings, and he flew!

The next thing of which he was really aware was that
he was fairly falling down a pair of stairs which suddenly
offered themselves to his feet.

At the bottom he came up against a closed door with a
bump, and he hammered on it in his desperation, for,
whatever lay beyond the door could not possibly be as
bad as the wild Chinaman who had pursued him.

There was a scrambling sound on the other side of ‘the
door, Then the door flew open. When Crowfoot dived

‘through, he was in a room that had all the appearance

of a sweatshop for the manufacture of cheap clothing,
and the man with the bronze beard and fiery eyes had
opened the door for him.

There was a woman in the room, sitting by a table
that held food. At the other side of the room two
pale-faced’ young men sat cross-legged on a bench, with
cloth and thread and shears before them, and garments
on which they had been working.

The woman rose from the table with a scream; and
with a curse the fiery-eyed man kicked the door shut and
whirled on the old Indian. A volley of words in some
strange language followed.

Crowfoot did not understand the words, but the mo-
tions accompanying them were lucid enough. The man
was demanding to know where he had come from, how
he had got there, and, above all, what this meant.
“Heap big mistake,” Crowfoot panted, and began to make
“Me want git
out,” he added. “No can see way to git out,”

“Out!” yelled the fiery-eyed man. “How you get in?
Hah! You are enemy, you are spy; you ar-r-re——”

Rage choked him.

The woman screamed again.
scrambled down from their perch.

“Me want git out,” said Crowfoot.

Thinking he was about to be attacked, he backed against
the wall; from under the old blanket came a revolver,
which he leveled at the breast of the man of the bronze
beard.

“If no can go out,” he said, “me kill somebody!”

The man drew back, for the revolver had a shiny, deadly
look which enforced respect and obedience.

“Who. you?” he sputtered.

Crowfoot flung a glance round the room, and moved
toward a door, Gaining it with a sliding motion, he opened
it and backed out. into a black hall.

- An outcry of rage broke in the room as he closed the

The pale young men

z

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a dark and greasy staircase. A jump landed him at the
foot, as the upper door flew open.

   
   
    
    
   
  
   
   
  
  
   
   
   
   
  
    
     
    
   
  
   
   
  
  
   
     
  
     
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
   
   
    
  
   
  
 
  
 

Before him was a heavy, locked door, with a key sticking
in the lock.

The fiery-eyed man was coming down, risking a shot
on the stairs.

Crowfoot flung out through the door, and fled along .
an alley into a dimly lighted street.

CHAPTER IV.
THE NIHILISTS.

The man with the bronze beard and the fiery eyes came
down into the gloomy alley and looked about. He was
in a fuming rage, and was fearful. He followed the alley
out to the street, but did not venture into the street.

The Indian who had so strangely invaded the house
had disappeared.

A little later, having changed his clothing, the man came
again down into the alley, crept through it furtively to
the street, and hastened off. When he reappeared, he
had a young man with him.. They vanished up another
pair of stairs not far from the greasy stairs down which
Crowfoot had plunged. *

In an upper room, somewhere near the heart of: this
nest of tenementlike houses, the men halted before a door
that bore the sign of a tinsmith. Here the older man
rapped in a peculiar manner.

The door was opened cautiously and a man peered.
out. i bce

“Ah, it is you—Linska and Ivanowski!” Pra

He drew the door farther open and admitted .1em., R

Five or six men were in the room, shock-headed fe
lows, smoking long-stemmed pipes. Yet though they fe-
sembled each other in a way, they differed, for they were
of various nationalities. None was an American.

. They sprang up, stirred by the entrance of the two
men. Judging by. their manner, Linska, of the bronze
beard, was a person of importance among them.

“You were not to be here to-night!” they said, voicing
their surprise.

 

Yet they did not ask questions, even when the door
was ¢losed and locked, but waited for the revelation they ©
knew was to come.

Before speaking, the leader crossed the room, took down
a liquor bottle, and, pouring from it into a glass, cast off
the draft at a gulp. The fiery stuff drove out the ashiness
that had crept into his bearded face. ie

“Listen!” he said, standing before them in the attitude
of an orator. “A spy has been in my rooms to-night, and
in Ching’s place. How he got into Ching’s is a mystery, but
he catne to my rooms from there, and was chased out of _
the idol room. In, the idol room he had a fight with the _
Chinese priest, but I could not understand what it was
all about. The strange thing,” he added, “is that he was
an American Indian.”

“An Indian? Perhaps a white man, disguised!”

“An Indian, The one who has for two or three days
past been on the streets here. He has been seen loitering —
near the Chinese laundry, and near other laundries. This
[ was told by the Chinaman who came pursuing him to—
my rooms. The Chinese are in a panic, They think it
means a raid by the police. They are- refusing to let
any one, even the best-known customer, enter the rooms ©
now. But I think it means more~a blow at us!”

      
     
     
     
     
         
     
    
   

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- public buildings!

i did he get his wealth?
- the gold and silver, and the coal and iron, which the ‘Al-

 

 

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Questions were hurled at him—in Polish, Russian, and
Litt; he had been speaking in Russian. He .waved his
hands violently.

“My friends,” he said, “be not so frenzied! Hear me
out. I will tell you what I know, and what I think. Ten
days ago one of our brothers drove a knife into the bosom
of that mine superintendent at Cripple Creek. They
thought there it was done by one of the striking Mexicans,
and the Mexicans were pursued into the mountains. One
was brought back and lodged in jail, and I heard that
others had been killed.

“The pursuit was conducted by Arlington, oie of the
plutocratic owners of the mine. He had friends with him
in that pursuit, and one of them was this American In-

dian. Our Cripple Creek members wrecked the train
that carried Arlington, but he and his friends escaped.

The Mexicans were charged with that, too, when, as a
matter of fact, they are a cowardly lot, who would fear
to do anything so daring as to wreck a train.

“Now, Arlington is again in Denver, and thése friends
are here with him. To-night his Indian got into the opium
den, and from it made his way into my rooms. I ask
you to consider what it means.”

The wordy talk that followed, the questions and answers,
concerned, an astounding state of affaits, better suited
to autocratic Russian than to the progressive American
city of Denver. It proved that though these men had
changed their abode from the Far East to the Far West,
they had not changed their ideas. Persecuted, imprisoned,
mistreated, bound in chain gangs, flogged in Siberian
prisons and convict camps, the hatred they had stored
“against all govefnment and power of every kind they
were pouring out here,\as if America was a czar-ruled em-
pire and Colorado a slice of frozen Siberia, tucked up
under the edge of the arctic circle.

Nihilism in Russia fights with the weapons of terror
and secrecy, hurling the bomb of the anarchist and driv-
ing the knife of the assassin. It strikes at all power and
all order. To slay a czar, dynamite out of existence a
grand duke, kill the rich and all officials, is its aim, and
this because the men who have entered into its oath-bound
organizations have despaired of being able ever to ‘do
anything in a legal way; for they have found that there
the laws are made and enforced by the rich and powerful,
and every attempt at agitation is strangled.

“My friends,” said the man of the bronze beard, whose
name was Linska, ‘

failure. Perhaps it is because we are cowards. Have
we not too often delegated the most dangerous work to

men who cannot feel so strongly about these things as

we do? That superintendent is recovering. Arlington
still lives. The mine at Leadville, which was dynamited,

has been cleared of its débris, and is practically uninjured.”

His fiery eyes were glowing, his hands were trembling.

“Not by such failures can fear be driven into the heart
of power, and terror be made to freeze the marrow of
‘the rich. Dynamite a dozen mines, slay twenty of the
wealthiest men of Denver, blow up a few officials and
Only in that way can bloated wealth
and official dishonesty be cowed into treating weaker men

with a little less brutality,

he cried, ‘who is he, and where
Who gave him the right to take

“This man Arlington,”

our efforts to strike terror into the
hearts of the rich mine owners here are meeting with

mighty stored a million years ago in these hills, and say

that it is his own, to do with as he pleases; and that the

men who dig it out for him can work for what he and his
like are pleased to give.”

To these men Chester Arlington represented a system—

they neither liked nor disliked ‘him personally; only one
or two who were in that room had ever seen him. Yet
because he had made himself conspicuous recently in cer-
tain strike troubles, as one of the mirfe owners, they meant
to beat him down, as a warning to his kind.

Standing outside all labor organizations and miners’
unions, they were a wild guerrilla band, led by a man
who had brooded so much over wrongs which had been
done in Russia that he was no more than a social and
political madman. Wherever he looked he saw red; wher-
ever his thoughts roved they were of dynamite.

Gabrielowich Linska was a strange mental contradiction.
Taken away from his political opinions, he was the kindest
of men, He was a reader and a philosopher. His friends
adored him, his wife and his children worshiped him.
He detested any one who could go forth with a gun and
shoot birds and animals for sport. Such a man, in his sight,
was a depraved savage. He never ate meat, because he
did not approve of the slaughter of food animals; carrying
this even so far that he would not wear a shoe made
of leather, but wore, instead, in winter and summer alike,
shoes of canvas, with rubber soles.

Yet this singular creature could order the assassination
of a human being with less compunction than he would
have ordered a man to kill a beetle. This was because
the one whose death had been decreed stood, in his opinion,
for some wrong or some idea which hindered the advance-
ment of the human race.

And now Gabrielowich Linska was quaking with fear
as he talked to his fellow nihilists in that room about
Crowfoot’s blundering invasion. And his words filled them
with the same emotion.

They tried to think that this fear was not personal.
In Russia men sof their class hurled bombs at officials
when they knew it meant death to themselves. Their fear
now, they stated, and, perhaps, believed, was that the suc-
cess of their work was threatened.

Long they remained in the stuffy little room, drinking,
talking, smoking, scheming> The first flush of color on
Linska’s face, which the liquor had produced, had disap-
peared; now his cheeks and forehead and the flesh be-
hind the bronze beard were a pasty white, and at times
his lips curled wolfishly.

CHAPTER Y.
THE NEW JANITOR.

Chester Arlington was making himself a social and finan-
cial power in Denver. He had invested much of his for-
tune in various enterprises in the State of which Denver
is the beautiful and progressive capital—in \nines, in manu-
factories, and in railway stocks and bonds.

Socially he had become a good deal of a lion. He be-
longed to all the leading clubs. He was interested in all
kinds of sports, Thanks to his earlier training, he was
skillful in nearly all of them. He was a good horseman
and polo player, a good shot, and successful hunter. So
enthusiastic was he in the pleasure he took in sports, that
he could seldom long

enjoy them just as a spectator, but —
y just pectator, but

    

  

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must be in the thick of the fighting for the pure joy
of it. rs

In this he was a good deal like Dick Merriwell. Once,
and for a long time, Dick’s bitter enemy in school and
1 college, he was now Dick’s very good friend, and antici-
pated that at some time in the future closer ties than even
friendship would bind them together.

Arlington, once despising Dick, had learned to appreciate
his worth and worthiness. Dick had helped him in many
ways and on many occasions, even at much personal
sacrifice and hardship.

Dick Merriwell never complained of these things—re-
fused to have any feeling on the subject, and Chester
Arlington seldom mentioned them. Apparently he had al-
most forgotten them.

Having been injured, though not seriously, in the wreck-
ing of the car in which he was returning from Cripple
Creek, Chester had been taken to a hospital.

Though he was out of it now, and claimed he was feel-
ing as fit as ever, he almost admitted that he was not
when he asked Dick Merriwell to join, as a substitute
player, a roller-polo team which was practicing for.a hot
contest and in which Chester was not only interested but
expected to play a very important part.
ci - The: fellows Dick met, members of this polo team and
of the athletic club backing them, were a jolly and light-
hearted set, all good players and good sportsmen. They
were glad to have Dick become a member of their
team. and a substitute player. Under the rules by which
the game was to be played he was entirely eligible, and
it was the understanding that if Chester could not enter
the game because of his recent injuries, Dick was to
play in his stead.

That June Arlington had returned to Denver lent bright-
ness to the days. Dick knew he should miss her sadly
when he returned to Santa Fe, but his philosophy of life
did not permit the joy of the present to be shadowed by
the future. .

The morning after Crowfoot’s strange and strenuous ex-
perience, Dick found the old Indian and young Joe wait-
ing at the steps of the athletic club, where each forenoon
Dick ‘went to practice for the coming game ‘in which he
might be called to take a hand.

“Mucho big tale,” said Crowfoot solemnly;
tell um.”
“Tt’s about what he saw last night,” young Joe added.
Bey. “T can’t make out just what happened, but he got into
some Chinese place where smoking was going on, and
then into what must have been a Chinese’ church, and got
out through a tailor shop, where the men tried to stop
him, and he forced his way with a revolver. He was well
worked up over it, but I told him to let it wait over, and
not to bother you last night with it.”

* “Mucho strange,” said Crowfoot.
ae “Come up into the rooms,’ Dick invited,
there.”
As they entered, he noticed, with some curiosity, that
- @ new janitor was sweeping and dusting. '
“Where is Quinn,” he inquired of Don Campbell, whom

A saw reading at a table.

- “Quinn was your pet, I believe,” said C Speipbell wheeling
round in his easy-chair, “I’m sorry to say he was at-
tacked, or got into a fight, at the foot of the staigs late
. last night, and had to go to the hospitals. The new man,
who takes his place until he’s again able for duty, is a

fr.

rie

—

“me like

“and we'll talk

 

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WEEFKI

  

Polish Russian, 1 think, who was recommended by Linska,”
Dick had never heard of Linska.
“Crowfoot has a queer story to tell,”

[ brought him up here to tell it.”
“Him friend?” said Crowfoot pointedly

at Campbell.

Dick laughed.

“Mr. Campbell, president of the athletic club, let me pre-
sent my friend Crowfoot, and his grandson, that we call
young Joe. Fine pair you will find them. You'll find 4
Campbell all right, Crowfoot.” : |

Crowfoot put out a wrinkled hand.

“All Dick friend my friend,” he said simply. “Me not 4
know you before. Ver’ mucho strange thing las’ night.” — 4

Crowfoot launched into the story of his singular experi-
ence; and, because he was an Indian, and the story -was a a
singular one, he received Campbell’s closest attention. a

No one observed that while he talked the man with the 4
dust cloth was very busy polishing at tables in their imme- 4
diate vicinity; in truth, not even Dick Merriwell thought
it needful to exercise caution, as he saw no reason to
think that Crowfoot’s experience might have a bearing ‘o on
events of personal moment.

“Just where was that place?” said’‘Campbell.

Crowfoot tried to tell him, but as he knew only the =
name of Arrapahoe ‘Street, he did not get far. When he 9
substituted description, he gave them a very good idea of
the congested part of the city in which the fenamege
like buildings he had entered were located.

“There are some Chinese down there,” ‘said  Coepatk
“and, of course, Crowfoot blundered into an opium joint.
In the same neighborhood there was probably: some sort
of Chinese temple. You got out through a tailor-shop ®”:,

“Where make um coat, pants,” said Crowfoot. Saas

“A tenement sweatshop, in the same ‘buildings. I think
ve could find that place if we made a try.at it. But:as
Crowfoot seems to have been the trespasser and ae: ;
and he got out without being hurt——” ae

“Make. um stumble-on stair, when man come it cop-
per whiskers—knock skin off leg and. have sare. leg,
mebbyso!” Crowfoot grumbled.

he remarked, “and

looking hard

“T think the tailor would —he’. easily identified Maid
young Joe.. “He says he had copper whiskers and -cop-
per hair, and eyes that had’ white rings rounst Eis a
queer-looking man, I judge.” eA

Campbell’s interest quickened. ,

I. know ‘that, .

“White-+ringed ‘eyes and copper whiskers!
fellow.” _He-turned to Dick. “Why, that was Liga :
himself,” mie

Dick swung a glance round, The man who had: PN
ares s place was near enough to hear, but was easing
1, dusting busily. : ;
a ig. I think you said, recommended your new jani-
tor here?” observed Dick, dropping his voice. is
“That’s right; recommended him to me. Lisi is: 3"
Russian tailor, who lives—well, I don’t know jtist where ©
he does live.”
He lifted his voice.
“Tvanowski!” ;
The man turned, folded the cloth in his hand, and. came e ‘
to the table. i

      
   
     
       
   
   
 

“Yes, sir,” he said, with a queer accent.
“Where is Linska’s establishment? If l‘éver Sibel ie
forgotten. All I know is: I've’ met hii several timés, and

 
    

he took my measurement in my rooms for a suit {that was.

    
  

 

SS So es

-on Ivanowski,
_as those he had seen, and he was afraid of him.

» Thereafter, Crowfoot sought, opportunities to visit at the

‘

8 NEW.TIP TOP WEEKLY.

last spring. I think he sent samples of cloth to Chester
Arlington since then, and perhaps he made clothing for
him. Anyway, | know he solicited Arlington’s order.”

“Linska he mofe ladely; I not know where he lif now,”
said the man. “J t’‘ink he in O’Brien Streede.”

“No. That wouldn’t be a good place for his business.
| guess, from what J hear, he’s somewhere down there

And that reminds me—the
had he got down there. ‘|

where those chinks hold out.
Chinese cook that Chester
hadn’t thought of that.”

“Me see um Chink cook there!” Crowfoot declared.

“Oh, you did; you didn’t mention it! Well, I guess
there’s where Linska is. Look him up, Ivanowski, and give
me word about it.”

The new janitor bowed,
dust and dirt.

“You sure stirred up the animals, Crowfoot,” Campbell
declared, with a laugh. “But the only danger you were
in was when you tipped over that idol and when you were
in 1g opium joint. If the police had raided the joint
while you were curled up on one of the cots, it would
have been you for the cooler, and a big fine, indeed. It’s
a mystery to me that the chinks ever let you get in-
side.”

“Huh! Nigger man there!”
_. Where a “nigger man” could go, Crowfoot was quite
sure that he would not be excluded because of the color
of his skin; he was not so black as a “nigger man."

“And he says he saw a woman smoking there,” young
Joe added.

“All the earmarks of a cheap joint,” said Campbell. “But
usually it’s hard to get into them. The chinks are terribly
afraid of a police raid.”

Ivanowski/came slowly back, polishing and dusting the
desks and chairs to which already he had given so much
attention.

Apparently, he was not rewarded by any scrap of knowl-
edge, for the conversation now drifted to the roller-polo
game, in which Campbell, as one of the players for the
athletic club, was intensely interested.

and resumed his search after

;

CHAPTER VI.

‘ INDIAN CUNNING.

~

Old Crowfoot’s observing ability was of the highest,

}

for long training, combined with racial instinct, had fur-

nished him with marvelous powers. He had never be-
fore seen the new janitor, who was called Ivanowski, and
of the races inhabiting Eastern Europe he had no knowl-
edge whatever. Yet, as soon as his shrewd old eyes fell
he knew the man was of the same breed

At about the same time, Crowfoot came on another dis-
covery that was even more disquieting. Calling at the
Arlington home with Dick Merriwell, he saw 4 woman:
scrubbing floors there, and when she glanced up from
her work, he recognized her instantly as the woman he

had seen and had heard screaming in that Russian sweat-

shoo.

Nothing. in Crowfoot’s staring black eyes revealed to
her that he had made this discovery, for he seemed to
pass her by without even looking at her. To himself he
was saying: | : '

“What um mean? What um mean?”

  

Arlington home and to ae round in-the rooms of the
athletic club.

At either place he was always welcome. At the athletic
club he was even a center of interest. The members of
the club liked to hear his quaint talk.

So far as any one would notice, Crowfoot seldom even
glanced at the busy janitor, seemed to be forever,
with dust cloth in hand, rubbing and polishing the heavy
furniture, or else sweeping, or cleaning windows. Ivan-
owski was trying to make himself indispensable.

One night, when Ivanowski left, the clubrooms, old Joe
Crowfoot, keeping far back and in the. shadows, trailed
him.

The chase led to the poorer district, which Crowfoot
remembered as by the far the queerest place on earth.

From the farther corner of the block, Crowfoot saw
Ivanowski throw a quick glance around, then vanish, as if

who

post which stood there.

When, after an interval, Crowfoot ventured to go up
to the post, he found a door near it, through which it
was apparent the man had gone into the house. :

However, the door locked, as Crowfoot dis-
covered when he carefully tried the knob.

Not able to enter, Crowfoot retreated, looked about for
a safe point of observation, then camped down and waited.
It was long after midnight when Ivanowski reappeared,
accompanied now by the man ‘with the bronze’ beard.

‘Two snake,” Crowfoot whispered, and slid‘into motion,
following them. ‘Mean mucho harm’ Dick Merriwell, huh ?
Mebbyso me ¢an find out.” z

The men went round to:the alley entrance that Crow-
foot had followed in penetrating to. the opium den, and
dropped out of sight there, Crowfoot could not :be sure
they had entered the place, though that was the indica-
tion.

“Crowfoot go in this time, he git killed!
soon, but no like be killed.”

Nevertheless, he went up to the door, and again, as
on the previous occasion, tried the knob. ‘When it yielded
to his hand, he opened the door and pushed in.

He was due to receive a surprise this time. A China-
man stood just inside the door, and advanced on him.

“You got plasswold?” the Chinaman demanded.

Crowfoot did not even know what password meant.

“Me like go in,” he said, trying an insinuating grin and

he melted into the tall

Was now

Goin’ die

wink; “me like make um big sleep smoke.”
He fumbled in his blanket and drew out a dollar
bill.

“Me pay dol for sleep smoke; other time me pay two.
Old Joe pore now.”

“Plasswold!” the Chinaman snarled at him, ignoring the
dollar.

Crowfoot unwisely thought he would try to get by and
up the stairs he saw directly before him. But a creese
flastred, as the Chinaman backed, yelling, to the, foot of the
stairs.

In a minute the stairs were raining Chinamen, and
Crowfoot, thinking he was about to be killed, turned and
fled, out through the door and along the alley with a_
speed that set his blanket fluttering like a flag.

He did not stop running until he was out in the main
street, well beyond the dangerous district. And there he
hurried, with quick glances cast continually behind him,
for he still expected pursuit.

The next night, when he trailed [vanowski, old Crow-

 

     

    
 
    
   
   
  
    
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
    
    
  
 
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
   

ee

o
a

ESS Bee

 

 

 

 
 

 

soe Sy as

a

 

lish, Crowfoot might have gained some idea of what they

}
foot felt that he was prepared, He had during the day
visited a number of locksmiths, and, as a result, he had
under his blanket and belted to his waist a bag holding a
hatful of doorkeys of all sorts and sizes.

Crowfoot’s natural habitat being the mountains and wil-
derness, and the wild, nomadic life they afforded being the
one he best knew, he was always at a loss in cities and ix
the. haunts of white men, unless he could find ead
of gratifying his gambling propensities, or could strike
something that suggested a war trail.

This following of Ivanowski, and his singular experi-
ences in the opium den and its environs, gave a tang to
his stay in Denver, and the strong belief that he was very
probably assisting Dick Merriwell added to his zest in this
queer case. *

When Ivanowski vanished again, at the self-same spot,
and Crowfoot came up to the door back of the screening
post, he stooped there in the darkness and got to work
with his bagful of assorted keys.

Now and then there was an interruption to his work,
when some one went shuffling past on the pavement, but,
in spite of this, before the end of: half an hour Crowfoot
had fitted a key and had opened the door.

He was carrying the bag of keys in his hand, by its
belt, as he closed the door behind him and began to climb
the dark stairs with a softness of foot many might imi.
tate but few could equal.

The stairs and the hall he found beyond it led Crow-
foot on to the door of the room that displayed the sign
of a tinsmith, and there, under the bottom of the door
a light streamed forth. Behind the door voices were
heard.

Crowfoot recognized the voice of Linska, and soon that
of Ivanowski; and heard other voices. The men were
in the lighted room, talking.

Slipping up to the door, after making sure that the
way was clear, and the line of retreat open, Crowfoot bent
his head and looked through the keyhole.

He had almost better luck than he expected, for he saw
the janitor and the man with the copper-bronze beard.
They were standing by a little workbench, and Linska was
tinkering with a tiny clock.

Now and then, as he worked at the clock, Linska stopped,

to discuss some point with Ivanowski or with the other
men.

The janitor was apparently the tinsmith; at least, he took
up something that was made of metal, and resembled tin,

and began -work on it, at the same bench.

Now and then the men talked, in subdued tones,. and
glanced about furtively, as if they. feared to hear their
own voices. Also, now and then, one of them looked at
the. door.

Crowfoot had not the least notion in the world that
these men were fashioning a clockwork bomb, for, so far
as he could see, there was nothing sinister or suspicious
in what they were doing. Anything done by any work-
man was quite as strange and mysterious in his eyes as
the things he saw now, for always the white man and his
machines. were incomprehensible. That a white man
could fly with a machine was not half so strange to him
as that any white man would want to go to all the trouble
and hard work required to make the machine that could
fly. .

If these men in the roomi had been talking in Eng-

 

   
   
  
   
    
  
 
  
   
    
  
 
 
  
   
 
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
  
    
  
  
   
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
   
 

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 9

were doing. Not able to understand their talk, he was
ready to slip away, when he was suddenly frozen stiff
by the discovery that another man had slipped soft-footed
into that upper hall, and was approaching the door where
he was crouching.

Crowfoot would have heard this approach sooner, if
he had not been trying so hard, at the moment, to under-
stand what the men in the room were saying. Now it was
too late to get out of the hall, which ended in a cul-de-sac
behind him.

Crowfoot tried to rise hi thceate and withdraw into the
darkness. But as he did so he was heard. A challenge
rang out, in Russian.

The talking in the room stopped instantly, and a move-
ment sounded there. The man in the hall challenged again,
sharp-voiced, and Crowfoot heard the click of a revolver.

The time for action had come.

A war whoop rose irrepressibly to his lips as he leaped
and swung the bag of keys he chanced to have in his
hand.

The revolver roared, the bag of keys crashed into ini

man’s face, and, as the fellow dropped, Crowfoot leaped

over, him and fled down the hall and on to the street.
The man who had been struck down in the hall was

picked up and carried into the room by Ivanowski, while

the man with the bronze beard and some of the other

meén pursued Crowfoot, though they did not get sight

of him.

The bag of. keys had been picked up in the hall.

“Tt was that North American Indian,” Linska announced
positively, when he and his friends had returned from
their fruitless quest. “But what he meant to do with

the keys, unless they were to open the street door, I do-

”

not know.
It was pointed out to Linska that the Indian had used
the bag of key’ very effectively, since the man he had
struck in the face with them was bruised and bloody.
All evidence of their work was removed, a diagram
showing the rooms at Arlington’s ‘was burned in a tiny

stove, the filings and litter of the workbench were cleaned
up, and, the light being extinguished, the men sat in the

darkness, speaking only in whispers and low _ tones,

while they waited to see if the yells and the revolver shots

would draw the police into the building.
After an hour or so, as their courage was regained,

they lighted their lamp again, and sat looking into each :

other’s pale faces, while they discussed the situation.
They had arrived at the conclusion that the North
American Indian, as they’ called Crowfoot, was a‘spy ‘of

Chester Arlington’s, and that Ivanowski was suspected, —

and had been trailed by him to these rooms.
“Ivanowski cannot stop his work at that clubhouse yet,”
it was. declared ;
there.
into another.”
“We can finish this bomb to-morrow night,”

said Linska,

“and the next night it can be planted. My idea is that —
it ought to be placed in Arlington’s house, and, if-pos- —
sible, in his bedroom. There will then come the explosion, —

at two in the morning, when he will be in bed and selec
and——” .
He finished with a significant gesture. pany
“If the Indian follows me again?” said Ivanowski.

“Come to this same place, when you leave jthée club- —
rooms; then slip over by the cross passage into the rooms

“for we may decide to plant the bomb —
But we can change ,our workshop from this place ;

  

      
    
 

     
   
   

NEW TIP

     
   
  
   
  
   
   
  
    
  
  
  
   
    
  
  
  
    
  
    
    
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
    
 
   
   
   
   
   
  
   
  
 
  
  

where I live and have my shop. He will then find noth-
ing here, It 1s easy, and the safest way.”

“But if i am suspected; as seems now tne case? | may
be arrested, there: in-the clubrooms.”

“You saw nothing, you know nothing,
pens. .Any:one of us may be called at any time to
, sacrifice liberty. or.life.in this great work. When the
Ge time comes, we must-be ready. _ What is one life? Noth-
a, ing; compared - with: the great work we must carry on.”

He snapped his fingers. airily.

At the moment Linska felt that he would sacrifice his
own life as readily as he would expect such a sacrifice
"to. be made “by. another.

whatever hap-

 

 

CHAPTER VII.
JUNE ARLINGTON’S KIND HEART,

The whir of roller skates sounded in the big rink
where the polo game was’ to be played, and where, at fre-
quent’ intervals, the members of the contesting teams and
their substitutes came to practice and try out the -plays,

_ offensive and defensive, their clever brains had planned.
Stopping her automobile by the curb outside, June

Arlington, who had oecupied: the atitomobile alone,.-as-

cended the stairs to the rink.

ie Juine not only wanted to speak with her brother, but
_ perhaps with Dick TES if he was there; in addi-
tion, shé liked to see a game of any kind of sport, and

the practice work, at times, she liked almost as well’ as

the game.

She found the polo team lined up against its sub-

stitute team, and a hard fight. going on; Chester, her

brother, being on the team, and Dick Merriwell filling

a position on the second five. ~

_ There were a number of friendly spectators gathered

_in the room, as June dropped into a seat by. the wall and

for a while watched the playing.

The teams changing goals while she sat there, Dick
‘Merriwell came over to her on his roller skates and joined

, her in the brief interval.

_ “Chester is doing fine,” he announced, “and will ‘be

able to play in the game, without any doubt.”

“And that puts you out of it,” said June, with a

merry laugh.

_ “Oh, well!”

“Yet you’d like to be in the game.”

_“Who wouldn’t? On the other hand, I’ll like it quite

as well to be one of the spectators with you.” _

“Oh, there’s Mr. Campbell coming over,” .said June

brightly. “I suppose I couldn’t coax or hire you, Mr.

Campbell, to get hurt in some manner, so that this

pee man can get to = on the regular five? He admits

“a break my Grebe for you in any other case but
that,” e _ said Campbell. “I’m dreaming of that game every

never permit be aahl to do. that. “When I begin to
— of defeat,
oer on the other side. Chester is coming along
all. right,’ he added enthusiastically; “that soreness he

d has all passed off, thanks to the strenuous exer-
ise. Permit me to add that your brother Chester is some

ee eer

 
 

 
 

 

TOP WEEKLY.

‘him questions,

it scares ‘me so that I wake up and :

Tt was but chaffing talk, with little. meaning.
the practice play was resurmed. fee

With admiration, June watched the clever way in
which Dick Merriwell pulled the puck out of a mix-up
and shot it for goal; saw it. driven back from the cage
and carom against the wall, then shoot toward goal
again,

Dick’s stick caught it, as it was crossing the rootn like
a streak, and then Chester got it away. from.him.. An
instant later Chester shot the puck through the substi-
tutes’ goal.

And soon

With pride, June watched Chester’s' playing. That he
had recovered so quickly from his recent injuries was a
gratifying thing. To her mind it.emphasized the. desir-
ability -of athletic exercise. Chester was, in the pacer
of the street, as “hard as nails.”

With even more admiration and delight, June Arling-
ton watched the clever’ polo work of Dick Merriwell,
and she was glad that Dick and-her brother were now,
and for so long had been, good friends and comrades. °

When June departed. from the rink and reéntered
her automobile, she drove first into the shopping dis-
trict, then took her way «down into the tenement sec-
tions, where Joe Crowfoot had run afoul of his shane
adventures.

She had heard Crowfoot tell about them, and had-asked
to get him to talk of the Chinésé idol
room and opium den into which he. had by chance
stumbled.

She had not noted the questions which Crowfoot had
asked in return, about the woman who had been ‘scrub-
bing in the Arlingtons’ house and about the man who
was janitor of the clubrooms. Joe’s questions and the
hints accompanying had been too subtle and cryptic for
June’s comprehension, for, so long as Crowfoot knew
nothing positively, he said nothing positively.

June was not even thinking of Crowfoot as she drove
down to the tenements, but of the people there, who lived:
working lives, amid many hardships.

She had sent into that district, as well as into other
needy places, many presents for Thanksgiving, and not
a few Thanksgiving dinners. She always had a feeling |
that her money was hers to do good with, and was much
more generous and free with it than Chester. was with
his. Chester was never niggardly, and always stood will-
ing to assist a friend, but he preferred to spend his money
on himself and on people whom he knew. Hence he
never sought out men he thought were needy. The fact
that there were so matry needy people in this attractive
city was a thing which hardly occurred to him. Denver
lay smiling on its sunny plain, well out beyond’ the
feet of the great mountains, and seemed to him a place
sO prosperous that any man or woman in it who wished a
living and money could get both readily, by any sort of
proper effort.

But June knew that there was suffering here and there,
particularly in the tenement sections, and her hand and
purse were always ready to help wherever she thought:
that help was needed.

That morning, before leaving home, she had waged”

some questions of Mrs. Linska, the wife of the poor Rus- e
sian tailor, about her home life and the needs of her

children; for Mrs. Linska and her husband, she had de-

clared, were in such straits of ee that the ‘poor

 
  

Oe ee ei

eat

a an

 

 

 

 

    
     
     
       
   
Se asp alepsionewrooner coin ~

 

 

 

 

 

at his bronzy beard.

NEW

woman had been compelled to come to June and beg for
work as a scrubwoman.

June had now warm clothing and a number of other
things, for Mrs. Linska and her husband and their two
children, and, in addition, toys and playthings. For Mrs.
Linska had said that the children had to stay at home
alone so much of the time, and it seemed that playthings
were needed.

As June came driving into the mean street to which
she had been directed, her eyes fell on the Chinese laundry,
which brought back memories of Crowfoot’s stories of
his queer experience in the opium den.

“Tt’s too bad that the Chinese will make such slaves
of themselves,” she was thinking; “and that white men
will squander their wages for drink. I hope Mr. Linska
doesn’t drink. It’s the women and children who always
suffer most.” \

Then she noticed that a Chinaman had leaped out and
was waving his arms like a semaphore, and that a run-
away horse was approaching, dragging a buggy. In-
stantly there was a tumult in the street, with children
and women running and screaming, and men appearing
from doorways and looking out from opened windows.

June drove her automobile against a curb to be out of
the way of the running horse, and was horrified, as the
horse and buggy swept by, in a very storm of dust and
fury, to see a whirl of calico, and a child go down under
the horse’s hoofs.

June Arlington was in many ways almost as athletic
as her brother. In an instant she was out of the car
and \running to the child. She caught it to her bosom
out of the trampled dust, and noticed, at the same
time, that she saw a gash'in its forehead, that its hair was
a bright copper in color, a sort of glorious bronzy fire,
which she thought the most beautiful hair she had
ever seen. Under the hair the child’s face was white
as a cloth, contrasting pitifully with the hair and the
blood that oozed from the cut in the forehead.

As June drew the child into her arms, holding it with
loving care and stepping back, a man rushed up to her.
It was Linska. Seeing his hair and beard, his wild eyes,
and his hands stretched out, June did not need to be
told that he was the father of the little girl she held in her
close embrace.

“It is little Berta,” he said.
she is killed!”

His words broke bitterly, in Russian oaths.

“The rich, with their buggies and their fine horses—
they kill my child, my Berta!”

Mrs, Linska had said, fondly,
was named Berta.

f‘Are you Mr. Linska ?” June askia, as the people began
to crowd round.

“Yah! Gabriclowich Linska! And she is my Berta!
Dead is my Berta! Curses be on, the rich!”

“I don’t think she is dead,” said June;
isn’t. I got to her as quickly as I could. I will take
her to a hospital in my auto; there it is. If you are the
husband of the Mrs. Linska who is working for me, I
have some things in the automobile, for. you and the
children and for your wife.”

“Ah, my Berta; she will never more need anything!
But the hospital—no!” He smote his breast and tugged
“No! ?

“Then we will go to your rooms, and I -will have a

X

And

“My own, my own!

that one of her children

TIP TOP WEEKLY. | ‘

“T am suré she

         
   

doctor here as soon as one can be got. Where are your
rooms?”

Something in her manner quelled his wildness, stilled
the storm that tore him, and he turned about, and, walk-
ing rapidly, led the way to a murky staircase.

“J will carry Berta!”

“No,” said June, “lead the way. She turned to a star
ing man. “Run to that drug store over there and have
the druggist! phone for the best doctor whois near, ai!
have him come dt once’ to Mrs. Linska’s rooms. Sai
that I will be responsible for the bill. My name is Arline
ton.” . ;

June followed up the dark stairs and along the. corri
dor through which the trembling Russian stumbled, blinded
by his grief, and entered through the door he opened
for her.

  
   
    
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
    
   
   
   
   
    
    
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
   
   
 
 
 
   

She was in the room that was the sweatshop where
Joe Crowfoot had been, though she had no idea of
that.

“Berta! She is killed. Curses on the rich!” Linska

howled to the pale young men who sat cross-legged on
their perch, sewing. .

He turned to June.

“In here,” he said; and led the way into another room,
which held a bed, with a stove and table.

“Now, Mr. Linska,” said June, “you go to that
store man. Give him this card, which holds my
and addre and tell him to have a good doctor come
here immediately. Then have him telephone to my, num-
ber, where your wife is, and notify her, so that she «
may return at once. I think your child is all right, but
we must take no chances. I will care for her while you
are gone.”

Linska stared at the card, mumbled something in ee
thick beard, and shot away and down the stairs.

When the doctor arrived, June had bathed the injury
and had been so successful in the first-aid treatment
that little Berta was conscious. —

“Will she have to go to a hospital?” Linska wailed to
“Curses on the hospital, for it is only for |
the rich! Poor people they kill there. To no hospital ad
does my Berta go.” 4s

He was still raving when Mrs. Linska came home, and
June took her departure.

drue-
name,

the doctor,

CHAPTER VIIL.
THE CONSPIRATORS

The bronze-bearded nihilist, sitting gloomily in the
dark room beyond his tailor shop, watched the doctor.
who was stooping over the low bed on which lay Berta
Linska.

“Will she get well?” Linska ee when the doctor
stood up. oo c

“She will, unless this room kills her.”

Going over to the window on that side, the doctor —
hoisted the lower sash, against Linska’s protests.

“Heaven’s air is free, man! Why don’t you use it?
If you want your child to live, she must have some fresh
air. Now, | want you to leave this window open—wide
open!” |

Linska protested that the night air was poisonous.

“Only when it’s full of malarious mosquitoes, which
are not kept out by screens. Now, keep this window
open.” ei

    
    
         
      
  

He came back and stood looking at Linska.

“Your wife has gone over to the pharmacy to have
my prescription filled. When she returns, if ’'m not here,
tell her that Miss Arlington is sending a nurse to look
after the child, and the nurse will be here in an hour. I[’m
going to leave full directions for the nurse to follow,
and you and your wife must not interfere with her. By
right, the child ought to be taken to the hospital,”

“No—nio! It kill people!”

“That’s just your Russian ignorance,” said the doctor;
“the hospitals do nothing of the kind. The very best
people, the rich people, go to the hospitals themselves,
and send their children there.”

”

“The rich!” screamed Linska, for the word was to him
like a red rag to a bull. “It was the horse of a rich
man that struck down my Berta! I would kill all the

?

rich!

“Not Miss Arlington, I hope, for she is trying to
help you. You will have to change your ideas over here,
Mr. Linska. This is America, you know, not Russia.
We have some very good and kind people in America
‘who are rich, and do all that they can for the poor.
Your notions are all cranky and wrong, Linska.”

After Mrs. Linska had returned, and before the nurse
came, Linska closed the window, for he was sure the
‘cold air could not do his child any good.

For a time he sat talking to, his wife.

“You are going?” she demanded, when at length he
arose and took his hat.

“Yes,” he said, “I must finish the bomb to-night. It
_ is my duty, and I must do my duty.”

 

In the new place where the nihilists gathered for safety,
the story of the accident to Berta Linska was known
long before Linska got there. They had taken action,
- and announced to him the result when he came in.

“You are to finish the bomb to-night,” he was informed ;
“but your wife is not to be permitted to place it in
_Arlington’s house, since this has happened. A woman
is never to be trusted where the interests of her children
have entered. She has served us well, by making that
diagram and map of the house and grounds. Now she

can stay at home and take care of her child.”

_ “Ah, I know,” said Linska.
- she would not do it now.”

_ They looked at him suspiciously.

“It hasn’t weakened you?”

\.4No; ” he said furiously. “I do not forget that it was
the horse of a rich man that struck down thy Berta.”
He 'got to work on the bomb, but the stream of talk
flowed on even’ as these men worked.

“She was telling me that

“This giving of presents, and sending nurses and’ doc-
tors—what! is it more than the opium tke rich use on
the poor to benumb them and keep them quiet, so that
the rich can rob them with safety, and go on robbing
them? See its effect already on your wife, Linska, This
morning she was ready to hide the bomb in the Arling-
ton house, but to-night, having, received a dose of that
kind of opium-——~”

The fellow finished with a flourish of his hands.

“What was it,” he went on, a moment later, “which
enabled these rich ret to get hold of the wealth
Was it not the labor of other
This Miss Arlington pays your
your nurse, Linska, Well and good. What

 
 

 
 

 

   

12 | - NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY... :

if she does? Where did she get that money?
ever earn a dollar in her life?”

Linska worked feverishly on the bomb he was fashion-
ing, and fitted into it the tiny clock that was to set the
hour of explosion, with the pistol that the clock move-
ment was to fire, and the dynamite which was to do the
terrible work; it was an ingenious thing, made with skill
and care.

When all was done and the alarm of the clock set for
the hour fixed, the bomb was sealed with metal, so that
it could not be opened, though the seal was for the
purpose of so deadening the ticking of the clock that it
could not be heard even in a room where it was con-
cealed.

“Ivanowski will leave it in Arlington’s room,” said the
man who had been made spokesman. “If, after he gets
into the house, he cannot get into Arilngton’s room, he
will hide it somewhere near! Failing in that, he will,
in the darkness, hoist it on a pole to a point outside,
near Arlington’s window, where it will shatter the walls
and destroy his bedroom.”

They discussed it calmly, though one cannot ‘say sanely!
When all the details had been arranged, they separated,
and Ivanowski carried the deadly thing home, under his
coat.

He todk it to the clubrooms where he worked, the next
day, and kept it hid there, waiting the time when he
could “plant” it. He sought excuses to go to Arlington’s,
but none came until after nightfall.

Chester and Dick were doing a bit of polo practice in
a toom which had been prepared for the purpose. Ches-
ter grutnbled about the weight of the stick he was using,
declaring it was too heavy, and remarking that he
wished he had brought over the one he had in his room
at home.

_“T could get it for you,” Ivanowski urged.

“If it wouldn’t be too much bother,” said Chester; “you
could leave here a while, I suppose?”

In his best English, Ivanowski declared the pleasure
it would give him to do anything he could for Mr,
Arlington. :

Did- she

Thereupon Chester wrote a note, and Ivanowsky has-
tened off with it, but not until he had secured the con-
cealed bomb and, tucked it under his coat.

“The fellow is grateful for what June has been doing
for that little Russian girl who was hurt yesterday,”
said Chester, when Ivanowski had gone. “These beggars
try to be obliging. I don’t think I could stand what June
does, though. To-day the girl’s mother was crying, when
June was down there to see the child, and suddenly she
caught June’s hands and began to cover them with kisses.
I asked June if it didn’t sicken and disgust her.”

As for the Russian, his heart was beating high as he
hastened away, for the thing he had waited and schemed
for had come at last, just as he began to fear it would
not come at all.

All the way to Arlington’s he turned over various
plans by which he could’enter Chester’s
any servant’s objection. He read the note again, and

whispered over the words he would say, which he pope far,”

would accomplish his wishes. A

In the end everything turned out even simpler: oy,

he had hoped. The maid who met him at the door. and
)read the note, admitted him and said she would hove.
a man go up to Mr, aes § room ) for the stick

 

room, in spite of -

    
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
 
 
  
   
   
   
   
  
  
   
   
   
    
    
  
  
  
  
  
   
 
  
   
    
   
   
  
    
  
   
  
    
  
  

 

 

 

 
    
     
    
     
     
 

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Left standing in,the hall, Ivanowski acted. He began
to ascend the stairs. If interrupted, he meant to claim
that as his knowledge of English was limited, he had
thought the maid said for him to go up to the room and
get the stick.

He had the diagram furnished by Mrs. Linska in his

mind, so he knew the location of every room in the
house, and how each room was to be reached most
readily.

Before the servant came up the stairs, Ivanowski had
got into Chester’s room and secreted the bomb, and was
out of it, with the door lecked, and was standing with
a. bewildered air in the corridor.

“Why didn’t you wait below?” the man demanded,
“You were told to wait there.”

“I not understand it so,” said Ivanowski; “I thought
she say get stick in room, but I know not which is
room.”

“Just wait there. I'll get the stick for you.”

The man unlocked the door, got the stick, and passed
it over, and Ivanowski retreated hurriedly from the
house.

“The servant, he get it for me,” hé reported to Arling-
ton, as he passed over the polo stick.

That night, at a later hour, he was able to report to
his friends and fellow conspirators that the bomb had
been safely planted in Chester Arlington’s sleeping room,
near his bed.

CHAPTER IX.
TAKING A CHANCE,

Ivanowski did not get away from the clubrooms, how-
ever, without being seen, as he left, by old Joe Crow-
foot.

Having been baffled, the old Indian could not sit down
quietly and admit his defeat. He had tried to locate
the point to which Ivanowski now vanished, and he re-
fused to believe he could not do it.

In addition, Crowfoot still harbored under his bldck
topknot a thought, which was not so much a belief as a
feeling, that Dick Merriwell was in peril at the hands of
Ivanowski.

When no one seemed to be die Ivanowski, he had
turned on both Dick and Chester strange glances, which,
if they did not indicate hate, spoke of an emotion that
was close to it. Crowfoot had seen those glances.

Crowfoot said nothing of his thoughts to any one,
not even to young Joé. He did not like to be laughed
at. After all, he could not deny that he was probably
chasing things which existed only in his own mind.

‘\ As he followed Ivanowski that night he was led again

to the door behind the post.

When he had unlocked this door, with a key selected
-from another key bunch, and had mounted silently to
the room whose door had held’ the tinsmith sign, he
“found. the sign gone and the room dark and vacant.

\g “Heap bad!” he muttered, as he prowled through dark
halls and long corridors, his hand on his revolver under
his: blanket, ready for any encounter.

_ Whey he had wasted more time than he thought he
could afford, he determined to try again the oe lead-

  

‘ing to the opium joint.

' “Crowfoot git um killed mebbyso now,” he was. chile.
ing, ‘recalling the Chinaman who had ‘flashed the creese

TIP TOP WEEKLY. : 13

 

and the other Chinamen, who had rained down the stairs
at him.

Crowfoot was not only a gambler with cards, he was
a gambler with everything, even, with life itself. To/
take a chance was a part of his nature. His ancestors/
for unnumbered generations had been men who “took
a chance.” When they went on a raiding trip for scalps,
they always risked their lives, for Indian warfare knew
no such thing as giving quarter, and they were always
going on raiding trips, They took a desperate chatice
whenever they went against a bear or cougar or even
a wild cat, with their primitive weapons of stone and
flint. And they were always “taking a chance” with
Nature.

Crowfoot thrilled pleasantly with the feeling of the dan-
ger that seemed to lurk in the darkness of those halls
and corridors. He thrilled even more as he approached
the barred door at the end of the alley and dropped his
hand to the knob.

When the door opened and he stepped into the lower
hall, he saw again the Chinese guard.

This time the guard did not demand the password, but
whipped out his,creese and made a dive at the intruder.

Crowfoot ducked. As the curved blade swept over hi§
shoulder, his head struck the yellow man in the stomach
and pasted him against the wall.

The Chinaman slipped downward, and Crowfoot’s
fingers encircled his throat.

A minute afterward the Chinaman was almost vainly
trying to breathe through the gag of hair that was in
his mouth.

It was his own long coil of hair, and it madé an
effective gag. Crowfoot had sliced it off with the razor-
like ‘blade of the creese. Cutting thick ropes of cloth
out of the Chinaman’s shirt with the same weapon, Crow-
foot had bound him hand and foot.

While the Chinaman lay wheezing and squirming at the
foot of the stairs, the lithe old redskin, with the creese
under his blanket, was mounting softly to the floor
above, well aware that now he was surely “taking a
chance.”

wiry

He knew he must move quickly, before the Chinaman’s
plight was discovered. So when he came out into the
opium room, as before, smokers lay sprawled on
the couches, and a Chinese came toward him, he held
out a two-dollar bill, and asked for a “sleep smoke.”

As the yellow man hurried off to get it, Crowfoot
arose from the cot to which he had been piloted and
slid softly across the room, unnoticed by the sleepy
smokers, and got into the passage that led to the idol
room.

where,

As he peered in, the huge papier- -maché image glared ~
at him as before, but he saw. no person in the room.
He crept in softly and looked warily about. And he.
looked at the eyes of the image, for through the holes
there he had himself peered forth into this room.

With a start he saw that behind the idol’s eyes human
eyes were glaring at him.
For: a moment Crowfoot stood hesitating. His dis sap-

pearance from the smoking room must soon be discov-
ered. Beyond this room lay the hall he wished to enter, _
But could he afford to go on and leave behind him the —
priest who was now looking at him from the interior ;
of the image? m

Still hesitating, Crowfoot moved anak cra the idol.

 
   

  

 
   
       
   
      
      
  
  

 

  

 

Oy

 

 

building as quickly as he could.

~The room was lighted by a lamp that stood on the

14 NEW TIP TOP..WEEKLY.

As he did so, slippered feet shuffled at the entrance
of the room and there sounded a whispering of Chinese
voices.

As one of the Chinamen slid in over the threshold,
Crowfoot saw that he was the guardian of the lower
entrance, who had been so maltreated. His queue was
gone, his shirt flapped open where the slices had been
cut out of it. In his eyes was a fire of rage.

The appearance of these Chinese at the door caused
the priest within the idol to back out of it through the
little rear door. For the moment, Crowfoot had passed
beyond his/sight.

Other Chinamen came slipping into the room, gliding,
silent except for their lisping whispers, and moved upon
Crowfoot. They were armed with knives and creeses.

_ Their intentions seemed deadly.

However, Crowfoot was even quicker in his move-
ments. His lean arms, shooting from under his blanket,
hooked round the neck of the man who had backed out
of the door of the idol,.and he began to move back-
ward with him, holding him as a shield.

The scared priest tried to yell, and kicked out and
squirmed. The pursuing Chinamen made a dash to get
behind the Indian and cut him down. He moved too
rapidly. Soon he was in the hall beyond, still dragging
the wriggling priest.

This was not at all what Crowfoot had anticipated,’

and he was not pleased. He had hoped to locate again
the tailoring room of the bronze-bearded man>and spy
-on the men he expected to find there. This latter seemed
now out of the question. Nor did he relish the, thought
of being compelled sto fight all those wild-eyed yellow
men who were so anxious to get at him with their knives
and curved swords.

Crowfoot’s chief. desire now was to get out of the

foolishly, urged on by the instinct that. made him always
sO anxious to trail something.

Retreating thus along the passage, he came to the
door of the tailor shop, and set his back against it.
The hall before him was filled with Chinese, who crouched
an@ tiptoed and wheezed and whispered.

The Chinaman he held as a shield was making a fight
that was wearing on Crowfoot’s strength. He had to

end the struggle, and he ended it by hurting the China-.

man as a missile at the heads of his compatriots.

The Chinese who were in front were knocked down
like grass struck by the blade of a mowing machine,
and the utmost confusion was produced. ~

‘Still with his back against the door, Crowfoot drew
the curved creese he had captured at the foot of the
stairs, and swung it, expecting that some of the China-
men would jump at him.

He swept a glance along the hall, wondering if,, in
fleeing in that direction, he would not pocket himself
like a pool ball.

He’ was about to try it, for the Chinamen were coming
at him again, when the door against which he had set

his back was opened suddenly, and he was precipitated

backward into the rootn, his support being thus removed.

He fell heavily, with a jarring thump that seemed
enough to break his old bones, and the creese dropped
out of his hand.

\

He knew he had acted.

of Gabrielowich Linska, your friend; the home where my

 

shelflike table where, throughout-the day, the pale young
men had worked.

The young woman who had opened Linska’s door was
June Arlington.

She was making a late visit there to see how the little
girl was progressing, and she had been talking with Mrs.
Linska when the commotion sounded in the hall, She
had opened the door to discover what the noise meant.

When she saw that the man who had fallen so heavily
into the room was old Crowfoot, and knew by the looks
of the Chinamen who eame streaming toward her that
he had been pursued by thenr and perhaps attacked, and
that they meant to get at him in the room, she caught up
the curved sword which had clattered out of his hand
and put herself in the doorway.

“Back!” she cried, and swung the shining blade.

The foremost Chinaman crouched and drew back, for
the creese flashed within a foot of his face.

But the others, crowding. behind, seemed to push him
on, while a very storm of those queer Orfental whis-
pers, so like hisses, swept into the room. .

“Stand back!” June commanded.

She was magnificent as she stood in the door of the
shabby room, defying those yellow men. She seemed
inches taller. Her dark eyes were alive with the light
of determination, and her dark face was flushed. In
the: sudden excitement her heart was pounding riotously.

She knew no more than that Crowfoot lay helpless and
these men seemed to be seeking his life. But that was
enough.

“Back!” she cried at them; and
again.

She heard Crowfoot scrambling behind her’ and knew
that he was trying to rise.

“If ‘you can get out of the rooms, Joe, run for
help,” she ordered; “perhaps Mrs. Linska can show you
a way out.”

Instead of obeying, old Crowfoot, as soon as he got
on his unsteady feet, whipped out the revolver he always
carried hid away under the old red blanket.

“Me shoot,” he said, his voice high and quavering,
as if it tried to break into a war whoop; “me shoot um
dead !”

“No, Joe,” June commanded; “put that down! You
must not shoot anybody. Try to get out and get help,
Summon the police, I’ll hold them here while you get
out.” ,

swung the sword

Joe tried to obey, though he did it reluctantly; but
Mrs. Linska apparently did not understand him when he
backed into the rear room. She had leaped to the
bed that held her child, and screamed as she put her arms
round it.

CroWfoot stumbled. blindly on, and seeing no door,
came jlimping back, again swinging his revolver.

There would no doubt have been bloody work soon
in that hall, in spite of June, if Gabrielowich Lingka had
not made a sudden appearance there.

Where he came from Crowfoot did not know. But
there he was, having leaped into view, and now he stood
before the door, his eyes blazing and showing big rings
of white, his coppery hair framing a face twisted with
rage and fear.

“Dogs!” he yelled to the Chinamen, waving his arms.
“Out with you! You would attack my home—the home

 
   
    

    
   
   
  
   
 
  
    
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
     
   
   
      
  
   
   
   
 
   
  
   
  
  
    
   
   
   
  
 
 

 

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—

yey,

Berta lies: close to death; and where ‘my’ wife cries’ out
her eyes day and night! Get out of heré before I kill
you!” re sey

The Chinamen fell back before the fury’ of his words.
And though they -clamored and whispered: and waved
their hands in return; trying to make ‘him’ comprehend
the situation; he swept fhem before him asa broom
sweeps dirt. Rs a foes

They were afrdid’-of him. That was rot altogether
because of his furious wrath, but because hé was their
friend, and knew their secrets; knew about their opium
joint and their games of fan-tan, all of which were
forbidden by the laws of Denver and the State. He
could, if he willed, not only have them arrested and
dragged before the courts, but he could break up the
business carried on here, and have them scattered to the
four winds. © giro cave pene

But. as they retreated,. they protested, and, pointing
with their fingers at. June and at the creese which huny
now in her limp .right hand, they tried to make Linska
know that an enemy of. a-.pronounced kind was in his
rooms. ,

-The .fiery-eyed Russian - did. not -understand them at
all; until Crowfoot came with a bouhd-out into the hall
behind. him and. scuttled off through the darkness-like a
rat- seeking safety. ;

‘The -‘Chinamen came pressing back toward the door,
when the astounded Russian turned. to- stare.

The next moment Linska was yelling to his wife.

Mrs, Linska came to the door, pale and frightened, and
began to shout to her husband.

June’ had not retreated and had not dropped the
creese.

The Chinamen were streamitig past her and’ past Linska,
running in pursuit of the vanishing Indian; the hall
and the whole house seemed filled with their hissing
whispers and the scuffling of their sandaled feet.

Linska turned to June Arlington.

“It was your Indian?” he demanded. “So I thougit,
and so she says, and he came to you here, seeking shelter !
‘What was the trouble?”

“IT don’t know,” June confessed,
most peculiar.”

Linska thought he knew.

“Your brother did not send him?”

“T think not. Why should he?”

“As a messenger—a spy?”

Linska stopped then. He saw he was about to betray

“The whole thing. is

(vg

}

his secret thoughts to this youhg woman.

“The child—Berta?” he demanded, turning to his wife.
“She is dead? This has killed her?”

Mrs. Linska assured him that Berta was «much bet-
ter, and he crept into the room, having removed his
hat from his shock of coppery hair. !

“Tt is the young lady who is so kind—so good!” said
Mrs. Linska. .

“Ah-h!” Linska snarled.

June came up to him, still holding the creese, which

she did not know now what to do with.

“Won't you, Mr. Linska,” she urged, “follow those

- Chinamen, and see that they do not hurt that Indian?
It will be a favor.”

His white-ringed eyes stared at her.

- “He is your brother’s Indian?”

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

 

ES

“If ‘lie belongs to any one, it’s to Dick Merriwell,”
she said.
“Ah-h!”

“Go quick, Mr. Linska!” June begged, “Those hor-

rible Chinamen! If- you ‘neéd to summon’ ‘the «police,
there’s ‘a: telephone in the drug’ store. Hurry, Mr.
Linska !” a

She fairly pushed him fromthe foom.

While calming Mrs. Linska,-and thinking of ‘Crowfoot,
June had time to examine the strange weapon’ which had
fallen from the hands of the old Indian. She -was
sure he had taken it from one of the Chinamen, and
she could not but recall that a sword like it. had. been
found at her home, and that some one, thought ‘to -have
been: perhaps their dismissed. Chinese cook, had sought to
kill her brother and Dick Merriwell--with it..She had
heard: their stories and had looked with horror. at- Ches-
ter’s hat, whose crown had: been cut away by the swing
of the blade.

“One -of these Chinamén here,” she was thinking; “this
place ought to be raided and broken up! I wonder that
the Linskas aren’t in fear of their lives.”

She became aware that she was shaking like an aspen.
Her nerves had been drawn tight, and let down -with
a snap, and she was suffering the reaction: of her high
excitement.

Linska came back, reporting that both the Indian .and
the Chinamen had. disappeared. :

“Those Chinamen’ live in this building, don’t they?’
June asked. “The ought to be arrested.”

“Ah-h!” he snarled, in his doglike way, as he did
when. something displeased him.

“You do, not think they ought to be arrested?”

“They poor people,” he said, “very peaceable, and work
hard; they are not rich, And this North American
Indian”

“But if he got into their place while trying to find me,
was he so much to blame for that?”

“He try to find you? Ah-h!”

“He must have been, I can’t think of any other
reason why he should have come here. He came right
to this door; he was backed against it, defending him-
self, when I opened it, and that caused him to stumble
and fall into the room. I hope the fall didn’t hurt him.
From the way he ran I suppose it couldn’t have hurt
him much. You see this curious sword, Mr. Linska?”

“Ah-h!”

“Some of the Chinamen out there had swords like it,
so I know that when. he was attacked he took one of
their swords from them, and defended himself.’ I’m truly
anxious about him. So I’m going, and I shall telephone
to the police.”

Linska’s face seemed suddenly swollen with rage.

“Ah-h-h! The police!”

“You will be stopping in your own home to-night?”
Mrs. Linska asked, as June got ready to go.

At the time June thought this question curious, and it
came back to her afterward.

7

CHAPTER X.

THE NIHILIST BOMB,

‘

¢

Gabrielowich Linska looked ‘at his cheap watch’ after —

June Arlington had gone. The hour was growing late. ©

Now and then he walked restlessly up and down the —

   

        
       
  

   
 
  

 

 

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. this land,

havé, to. the cause!

little room which held the bed, Only he and his wife
were there. The nurse sent by the doctor would not
stay, because she did not like-the appearance of the
place and the Linskas refused to obey her orders.

So the, Linskas were alone together, and free to talk;
yet they talked very little. Occasionally Linska bent
over the cot where Berta lay asleep. Then he would mut-
ter and pray and curse, and resume his walking, watched
by his wife.

Any one seeing them would have known that when
Linska was in this moodyhis wife was afraid of him.
She was a black-eyed woman, a Lithuanian, while he
was a Russian, from the province of Archangel; yet
both had been steeped in hatred. of law and authority,
and, in their ignorance, had transferred their hates to
where such passions can do no good and are
not wanted.

Mrs. Linska,
nihilist friends,

in sympathy with her husband and _ his
had entered the employ of the Arling-

tons for the sole purpose of getting information and

making a diagram of the house; and at first it had
been the expectation that she would plant. the bomb
which her husband was making.

She would not have been able to do it, after what June
had doné for her. And as she saw her husband look
now and then at his watch, and: beheld*him pacing like
a caged lion to. and fro in the little rooms, she ven-
tured to say a thing she would not have thought. herself
capable of saying; for the women of her kind are never
quick to interfere.

But tow she spoke:

“Tt is the young woman that I think of!”

Linska whirled on her, and she shrank back as if she
expected a blow.

“See how it hurts me to have little Berta harmed,” she

said. “But what is a cut on the head to that? Her.

reom is clése by that of her brother; not so far but

that the bomb——”
Linska’s face whitened, and, casting a glance round,
he stepped to the door, opened it, and glanced out.
“Have a care,” he snarled. “Is she not of the rich
and powerful that we hate?” he asked, as he closed the
door. “Is not her brother owner of mines? Did he not

”

have strikers arrested?”

Mrs. Linska sobbed.

“But, oh, the young lady!” she said.

“You are a fool,” her husband flung at her, and resumed
his walking.

An hour passed, in which he looked at his watch fre-

_ quently; then another hour.

“The rich, they sit up late,” he commented; “but he
must be in bed by now. In another hour-——”

Mrs. Linska threw her apron over her ‘face and sat
rocking and weeping.

“Would you turn my heart to’ water?” he snarled. “It

is for the cause; for generations unborn.”

*: “But the kind young: woman!” Mrs. Linska sobbed.
-“She was good to me and little Berta;
ahd little Berta.
_/ Linska strode moodily to and fro.

so good to me

”

And in an hour-———

“We have sworn to give ourselves, our lives, all we
We may perish, but the cause; will
live. And some day the world will be a better place

- for people to live in on account of the things we have

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

done. ‘ Who gave the ‘mines and’ the money” to’ these
people? They deserve to be removed.”

“Oh, the good, kind young lady!” wailed Mrs. Linska.

Linska looked at his watch ‘again, ~-His heart jumped
when he saw how fast the seconds were being ticked
away.

“T. will look again, to see if that North American In-
dian is hanging round,” he said, and taking his hat, he
left the room.

Linska’s mind was in-a whirl as he went out into the
dark street. “The kind young woman was so good to
me and Berta!” The words were ringing through his
soul. Yet even when he was in the street he had not
made up his mind to attempt to thwart the horrible thing
he had planned. eel

Yet with a confusion of thought: he ‘found\ himself
moving off toward that part of the city which held the
Arlington home. Haste soon catching him, he got into
a late street car, which whirled him along rapidly.

Even then he did not know what he meant to do, or if
he meant to do anything. - The place of the planned
crimé was drawing him, as it is said the scene.of a mur-
der so often draws the murderer. back to it... .

Again and yet again he. looked “at. his. watch as: the
car bore him alorig, and a ‘strange and vehement .impa-
tience cauight and ‘choked him ‘whenever- there fame a
delay.

Two streets above the Arlington’s. he, swung off the
car. It had at the time only two or three other passen-
gers. He kept out of the flare of the electric > dit at
the corner, and slouched along.

When he came close up to the Arlington: tegen; now
wrapped in darkness, he edged to a. light and again looked
at his watch.

His heart leaped into his throat. How the time had
fled!

Only then did he know that he meant to get the bomb
ottt of the house and destroy it or carry it away.

He moved quickly now. Making his way to the rear
of the silent house, he looked at the windows above him.
He was carrying in his mind that diagram of. the rooms
and halls which his wife had furnished to the con-
spirators.

He was wishing that he had brought tools to make his
way in. Hesitating, he was almost on the point of ring-
ing the front doorbell and announcing his mission, despite
the consequences. Then his heart failed.. He felt that!
what he did he must do by stealth. ;

Stepping back and looking up again, he saw that some
of the upper windows were open. In coming across the
grounds he had seen a ladder in a shed. This he now
got hurriedly, and hoisted it with all the care and skill
of a professional burglar to~ the window of the room
which he knew to be Chester Arlington’s—the room where
the deadly bomb lay secreted, and where, in ‘a few min-
utes, its clockwork would tick it to destruction.

Linska went up the ladder with the quick stealthiness of
a climbing cat, and poised at the window ledge,’ peering
in, _He saw the bed, and knew it held ‘an occupant, for
he heard the steady breathing of a~sleeper. '

Getting the lay of the room, Linska threw” a leg aves!
the window ledge and climbed in:

The only light came through the windows, and as the .
room was at the rear, overlooking the garden and the

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trees, the light from the street lamps did not penetrate
to it. ’

Yet there was light enough in the room to:suit Linska. |

He could ‘see to move about, and the semidarkness would
make his identification less likely if the sleeper awoke.

He had no weapon, as he moved thus into the room
and toward Chester Arlington’s bed... Chester lay with
his face turned toward the wall, and was in a deep sleep,
apparently.

Linska gave him a long stare; then ducked down at
the foot of the bed and began to crawl under it.

In a closet near the head of the bed, so that it was
almost. beneath Chester, was a lacquered box, which held
a few of his personal effects, and into it Ivanowski had
thrust the bomb. Linska was making toward the closet.

As he slid over the floor, he became aware that the
sleeper had aroused, or was arousing, Linska’s move-
ments stopped. The young man in the. bed tossed, and
turned. over.

Linska’s position was harrowing. The tiny .clock in
the lacquered box was ticking away the seconds, and
now there were not too many Jeft! Linska knew he
could not crouch there long in silence; that if he did,
if he miscalculated. the time that was left and over-
tarried, not only Chester Arlington, but he. himself, would
be hurled into eternity in a blinding explosion that would
wreck the house.

“T don’t believe I’ve slept ten minutes,” he heard Ches-
ter grumbling. “Ill. be in great. shape. for that game
to-morrow.”

He tossed and turned again.

Sweat broke out on the pasty-white face of the crouch-
ing man by the bed. The seconds were flying!

Knowing that he dare not delay, as soon as Chester
Arlington had quieted, Linska moved again, opened the
closet door and drew out the box, which had not been
moved since Ivanowski put the bomb in it.

“Hello!” said Chester, rousing up. “What was that?”

He sat up in the bed, looking about, and glanced at the
open window.

“Dreaming, I suppose! Fine shape I’m going ‘to be
in to-morrow.”

He was beginning to think he had practiced too strenu-
ously, and was on edge. But he knew in a moment that
no twitching of his nerves had awakened him. He heard
a movement, as Linska.slipped down and under his bed.

This time Chester said nothing, though he did some
quick thinking. “His first idea was that a burglar had got
into his room through the window. Then he recalled the
curved sword and the man who had been with it on the
piazza. Perhaps the assassin had come again!

The thought of a combat in the half darkness there
with a Chinaman swinging a creese was tiot soothing to
the nerves, and Chester’s nerves were jumping. He ques-
tioned as to mee he had better do. He was weapon-
less.

Crouched Benet the head of the bed, with the lac-

quered box in his hands, which he had not been given

time to. open, Linska’s position was now as unenviable
eyen as that of Chester Arlington; he knew that certain
death waited on delay, and the time was short.
Moreover, if he should be taken, his position would
be even worse than that. of a captured burglar, for he

would have to declare the contents of the dynamite

 

 

NEW -TIP TOP WEEKLY. ae

bomb at once, in order to save his own life from the
result of its explosion.

He heard Chester Arlington moving in the bed,* and
saw his feet swing down and touch the floor softly.
Linska squirmed toward them. Hearing the movement,
Chester-drew his feet up with a jerk.

Linska squirmed on, under the bed, moving toward
the side that faced the window. He could hear his own
heart beating, and he thought he heard the ominous
ticking of the tiny clock inside the bomb. His flesh
was cringing with the fear of the explosion. For it
seemed to him that the time allotted must be on the point
of expiring, as each torturing moment appeared to be as
long as a minute.

He was making up his mind that if he could do noth-
ing less, he could get out into the open room and hyrl
the box through the window, as far as he could send
it. Though that might hasten the explosion, it would not
take place in the room.

Chester’s feet came down again to the floor. He
placed them close beside Linska’s head. If the Russian
had not flinched aside, they would have descended on his
shoulders.

It was quite likely, Linska was thinking, that Chester
had a revolver, and would shoot.as soon as he saw any-
thing, So he dared not emerge into the open, even to
make a. scrambling jump to reach the window.

In his desperation he left the lacquered box slide softly’
out of his arms, and caught Chester Arlington by the
feet.

Chester yelled, and swung back upon the bed.

Giving the legs a yank, Linska, at the same time,
managed to slide the box out into the room, and while
Chester yelled and struggled, Linska followed the box
with his body.

Then he made a diving jump for the box, and, with
it in his hands, made another jump for the open window
and the top of: the ladder.

“Stop !” Chester roared.

As Linska flung through the window and set his feet
on the-ladder, Chester slid to the floor, and, hearing
the man scuttling down the ladder, he gave chase, limping
across the room, while sharp twinges of pain shot through
his right leg.

The bullet that Linska expected ° did not come; he
reached the ground, stumbling down’ so precipitately that
he came near falling.

As he started across the open ground beyond, running —
wildly, the clock of a neighboring church struck.

One! two! The notes boomed.

Linska was almost across the open ground. The clock
had struck the hour for the explosion. With a scream
of fear and terror he threw the box desperately from
him and bounded on like a wild“man.

CHAPTER XI.

ROLLER POLO.
“It was about as strange and unpleasant an experience —
as I ever went through,” said Chester Arlington, “and it
put me out of the match.”
He was seated in the rink, talking with some friends, -

before the opening of the game. Out on the. floor of s
‘the rink several young fellows, costumed and ready, were

dashing about on their: polo skates. The seats of the

   
  

spectators were filling with friends of the members of
the competing teams, and many other people, who enjoyed
i a match of this kind for its own sake. The time was

bia night, and the rink was brilliantly lighted.
Ee “T’ve had fellows laugh when I was telling them
A; about it,” Chester was going on, “and to an outsider it

bie may seem funny; but if a burglar was under your bed,
and when you put your feet down to get out, he caught
_- you by them and tried to pull you to the floor, and the
a room was dark, and you had no weapon——”

“ld have howled bloody murder!”

“I yelled, all right; couldn’t help it. It was a sur-
prise, to have him grab my feet that way. And the
twist he gave me. I can hardly walk to-day on account
of it! When my sister brought me down here in her

auto, and I climbed out of it, I thought at first I couldn’t
Fi put my foot to the around, and I could hardly drag
iy upstairs.”

“You had a fight with him Er

“No, I didn’t get hold of him. As he flung me
round, he jumped to the window, where he had a ladder,
and got down into the grounds. When I hopped over
to #he window, I heard him running, but I  couldn’t
see. him.

“Of course, I roused the house, and when I had dressed
I made a hunt out through the grounds. But it wasn’t
until this morning that we found the only thing he seems
to have taken out of my rooms; that was a little. box
that I kept some things in—trinkets, and a journal of
some travels and matters like that; not worth a cent to
any one but me. The burglar had opened it, and then
thrown it away; possibly,” and here Chester tried to
laugh, “he thought I kept my diamond sunburst in that
_ box, as it was right under where I was sleeping. He
must have been some disappointed. ]

“We suppose that, of course, he would have taken
other things, if his movements in the room hadn’t waked

‘He was under the bed when I heard him, and per-

haps that box was the only thing he could set his hands
on, and he took it in the hope it held something worth
while.
_ "We telephoned for the police, and they are working
on the case, but what can they do? Not a thing, as I
see it.”

 

“What was that I*heard about some one trying to get
at you with a knife or sword, or something?” asked one
of the fellows Chester talked with.

_ Chester looked puzzled.

“That had nothing to do with this burglary attempt,
-seéms to me,” he declared. “I angered a Chinese cook
that we had to discharge, and we’ve thought he came back
and tried to get me in that way, but we've no , PrOOr of
that, either.”

The substitute janitor, Ivanowski, had come up by the
door, close to the chairs in which Chester and his friends
‘sat, and was looking into the rink as if interested. in
_ what was going on there.”

- “You must have ice games where you came from,”
said one of the young men to him, “but perhaps not roller
polo, in a hall like om e

“Plenty ice game,” said Iyanowski, “but not like this
did I see. It look odd to see skate with wheels.”

“There are a lot of queer things over in this country,”
served the first speaker complacently.

“Oh, yes,” said the Russian blandly.

 

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

 

And they never knew: what queer things he could have

told them, if he had really tried to display his knowl--

edge.

The spectators were ‘still streaming in and occupying

the seats. The players on the rink floor still whirled and
circled. The time for the game was at hand.

June Arlington had come in with some girl friends,
and they were occiipying seats that gave them good
views.

Though June was sorry that her brother had received
an injury which kept him from playing, she was glad
that his hurt ‘was no worse, and glad, too, that as he

_had to give place to a substitute that sub was Dick

Merriwell, Aa

Dick came over and had a few words with June and
her friends, when the practice was over and before the
playing began.

This was the line-up:

DeENvER STARS.
Davis, rush.
Barry, rush.
Collins, center.
Thorne, half back.
Bent, goal.

ATHLETIC CLus.

Merriwell, rush.
Campbell, rush.
Oldfield, center.
* Rudolph, half back.
Silver, goal.

The goal keepers, Bent and Silver, were rather. stocky
and heavy men, yet quick and active on their skates... The
other players were much lighter, though all were. well
muscled and sturdy.

The interminable buzz of talk. in the ranks of the

spectators stilled perceptibly when the referee came upon
the floor, or “surface,” with the puck, and the teams took
their places before the goal cages.

The players had been standing, for rest and « ease, with
their padded feet flat on the floor, their roller skates
skewed to the side of their feet, but this position changed
when the referee prepared to place the puck on the spot
in the middle of the floor. The players straightened
theit skates under their feet, and bent in straining atti-
tudes, ready to dash for the puck as soon as the referee
blew his whistle. .

After placing the puck, the referee stepped out to
one side ‘of the surface and put the’ whistle to his
lips. 7

Before the whistle sounded, some of the overeager
skaters were moving.

The referee ordered them back.

Suddenly the blast of the whistle cut the air.

Davis, of the Stars, even then was in motion beforé he
had a right to be, but he did not get the puck before
Merriwell, whose stick uncovered the spot and ‘sent the
puck with a bang against the planking at the back of the
cage of the Denver Stars.

Thorne, half back of the Stars, secured the puck and
sent it flying toward the middle of the surface.

Its passage was blocked by Oldfield with his feet, and
he shot it toward the goal of the Stars.

The goal keeper was on duty, however, and kicked: it
away.

The puck was stopped by Rudolph, and there Was a

whirling movement of players near the middle of the —
surface, each striving to get the puck or ‘send it’ to a”

man of his own side, that it might be hurried on toward
the opponents’ goal.

    
 

Out of this whirl and slither of moving legs and

  
   
  
  
    
   
  
   
  
    
      
  
   
   
    
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
   
  
    
   
  
  
   
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
  
   
    
   
   
    
    
   
   
   
  

 

 
 

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skates and whipping sticks the puck was shot by Don
Campbell, of the Athletic Club, who played rush with
Dick Merriwell.

The swallowlike turns of the skaters, the diving lunges,
together with the cheering and applause that now and
then rose from the ranks of the spectators, filled the
rink with a thunderous rumble, that seemed almost to
shake the sides of the building, and to this was added
the whacking blows of the puck rapping at frequent in-
tervals against the planking. ‘

The puck being captured by Collins, center
Stars, he skipped it toward the Athletic goal.

The Athletic goal keeper was sturdily on duty,
ever, with legs and stick ready, and-he blocked the clever
drive, sending the puck off to one side.

Barry, of the Stars, got behind it with his stick. He
was a fast skater and whirled in like lightning, and
sent the puck again toward the goal of the Athletics.

It missed, but went behind the goal.

There was a hot fight for possession of the puck. Dick
Merriwell could) have made an effective protest, if he had
wished to do it, for there was rough play. Davis tried
to push Dick out of the way, but was hurled violently
against the planking.

Dick’s: stick dragged the puck away from the wall and
behind the goal, and caromed it to Oldfield.

Oldfield ran, with the puck down the floor,

driving shot toward the goal of the Stars.

But the puck was stopped.

Another whirling fight took place for the . possession
of the puck, it being batted and banged at, stopped and
moved by clubs and feet, until Dick Merriwell
flirted it out.

Dick drove it for goal this time,
and followed it in a grinding rush,

Bent, Stars’ goal keeper, seeming heavy and bulky in
his big chest protector, and with his feet and legs well
padded, could yet move as quickly as a cat, and he kicked
the puck out of the way.

However, as he lunged for another kick) he uncovered
the puck to Merriwell’s stick, and Dick shot the puck
into the cage, thus making the first goal of the game.

As the goals changed, and the’players stood flat-footed
or walked round, resting for the next hot siege, Dick
Merriwell saw that Crowfoot had come into the room
with young Joe, and was doing his full share to make
the cheering a noisy success.

His wrinkled face cracked open in a grin, and he waved
his hand when he saw Dick looking in his direction.

Then again the talking and the tumult diéd, when the

for the

how-

and made

again

finding the chance,

-referee put the puck on the spot and stepped aside to

make his announcement: j

“First goal, Athletic Club, Merriwell.
two minutes and ten seconds,

The crouching rushers sprang into motion as_ the
whistle blew, but again Dick Merriwell got the puck as
‘Davis reached for it, and sent it flying down the sur-
face.

It was stopped by the Stars’ center.

The Athletic Club’s center caught it away
and sent it toward the goal of the Stars,
goal tender knocked it back with his stick.

The half back of the Athletics now got the puck and
started down the surface with it, driving it past the

made by Time,

from him,
where the

‘

  

 

NEW. TIP TOP WEEKLY. 19

opposing center and -half back, who tried in vain to
prevent it.

But Barry, rush for the Stars, and a quick and bril-
liant skater on the little wheels, dashed round in a flying
semicircle, and stopped the puck with his stick before it
reached the goal tender.

Thorne overtook it as it skipped away, and drove it,
with a resounding bang, against the planking by the
Athletics’ goal.

But Merriwell and Campbell, the Athletic rushers, drove
it from the vicinity of their goal.

Dick Merriwell ran it now down to Davis, of the’
opposing team, passed it round him by a fine carom to the
wall and on to the Athletic half back, who tried to drive
goal.

The half back made a whirling dash in this attempt,
and turned s0 quickly that he was thrown to the floor
and one of his skates was broken.

The referee’s whistle blew, and time was given for the
half back to get other skates.

The chatter of the spectators broke forth in this inter-
val. While the fierce fighting of the game was
on, the movements of the contestants were so rapid, the
that in order to see what was hap-
attention than was compatible with
spectators. Yet

swift,
changes so constant,
pening required closer
much
now and then there were shouting cries and clatterings

when some clever play was executed, or a :

conversation on the part of the
of applause,
bit of fine teamwork was pulled off.

The playing of the led by Dick Merriwell,
was something really They made team plays,
by which the puck was’ sent from player to player, and
shot round opposing skaters, by caroming it against the
planking.

With the exception of the important post of geal tender,
the Athletics seemed to have the best men, simply be-
cause they worked together in team play, but the goal
tender of the Denver Stars was such an effective fellow
in that position that it. was hard to get the puck by
him.

Athletics,
fine to see.

He was burly and savage and spectacular ; he roared
and raged, bellowed as he kicked and struck at the puck,”
as if he had a hatred of it and desired to crush it into
atoms, and he glared at the Athletic players as they drove
the puck at them as if he desired to hammer their heads
as well as the puck.

But-the point is—he guarded the goal.

This close team playing became more and more evi-
dent on the part of the Athletic team as the game went
on. As if to counter and thwart it, the Stars seemed to
develop slugger qualities. Collins, the center, banged into
Dick Merriwell more than once, and in a manner that
was inexcusable, and grew more offensive in this kind
of work when he found that the referee did not penalize
him or call him down. ey

Once too often Collins tried this’ “jamming” of Mer-
riwell. Dick did not swerve to get out of the way this
time, and struck the offensive player so heavily by the —
mere impact of his tremendous motion that Collins was _
hurled from his feet, and he fell with a crash on the
floor, striking his head, lying there for a moment stunned.

The referee blew his whistle, and there were shouts and
cheers and catcalls. 2%
so that Dick —

Collins glared at Dick, and whispered,

  
   
  

NEW

 

could hear him, for Dick at the instant was trying to
aid him:

“Tll soak you for that, all right!”

“Better not try it,’ said Dick, in a tone that was a
vigorous warning.

It was discovered that, in falling, Collins had damaged
one of his skates, and there was a delay while he re-
ceived another pair,

+ Collins’ anger seemed but to make him a fiercer and
4 even, more capable player. In a short time the Denver
iS Stars caged the puck.

Whe
tr
ad

 

ec But when the playing began again, Athletic teamwork

re won, and Dick Merriwell drove a goal.

fos The referee’s whistle announced the end of the first

-_ period of the game.

6 Throughout the second period the same kind of warm
work on the part of the battling teams went’ on. First
toward one goal and then toward the other the badly
hammered puck went skipping and sliding, chased, de-
fended, smashed at, driven along; while the whir-r of the
speeding skates reverberated, and the spectators cheered
and called encouragingly as their sympathies led them.

So fiercely contested was this period of the play that
only one goal was made, and that by the Athletics.
The players were breathing heavily, and the goal tenders
had been given so much to do in protecting their goals
that they were covered with perspiration.
When the interval ended, the game was on again wih
a rush,

 

In a struggle that ensued for the puck in the middle
of the floor, Collins made a vicious swing with his stick
for Dick Merriwell’s head. Dick was not caught napping.
He dodged. The stick missing its aim, came over with
a whack against the floor, and was broken short off, and
Collins was pitched from his feet by the miss of his
stroke,

Collins, pale now, through fear that his trick had been
seen and understood, made abject and profuse apologies,
claiming that he had struck at the puck in the air, and

Had not been aware that Dick was so near.

“But see here,” Dick found opportunity to whisper
_ while a new stick was being brought, “if antyhing like
that happens again—anything, understand—I'll hammer
_ you, after this game is over, Bear it in mind!”

_ Collins bore it in mind so well that he tried nothing
against Dick: again.

: hat he had done injured only himself and the play-
; ; of his team. Somehow that look which Dick gaye
him, and the fear that it drove home in the fellow’s cow-
ardly heart, took the gimp out of his polo work. And,
“as a chain is never stronger than its weakest link, the
weakness that Collins developed affected all the playing
ay on his side.

The fierce contest for the puck worked to the middle of
the rink. Soon Dick drove a goal..

_ The Denver. Stars tried to make a winning rally. They
_ charged down the rink with clanking roars with the ball;
but it was taken from them by the Athletics, who, with
beautiful teamwork, shot it from player to player, and so
caged it again and again.

is he fine playing of Dick Merriwell could be seen and
a appreciated even by the most unnoticing of the spectators.
He did not seem to be trying personally to drive goals,
_ but nearly every time it was Dick who contrived to send

:

   

   

  

  

  

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

 

the puck to the one who made the goal, sending it in a
manner to give the player every possible chance.

Toward the close Dick took a hand in the goal making,
and caged the elusive thing twice in less than two minutes
of playing time.

The goal tender of the Denver Stars lunged, kicked,
struck, dived, frantic’ in his efforts to protect his goal,
and though he, forced the puck back time and again, he
could not keep some of the cleverest drives from getting
into the cage;’they seemed to bore right through.

As the game came to its wild finish, with the Athletics
making goal on top of goal, there was a mad uproar of
excitement sweeping through the spectators’ benches,
where nearly everybody was standing up, howling in ex-
citement.

That the Athletics had won the game did not need the
announcement of the referee, for everybody knew it.

Yet when the announcement came, with the time of
the playing in which the final goal was won, the friends
of the Athletics rocked the roof again with their en-
thusiastic cheering.

CHAPTER XII,
JUNE’S REWARD.

“Oh, the good young lady!” Mrs. Linska wailed, long
after the hour set for the dynamite explosion at Arling-
ton’s. ¢

Being in a different part of the city, it was conceivable
that the sound of the explosion had not reached her. ©

She was thus wailing when Linska came in, white-faced

and trembling as if exhausted.

“Oh, the young lady!” cried Mrs. Linska, and her eyes
were wet with tears.

“No!” he said explosively.
of Berta.”

He produced the bomb from under his coat, and she
saw that it had been opened with a cutting tool.

Voice and limbs shaking, Linska told her what he had
done.

“The thing did not go off,” he said, holding it up and
looking at it curiously. “When I threw it away, the jolt
of its fall jarred the clockwork loose, and stopped the
clock. See what the dial marks!” he cried, and sweat
broke out on his face. “Thirty seconds; just thirty sec-
onds! It would have been two o’clock by this in just
thirty seconds, when I threw it from me. The clock

“I stopped it—on account

‘stopped as it struck the ground.
“I waited for the explosion—far out beyond; an hour —

I waited. I heard the big clock strike three. Then I
knew something was wrong—that the bomb would not ex-
plode. So I crept back, and I took it out of the box,
Now I have been to,the shop, and opened it there, and
found that it was because the little clock had stopped.”

“You will try again? Oh, the dear young lady!”

“No! I will not try again. I shall break up the
bomb. I am through.”

Going over to the bed, he stooped and laid a kiss on
the cheek of little Berta.

“She will get well, and it will be soon,”
Linska, her sobs choking her voice;

fine that in a week ,she will be almost well.”
Then the nihilist, who was ready to do murder for

  

his cause, who had declared that he believed in na God, —

alii a et ga

said Mrs.
“the doctor came —
after you had gone out, and he says she is moiag $0". |

      
      
   

    
 
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
   
 
   
  
   
  
   
 
  
    
  
  
 
    
    
  
   
  
   
   
   
   
    
    
   

 

at sl

ar a piensa
=s

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&.

tie

eee

i al

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7)
ao

 

 

      
    

    
 

  
  

anna se a

- — ii

ae

sine

 

 

ote Sani At Lita Sea

 

 
  
  
 
    
   
     
    

 

anal

4) ing it out.

he turned to the girl.

 

 

 
   
     
   

and only in the power of terror in this world, knelt by
the bed, as his. wife dropped there, sobbing, at his side,

and followed her in the ancient prayer of thanksgiving
of the Russian people.
* f * * * * *
Spectators of the polo game spoke of the final rally

and winning plays of the Athletics, under Dick Merriwell’s
leadership, as the Winning Streak.

3ut the real winning streak which made the game and
everything else possible was played without thought of

gain and advantage, in pure kindness of heart, by June

Arlington.
THE END.

“Dick Merriwell’s Anxious Hour;
Jack Dalton,” is the title of the story that concludes
Dick’s adventures in Denver. You will find it in the
next issue of this weekly, No. 124, out December 12th.

or, The Bracing of

_ The Garden of Adventure.
By BARRY WOLCOTT.

(This interesting story was COmmenced in No, 117 of the NEW TIP
TOP WEEKLY. Back numbers can be obtained from your news
dealer or the publishers.)

CHAPTER XXII.
ON TO ROSARIO.

He was astonished when, according to Denny’s sugges-
tion, he looked in the mirror hanging on the cabin wall.
Disheveled and blackened by powder, he was the, most
disreputable-looking individual one would care to see.

A good deal of blood was flowing from a slight scalp

wound, which he had not the slightest recollection of re-

ceiving. Any cut on the scalp bleeds in a manner out of

_ all proportion to its importance, and this one was little

more than a scratch on the finger would have been.
Sandy bandaged it with sticking plaster.

During the process, even though Maud was fluttering
anxiously around him, Jack spoke but little, and then in
monosyllables. He had a plan in his head, and was think-
When Sandy at length left them together,

“Maud,” he said gravely, “I said I'd try to get your
father out of that place, and now I’m going to. You'll
have to go below again, as soon as I leave here. And
so——. Well, if by any chance I shouldn’t come back, I’d
like to say good-by, that’s all.”

Tears came to her eyes, but she restrained them bravely.

“I won't say good-by, Jack,” she cried, almost sobbing,

ee and she could say no more, but hid her face in her hands
and rushed from the deck.

,With a long sigh, Jack went on deck and sought his

Trish friend.

“Denny,” he asked, “how far are we from Rosario?”

“But a little way; so near I fear they heard our guns,

Why?”

“Ts the citadel close by the water?” he questioned, with-

NEW TIP TOP

cers.
_ I do not know you. Halt! Halt, I say!”

   

WEEKLY:

“Directly on it.”

“Then, Denny, look here.
anza, and sail in there.
in after a.successful fight with the Jarisco. Before they
find, out that it isn’t so, I'll go ashore with a few men,
rush the place, and get old Don Alonzo out of it. Now,
there’s no use in your objecting, Denny; I promised to
get the old man out, and I’m going to, if I can.”

“I wasn’t going to object,” replied Denny’ gravely; “I
was thinking of something like that myself,to telf the
truth. It may work, and it’s the only way to save the poor
old man’s life, I fear. But it’s your right—yours and
Lonnie’s—to make the attempt if you want to, I’m think-
ing.”

“T think so, too,” said Jack.
we get at it, the better.”

I’m going to take the Esper-
Every one will think she has come

“And I think the sooner

Denny agreed. They must get away at once,
arrive by the break of day.

sO ‘as to

A picked crew was placed on the disabled steamer,
which was hurriedly repaired, and the Nones launch was
hoisted to her decks, ready to be got with speed into the
water once more. Finally Denny himself, having turned
the Jarisco over to old Sandy, climbed resolutely aboard.
Then the screws revolved, and, followed by a cheer from
the decks of the old sailing ship, the Esperanza was on
her way.

”

“Jack—and you, Lonnie—listen,” said Denny, when they
had started. “I learned something from one of the men
that we took from this ship. - That is, that Don Alonzo is
confined in the cell nearest the seaward door on the
right hand as you go in. You'll take sledges to break
that open if you have to, of course. Valdéz himself is
in command. There’s a sentry before Don Alonzo’s door.
You'll probably have to eliminate that sentry. And don’t
use the steam launch.”

“Why not?” asked Jack.

“Because she isn’t knowh as one of the Esperanza’s
boats—and because she may be of more use elsewhere.
Don’t be afraid to tackle any odds that may offer. You
wins have to fight long alone. -_Now go and pick your
crew.”

This task Jack relinquished to Denny and Lonnie, They
knew, as he did not, the men they had to work with.
Only twelve men could be taken, they decided, without
arousing suspicion at once.

Then the equipment was carefully seen to, and there
was nothing else to do until their final position was,
reached.

Steaming boldly into the little harbor, the Esperanza
dropped her anchor as close to the frowning old citadel
as she safely could go. Even while her guns were
thundering the proper salute, the boat was dropped into
the water, and her crew took their places in silence, and
pulled away from the steamer’s side.

The distance to be traveled before the water steps of
the old fortress: was reached was very short. But even so,
the platform at the head of the stairs: was filled with
eager, though unsuspicious, men, mostly officers.

“What news?” they cried, as the boat neared them. “We
heard guns. Was there a fight?” ee

“There surely was,” called Lonnie cheerfully, in answer.

“Then how did it turn out?” asked one of the elder offi-
“And,” he added suspiciously, “who are you, seiior ?
  
 
  

 

22

Hé drew his pistol as he spoke, but not in time. The
boat already had grated against the stone landing, and,
at the head of their little party, Jack and Lonnie had
sprung ashore.

Taken by surprise, the officers were at a disadvantage,
but the men from the old Jarisco learned that these
were very different folk from the ignorant crew of the
Esperanza.

Their rush succeeded, it is true, and they won the open
door of the citadel, but not without a momentary check,
and not until the alarm had been sounded. Bugles began
to blow, and the old pile of masonry began to buzz like a

‘disturbed hive.

“First/cell on the right! Come on!” called Jack, sprint-
ing down the corridor on which the great door opened.

He had no necessity to search. The locality of the cell
was marked by the presence of the sentry, to which Denny
had referred, but who now, after firing his rifle ineffec-
tively, proceeded to absent himself with all the speed of
which his legs were capable.

“Don Alonzo!” called Jack.

“Father—oh, father! Are you there?” echoed Lonnie

“T am here, and unharmed. But I cannot get out, my
son,” the calm, grave voice of the old man replied.

The two young men wasted no more words. The next
sound was made by a heavy sledge as it crashed on the
ponderous door.

A chorus of shots, sounding in that echoing space, as
though they had been fired by artillery, sent bullets whirl-
ing down the corridor. Then the party which had fired
them—some forty men—came charging down, led by Val-
dez himself,

Two of Jack’s party fell, but, like the picked men they
were, the rest formed to receive the charge, and the strokes

of the two sledges never faltered in their regular blows

on the door of the cell.
The odds were not as great as they 'seemed; there was

room for but four men abreast in the corridor. And
these odds were materially reduced by a volley from
Jack’s men, fired when the others were almost upon

them.

But there was no time for another. Now the fighting
was hand to hand, those from the citadel striving to drive
from the cell the rescuers who, on their part, stubbornly
held: their position.

Valdez was everywhere, with voice and example en-
couraging his men. No bullet seemed able to get to him.

“The devil, his master, has given him hide that is proof,”
Jack heard said by one of the men who was fighting by
his side. And certainly it seemed so.

With a crash, the door of the cell flew open, and\Don

Alonzo, as calmly as though he was sauntering down a
street, stepped forth, He was surrounded by his rescuers,
and hurried toward the door of the water stairs.
* Now it was that the rescuers began to lose men rapidly.
The water gate was closed, and a small party of men
were protecting it, so that Jack and his followers were
between two fires. :

Outside he heard the chugging of the launch and the
sound of Denny’s men as they beat at the closed gate;
and desperately he turned at bay, trying to hold his own

and protect the old man until help should arrive. From
Pon IY hy ; A

*

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

the landward side of the fort came the rattle of rifles
and the heavier reports of’ guns mounted on the walls.

Lonnie, fighting bravely, was opposed, with his saber
and empty pistol, to an officer of the enemy, when Valdez,
coming up at one side, delivered; with all the strength
of his experienced arm, a terrific cut. Lonnie did not see
that attack; his attention was directed solely toward his
antagonist.

3ut Jack saw it, and he knew that unopposed it must
certainly kill his friend.

In a desperate attempt to parry, he thrust forward his
cutlass. He almost succeeded, but not quite. The blow,
glancing from the blade, bit deep into his shoulder. He
made a weak attempt to strike, but his blow lacked power,
and was easily turned. He felt his strength fast leaving
him. With a last effort he raised his automatic pistol,
and watched it with an entirely impersonal interest as it
spat, with all its wicked celerity, a stream of shots’ into
the handsome, frowning face of Valdez, which then was a
face no longer.

At that moment the door leading to the water gate flew
open, and Denny, at the head of a crowd of men, leaped in.

Then Jack for a time knew no more.

Coming to his senses, in a vague sort of way he be->

came aware that he was lying on a bed, and that a cool
wind was fanning his cheek. Maud, dressed in white,
was sitting by the bedside. He started to speak, but with
one hand she gently covered his mouth, while she let
her other hand fall on one of his, and remain there.’

For a time this was all sufficient, but at last even this
happiness, yielded to a curiosity which, as his recollections
became more distinct, took possession. Then Denny, with
Alice by his side, came softly into the room, and he could
contain himself no longer. .

“Where am [, and what has happened?” he demanded.

“You’re’on the Jarisco. She’s a hospital for officers
now.
tor’s orders,” answered Denny promptly.

“But I want to know,” wailed Jack, with an invalid’s
fretfulness, “why aren’t you at sea?”

Denny hesitated, and Alice plucked at his sleeve.

“Tell him, dear,” said she, “He'll fret himself into a
fever, otherwise.”

“Well, then, I will. But you're not to/ talk, mind you,
Jack. Here goes. I’m not at sea, because the other side
hasn’t anything afloat. The battle of Rosario is won, an’
we licked the stuffin’ out of them. You've won promo-
tion and a medal for what you did in getting Don Alonzo
out of the hole he was in, and for saving Lonnie’s life.
And the estates they were trying to get away from
you are as secure as the Rock of Gibraltar. That’s all.”

“Can’t Wade make any more trouble?” asked Jack.

“He cannot. It seems he had employed your old friend,

The Rat,” replied Denny. “There was a dispute about the —

pay he was to receive, and——-* Well, The Rat got to his
old tricks with a knife, and afterward learned the lesson
of the churchyard wall. That’s all, Jack, that I'll be
telling you, except this one thing: The firm of Alligator,
Hyde & Company is a mighty good one for its friends,

but a bad thing to buck against. And it’s goin’ to take in ©
as soon as you're well enough to be best

a new partner

” v

man.”

  

And you're to keep your mouth shut, by the doc-

 
    
   

 
 
  
  
   
    
 
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
   
 
   
   
  
  
     
   
   
    
 
  
  
  
   
   
   
    
   
  
 
 
   
  

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. he had raked out on the stones.

\ crossed the ‘seas. to

ing, and gave his tail a gentle tap on the floor.
- good, doesn’t it, old boy?” removing the lid of the swing-
ing pot with a long-handled iron spoon.

”

“There'll be two new .partners,” responded Jack, and
he turned his head and looked at Maud, who blushed and
noddéd in return.

THE END.

ONLY A DOG.
By W. H. GRAFFAM.

A miner’s home in the Far West, years ago.

Inside the cabin all was as snug as the homely means
at hand could make it. A huge fire of oak occupied one
end of the only room the cabin contained,
as: parlor,’ kitchen, dining - room," and: bedroom: combined.
Over ‘the ‘fire was suspended, on an ‘iron crané, a ‘rusty
pot,‘in which: something was boiling, sending forth the
rich aroma of ‘onions, ‘pepper,
pounds. Ee

The blaze lighted’ up the ‘whole room, running into
every nook and cranny, and dancing over the rough logs
in -fantastic. shapes. The miner’s fire was his one cheap
luxury “in the days of. 49,” -when wood was to be
had for the hewing,. and he could be warm if he never
“struck it rich.”

A young man in the rough garb of a miner knelt before
the hearth, holding a rasher of bacon over the few coals
An eager and interested
Spectator of these preparations for supper was the faith-

ful companion of all his wanderings, his dog Ben.

Harry Brandt had been in the mines of Nevada County
for two years, yet had not fourid the fortune he had
seek. With the exception of a few
one of the many more unfortunates.
the hope of “striking it rich” some

spurts, he Had been
Still he lingered in
day.

To-night was the eve of St. Valentine, and our lero
was-a bit homesick, to dissipate which weakness he talked

‘to the dog, and he listened as though he understood every

word he uttered—and I have no doubt that he did.
“Sorry a valentine we'll. get, oldman, The saint has

forsaken this end of creation.”. The dog looked ‘know-

“Smells

After satisfying himself that the stew was sufficiently

cooked, he ladled out a generous portion of it into a tin
dish, and set it out on the snow to cool for Ben, who
~ lay down at a little distance and watched it patiently.
‘own meal was then dished up and set upon one end of the
pine table,

His

sans tablecloth, and our hero sat down on a
bench before it and fell to.
Before, however, sitting down to his own meal, he went

out and brought in Ben’s dinner from the snow and placed
- e on the floor, beside him.

These two had not eaten a
meal apart since they met, the first day Brandt set foot
in California, and dinner would not seem like dinner to

ae either. one without the presence of ‘the other.

ful eyes” of Ben a small lump of gold.

| “Ifever I do strike it rich, old man, it'll mean a big blow-
|. out for your royal highness.

Sabe ?”
The dog wagged his tail and winked one eye know-

Presently Brandt took from his bosom a soiled paper
package, and carefully wnrolling it, revealed to the watch-

“Tes: all that’s left us, old man,” he said; then, with

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

which: served:

‘bacon, and other com-°

sudden facetiousness, he held it to the dog’s
“Seek him!”

nose, saying:

The setter was alert in an instant, and, smelling all over
the small specimen carefully and understandingly, rushed
out of the cabin, and, deaf to all whistling commands of
his master, disappeared in the darkness.

“Well, I'll be switched!” ejaculated the young fellow,
coming back after a fruitless search in the vicinity of the
cabin. “Who would have thought the old dog would
have taken a fellow at his word in that manner?”

After the moon rose, lighting the mountainside for a
long distance, he went to the door more than once to
look out, but neither hide nor hair of the dog could
seen, and he returned to the fire, more disconsolate
and miserablé than ev

‘Brandt still sat by ‘f fire: He had no heart to go to
bed and leave Ben outside. But, after many fruitless
journeys to the door and back again, he threw himself
on the bed, all dressed as he was, and fell asleep. The
sun streaming across his face the next morning awoke
him, and he sprang up with a vague hope at his heart.
But Ben was not there. He whistled loud and long, but
no Ben responded. to the familiar call, and he shouldered
his pick and shovel for his daily tramp up the trail to
his “lead” with a heavy heart. No faithful friend trotted
before him this morning, looking back, ever and anon,
for a word of kindness from his master.

be

It was a long day, and resulted, as all the previous days
had resulted—in failure. He could not eat his supper,
but sat by the fire, moody and heartsick. In this frame
of mind he fell, first into waking, then to sleep and actual
dreams.

He thought the latch was lifted, and the dark, athletic

form of an Indian came noiselessly to the fire and stood
looking down at him. He was wrapped in the folds of a
long gray blanket, the corner of which he had drawn
over his head. He did not utter a word, but stood silently
looking down at the miner. As Brandt looked up into.
the dark face, fascinated by the fixed gaze of those
penetratihg eyes, it seemed to undergo a change. The
nose elongated; the long, coarse hair on either side the
head grew curling and glossy, and assumed the shape
of ears, covered with a growth of short black hair; and

the eyes lost their fixed stare and became almost human.,

He had almost exclaimed: “It is Ben!” when his visitor
suddenly dropped on all fours and trotted toward the
door.

Impelled by what force he knew not, Brandt arose and
followed after.. His strange guide, who now appeared to

be a strange blend of dog and Indian, bounded forward.

straight up the mountain path, and it seemed to Brandt
that he followed after with incredible speed.

The direction they took was over the same trail he

had so often trodden in the past two years; but the rapid

figure ahead did not halt at the “shaft,” but kept straight
on, Some twenty yards farther he turned and doubled
‘on his track. This maneuver he repeated several times,
then went ahead again, Brandt following.

“Now the path was crooked and uneven; now darting up|
the side of the mountain, then plunging abruptly down

again. In this manner they followed a course that took
them through unbroken patches of trees and over ne,
quite familiar, to Brandt.

_ Suddenly, with the strange second sight: of ane, he

t

     
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
    
   
  
  
   
    
   
 
 
 
  
   
   
   
    
   
   
   
 
   
 
     
   
 
   
      
 
   
   
  
  
 
 
   
   
  
   
  
    
       
   

  
        
     
         
  

  

   
 

     
 

   
  
 
   
 
   
 
   
   
   
   
 
   
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
    
  
  
  
 

24
realized that the dark patches on the snow ahead of him
were blood.

At this juncture the form ahead of him suddenly stopped
short, and Brandt, who was but a few paces behind, pulled
up, just in time to avoid stepping into a dark, cavernous
hole that yawned at his feet, and all about the margin the
snow was splashed with red blood, while up from the
cavern, at his feet, issued a faint groan.

A cold shiver passed over his frame—the real cold of
the snow and night air and the feeling of returning con-
sciousness. He rubbed his eyes and looked about him;
he really stood on the mountainside and not far from
home. He could \sée his cabin at a little distance. But
he was on the opposite side of’ the mountain from his
claim. He must have gone clear around it in his dream.
But how did he come there at dead of night, and by what
unseen hand led?

He was not a coward. A life in the mines of California
in those days did not tend to lessen a man’s courage; but

a feeling not unlike the crawling of a slimy snake down
his spine crept over him when he looked about and found
everything exactly as he had seen it in his dream. There
was the pathway by which he had come, and on that path-
way were the patches of blood. At his feet yawned
the dark cavern of his dream, and again, as then, he heard
the faint groan. , Conquering an impulse to put distance
bétween that dark hole and himself, he stood still and lis-
tened. The groan was repeated. No, not a groan—a
whine. The truth came to him like a flash: “It is Ben!”

That. thought dispelled all lesser thoughts, and lying down
in the snow, he peered into the hole, calling:

“Ben, dear boy, are you there?”

A glad whine, a soft tap of his tail responded.

“Good boy! be patient; I'll get you out;” and he darted
down the side of the mountain, taking the shortest cut to
his cabin, regardless of the fact that his feet might at
any moment rum into some overgrown shaft.

It was but a simple task to gather up a blanket from
his bed, a strong rope, his pick and shovel, and a dark
lantern, and hurry back to ‘the spot where he had left
the dog.

- Climbing down into the shaft, he found that it was
not deep, and the entrance to a tunnel, halfway inside of
which Ben lay. A hasty examination of the dog showed
that the wound consisted of a pretty badly lacerated shoul-

der, probably being the result of running against something .

sharp on his way to the mine. This accounted for the
blood on the snow; and, after losing considerable blood,
the dog was unable to get out of the shaft, and, in some
-occult manner, this fact was communicated to his master.

Brandt did not waste time upon speculations as to. the
cause of his dog’s condition, but quickly bound up the
shoulder in strips of rags, which he had brought for that
purpose. The dog submitted to this operation with his
usual good sense and fortitude, but when his master
attempted to move him, he resisted with all his might.

Finding resistance in vain, he struggled to his feet,
and looking up into his master’s face, with the well-under-
stood look of intelligence Brandt had so often seen there,
he pressed his nose down to the spot upon which he
had lain, ©

Brandt put his lantern down close to the ground and
examined it carefully. In spite of his wounded shoulder,
Ben wriggled about in the fashion dogs have of showing

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

_ their satisfaction. A smothered ejaculation broke from

the young man. He had put his lantern close down toa
nugget of gold as large as his fist. Ben licked his master’s
hand and wriggled almost out of his skin in his delight.

Brandt tied up the nugget in the corner of the blanket
and looked about for more. Every blow of his pick
yielded a piece of earth rich with the precious metal.

The young fellow, disappointed for so long, and now
seeing his best hopes realized, felt his brain reeling, and
had to put his head up out of the shaft for air in order
to regain his senses, which he felt were fast deserting
him. Then he sat down on the ground, and, putting his
arms about the neck of the faithful animal, burst into
tears. Ben sat upright like a martyr, bearing the added
pain that the weight of his master’s arms inflicted without
a’ murmur.

“You’ve won your spurs to-night, old fellow, and you
shall wear them, or I’m a duffer!”’ he cried, when he ‘had
recovered his equilibrium, and dog and master were on
their way to the cabin. ~ .

Without a word to the other miners, Brandt worked
his claim until he had satisfied himself that it was really
a “find,” and not merely a “pocket,” as so many leads
proved to be in those days of suddenly realized fortunes
and as sudden disappointments, Then he staked it off,
and posted the accustoméd hotices of warning to tres-
passers,

A visit to Nevada City was next in order, to have hig

“property” duly recorded. Moneyed speculators in San
Francisco got wind of the mirie and paid it a visit, the
result of which was the exchange of all his right and
title for the sum of five hundred thousand dollars, whith
in those days was considered a bigger “pile” than as many
million would-in these days of railroads and oil kings.

The very next ship that sailed, outward bound, through
the Golden Gate, bore as “cabin passengers” Harry Brandt
and his dog Ben, the lattér in the proud possession of a
brand-new collar, the finest that could be produced in
those days by San Francisco silversmith.

 

THE CASE. OF GUNN.

' By MAX ADELER. |

A+ good deal of interest. was felt, down. our way, in
the case of Gunn versus Barclay, which was tried recently
in the county court. It involved a question of the owner-
ship of Gunn’s right .leg. . Gunn. related the. facts: of
the case to me as follows: . ge AK ;

“You. see, one day last winter, while 1 was shoveling
snow off of the roof of my house, I slipped and fell over
on the pavement below. When they. picked me up, they
found that my right leg was fractured. Doctor. Barclay
examined it, and gave it as his opinion that mortification

would be certain to set in unless that leg came off. So.

I told him he’d better chop it away, and he went round
to his. office, and presently he came back with a butcher
knife and a crosscut saw and a lot of rags. Then they

chloroformed me, and while I was asleep, they removed —

that leg. When I came to I felt pretty comfortable, and
the doctor, after writing some prescriptions, began wrap-
ping my off leg up in an old newspaper; then he tucked

the bundle under his arm, and began to move toward the —
I was watching him all the time, and I hollered _

door.
at him;

 

  
    
     
   
  
     

 

 

 

 

      
      
     
     
   
   
     
      
 
    

   
 
   

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“Where in the mischief are you going with that leg
of. mine?’ fies ;

“I’m not going anywhere with a leg of yours,’ he said.
‘But I’m going home with my leg.’

““Well, you'd better drop it,” said I. ‘That leg belongs
to me, and I want it. I want it for a keepsake.’

“And you know he faced me down about it. Said when
a doctor sawed a man apart, he always took the ampu-
tated member as one of his perquisites; and he said that
as it was his legal right to take something on such occa-
sions, it was merely optional with him whether he took the
leg, or left the leg, and took the rest of me, but he pre-
ferred the leg. And when I asked what he wanted with
it, anyway, he said he was going to put it in a glass jar
full of alcohol, and stand it in his office. Then I told
him that it shocked my modesty to think of a bare leg of
mine being put on public exhibition in that manner, with
no-pantaloon on, but he said he thought he could stand it.

“But, you understand, I protested. I said I’d had. that
leg for a good many years, and I felt sorter attached to
it. I knew all its little ways. I would feel lonely without
it. Who would tend to the corns that I had cared for so
long? Who would treat the bunion with ,the proper de-
gree of delicacy? Who would rub the a with linimept
when they got frosted? And who would keep the shin
from being kicked? Nobody could’ do’ it as well as I
could, because I felt an interest in the leg, felt sociable
and friendly, and acquainted with it. But Barclay said
“he. thought he could attend to it, and it would do’ the
corns good to soak in the alcohol.

“And I told him I’d heard that, even after a man lost
a limb, if anybody hurt that limb, the original owner felt
it, and I told Barclay I wouldn’t trust himi not to tread
on my toes, and stick pins in my calf, and make me stuffer
like thunder every time he had a grudge against me, and
he said he didn’t know, maybe he would, if I didn’t treat
him right. -

“And I wanted to know what was to hinder him, if he
‘felt like it, taking the bone out of the leg and making
part of it up into knife handles and suspender buttons,
and working’ the rest. up into some kind of a clarinet,
with finger holes punched in the sides. I could stand a
good deal, I said, even if I had only one leg, , but I
couldn’t bear to think of a man going around the com-
munity serenading girls. with tunes played on one of
my own bones—a bone, too,.that I felt a kind of affection
for; If he couldn’t touch.a girl’s heart without serenad-
ing her with one of Benjamin P. Gunn’s bones, why, he
had better remain single. . And so on.

“We blathered away for about an hour, and at last he
said he was disgusted with so much bosh abouf a ridiculous
bit of meat and muscle, and he wrapped the paper around
the leg again, and rushed out of the door for home. —

“When-I sued him, arid when the case came up in court,
the judge instructed the jury that the evidence that a leg
belonged to a man was that he had it, and as Barclay
had this leg, the presumption was that it was his. But
no man was ever known to have three legs, and as Barclay
thus had three, the second presumption was that it was

 

therefore, accept the theory that-it was Gunn’s leg, and
consequently the law couldn't tell who under the-sun the

  
 

leg did belong to, and the jury would have to guess at
it. So the jury brought in a verdict against both of us,
and recommended that in the uncertainty that existed, the

  

 

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

 

25

leg should be buried. The leg was lying during the trial
out in the vestibule of the courtroom, and we found
afterward that, during the argument, Jim Woods’ dog
had run off with it, and that settled the thing. Queer,
wasn’t it?”

THE TRACK OF AN AVALANCHE

We had gone out from Fort Owen, to open the pass in
the Big Hole Mountains, to enable the woodchoppers to
get a supply of fuel for the post. It had snowed for
seventy hours without a break, and at several points in the
there were drifts twenty feet high. There were
twenty-five of us, under command of a lieutenant, and
about noon we had dug our way half through the pass.
The mountain slopes on each side were rough and rocky,
but the snow lay so deep that each slope looked as level
as a floor, though the slant was much sharper than the
ordinary house roof. It was a good thousand feet to the
cedars growing on the ridge, and it made one dizzy ,to
look up and realize the distance.

“We ate liable to meet with a disaster here,” the officer
had said, as we began work with our snow shovels in the
morning. “There must be no shooting with your revolvers
—no horseplay—no shouting. If the snow gets. started
up there, not a man of us will ever be found before next
June.”

The ‘pass: ran east and west for a distance of two hun-
dred feet; and then made a sharp turn to the north: At
the turn we had what might be called a third mountain
in front of us. The slope was as high as the others, and
pitched to the west or down the pass. We thus had three
slopes, two pitching across the pass and the other length-
wise of it. For the first hour every man was nervous and
afraid. Then the feeling began to wear off, and some
of the men expressed their contempt of the peril.’ At the
end of two hours the officer had‘to repeat his words of
caution, At about eleven o’clock a fall of snow from the
left-hand slope revealed the mouth of a cave ‘about thirty
feet above our heads. It was believed by all to be the
lair of a bear, or panther, and at noon, when the men sat
down in the pass to eat their pork and hard-tack, tle
officer started to go up and investigate. Without a word
on his part, I followed him. The fall of snow had left
the rocks bare and revealed three or four small trees, but
it was a hard climb to reach the cave. It wasn’t a cave
at all, but only an indentation in a cliff, with a shelf of
rock overhanging it. This overhang extended out for per-
haps four feet.

The men were not all in a bunch, but some of them
were even out of sight around the bend. After discover-
ing that we had been duped about the cave, we stood
looking down and across, and were just moving to get
down, when one of the men below us jumped up and’
shouted :

“A deer! A deer! Hurrah, boys—venison for sup-
per!”

The deer was above us, but we could not see it on ac-
count of the overhang. All the men had: their -revolvers,
and as they began to flourish them wildly, and prepare to
fire, the officer called out a command anda warning. If
they heard him, they did not heed him. He was still —
speaking when three or four shots were fired simultane-.
ously, and some one-cried out that the deer had been hit.
It was the concussion that started the snow, and it started
from the very ‘top. of the slope, where the warm sun had

pass

  
  
   
  
 
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
  
   
    
   
  
   
  
  
  
   
 
 
   
 
 

    
  
 

‘ before usa soldier was sHot to the surface.

 

   

26 NEW

 

softened it soonest. I felt a trembling of the mountain,
and leaped back under the overhang, and as the lieutenant
and I stood side by side, the avalanche swept over us.
Daylight was blotted out in an instant, and the grinding,
roaring, and crashing were something terrific,

It seemed as if the mountain rocked and pitched like a
steamer at sea, and the noise was louder than any clap
of thunder you ever heard. It couldn’t have lasted over
sixty seconds, though the time seemed ten times as long.
Then we looked down, to find the pass at the soles of our
feet. In other words, it had filled up to a height of thirty
feet with snow, bowlders, trees, and earth. Two hundred
feet to the west of us was the lower mouth or opening—
beyond that a plain. The snow had not only fallen from
our slope, but from the one opposite. We were struck
dumb for the moment, and as we stood gazing blankly,
the snow started on the third slope. Away up near the
crest a ball started rolling, and ten seconds later the
snow on a space three hundred feet long was moving. In-
stead of piling up in the ravine, it struck and forced the
snow down there to the west and followed after.

It was a great river of snow sweeping past us.
trees, and bowlders which weighed tens of tons were borne
along like straws, and so swiftly that the eye caught no
second glance. All at once there was a check, and right
It was Cor-
poral Herts, who was probably farther up the pass than
any other man: He popped out of the snow headfirst,
and at full length, and for perhaps five seconds was within
ten feet of us, and looking squarely into our faces. He
was bareheaded, his overcoat gone, and his face bleeding.
He knew what had happened, and no doubt realized: his
peril, but as*he stood there, saved for the instant, up
went his hand in-salute to the lieutenant. As’ his arm
dropped, he disappeared from sight. It was discipline in
the face of death—an instance that will never’ have its
counterpart.

Out of that narrow, rocky pass poured the tide witha
fury which scraped it as bare as a floor, and tore great
rocks from’ its sides. ‘At the west mouth the ‘snow
filled a ravine fifty feet deep, and then poured out on the
plain for a quarter of a mile. It was no use to look for
the bodies. Five hundred men could not have moved that
mass. in a fortnight.
It. was idle to hope that any of them, still lived. Along
in the last days of June; we found them, one after an-
other, and even then we, had to dig. The snow would
have smothered them as.it. rushed down,, but with the
snow came rocks, which crushed some of them to .pulp.
The corporal, who had saluted as he looked into, the eyes
of death, was the last one found. He was at the bottom

Logs,

of the ravine, the body without a shred of clothing, and

the arm he had raised had been torn from its socket as
he-was whirled along with that grinding mass.

HISTORIC HOT SPELLS.

In 1303 the Rhine, Loire, and Seine ran dry.

It seemed as if New York was on fire in 1853. Dur-
ing the week 214 people were killed in this city of
sunstroke. :

In France, in 1718, many shops had to close. The

‘theaters did nat open their doors for three months. Not
ee | drop of water fell during six months. In 1773 the
¢ Sete er rose to 118 degrees.

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

Twenty-four, men were buried there.

    

The heat in several of. the provinces, during the summer
glass furnace. Meat could
exposing it to the

of 1705, was equal to that of a

be prepared for the table merely by

sun. Not a soul dare venture. out between noon and.

four p. m

In 1809, Spain was visited by a sweltering tempera-

ture that is described.as fearful. Madrid and other cities
were deserted and the streets silent. , Laborers died in
the fields, and the vines were scorched and blasted as if
by a simoom.

The year 1772 was a fearful one in New York. One
hundred and fifty-five cases of sunstroke occurred on July
4, of which seventy-two proved fatal. The principal
thoroughfares were like fields of battle. Men fell by the
score, and ambulances were in constant requisition.

In 1778 the heat of Bologna was so great that numbers
of people were stifled. In July, 1793, the heat again be-
came intolerable. Vegetables were burned up,. and - fruit
dried on the trees.. The’ furniture «and woodwork. in
dwelling houses cracked and split, and meat went had
in an hour.

A disastrous hot wave swept through Europe in June,
1851. The thermometer in Hyde Park, London, indi-
cated from 90 to 94 degrees in the shade. In ‘the: Champs
de Mars, Paris, during a review, soldiers by the ‘seore
fell victims to stnstroke; and at Aldershot men dropped
dead while at drill.

In July, 1876
felt throughout the Middle and Southern “States. -In
Washington the heat was frightful. Genetal Sherman
declares that the car rails became ‘so expanded by the
action of the sun as to rise up in curved lines,- drawing
the bolts, In one instance the rails burst away from: the
bolts and left the track entirely.

In 1881, it is said the heat. throughout the United States
was the greatest*on record;:the thermometer in many
places registering 105 degrees in the shade. In England
the mercury ranged from-90 to 101 degrees, and in Asia
93 degrees. In London it was the hottest. season known
in twenty-two years. . The director of the Paris Observa-
tory declared there was no record of such intense heat. |

 

PROBABLY RIGHT.
“Now, Johnny, if six’men can do a piece of work

in one day, how long will it take one man to do: it?”

asked a teacher of a sharp little boy.

“The téacher is a’fool if he thinks I can ariswer: that |
question,’ whispered Johnny, in a low voice to: ne next!

boy.
“Speak out, Johnny.

I dare say you are 5 apse ‘said
the pedagogue.

 

A VICTIM OF BAD GAS.
“What are you doing,” said the clerk in the hotel. ‘Do

you want to asphyxiate yourself and die on our hands?”

“What’s the matter. with you?”
“You've gone and blown out the gas.”
“Nuthin”. ‘uv the kind. I’m entitled to the use of this.

gas, ain't. I?”

“Ves.”

. “Well, 1 can’t get any satisfaction by’ lightin’ St. The | ‘

only way I kin git my money's worth is to set here and —
smell it,” re

intense heat “began fo make. its power

    
        
     

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Thinks New Covers Attractive.

Dear Eprtor: There are many things I would like to
say in praise of Tre Top and Burt L. Standish, but I as-
sume space is valuable, so I will not say much.

First, however, I wish to thank the author for bring-
ing back our dear old friends, Hans and Ephraim, also
Swiftwing, and last, but not least, dear old Crowfoot.

During the time I have read Tre Top, I have always
recommended it. I think I have gotten it’ many new
readers.

Mr. Editor, will you accept a suggestion? It is that
of printing Mr, Standish’s picture, because, after having

read his stories for so many years, and feeling as though

one knew him, I would like to see what he looks like," as
I think many other readers would.

I will close now, with many wishes for continued suc-
cess to S. & S. and Burt L. and also to you, Mr. Editor.
I remain, A Loyay Tip Topper.

New York.

P. S.—I think the new covers are very attractive. I
would like very much to see this letter in print.

Build Guns to Shoot Twenty-five Mites,

Adolph F. Gall, an engineer in the Edison laboratories,
arriving in New York recently from Europe, said that
Germany is building a number. of guns which would
make the sixteen-inch siege guns that were used against
Liége, Namur, and Antwerp look like bean blowers.

The guns will have a caliber of 19.50 and 21.45 inches.
They are being rushed to completion at the Krupp plant in
Essen, he said. The new guns will shoot from twenty-
one to twenty-five miles.

‘The Germans plan to supplant the present batteries of
sixteen-inch guns with these and then mount the old guns
on the battleships.

Then, if the German army captured points along the
channel, the new big: guns will be ranged there to hold
off the British navy and troopships. One shot from either
of these guns would demolish a dreadnaught.

Lions and Panthers,

Dear Eprror: I don’t expect you to print this in Tie
Tor, but I want to say that what Doc Fisher, in No. 116,

“says on page nine, about his granddad’s stories \of moun-

tain lions, or panthers, or, as early settlers called them,

  

“painters,” is every word true, and then some. I have
heard any number of such things told by my parents
and grandparents and others.
when a little girl of eight, was chased by a bear when

Why, my 6wn mother,

she was on the way home through the woods with ‘a

—— ERT AE dS PONY

      

little pail of cornmeal she had borrowed, and only escaped

by sifting a little meal here and there, which the bear

licked up, till her uncle accidentally showed up and

killed the bear.
With the very kindest regards, yours truly,

Bryan, Ohio. U. G. Ficiey.

a

Twelve-yeat-old Cop.

Birmingham, Ala., has a police officer who is only twelve
years old. He is Daniel A. Badeker, whose father is chief
of police in the southern city. For several years the
lad had been vowing that he would get on “the force,” and
refused to give up the ambition, though. his father joked
him a good deal. Gradually young Daniel became the
possessor of “tips” about small robberies and petty mis-
deeds, which proved of considerable value to the police,
and the officers came to refer to the boy playfully as “The
Chief” or “The Assistant.” Finallyf a thankful squad of
‘patrolmen whom the lad had aided, suggested to the father
_ that Daniel be made a regular member of the department.
Hence ‘there appears on the streets, after school hours, a
‘handsome lad, decked out in a natty uniform, with police
badge, and mounted upon a cunning pony. The little chap
is now a duly sworn-in policeman, and the way he makes
the pony scamper when “business” is on is a warning
to those who are apt to be tempted.

Wants to Exchange Cards.

Déar Eprror: I have been reading Tir Top from No.
39 of the new series, and I think the stories, certainly
are fine.

I have been reading the letters published in the Com-
pass, and it seems that the majority ofthe readers like
Dick and Frank, senior; the best, but I like Chip, Owen,
and their chums the as they are all about my
age.

I thought it would be nice to have a collection of pic-
tures from all Tip Top readers, both boys and girls. So
if there are any readers who have pictures to send, I
will be glad to receive them and I will also return one
of my own. I would also be glad to correspond with
some of the readers.

Hoping to see this in print and wishing Burt L. Stan-
dish the best of success, I am, Chip’s chum,

San Jose, Cal. V. WaALGREN.

best,

Watch the Flames of a Lamp.
Why is it the flames of a lamp or a gas jet always go
up and never down?
Of course, the lamp wick is turned upward and so is

SIT EE, PE ee eS

   
 

   

SS eat s :

  

SeithAn nites bo ee

 

 

be fulfilled because of the war, so now

would like to read again of Doris Templeton,

wastebasket.

28

the gas jet, but if they were turned down it would be
just the same with the flames—they would shoot upward.
' And the reason is that gases made in the flames are
very hot, and, as hot gases are much lighter than cold
gases that make up the air around them, the hot gases of
the flame tend to rise. A second reason is that every
flame, as the hot gases rise, makes a draft for itself.
As the hot gases go up, the space they leave is filled
from below, and this goes steadily on, making a draft.

Likes Metriwells Best.

Dear Eprror: I have been reading the Tie Tor ever
since Frank and Dick were at Fardale.

I read a few of the Owen Clancy stories, but did not
like them as well as I do the Merriwell stories.

I would like to hear more of Brad’ Buckhart, Jack
Diamond, Buck Badger, and of the
Merriwell boys.

If you have any more post cards,
much to have. a set.

I hope this escapes the wastebasket.

Stockton, Cal.

many other chums
I would like very

Yours truly,
Jesse SPEAR.

Hagenbeck’s Zoo a “White Elephant.”

A dispatch to the London Daily Standard, from Copen-
hagen, says that the firm of Hagenbeck has on its hands
scores of wild animals, with no market for them. The
firm had a contract.to deliver wild beasts to the amount
of £10,000 ($50,000) to America, besides other big con-
tracts with the zoos of belligerent powers, These cannot
Hagenbeck is left
in the lurch with seventy-five full-grown lions, forty-five
tigers, seventy trained polar bears, one hundred hyenas,
and sixty-seven elephants, besides five caravans, which

ought to be on. their way home in Africa, India, or wher-

ever their homes may be, with their horses, camels, et

-cetera.

All these men and beasts must be housed and fed. The
animals want fodder, and everything is becoming scarce.
Oats and maize are hardly to be had, and fish is almost
impossible to procure. The only thing easily obtained
is horse meat.

Likes Frank and Dick Best.

Dear Eprror:.I have been reading the Tre Tor for
one year or more.

I. like Chip, all right, but I like Frank. and Dick
better. I like to hear of the old friends again. I

for we
have not heard of her for a long time.

If you have a set of post cards, please send me a
set of them. I saw, in the Compass, that you were
giving them out.

I hope that this letter does not make frienis with the
Yours truly, CHARLIE JOHNSON.

' Stockton, Cal.

Engineer’s Heroism Praised,
The individual bravery of the British army engineers is

~ Jauded at Havre, France, by prisoners and wounded com-

ing from the front.
bridge builders is shown in the account of how an en-
_ gineer sergeant gave. his life to save from annihilation

An instance of the courage of these

a small body of English engineers who were protecting a

bridge. The odds were } apaits, them, and_ the Berghe

NEW. TIP» TOP

 

WEEKLY.

were on the point of crossing the bridge, when the
sergeant darted out under the German fire, set. a Quantity
of high explosives under the first span, and destroyed it,
Forced to use a short fuse, he had no time to escape, and
was blown to pieces.

Has no Favotites.
am not a subscriber to Tre Tor, but I
I have no favorites,

JEAR. Eprtor: I
buy it every
and I think as the other.

I see the boys set of post cards. I
would be ‘pleased to have a set of them if you have
left. Thanking you in advance for them, I re-
yours very truly, ALBERT POSPESHIL.

Chadron, Neb.

the news stand.

—_

week a
one is
are asking for a

as good

any
main,

A Woman’s Long Walk.

having completed a around the world, Mrs.
walking from New York to San
Francisco, raising funds for red-cross work in Europe.
On her world trip Mrs. Humphries traveled alone and
walked through Canada, Newfoundland, New Brunswick,
Nova Scotia, England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Norway,
Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Russia, Germany, Holland,
Belgium, and France. She was advised by the United
States consul at Paris to wear ordinary clothing instead
of her walking costume, which might place her in danger
of arrest as a spy, but she was treated with such con-
sideration during her journey through the warring coun-
tries that she decided to do all she could for the red-cross
fund. On her “hike” across the country she will take the
southern route, this making it a 5,000-mile walk. She
expects to arrive at San Francisco about the middle of

“hike”

After
Harry Humphries is

June.
Present Series Great.
Dear Eprror: I have been a constant reader of Tip
Top and the New Medal Library books for the last

four years, and I. think the present series is great. If
you have any post cards left, will you please, send me
a set?

Will you be kind enough to send me the correct
measurements for a boy fifteen years old and six feet
tall? I remain, yours truly, Frank M. Raz.

Rochester, N. Y.

Your correct measurements should be: Weight, 176
pounds; neck, 16 inches; chest, contracted, 38.7 inches;
chest, expanded, 42.8 inches; waist, 34.5 inches; forearms,
12.2 inches; upper arm, down, 13.2 inches; upper arms,
up, 14.5 inches; thighs, 23.5 inches; calves, 16.2 inches.

Finds Father in a Mission,

Richard W. Leonard, a wealthy young business matt
of Cincinnati, Ohio, ended a long search for his father,
Peter M. Leonard, forty-seven years old, formerly a pros-
perous California contractor, of whom the family lost

trace twenty-four years ago, when he visited a mission in—

the Bowery, in New York, recently. The story of the

long separation and the final meeting was told by the

father on the day after his son found him.

Leonard, who inherited a considerable. fortune on. ie

ce of his parents, took his. three-year-old. son, Richard,

) live with his grandparents in Omaha when his: wite
ae second child died in 1890, and, as he said, . “began
roaming around trying to forget.’ Although only twenty-

 
 
   

   
      
   
  
  
   
 
  
  
  
   
  
    
  
 
 
   
   
   
   
 
  
  
   
  
  

  

 

     
 
       
   
         
    

 

    
      
        
         
     
     
     
     
     
       
   
     
     
   
 

 
     
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three years old, he had already built up a large business
as a contractor. He bought a farm of 2,200 acres in
Nebraska before the end of the year.

“I tried hard work to make me forget the loss of the
boy’s mother,” Leonard said. “It wasn’t any use. Then—
I guess it won’t do any harm to tell about it now, although,
of course, the boy is sensitive about it—I tried another
way. It took liquor only two years to make me lose that
farm.

Three years ago I came to Hew York and knocked about
until last spring, when somebody down on the Bowery
told me that the McAuley Mission was a good place to
1 spend an evening once in a while. I went there. and
mee found lots of other men who had had bad luck, but they
1s. seemed cheerful after having taken the pledge. And so
j I swore off, and have been off the stuff since.

“Feeling that I had gotten a new grip on life, I gave
Superintendent Wyburn my sister’s former address in New
Orleans. I didn’t know whether any of my relatives were
‘ living or not. He wrote her a letter, and for a long
16 while I wondered if there would be an answer. The an-
ty swer came last night, about nine. o’clock, when a man

I knew found me in the mission on the Bowery, near

Grand Street, where I’ve been rooming while looking for

work lately, and told me my son was outside, in a big

automobile.”

The son, Richard W. Leonard, who is now president of
the Ohio National Chemical Company, of Cincinnati,
twenty-seven years old and married, arrived in New York

on Sunday to look for his father. He had heard from
his aunt in New Orleans that Mr. Wyburn could tell

where to find him. The father had in his pocket a
stained old photograph’‘of his two-year-old son, of which

the son remembered having seen a copy, and he bears his
years so well that he might be taken for a brother of
the Cincinnati business man. The son’s story was brief.

The grandparents died a few years after taking charge of

him and left him a fortune. He was educated at military

schools in California and Chicago, and married when only
seventeen.

“I don’t know just what I shall do now,” the father
said. “The boy wants me to go to a sanitarium and rest

‘a few weeks and then come West, to go into business
with him, but I don’t like to wait that long, for I have
a daughter-in-law out there that I have never seen and
three grandchildren that I want to see as soon as pos-
sible. Either way, though, it’s good-by to the Bowery,
where there’s not a nick in the pavement I’m not familiar
with.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Likes the Elder Merriwell Best.

Dear Epiror: I have never seen a letter from Boston,
so I am writing one,

I have been a reader of Tie Tor from No. 742 to
date.
, I like Frank, senior, much better than Chip. Yours
truly, Epwarp GALLAGHER.
Roslindale, Mass. ,

    
 
  
  
  
  
  
 

Wouldn’t Wash Feet; Five Years.

Four German prisoners, convicted by court-martial of
; pillaging and housebreaking, have been given severe sen-
tences in Paris. Two, named Schrick and Bruggman, were
ordered shot. A third, named Pabrezch, was condemned
to. life imprisonment, and a fourth, of the name of Weber,
as ‘sentenced to ten years! in prison.

   
    
 

 
         
 
   

 
 

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

piece oF eee shell in my neck—laid me parnelitns:.

   

29

Louis Dutherin, a French soldier, twenty-five years old,
belonging to the territorial infantry, was sentenced to
five years’ labor on public works for having refused to
obey the command of his lieutenant to wash his feet in
a stream when all the others of the company did so after
a march on an August day.

High Praise.

Dear Eprtor: I ama constant reader of Tir Top, and
think it is the best weekly published or ever will be
published. My favorites are Chip and Doc Fisher.

Please send me some postal cards and a catalogue of
Tie Tor WEeEEkLy if you have any left, and oblige a
loyal Tip Topper. Yours truly, James O’MALLERY.

Clinton, Mass.
Cobb to Quit in Four Years.
“Ty” Cobb, the sensational center fielder of the De-

troit nine, plans to retire in four years. He is twenty-
seven years of age, and intends to go into the cotton
business when he quits the diamond. Cobb says that
when he began to play baseball nine years ago he re-
ceived $1,200 a year salary. He received $1,800 his sec-
ond year, $2,200 his third, and batted .350, and then
jumped to $5,000. He has received proportionate increases
every season since, and says he is satisfied with his present
salary.

A Steady Reader.

Dear Sirs: I have been and am still a steady reader of
Trp Top, and have read so much about Frank and Dick
Merriwell and their friends that I desire to have the
post-card pictures of Frank, Dick, Obediah Tubbs, Joe
Crowfoot, and Cap’n Riley. Thanking you in advance,
I am, yours truly, Morris GOLDBERG.

Brooklyn, N. Y.

A Correspondent’s Mistake.

“Our troops are now en route to Ralentir,” wrote the

war correspondent of a London paper. He had obtained

his information from one of the roadside signs of the

French Automobile Association. “Ralentir” meaning slow
down.

Glad to See Merriwell Back.

Dear Epitor: I have been reading Tie Top for about
three years, and think it is about the best weekly printed.
My favorite is Dick Merriwell. I was certainly glad
when the Merriwells came back.
If you have any post’ cards left,
much to have a set.
Kansas City, Mo.

I would like very
Very truly yours,
Morrrs Cooper.

Hit Twice, Runs to Safety.

“Men fell like corn before the reaper,” a wounded
lance sergeant in the King’s Own Yorkshire Light In-
fantry wrote home to his mother from the hospital ship
St. David, “Now it’s over, I must say the last few days
have been horror, fighting all the time,” he continued.
“Our last action was the worst. I tell you truly I never
expected to get out alive. The Germans must have lost
thousands, but they were ten to one, so we had to retire. _

_The+shrapnel and hail of lead and bullets, I see it all

now. I won’t say more, but I got a bullet in my right leg ©
and kept on for twenty yar ds or more. I got a pre -

      
 

 

44
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"three years in Africa.

ttn

it into the hole after the gopher has entered.

_ he worked less than nine hours.
filled and carefully counted.

berg. A Russian battery was ne when one of the

   

30 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

“T came to again and ran’ through it all, and made good.
It’s wonderful how you can run with a bullet through
your leg. I have not been at it long, but fellows say
they saw more in the last four days than they did in
That’s the truth. Ah, well! I’m
not grumbling. I’m not disfigured or maimed like so
many poor fellows, so let us rejoice over it all. Some
of our engagements lasted thirteen hours, and the last—the
worst—ten hours. So tired, must sleep.”

Is Clancy Coming Back?

Dear Epitor: Please send me a set of Merriwell post
cards.

Is Owen Clancy ever going to come back, and are
Dick and Frank, junior, ever going to get married?
Hoping to see my letter in print, I remain, yours truly,

Richmond, Va. REUBEN CLAY.

Yes, you will soon see Clancy back again in Tir Top,
as Chip’s chum. You will have to wait for the answers
to your other questions, for no one could answer ‘them
now,

. Cyclometer on Typewriter.

An ingenious writer in Massachusetts recently made use
of a cyclometer off of a bicycle to record the number of
words he wrote on his typewriter. He arranged the
apparatus in such a way as to record a click every time
he struck the space bar between each word and the follow-

ing one.

New Way to Kill the” Gopher.

The farmers in the eastern part of Iowa are experi-
menting with a new idea to exterminate gophers. -One of
the farmers found that he could suffocate the rodents by
soaking a bunch of cotton batting with gasdline and stuffing
Then,
when the gopher attempts to leave his hole, he comes
in contact with the gasoline fumes and is overcome and

killed. Wherever this method has been tried it is claimed

to have been a very effective method of exterminating

the pests.
Apple Picker, Beats Record.

It is believed that the world’s record for picking apples
was broken at Potter, Kan., by James Potter, in the
orchard of A. Shortridge. From nine a. m. to six p, m
Potter picked 162 bushels. Deducting time for dinner,
Potter’s boxes were well
He received $6.48 for his

day’s work. It is claimed that the best record heretofore

was 160 bushels, by a New York picker.

Snakes and Turkeys in Nest.
Scott Bishop, track walker at night in the Narrows,

~-near Lewistown, Pa’, claims to have discovered a nest of

turkeys and copperhead snakes roosting together in a pile
of sawdust. They*seemed to be on very friendly terms.
Some, few days ago Bishop killed the largest copperhead
snaké killed in that section in years.

ae Soldiers Save Baby ia Battle.
Three Russian artillerymen have been decorated with

the Cross of St. George for their bravery in rescuing a

_ baby girl, who had crawled into a village street which was
_ being swept by shrapnel fire.
The Russians were battling the Austrians near Lem-

 

gunners saw the baby in the path of the guns. He rushed
to pick up the infant. A shell burst overhead. The
artilleryman threw himself on the ground and shielded
the little one with his own body. He was struck in the
spine.
to the battery in the midst of a storm of bullets.

Find Malaria Mosquito.

After ten months’ study, Doctors Walker and Barker,
of the bureau of science at Manila, announce a most
important discovery.

They have found that the cause of ‘malaria is a hitherto
unsuspected mosquito that inhabits fresh running water.
The mosquito has been named the “Myzomia Febrifera.”

Its presence accounts for hitherto inexplicable epidemics
of malaria throughout the Philippine archipelago.

¢

Marvels Done by Aviators.

Three French aviators are mentioned in the official
orders of the day. One is Brindjonc Desmoulins, who
is commended for his success in carrying out observa-
tions under a terrific fire and most adverse conditions.
The others are Adjutant Didier and Sergeant Mertine, who
are mentioned for this reason:

Because the motor of their machine stopped, they were
obliged to descend in the enemy’s country. They burned
their aéroplane, and, without losing their documents, suc-
ceeded in joining their squadron, walking sixty-two miles
in thirty hours and swimming two rivers. All this was
done in the midst of German troops. They brought back
much valuable information gained on the way.

His “Fortune” a Flatiron.

Two worn-out shoes and a flatiron were all that Arayone
Giovonni, of Spokane, Ore., found in a tin deposit box
when he opened it at Portland, after withdrawing it
from a bank where he had deposited it under the impres-
sion that it contained $3,000 of his own monéy and $6,000
belonging to an unknowe,: man who had won his con-
fidence.

Giovonni, the police say, was the victim of an old bunko
game, whereby a box containing the victim’s money is sub-
stituted: for another. The $3,000 represented Giovonni’s
lifelong savings.

Order Officers to Dress as Privates.

A Frenchy officer just returned from the front says
that orders have been given that the army should abandon
all stripes and signs of rank and that. officers should
carry rifles in the firing line, The change had been im-
posed in ‘consequence of the heavy losses among officers.

Annithilated Regiment by Ruse.

There is a report in Paris that a French force in Alsace
annihilated the 109th Baden Regiment by means of a re-
markable ruse successfully worked in a heavy fog.

Between Altkirch and Waldighofen a considerable
French force discovered the nearness.of the Baden regi-
ment. Hurriedly procuring many sticks and boughs, the
French carried these to an open field, where they stuck
them into the earth.
the sticks. From a few feet away, in the fog, the capped
sticks resembled troops blundering and helpless, The
French immediately ambushed themselves along roads lead-
ing to the ay

Two comrades carried him, with his little protegée,

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Meanwhile they had sent a small force to lure the Ger-
mans to the trap of sticks and caps. Slowly the real
French soldiers fell back, until the Germans, vaguely see-
ing the make-believe soldiers, cheered and charged wildly.

The French waited until they were completely in the
trap, then opened fire from three sides. The German
regiment was cut to pieces. Hardly a man escaped.

Bowlder Kills Three on Train.

Three persons were killed and fourteen injured in an
odd accident on the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad. A
twenty-ton bowlder falling from a precipice crashed into
the day coach and smoker of a passing train, eighteen
miles east of Grand Junction, Colo. The huge rock shat-
tered the roofs of the coaches.and crumpled the steel
walls. Much of the wreckage of the cars was precipi-
tated into the swift mountain stream near by. Those
killed were: H. R. Hollingsbery, Pueblo, traveling sales-
man; Thomas C. Tinkens, Grand Junction, manager whole-
sale grocery; Harry Braddock, Chicago.

Work Hums in Chicago.

In one great section of Chicago labor conditions are
booming and the pinch of poverty is less acute than a
year ago. This is the stockyards district.

The workers of that section are not only benefiting
by huge orders for canned meats placed by European’ na-
tions, but they are the first to enjoy the effects of the
promised readjustment of internal comnierce, in which
it is felt-all.-American industries are soon to participate.

The stockyards district has'a population of about 280,000.
The canning departments of the big packing firms are
now working full time, it is reported, and in every way
this meat industry shows, im Addition tothe activity due
to heavy. European. -emergency orders; a natural growth
over the trade of 1913.

Bloodhound Expert is Killed,

Charles Black, of the noted Black Brothers, bloodhound
experts of southwest Missouri, living’ at Pierce City, Mo.;
is dead from an accidental discharge of his revolver.

Charles.and: his brother Melvin figured in many’ of the
murder cases in this part of the country: When’ the acci-

dent occurred, Charles wads returning from Cassville,
- where he had taken the dogs to the sheriff of Barry County
for use in running down a fugitive, and on his way home
he started to remove his raincoat.

The weapon, a large
old-style forty-four; dropped from the holster and ex-

- ploded. : The. bullet struck Black in the right: side of the

abdomen and ranged upward through the lungs.

hee House With a History.

On the farm of Miller Montgomery, one mile south
of Owensville, Ind., stands an abandoned two-story frame

house, one hundred years old—a building that sheltered

General William Harrison on many occasions when’ he

was governor of Indiana.

Although only a short distance from the road, the: house
The centary’s wear
and tear have had little effect on the house because it is
It contains: a good flight of stairs,
hy which visitors ascénd to the two large rooms.above,

 

where many articles of furniture in use’ one hundred
cats. ago” can he seen ‘standing about in bison dis-

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

    

31

The house was built by Mr. Montgomery’s father, Wal-
ter Crockett Montgomery,.and the present owner was
born in it.

Farewell Note ix Bottle.

While walking along the Huron shore, near the Presque
Isle lighthouse, George Schmanski, of Metz, Mich., found
a bottle containing the following:

“September 2, 1914.

“To whomsoever finds this bottle will know that 1,
Walter Hill, of Chicago, Illinois, was lost on the’ great
lake of Superior. Notify his relatives of the same. Re-
spectfully, W. B. Hm.

“So farewell and good-by.”

Relatives reading this please write to Mr. Geo. Schman-
ski, Metz, Mich., and the original note will be sent to
them.

Say English Are Best Shots.

A Danish correspondent has just returned after having
traveled with a wounded officer of the German staff from
Berlin to Dresden. The officer expressed his opinion as
to the qualities of the different antagonists on the western
battlefields in this way:

“Belgian soldiers do not shoot well and do not offer
much resistance in. fortifications and defenses. The French
soldiers shoot fairly well, and are excellent in bayonet
attacks, but they are not steady enough, and are deeply
discouraged on retreating.

“Englishmen are first-class soldiers, going forward or
backward. Their shooting probably is better than that
of any of the other soldiers.”

“Wolves Prey on Armies.

A dispatch from Cettinje, Servia, says:

“A ‘close watch at night is necessary at the military
camps, not only because of the fear of the enemy, but on
account of the dread of wolves, which, when the. first
snow covered the mountaintops, began to descend and
wander in rapacious bands, attacking the living if they
cannot find dead.” ,

Keen to be a Soldier. -

Eager to join the army, Reginald Smith, a Ramsgate
lad, whose father and five uncles served with the colors,
ran away from home and walked to London, where® he
called first at Buckingham Palace and then at Scotland
Yard and asked to see Lord Kitchener. ,

By chance the secretary of State for war called at the
Yard and was stopped by the boy. Patting the youngster
on the shoulder, Lord Kitchener said: “You are too young, —
sonny, wait until you get older.” The lad, whose father
works at the Ramsgate railway station, is to be sent to
a military training school in order that his ambition may
be realized.

Army Officers’ Fair.

Members of the Arthy and Navy Club and former army
officers in New York are very much exercised over the de-
cision of the naval authorities at Annapolis in abandoning
the annual football game between the army and Navy,
and feel that their attitude is misunderstood. They say
that West Point is ‘fair in requesting the annual game
to alternate between New York and some other city
nearer Annapolis. They are willing to admit that it

would not be fair to expect the naval cadets to play in :

New: Yorle- every ‘Year, and throughout the -Sobtroviney a

     
     
 

Se ereerert ey

ORs

 

=

PE ART OTE Titi

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

West. Point has endeavored to convince the naval branch
of the service of its sincerity in the matter. At no time
Has West Point attempted to bring the game to New
York annually, and if any possibility existed, the army
would be willing to enter into any agreement that would

‘be just and fair to both academies.

For many years the army-navy football game has been
one of the most important outdoor events of the year,
and attracted the most representative social, diplomatic,
and military gathering in the country, It resilted in many

‘reunions of old army and navy officers, and provided one

of the best amateur athletic competitions on the sporting
calendar. The army officers in New York regret the con-

ditions that led to the breaking up of the annual gather-

ings, and are willing to make every effort to have the de-
cision reconsidered.

Allowed to Finish Ships.

When the war began, says the London Standard, Clyde
shipbuilders who had on the stocks vessels ordered in
Germany and Austria, were ordered to stop their con-
struction.

Now the British government has advised them that they
can go ahead and finish the ships, sell them at the best
possible figure, and debit the German or Austrian owners
with any loss they may suffer.

Ban on Football,

Seton Hall College, of South Orange, N. J., has dropped
football at the request of the faculty. This action comes
as a sequel to the recent accident to Charles C. Neayes,
the Fordham prep player, which resulted in his death.
Seton Hall had a schedule of eleven games. The leading
prep schools have been notified that Seton Hall has aban-
doned the sport.

A Military Execution. |

“An Englishman returning from France tells of seeing
two military executions there.

“T had just entered the village,” he said, “when I saw
a party of soldiers leading two prisoners away. A crowd
was following, and I joined in. Reaching the edge of the
city the two prisoners were blindfolded and placed against
a wall.

“One of these men leaned against the wall in a careless
attitude and seemed to take no interest in the proceed-
ings. Six soldiers fired upon him, and he dropped dead.
The other went the same way. I learned later that they
had been captured trying to blow up a bridge. One had
been disguised as a priest and the other as a woman.”

. Back to the Farm,
George Stallings, the “Miracle Man” of b&seball, who

led the Braves to a world’s championship, has left Boston

for his plantation at Naddock, Ga. Stallings intends to
enjoy a good long rest. Part of his recreation this fall
and winter will be hunting. Just before he left he re-
fused an offer of $15,000 for six weeks in vaudeville. '

Chinese Try Football. ;

Among the candidates for the football team at Case
College, Cleveland, Ohio, are two Chinese members of the

_ freshman class. They are S. W. Schon and W._P. Whang,
both of whom arrived in this country about eight weeks
ie ago. The youngsters were considered good athletes 'in

; their own country, and received their en to the

American college sport when candidates for the fresh-.
man team were called for. The almond-eyed youngsters
showed ability to run speedily and caught the ball fairly
well, but were decidedly weak when it came to tackling
or punting. But they were game, and, in their stolid and
undemonstrative way, are making progress and take kindly
to the rough usage of the game. Whether they will make
the team is a problem, They are plucky, and say they
are determined to do so.

Pull Teeth of Hotses

The restriction that no horse under five years of age
may be exported from Denmark has greatly limited the
supply that Germany can draw from there for military
purposes. \

German horse dealers in Denmark have been pulling
the teeth of horses destined for export in order to make
them appear older under the veterinary inspection which
they are compelled to undergo before permission to ex-
port can be obtained... But the ruse has. been discovered,
and a good many horses intended for the war have been
stopped at the frontier.

1
Heinie Wagner Signs. .

Charles—Heinie— Wagner, former shortstop of the Bos-
ton Red Sox, has signed a 1915 contract. Wagner has
been out of the game for some time owing to an injury
to his right arm. Wagner, it is believed, will not play
again, but will assist Manager Bill Carrigan in various
ways. ;

Eats While Leg is Amputated.

The report that the Austrian troops, who’ have been
opposing the Russians, are short of supplies and that the
men often go hungry is confirmed by the statement of a
doctor who attended a wounded Austrian officer after the
battle of Opole.

The immediate amputation of one of the. officer’s legs
was necessary. When this information was conveyed to
him by the surgeons, the officer said:

“All right; but first give me some food.”

The food was furnished, and the officer ate through
the operation, which was performed without the adminis-

tration of an anesthetic.

Tobacco Habit Basie:

Yes, positively permanently banished
In 48 to 72 Hours almost before you know it. Pleasant,
easy to take, Results A sure, lasting. No craving for tobacco
in any form after first dose. Not a substitute. piemlees 8 ho
potsonous habit forming dro Faneeceny results {othe

n every case or money tefunded, Tobacco Redeemer the be ony
absolutely scientific and thoroughly dependable toba

ever discovered. Write for free booklet and positive Seta a

Newell Pharmacal Co. Dept. 128, St. Louis, sia

SAVE YOUR DIMES BOYS!

Get the Good Luck Bank

Holds just one dollar. The tenth dime opens it.

Snap shut and it remains locked until refilled.

Nickel plated, may be worn as a watch charm,
Price, 10c by mail postpaid.

Excelsior Novelty cneaty, ri eng Blea

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

OLD COINS WANTED—
E . mi paid for nate os poles Xe ‘before ee:
Senc or our new ustra oin alue” x
’ Get Posted. CLARKE & C0. Box 67, ROVE . a

 

 
 
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—Diek Merriwell’s Control. 85 Dick Merriwell, Universal Coach. ay Frank Merriwell, Jr., and the Spook 4
~Dick Merriwell’s Back Stop. 82% Dick Merriwell’s Snare. Doctor.
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Dick Merriwell’s Motor Car. 3 Dick Merriwell’s Astuteness. 55—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ten at a Leo
Dick Merriwell’s Hot Pursuit. 828—Dick Merriwell’s Responsibility. 56—Frank Merriwell, . io Ordeal. f
Dick Merriwell at Forest Lake. 828 Dick Merriwell’s Plan. ‘ Frank Merriwell, Jr., on the Wy ; ee
Dick Merriwell in Court. 83 Dick Merriwell’s Warning. 58—Frank Merriwell, « ie Cross-
Dick Merriwell’s Silence. 8: Dick Merriwell’s Counsel. ‘ Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Lost ‘Pea dass
Dick Merriwell’s Dog. 833—Dick Merriwell’s Marksmen. mate.
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Dick Merriwell’s Enigma. 835—Dick Merriwell’s Solution. ) Frank Merriwell, Jr., at Fardalge ; *
Dick Merriwell De feated. 836—Dick Merriwell’s Foreign Foe. i: rank Merriwell, Jr., Plebe. ;
Dick Merriwell’s “Wing.” 338—Dick Merriwell’s Battle for the Blue :3—Frank Mérriwell, Jr.'s, Quartcii_——in
Dick Merriwell’s Sky Chase. RQ Dick Merriwell’s Biwident a ae } rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Touc a te
Dick Merriwell’s Pick-ups. 4 0.T Mok Merriwell’s Device. 35>—F rank Merriwell, . oe Night Oj
Dick Merriwell on the Rocking R. g Dick * M splovell’s Pri eceton Oppo- 6 frank Merriwell, Jr., and th@ i :
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Dick Merriwell’s Vantage. Bee Seer Boas 38—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Repent Sine
Dick Merriwell’s Advice. Dick Afecrive 1] C% aby “i bh emy.
Dick Merriwell’s Rescue. 4 Dick Mecheiwatite Herol Cc ray if Frank Merriwell, Jr., and the ‘ 7
Dick Merriwell, American. cad tints devi ciiLcoks Ahead. 70—Frank Merriwell, Jr-s, Gr ‘See ;
Dick Merriwell’s Understanding. % ee svar ican bk Llonors.
Dick Merriwell, Tutor. rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, W inning y Bip.
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Frank Merriwell’s Sway. New Tip Top W eekly 7 Frank Merriwell, Jr., and the ‘ee
765—Frank Merriwell’s Comprehension. 6 tk oneal ie Wolves. Pa
766—Frank Merriwell’s Young Acrobat. Ly ‘re ink x Donte ket er aE ‘ Frank Merriwell, Jr. 7 on the Bor
767—Frank Merriwell’s Tact. ‘ ‘rank pte thar vr ig ene j3—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Desert a
7 Frank Merriwell’s Unknown. : frank Me Seat’ 5 its? 4 Wee i 7—Owen Clancy’s Run of Luck.
Frank Merriwell’s Acuteness. ; i a ya bash vr a nie <—Owen Clancy's Square Deal.
—Frank Merriwell’s Young Canadian. ee Movrivy ny Je Ch oy I eee Owen Clancy’s Hardest Fight. ‘
Frank Merriwell’s Coward. fren Motriwetl Tr Rs Waiting ei Owen Clancy’s Ride for Fortune
Meats Merriwell’s Perplexity. ete ee le pa rae. a Owen Clancy’s Makeshift.
‘rank Merriwell’s Intervention. Mises hts MAA winter cit i Cea tt Owen Clancy and the Black Peat
Frank Merriwell’s Daring Deed. een aecceaah Hi ewer Mara- 8: Owen Clancy and the Sky Pilot a
coe Reeee eee Succor. ad pg dk npn ahah id ira et Owen Clancy and the Air Pirates
‘rank Merriwell’s Wit. ea ah ars cuba Kone finns J 8: Owen Clancy’s Peril.
Frank Merriwell’s Loyalty. oe 7: rriwell, Jr., at the Bar Z i—Owen Glaritr’s Partie. 3%
Frank Merriwell’s Bold P lay. Hens ‘k MI ok 1. Jr.’s, Golden Trail. Owen Clancy’s Happy Trail.
Frank Merriwell’s Insight. 5. Salons arctan 7 7s ’s, Golde ae oe Owen Clancv’s Double Trouble
Frank Merriwell’s Guile. ¢ Seat Mevriwell’ J: 5 “Ss 1 soda: itor Owen Claney’s Back Fire. ‘
Frank Merriwell’s Campaign. , Neteete Reed ot)’ eS abe ass Owen Cli ancy bs the “Clique Geld”
—F yee eet in the National f Ariel Merrivell’ 4 a cp ¢ Owen Clancy’s “Diamond” Deg
orest. bo NUR Nett alT. Tetai etait tol ay 92_Owen ( cys e Claim J1 ers
Frank Merriwell’s Tenacity. nels eae oie oi : eat se Owe 0 ce ‘1 snes and the the Smudeieras
—Dick Merriwell’s Self-sacrifice. i acies aiareiw, “fia ia tier ae Owen Clancy’s Clean-Up. 7
785- -Dick Merriwell’s Close Shave. ( rani pe aetas a naan & math ee 9! Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Pick-Up Nii ae
786—Dick Merriwell’s Perception. Soe arom as ecn neu arma reuea ae 96 Frank Merriwell, Irs ‘d Fou
ae ; " ; j ; ‘rank Merriwell, Jr., Justified : Frank Merriwell, Jr.'s Dit mond Yoga
ot goatee. Pine Seger ‘rank Merriwell, Jr., Incog. ‘ Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Great, Giaameg®
¢ yy ‘rank Merriwell, Jr., Meets the Issue. 98—The Merriwell Company.
a: a e te rriwell’s Detective Work. 2% ‘rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Xmas Eve. 99—Frank Merriwell’s First ¢ ‘ommissit
7¢ ick Merriwell’s Proof. ‘rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Fearless Risk Frank Merriwell, Jr.’
90—Dick Merriwell’s Brain Work. ‘ Sa a ataay ae ned aS Daan -Dick Merriwell and » Arlingt@me
791—Dick Merriwell’s Queer Case e rank Merriwell, Jr.; on Skis. ‘ Pee pebble via le
799. Dick Merriwell, Navigator. ‘rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ice-boat Chase. Dick Merriwell S. rurquoise 'T ussiy
793-—_Dick Martiwell'a todd Fellowship. 4 ae Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ambushed ' cs Pid aon the Guill
794—Dick Merriwell’s Fun (ote : ae sardinia 2
Bans Dick Movetwell’s Commencement aoe ater wis ane ee Totem. sp I a ae ayant i tn thee :
706 fale seetemr lt ¢ Bee Aaa : ‘rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Hockey Game. ‘ frank Merriwell, J¥., :
796—Dick Merriwell at Montauk Point. ‘ Frank Merriwell, . : Clew. 7 Stampede.
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798 Dick peered um ree ‘rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Adversary. 3—Merriwell vs. Merriwell.

790 Dick Merrivell 7 th eee Be a te ‘rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Timely Aid. 7—Dick Merriwell and the Burglar@
801 I ick M re Pua reat Lakes. 3: ‘rank Merriwell, Jr., in the Desert. 8—Dick Merriwell Mystified.

Fe ag ly erriwell in the Copper Coun- ; Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Grueling Test. : Dick Merriwell's Te a

R15 sole} : ‘ oF Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Special Mission Frank Merriwell, Jr., at t
ee Dick Merriwell Strapped. 86—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’ Red Bowman. boy Carnival.

803—Dick Merriwell’s Coolness. ‘ Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Task. Frank Merriwell’s River Prob
804—Dick Merriwell’s Reliance. 88—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Cross-Country 2_Irank Merriwell Against Odd
805—Dick Merriwell’s College Mate. Race. ; * 8 Prank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Pueb
807- Dick Merriwell’s Prodding. 89—T rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Four Miles zle.

809—F rank Merriwell’s Interference. d Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Umpire : Frank Merriwell, Jr., at ‘the
810—F rank Merriwell’s Young Warriors 41—Frank Merriwell, Jr., Sidetracked Bonnet Mine.

811—Frank Merriwell’s Appraisal. 42-—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Teamwork. 5—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, New I
812—Frank Merriwell’s Forgiveness. 3—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Step-Over. ,;—_Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Hunti
813—Frank Merriwell’s Lads. é Prank Merriwell, Jr., in Monterey. Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Indi
814—F rank Merriwell’s Young Aviators. 45—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Athletes. tanglement.

815—Frank Merriwell’s Hot-head. Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Outfielder. 8—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Riddle.
816—Dick Merriwell, Diplomat. Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, “Hundred.” Dated Novy. oth 1914.
817—Dick Merriwell in Panama. 4s Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Hobo Twirler. { Frank Merriwell Again in Col
818—Dick Merriwell’s Perseverance. 9—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Canceled Game. Dated: Nov. 14th, 1914.
819—Dick Merriwell Triumphant. 5 -Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Weird Adven- 2 Frank Merriwell’s Conquest.
820—Dick Merriwell’s Betrayal. ture. Dated Noy. 21st, 1914.
821—Dick Merriwell, Revolutionist. ; Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Double Header. 121—Frank Merriwell’s Unseen
822—Dick Merriwell’s Fortitude. ‘ rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Peck of Trou- Dated Nov. 28th, 1914. ey
823—Dick Merriwell’s Undoing. ble. 122—Dick Merriwell’s Charm.

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