No.128 NEW F Cents TIP-TOP WEEKLY JANUARY 9,1915 MERRIWELL IN THE ROCKIES or On the Trail of Bart Hodge ( STREET AND SMITH +++: PUBLISHERS +**s © NEW YORK WP 1 ; tie ii ' AnJdeal Publication For The American Youth se ) Issued Weekly. Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York Post Office, according to an act of Congress, March 3, 1819. Published by : L STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., New York, Copyright, 1915, by STREET & SMITH. O. G. Smith and G. C. Smith, /roprietors. f Terms to NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY Mail Subscribers. ¥ (Postage Free.) Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each. How to Send Money—By post-office or express money order, regis- tered letter, bank check or draft, at ourrisk. At your own risk ifsent by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. ¥ ROTI Lo sien pikbEmicccciess G5C. 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A QUEER EXPERIENCE, q swe r i . { . o bi " Gathered jin one end of the smoking car, a number of ) > hilariéis Young men werd singing to the tinkling accom- Pe ag 3 . “Tg, ' : >, Paniment of a mandolin : It’s a Lorig Way to Tipperary CC AtO the Sweetest girl I know.’ ~~ Prank’ Merriwell had come into the smoker, from the _ Sleeper at the rear; not because he wantéd to smoke, but i, beeatise he had grown tired of looking out at the swirling oy tae ® Psuow, and had a longing for human companionship; for > thotgh Barney Mulloy was with him, Barney was too ~ sleepy that morning to talk, and the few’ other people | Pinethe Sleeper were in much the same ¢ondition. «> ie fad been a hard, long run up from Salt Lake City. ¢ #throughout the night the snowfall had béen so heavy to fight its way. But a ae ‘=e P _— ~~—— ) ¢ that the ehgine was compelled _wathe stiow was thinning out now, and there were many bare ‘y, spots on the sides of the mountains. Merry had heard a man remark that hé thought a chinook was coming, the eens s6 moist and balmy. a Tie Popular marching song of the British army; which «hune young féilows were singing so light-héartedly, Merry vayoulld Wave enjoyed hearing at any othér time. |. )But*he had recently parted, in Colorado Springs, from » he “sweetest girl he knew,’ whose name was Inza, and fit was “along, long way” to their Eastern home, to which she had gone. . & im ae ‘Many things might happen before he saw her again—he @* might never see her again. He had lived long enough ae Toadies this is a very uncertain world. AE Though the other cars were nearly empty, the smoker ey ~- been Merry flung out of answering. The train was vestibuled, and the vestibule doors were apparently tightly closed. Merry had thought they wee closed, until he discovered that one was ajar. Thrusting his head out at this door, he looked back over the crooked track. The-train was ascending a grade, and making such poor time that any one earnestly desir- ing to leave it could have leaped from that vestibule with safety. The roadbed was wide and sandy, rocks, and there was little on and near the tracks. Glancing ahead; as he was about to retreat, he beheld a towering wall: of smoke. behind the thin sheet. of snow- flakes. “A forest fire,’ was his thought. Returning to the-sleeper, and Barney Mulloy, Merry -sat down... The.:berths had been made up some time before, and the lower ones now.formed comfortable. seats, “Take yer toime,” said Mulloy; “I can see ye’re that ixcited yez can’t think!” “Well, I’ve had a queer experience The young. fel- low I’ve been looking through the train for was:reading a Salt-Lake City paper, in the seat right in front of me in the smoker, and in the paper was a news dispatch with this heading: » ‘Bart Hodge Jailed at Cyanide.” “Phat?” *“Mulloy’s air of lazy indifference vanished, “T read only a line or so of it, when the young man put his hand down on the dispatch and closed the paper. When: I asked him to let me see it, he refused, and hur- riedly left the car. I lost time trying to find another copy; then followed him, but it was too late.” “He’s gone fr’m the train?” “I found a-vestibule door open, and:J think he jumped from the car. We're going at about two caterpillar speed right now, and it would be easy.” without snow Mulloy’s Irish face was uncommonly red, and his Irish, blue eyes brilliant and staring. ° “Cyanide! That’s th’ station joost ahead av us: the idee is so ridicklus ut’s hard to*belave.” “What littl I read stated that Bart Hodge was in jail iii Cyanide on a charge of highway robbery, and had been But : TIP LOOP WEEBRLY. identified by papers found on him, and that he had tome from the direction of Yellowstone Park.” yen Mulloy still stared wildly at his friend, as he took tins to digest this, : They knew that Hodge, who was a highly suééessta engineer, had been doing work the past summer for th Citrus Valley Development Company, over in Califormi and that he was to visit the superintendent of the Yel e lowstone Park, as he made his way homeward. lrew out Hodge’s latest and Merry hunted round in his grip, « letter to him, received two or three weeks before, looked it over: ——_ Crrrus Crry, California. “Dear .Merry: I’m about through .here—packing up I had hoped to go East by the Santa Fe, Fate wills now to leave. so that I could stop off and make you a visit. Tes it otherwise. The Yellowstone Park superintendent, that I’ve told you about before, insists that I must seeviiime Bat i ‘ hin §, about. the aqueduct work that is to be done theré as a fed early in the spring as possible—as soon as the snow goes. i So I shall have to go round by that way. Did you ever) I’ve been wild all summer to be with you x about, and now, alter see stich luck? and the fellows you've. been writing planning this surprise party for you, old Hard Lak throws his monkey wrench into the ma Oh, well—I'll see) a? you. some day. The last letter I had from homey and ats sas in my pocket as I[ sprinkle my tears ‘here, says the daugh?* ter is growing so that I won’t know her; and Blsié warms me in cold ink that if I stay away much longer she’seae ing to get a divorce, “So, you see, to avoid that dreadtar ’'d have been’ forced to hurry on, amyy Way, amd, stayed with you* half as long asiT want a | meet.. Wher’ I’m foot-loose, TV sure Fun a I haven’t heard anything bug Seed n ws chinery. calamity, couldn’t have when we do out and see you. of ‘thé success of your new company. ; See ; ‘Good-by, old friend. * Yours forever,’ in ‘nema of old ; times, 61 Sy a) “The few words I read of .that news dispatch shows,’ e < Hs said Merry, “that Hodge has been over in thé re i. : Park, as he planned. . For the dispatch said that the 3 $ t held in the Cyanide jail had come from that section, ae te. i direction, indicating, that it’s known. Hodge) has “tne bam , there. But we'll be in Cyanide soon,. and innvestig f There’s a mistake somewhere.” ih 9 “And a fool wan! Bart Hodge committin’ niger . bery! Did yez ever hear a crack like thot? “But ay i ‘3 a in that jail we'll git him Out, d’ye moind, and sudden 5; a u and somebody'll pay *f’r ut.” Eo One thought which t tiga: papers were found: fi is that the man in jail had*tobbed him, and 4m @iat maga al got the papers. If not, there: has been a cénspifaey. 4 s] The whistle of the engine had been screaming dal Di train was slowing its already slow gait. 3 bi: é “ve thought .of. another poseibilie thal may. by i “ another Bart Hodge.” ’ | ie ee. bs “Only wan!) There .couldn’t..be two. Att 4 ve the i It name wouldn’t fit th’ other b'y, aven if he Wag ‘wearin’ a s, ta be rights. I'd loike.t’ see Hodge, dye mommy but not! ae anny jail of in anny: throuble. He’s* sure ci bike fells a Yit I'll niver forgit th’ times yez'had wid higeeat th ‘a th foorst. «That was whin he didn’t know yez7is i 4 hs “And I didn’t know him.’ me B Fi Merry looked through the window. t ci an ae # aa GAS a er % a ai ae Cy ROR gh eae z2 could not proceed. the winter is over NEW “It’s a forest fire, I eness,-for the smoke is thick out there.” Yet his thoughts. were not on that, and as soon as he could withdraw them from Hodge he asked: “What do you think of the young man who had the paper, but wouldn’t let me look at it, and jumped from the train? ©*Ywas th’ act av a guilty man.” “Guilty of what? He didn’t want me to see that news item about Hodge. Why did he refuse? What did he Know about that? Why was he so frightened by my sim-. I feel sure he jumped from the train.” ple request that he leaped from the train?” “That he leaped fr’m th’ thrain has yit to be proved. That's pint. And there’s still another: He crazys maybe.” Seeing that the train was coming to a dead stop, Merry looked again through the window. The odor of smoke had penetrated the car. And he now saw a: flare of fire. wan was CHAPTER JI. ON TO CYANIDE. The snowshed at this point was on fire, and the train On the right of the track the forest Was burning. The fire had no doubt been started by the “sparks from an engine. Merry and Mulloy stood beside the track with the other hey watched the fire Passengers and asked questions as t >) and listened to its roaring. i »~Eeyen over on the western slope, here, you can see théy have some heavy snows, or they wouldn’t need snow- sheds. Not much snow here now, but they’ll get it before .”’” So commented one of the men. An outthrust spur from the main range of the Rockies broke the country up into foothills and cafions. Through a troughlike depression, where snow could readily accumu- _ late, the snowshed lay, like a long, covered bridge, over >the track, so that when snow filled the/trough between the hills trains could be run as usual, by going through the snowshed as through a tunnel, under the snow. The trainmen had walked ahead for of the fire. Merry; joined them there and asked of getting on to Gyanide. a closer inspection about the chances Discovering that it would be many hours, and might be a Whole day or more,\he decided to go back along the track, as they had: now plenty of time. By doing this they found that some one-had leaped trom the train. His tracks, plainly visible in the snow and wet sand, led down the railway embankment to a shallow ravine. Here was a line of bushes in which, ap- parently, he had sought concealment until the train had passed from sight. The tracks finally skirted the bushy fringe, moving in the direction the train had gone. The searchers were about to turn away, when Merry Saw a newspaper in the bushes that had been thrown down. It was the Salt Lake City paper, and the issue which con- tained the account of Hodge’s arrest. “Now, I’ll get to read that dispatch,” he said. / He was disappointed. A section of the sheet holding that dispatch about Hodge had been torn out. Though it helped him none, and the paper was damp from lying on the snow, Merry stuffed it into his pocket. They now began to follow the tracks in the snow. Dig Le WEEKLY. 3 “We're hardly justified in trailing this man,” said Merry, and stopped. “We'll hurry on to Cyanide,” he added. “It isn’t a big place, and we may find him there. The first thing to do Cyanide the a number of men:had set out. together, To get round the burning showshed was difficult, and took time. The hillside timbered and rough is to learn who it is in the jail. The burning snowshed and forest fire furnished obstacles. Bu and these Merry and Mulloy followed. ravine was narrow, and the over against the pomt where the /fire was running. When Mulloy and: Merry had accomplished this, and by rapid walking had overtaken the crowd which’ had started earlier, they made the discovery that a man, whose tracks could be seen in the snow and sand, had gone on ahead of them. evi- His The fellow who had leaped from the train had dently gained the railway there and was pushing on. feet were small, and Merry recognized his tracks. Yet he was not to be seen when Cyanide was reached, though it was clear that he had, entered the town. who Merry did not, ask questions, even of the men had swarmed out from Cyanide down the track, drawn by the fire at the snowshed and in the timber, but made, with Mulloy, straight for the office of the town marshal. The marshal had gone out to see about the fire, but he had left an assistant, whom Merry approached. “Oh, that.man in the jail! That’s right—his name is Hodge! I’ve found on him right here.” The assistant was a young man, confident, and of easy manner. He drew from a drawer of his desk some let- ters, and a revolver with its cartridge belt. The revolver the things that were vot he laid on the desk. “You're friends of this prisoner?” he said. “He has been demanding a lawyer, and one was sent: over to see him yesterday.” “He says his name is Hodge?” “Oh, yes, Bart Hodge. He was broke when he reached Cyanide, and held up Jim Skinner, the storekeeper, out at Skinner put There was a chase, and the fellow was cor- It was in the night. Clear the edge of the town, and took his wallet. up a holler. nered down by the station. case against him.” “He admits all this?” “No. Of course not! He says it’s a case of mistaken identity. He claims that he had come into town a little while before, and was going down to the station to take the train that was soon due; and that he was rushed on there and But he put up a fight. Why did he put up a figh a arrested. t 29 “Arrah, now! Looky here: Wouldn’t yez put oop a fight, now, av a dozen men joomped on yez wid rfe- volvers, and ye didn’t know but they was goin’ to murther ye? T'in thinkin’ ye would. °Tis no ividence av guilt.” “Well, that’s the way it stands. I’m not the judge. But, recollect, Skinner’s wallet was found on the ground close by him, whére be had thrown it when he saw he couldn’t get away.” There were two letters bearing the name of Bart Hodge on the desk. “May I look at those letters?” said Merry. “Well, you see, I’m ‘only a temporary assistant of the vait until he gets marshal. It would be better if you'd back from that fire-’ rer permitted to read the letters. The first was addressed to Hodge while he was still in Citrus City, and was written by the superintendent of the Yellowstone Park, from his office at Mammoth Springs. It urged Hodge to hurry on to Cinnabar, which is the railway point nearest to the park, The second letter had been received by Hodge at Mam- moth Springs, and concerned a development project. It had been written at Carbon, Wyoming. “Those letters,” “were not found in the prisoner’s pockets, you under- explained the young man at the desk, stand, but between the lining of his coat, where they had been hidden. There was some+money in the same place, but the marshal took possession of it, and locked it in his safe. Only three or four dollars, I think. It wasn’t enough to take the. fellow far out of Cyanide, or even pay his board here very long, so I suppose that’s why he went for Skinner’s wallet.” “I can see the prisoner?” said Merry. “T’d rather wait for the return of the marshal.” “If the prisotier happens to be my friend, I shall want to take steps to secure his release on bail at once. My name is Frank Merriwell, and I represent the Merriwell Company. I’m on my way to Laclede, Idaho, to lodk up a business matter for a Colorado Springs mining company. If the man in jail here is my old friend, Bart Hodge, I can assure you in advarice that thete has been some very serious mistake made, for Hodge is not only a man of honesty and strict honor, but is a well-known mining en- gineer, recently employed by the Citrus Development Com- pany. was to visit Yellowstone Park, to see the supérintendent | had a letter from him not long ago saying he about an aqueduct proposition, and that he would go into the patk by way of Cinnabar. This letter he re- ceived at Mammoth Springs, and the other was written to him from that place.” He pointed to the letters on the desk, and laid ‘down beside thetn his business card. The manner of the young man had changed. “Frank Merfiwell, of the Merriwell ‘Company? Mr. Metriwell, ti glad to meet you. I’ve heard of you, sir, and of your company. In fact, I saw something about you and your company the other day in a Butte paper. -Take a chair, sir; your friend, also.” He got.up and pushed out chairs. Merty did not sit down, but he now introduced Barney Mulloy, and asked again to see the prisoner in the jail. “Mt. Merriwell, I'd very much like to accommodate you, but I don’t see how I can do that. I think it will be better to wait until the marshal returns.” “May I send in written word to the prisoner?” “Any oral communication I shall be pleased to see reaches the prisoner, but I couldn’t let you send in a writ- ten thessage.” “Phy not?” sputtered Barney. “Would ut kill him?” The young man laughed. “It might, if the paper was poisoned. But I didn’t mean that. My powers here are limited. I’m, you may say, only the office clerk. But if the marshal isn’t back He stopped, “But he will be back before evening: long before then!” “Ain” ay ut’s Bart, th’ darlint, layin’ there in yure rotten jail!” “T']l admit that the jail might be better; but that’s not NEW TIP TOP "WEEKLY. But when Merry urged the necessity of haste, he was to the point. I’d like to please you, but I can’t do it. Still, as the man has been there some time now, it wouldnt ° 4 ms ° * hurt him to remain a few hours longer, even if he’ hap- pens to be your friend, which I now much doubt.” Merry gave the message he wished delivered to the prisoner: “Tf you are Bart Hodge, the engineer, this is to itform you that friends are here who will help you. So keep up your courage. We will soon be permitted to visit you.” “Tell him,” Merriwell and. Barney Mulloy.” Merry added, “this message is from Prank “T’1l. deliver it.” “One ‘more question: Has this prisoner sent of any telegrams? If he is my friend Hodge he may have Wiréd to me at Colorado Springs.” “He sent two messages by wire, I think; but nothing to Colorado Springs, so far as I know. The sheriff has the copies, I belieye, but I don’t know where to look for them. I recollect that one of the messages was to an address in Salt Lake City.” Having thanked him again for this information, Merfy and‘ his friend left the marshal’s unpretentious office. CHAPTER III. ERNEST HART. There was a surprise for them, just beyond thé Ofee door. The young man whose actions in the smoking cam Rag been so singular stood outside the door, awaiting there appearance, as he confessed. ’ “T’ve, overheard your talk in there,” he said. “1 Was about to go into the marshal’s office myself, when | Heard = you talking. I, too, want;to see Bart Hodge.” From his pocket he took the slip he had torn from | the Salt Lake City newspaper, snipped it in two witha jerk, and gave the upper portion to Merry. ‘This other part doesn’t concern you,” he declared, and shoved it back into his pocket. ‘Merry swept his eyes over the press dispatch, which he was privileged now to read in full. Mulloy stood looking at the young man, noting that he was slight and fair, had brown hair and light-blue eyes, was dressed in comfortable winter clothing, wore a brown overcoat and brown soft hat, and had on his small feet heavy walking boots. His face was pleasant and his mam- ner engaging. _ Mulloy would have spoken to him, pleased with his appearance, if he had not beet waiting to hear the entire contents of that press dispatch. The part that Merry had not read before ran: “and he claims to be a civil engineer, who has& been in the park making plans for some iftigation ‘develop-= ment that is to be doné there next summer. He denies that he is guilty, and has demanded a lawyer and an it mediate trial. On the, other Hand, Skinner, wha helped in capturing him, has positively identified him as the man who assaulted and robbed him.” “I'd like to have a talk with you,” said the young mam. He moved away from thedoor. Merry passed the slip» of paper to Mulloy, amd fol- lowed, eT, “Of course, you thought it was queer when I refused 9 —— a pet > poe hee io ak few wae eee ee t- n pen ot d FS ton n ~< ty NEW: TIP to let you see.that newspaper in the car,” said the young fellow. “I confess | “There was another item, under it, which I didn’t want ket just did,” Merry admitted. you to see; the one I tore off and put in my poc It was merely a personal about a friend of mine.” now. y “So? I told you I merely wished to see the dispatch about Hodge.” “I know. But | dispatch, too. I didn’t know who you were, and, seeing the item had shocked and unnerved mie so, left the car. There was a fltish on the young fellow’s fair fac a troubled ¢ anxious and he’ was lying. “I'm sorry if I frightened you so that you leaped from the train.” “T think I don’t understand you,’ was the answer, but the flush grew hotter. “You didn’t leap from the train?” “T got out when we came to the snowshed and found was afraid you would read the other 1 got up and ’'m bound to apologize for my rudeness.” e and gleam in his light-blue eyes. He was plainly agitated. Merry almost had the feeling that if on fire, if that is what you mean; but I merely climbed | didn’t leap out.” L was mistaken. out with the other passengers. “Then I beg your pardon. else leaped from the train while it wa’ in motion. that some did, for couldn’t find you, I thought you were the one.” The troubled light in the eyes held. “You saw some one jump from the car?” “No. ing that you had leaped from the car to keep me from see- the track with my Some one I knew and, when I looked and one you But I found a vestibule door open, and, believ- ing your newspaper, I went back along friend and found where a man had jumped from the train. was hunting for; and the strip which you have just now Riven me is a part of the strip that was torn out of it. Here is the paper I found.” He pulled it out of The young fellow d looked dazed. “You will see,’ Merry added, “that the bit of paper you Gave me with that dispatch about Hodge on it fits ex- actly in here, and if I had the other piece, which you Have in your pocket, the page could be restored.” The young man’s lips trembled, then curled. “You're very Stispicious. Yet, simple that you will wonder that you thought it ¢could be difficult. in the paper, I simply tore the strip out hurriedly, thrust it into my pocket, then doubled up the paper, and, lifting You found it where it In addition, I found ‘there the newspaper which [I his pocket. ropped back as if struck a blow, and the explanation is so As I didn’t want_you to see a certain thing the car. window, I shot it out. fell.” “In the bushes, down in the ravine, twenty yards of more from the ttacks!” “The wind must have carried it there, for it was show- ing some, and blowing.’ But I can see that you do not believe me. Are you really Frank Metriwell, as I heard you say it the office here, or are you——” “What ?” “No matter now. It’s all right, if-you do not care to believe me! But I wanted to say to you that I am greatly /miterested in Mr. Hodge, who is a prisoner here.” "You're acquainted with him?” | “Yes. We were good friends.” ” TOP WEEKLY. 5 Barney Mulloy, with the slip of crumpled paper in his hands, had come up, listening. luckin’ quick f’r this man Skinner,” he said, “fr a talk wid hitn. Av ut’s our Bart he has put in jail here it will be th’ sorry day f’r him, d’ye moind! Bart, av in Coliraydo Springs, Merry, Sut 7+? a4 . hax 7 = S it’s him, must have wired yez but, seein’. ye’re here, ye couldn’t git ut. ’'m in- therruptin’. Go an!” “So I wanted to ask you,” continued the young man, visit Mr. which I heard you say you would do “to permit me to accompany you when you Hodge in the jail, as soon as the marshal got back. That building over there is the jail.” “Tt? put a man loike Bart Hodge in thot pigperf!” tered Mulloy. “Are you willing, Mr. sput- Merriwell, that I shall go with you when you see Mr. Hodge? Perhaps I could aid him in some way.” “I shall be perfectly willing; but, of course, it doesn’t lie with me to decide that, but with the marshal, who is the keeper of the. jail.” “Vou'll speak to him about it? And Ill ask him per- Isn’t it dreadful that a man like Mr. Hodge held in such a place, and his friends delayed in I think it’s a shame and an out- sonally. should be reaching him this way. rage!” “Ve’re right!” said Mulloy, with feeling. The marshal’s assistant, coming out of the office at the moment, gave Merry ah opportunity. > iv 2 @ ” “We'll make the request “now,” he said, “of the as- sistant. Your name is——’ “Ernest Hart.” “Mr. Officer,” said. Merry, “Mr. Hart, who is from Salt Lake, says that he is also a friefid and acquaintatice of Mr. Hodge, ahd wants to visit the prisoner with me.” “That will be all right, I suppose; I'll lay matter before the marshal as soon as he comes in.” the He looked off at the thick clouds of smoke. “That fire and hurried away. seems to be growing worse,” he rematked, CHAPTER IV. THE PRISONER, It is needless to say that) Frank Merriwell was not alto- gether satisfied with some of the explanations made’ by the young man from Salt Lake City, Mr. Ernest Hart. But it was not until somé time afterward that the fiaine itself struck him as being peculiar. Hart,” he mused; “Ernest Hart!’ He had gone over to the jail with Barney Mulloy, and little an unpretentious, four-square structute, of two stories, with a door at the front and one at the rear, and only four wihdows, on each square, two below and two above. There was an iron fence round it, inclosing a generous yafd, and this fence kept any one from approaching it “Ernest they stood looking at it from a distance. It was closely, unless he chose to vault the fence. No face appeared at any of the windows, as they passed round the jail. The windows were heavily barred on the outside, and no doubt were also barred on the inside. No person was to-be seen in the building, or outside of it, near by. Not a great many people had remained in the town, for the roaring fire at the snowshed that was extending into cat Er 6 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. the forest land covering the mountains, had drawn nearly every one away. There were clerks in the few stores, the station agent remained at his post, and the postmaster, and, of course, the women were principally at their homes, though now and then they gathered in the streets in knots, and talked excitedly. Some of the young men who had been in the smoking car singing about the “Long Road to Tipperary” had heen down at the fire, and came back, and Merry and sarney talked with them, while they waited for the return of the marshal. “If he’s going to put out the fire that’s spreading 1n the woods, he won’t be back for a week,” one of the young men asserted. “It’s getting away from the fire fighters.” Merry went over to the station and asked about’a tele- gram which the prisoner had possibly sent to Colorado Springs. He was told that no telegram had gone to that point within a week. “One was sent to Ernest Hart, at Salt Lake City, by the prisoner?” said Merry. “He sent one to Salt Lake City, but not to that name, and it was in cipher; or, at least, I didn’t understand it,” was the reply. “But you see I haven’t any right to be talking. about the stuff I handle.” “Will there be a train from the north in soon?” Merry then asked. “I’m not looking for it. There’s been some heavy snows on the Oregon Short Line, north of here, and trains are stalled. I don’t see how they can get anything through. We're just lucky here, that’s all. The big storm split on these mountains, and the bulk of it went south and north. We didn’t get hardly anything.” “How about out éastward, in the direction of Yellow- stone Park?” Merry queried. “Can't tell, but I think the snowfall has been light there. It nearly always is. There’s a belt o’ country through here that some calls the Chinook Belt, though it ain’t just that; anyway, generally along it there’s not much snow.” He was standing out on the platform at the time, and had been looking at the smoke of the fires, but now he, glanced round, and gave Merry and Mulloy a queer, ,sus- picious look, which Merry did not fail to notice, but could not at the time understand. ; “You ain’t interested in anything out that way?’ he added a moment after. “No.” “I didn’t reckon that you were.” Still later, Merry saw the station agent talking in close and earnest conversation with some of the young men who had been singing in the smoking car. Their manner at the time was furtive and watchful. They stood close by the station building, and looked round at intervals with quick jerks, as if they feared some one might ,approach, and that what they were saying was a thing not to be overheard. “I must be growing as suspicious as an old woman,” Merry muttered. “Nearly everything here strikes me as being singular.” Keeping an eye on these young men as well as he could throughout the afternoon, he discovered that they seemed to be outfitting at the stores, and that they madé trips to the one Jivery stable that the place supported. Now and then one of them, visiting a store, came out with-a bundle and took it into the stable. “Stocking up for a campaign? It sure looks it! But against what? If this was an outlaw region, I’d say that desperadoes are outfitting here, and getting ready for a taid.” To add to this feeling, Merry discovered that some, at least, of the young men were armed, for he noticed’ re i volver butts’ bulging coat tails and hip pockets, and saw one of the young fellows cleaning and oiling a magazine rifle. Visiting the livery stable with Barney Mulloy, he came on one of the young men inspecting the horses, and dis- cussing with the stableman their ability as mountain climb- ers. It seemed a suspicious circumstance, that as soon as Merry and Barney came in at the stable door this con- versation stopped abruptly. This young fellow also had a revolver under his coat. When the young man had gone out, Merry ventured an inquiry. ‘They’re goin’ on.a huntin’ trip,” the stable keeper ane) swered, Goa “Is the game law off?” Merry asked. The stableman winked. “Oh, that don’t trouble. any. one out here,” “Game laws ain’t made for these mountains.” he said. The stableman’s. explanation was so satisfactory. that Merry dropped this line of inquiry,,and he would net have ™ resumed it if he had not seen one of the young fellows) holding close conversation with the light-haired young man who claimed to be from Salt Lake City, and who hag n played so queer a part with the newspaper. : When Merry spoke in the most casual tone to one 6Ff the young men about the proposed hunting trip, it Was as if a shot had been fired under his nose. “Hunting trip?’ he said. “I don’t know of any.” “T was misinformed,’ said Merry, in a tone of apology. The fire continued, and the marshal did not return Unwilling to wait longer, Merry, with Mulloy, again went to the office to confer with the marshal’s aid. When he got there he found Ernest Hart established before the door. “He’s inside, and I’ve been waiting for you,” said Part, with a smile. “The marshal will not be -back to-night, Half the town’s out fighting the fire, and, of course, hes) got to stay with it. And we'll have no train in, even 7S from the north, before to-morrow, the agent told me a while ago. I thought I’d come over here and be ready. Hodge must. think that all his friends have deserted: als him.” : at. “I gave the prisoner your message,” said the occupant © 4 : of the office, when Merry went in with Mulloy. “That’s good! sWhat did he say?” “That he was pleased to know you're here, and is ex= | a) pecting: you to do something.” . * 3 a “He still says his name is Bart Hodge?” ; a “Oh, yes! He has said that ever since those letters were found on him.” “But not before?” “Before that he wouldn’t ‘tell his name. After the*let ters were found on him he said it was no use to deny who he was,” This was not encouraging. So when Merry and Mulloy were at last permitt@d fo enter the jail, in company with tHe marslral’s assistamtem Ernest Hart being aJso along, Merry was prepared) for sc se st Ww p) 31rt say for A et @) at re- F ® ¢ ca 4 ' a | torney. the disappointment he met when the prisoner was brought out of the prison proper into the marshal’s office there. With the party was also the young attorney, a mere boy, who was to defend the prisoner when he came up for trial, The fellow who was brought in was not Bart Hodge, and did not in the least resemble him. He was a husky, dark-haired man of twenty-five, with a certain hangdog expression which did not prejudice Merry: in his favor. But he insisted that his nanfe was Bart Hodge. “Will you explain, then,’ Merry demanded, “about those letters which were found on you?” “My letters?” he: said. “They were in the pockets of the coat you have on now ?” “That's right.” “But you didn’t know they were there until the mar- shal, in searching you, found them! Tell what know about Hodge? You took his name, after his letters were found on you.” me you “That’s my name?” “You robbed him of that coat! -And those letters were in ‘it! Your name is not Bart Hodge. tobbery committed ?” “Oh, well, I don’t. have to answer you.” “Did you murder Hodge, as well as rob him?” “The young fellow stood trembling now. Close by the door was the marshal’s assistant, a revolver in his coat pocket, and his hand on it. Whete was that "hb object to this line of inquiry,” said the young at- “This man isn’t accused of murdering any one, hor even of robbing any one except Skinner. As his attorney, I object.” The young fellow from Salt Lake City was standing close by the door. * Now, with a tigerish bound, he threw himself on the marshal’s assistant, gave him a blow and a push, which. sent him sprawling to the floor, then ‘pulled the door open and leaped outside. The thing came so quickly and unexpectedly that the prisoner was also through the door and outside before a hand could be lifted to stop him. Though Merry. made a jump, the young attorney was in the way, and they came together heavily. Both were nearly thrown down by the impact. . Barnéy Mulloy was the first to get out. He was yelling to bring help, and also got in the way, so that, though the two men were seen running, the mar- shal’s assistant was not able to use his revolver, which it seemed, he tried to do as’soon as he got on his feet. Merry hurried down the steps, following Mulloy. But all were tod slow and too late. _The two young men ran straight off toward the livery Stable, and, in the twilight, that was now thickening, they were seen to get horses there that had evidently been placed in waiting, and rode off at whirlwind speed. The darkness soon swallowed them up. “Wurra!” cried Barney Mulloy. ‘Did annything to beat ut?” The marshal’s assistant, white-faced and in a rage, came up to Merry and Mulloy, when he saw that pursuit was useless. yez iver. see “That was. a contemptible trick,” he snarled, “and you needn't think ‘you're going to put it over. without trouble. That fellow is gone, and the friend you introduced to me NEW TTP. -“TOP ' Go on WEEKLY. 7 with him, but I'll have you fellows in irons in mighty short order.” “Ar-rh! Ye will!” grated Mulloy. “Not while I’ve me fightin’ fist in runnin’ order.” CHAPTER V. ACCUSED. Frank Merriwell drew the irate Irishman away. “We don’t want to get into trouble here,” he warned. “You see, if we do, it’s going to hamper our move- ments.” “He said he’d arrist yé! Ar-re ye goin’ to stand f'r ut ?” : “We'll hope he will cool down when he has had time to think it over. But you can’t deny that he is justified in his suspicions.” “What are yez goin’ t’ do now?” “T admit I’m all muddled up. The thing clear to me is that the rascal who got out of the jail has been up against Hodge in some way. He must have robbed Hodge of that The letters that were in it were Hodge’s letters. I think there’s not a doubt of that.. There was a hole in the pocket of the coat; and they, had slipped through it into the coat lining, and the scoundrel didn’t know they were there. When they were found by the marshal, .and shown to him, he simply declared they were his,-and that his name was Bart Hodge. That accounts for the news telegram to. the Salt Lake City papers, saying Bart Hodge was held in jail here on a charge of highway. robbery.” “The situation is thick as mud, an’ not halfas aisy t’ Th’ ownly thing t’ do is. to folly thim sin and see where they go. coat. see t’rough. Or had we best wait here an’ see what happens? ‘The lucks av things ar-re not t’ me likin’ at..all.” They. wete» moving down toward the railway station, when the angry marshal’s assistant appeared before them again. “Tl have you in jail in an hour!” he threatened. “That was. the .most. brazen thing ever put acrass.” Eee “So you’re still thinking we planned.that?”’ said -Merry. “Why, I’m sure of it. . The thing it too plain... Not only that,” he said, and surprised Merry: by this. addition, “your crowd set that fire at the snowshed. The whole thing is as clear as sunlight. The prisoner, whose nate may or may not have been Bart Hodge, sent a cipher message to some one in Salt Lake. _He also had a friend or two here, I’m sure, for there’s been two or three unknown men hanging round here ever since he was ‘jailed. The mes- Salt Lake brought your crowd, on that train; and your confederates here fired the snowshed. The fire was to draw the marshal and. the people out of. the town.” Though Merry was smiling, there was a bright glitter in his eyes as he listened to this talk. “Go on,” he said quietly, “this is really interesting, and I’m. gaihing information—adding to my stock of ideas. \?? sage to “This afternoon the young fellows who came up from the snowshed with you have been hiring horses at the livery stable, and getting ammunition for their weapons, and also food supplies, at the stores here. They Said they were getting ready for a hunting trip. Just before the prisoner made his escape they took their horses from the stable and rode out to the eastward—the same direc- ; 8 NEW All of jail deliv- that the prisoner and his accomplice went. which proves to me that it was a premeditated tion ery, and the pretended hunting trip was only a blind.” ' He came up closer, and looked Merry in the eye. “Perhaps you will have the nerve now to say that and this fellow with you-—’” “Arrah, now!” Mulloy yelled. names !” “Perhaps you'll say that getting horses at the stable and following that crowd of you “Don’t be calling me you two do not’ contemplate thieves toward the mountains?” Merry laughed. “You're a mind reader! very thing,” “Going to join them! | I was thinking of doing that Well, Pll block your knew it. game. If you get out of this town, it will be because | can’t get enough men together to—— r “Whurroo! Ar-re yez threatenin’ us?” “Tam. I’m on my way now to the office of a justice of the peace, where J shall swear out a warrant for your arrest. If you try to leave the town, it will be ‘all the proof I need.” “Now, listen!” urged Merry calmly. “Oh, of course, I don’t expéct——” “Listen! You’re angry. You’re blaming yourself for what has occurred. You expéct a call-down from the marshal, and that peoplé here will say you lacked brains, ot this thing wouldn’t havé happened, but——” “Oh, I don’t expect——” “Ar-re, ye cheese-face! “Tl make it short, by a dental,” into this situation here by chance. and. business. Bart Hodge is a has, as we know, and as those letters show, Yellowstone Park. I admit I don’t know whether he has got into trouble there or not, but it would seem that he has. Of course, this prisoner may merely have stolen Hodge’s coat from him. The young man who went to the jail with us I never met before. But from the first moment I saw him, which was in the smoker, he acted in an unaccountable manner.” Meérry proceeded ‘to tell about it, and about the things which had followed. “Now,” he said, when he had ended this, “I’m going over to the station to send a telegram to the superin- tendent of the park, at Mammoth Springs. You’re wel- come to go with me and see the message I send and the answer that comes,” “Very clever!” sneered the young fellow. “Of course, you don’t know that the wires are down, and no message can be got through!” Merry’s face clouded. “T didn’t know that,” he said. “Poles down on account of heavy storm at the north, and telegraphic sonnection stopped to the south by the wreckage at the snowshed. Train stalled. So your crowd had to get out of this place on horses, But [’ll see that you don’t gét away.” He hurried defiantly away. “Ar-r-re!” “What are you gr-r-f-ing about, Barney?” said Merry. “You make me think of an Airedale dog spoiling for a fight. We'll sure be up to our necks in trouble if you ype play with your Irish fists. That young fellow isn’t to be blamed for thinking as he does.” Merry’s ixplainin’ to yez!” said Merry.. “We broke I’ve told you my name friend of ours, and he been up in “ie SLO WW Est. , see “But av he thries to arrist us? Phat’s Bart,?¢h® dar- tha lint, t’ do f’r hilp, if we’re sthuck in that jail? TM niver 5 the go in there i wit One part of the indignant young man’s theory looked bi hat so plausible that Merry was almost willing to adopt i ‘“ himself. The fire certainly drew the marshal out of the ; _ town, as could have been anticipated, and only an im@x- tha perienced youth had been left in his office, as a bar to = / the the escape of the prisoner. Probably the marshal would: cor not have permitted the prisoner to be visited in that man- “ ner. Also, the fire was holding away nearly all the abley 9% Vil bodied men of the town, so that no effective pursuit A list could be made. And that the young fellows who had been g v4 so musical and hilarious in the train were not merely in 7 wa the town to start on a hunting trip, but for some purpose bis “ more serious, seemed quite likely, in view of what had Rap= yh: ’ pened, et: Be pe stg the mistake of the marshal’s assistant e6n=- op to-c sisted only in his belief that Merry and Barney Mulloy ¥ were to be nt ec with the conspirators. ~ He 3ut what of Bart Hodge? tw Merry was mulling over that, making his way to the can stable, with Mulloy growling along in his wake. — she The brief twilight had vanished, and darkness. was now | on the town. In the few stores lights were shining, and 93 there were lights in most of the-residences. Also @ lights was burning at the entrance to the stable, to. which Moses oa proceeded. m As he came tp to it he was aware that a | horse had. a been brought out to the side of the stable, and that some \« ane was standing by it as if ready to mount. the Merry hurried his steps. ee pa At that moment the stableman came running: but. awd ; tain “Here, he called, “I said to you that you-couldn? take 9% lon: that horse!” O “Oh, did you?” The man by the horse swung into the. saddle, at ‘te? horse started with a leap. There was a musical twang, as 4 though \the strings of an instrument had been rudely \ shaken by the quick motion. The horse broke into a gallop, and swung round toward’? the eastward trail. & ee Fae 8) \ “It’s a long way to Tipperary-——” The song that lifted recklessly from the horsemian’s, lips . Merry had heard in the train, and he knew the voice, and that the horseman was the young fellow who had played ae > oo the mandolin accompaniment. f “Tt’s a long way to go! | a The words floated back as the horse struck into the trail 9 “J and vanished, clattering away in the darkness, ef The stableman ran out into the street, yelling com- trac + VE? mands. i Me. how “T guess the marshal’s assistant has got nearly the right my) trail dope,” Merry was thinking, as this little scene was en- | Ja} oat acted before his eyes. ““The conspirators got off without ~ this fellow..and he’s riding to join them,’ As the stableman came storming back, the light, Merry and Mulloy. “We'll chase that fellow for you,” let us have some horses!” The stableman glowered at him. “You will—not! I’ve already been warned against youl” “You've beén letting horses throughout the aftermoon.” “Yes, but no more. I’m beginning to be afraid I won't he saw, under . said Merry. “Just ' See them critters agaim; and that would ruin me. I told that feller he couldn’t have the horse, and while I was at the rear of the stable he took it out, and now he has gone with it. That’s horse stealing. But ketchin’ comes before 1s hangin’.” ery “They said they were going on a huntin’ trip?” C , “That’s what they said, and I was fool enough to think . that I was makin’ big money by hiring my horses to ve them. They paid in advance. But if the horses don’t 1 come back it’s selling ’em cheap.” “Tl buy two of your horses—at a good price. And Pil explain why we need. them, if you'll take time to listen.” 1 “Buy ’em with counterfeit money, likely. Say, I’ve been a : Warned against you!” : Fe “Who by?” ek “Tom Haskell.” #, % be “That’s the fellow who is acting as the marshal’s deputy : to-day ?” Sie “He's tryin’ to. I wouldn’t ‘call it more than that. a Mes let that prisoner git away. And he says that you © two fellers helped to put up the job. can’t let ye take horses. shed afire———” “Ar-r-re! Cut it out! I’ve been hit by that so manny /toimes me flesh is gittin’ sore. Change th’ ricord and give fs another chune.” ; “Your pal was givin’ me one, when he rid off with my horse. It'll sure be a long way to Tipperary for him i he’s caught, for I didn’t even hire that horse to him!” "What's to do?” said Merry, drawing Mulloy away from the stable. “Ask me somethin’ aisy. Bart is belike oop in th’ moun- tains av Yellowstone Park, if he isn’t dead. And ut’s a long way t’ Tipperary, t’ git there, d’ye moind. We've got =) to cross, th’ divide. And no horses, and th’ walkin’ ain’t = good. And whin we git there re Merry’s’ mind was as unsettled as Mulloy’s. So you see why I And if your crowd set the snow CHAPTER VI. es HITTING THE TRAIL. Though the situation was so puzzling, one thing seemed clear, and that -was their duty to help Bart Hodge, if possible. Metry debated with Mulloy whether they should’ wait until the wires were connected and they could get a tele gram of inquiry through to Mammoth Springs, or whether to set out and follow the men who. had left Cyanide. “But for two things I’d think it wise to stay,” he said. "YT know wan—we'll be arfisted. Phat’s the other?” > that those: horsemen can be followed now by- their tracks; while if we hang round here and delay a few hours, this chinooklike air will clear off the snow, and trailing them will be difficult, if not impossible.” © PAr-r-re! I’m that puzzled I can’t think.” = .eAnother thing,” said Frank, “is that it seems unlikely that the escaped prisoner, even if he had used up Hodge, fild go back to the place where it was done.” Ahrue f’r yez! That’s clear, aven to my feeble intel Rte B Yet we can do this: We can take horses and follow NEW TIP .TOP WEEKLY. to Mammoth Springs, if we found nothing, and make our inquiries there. The proper entrance to the park. is at Cinnabar, the end of the Northern Pacific branch line, which runs down from Livingston. Nearly every one goes in there, as the Mammoth Springs and hotel are not far—only six miles; yet others go in from Cody, on the east. I think no one, or-almost no one, goes in from this side. Yet there are some easy passes, and it can be made even at this time of year, though up in the moun- tains and in the park there’s probably a good deal of snow.” Mulloy did not answer, and Merry stood musing over this. “We're sure to get into trouble here, if we remain, and we may land in the jail. That would sure put us out of the running. We couldn’t be held long, but it might take a week to get proper witnesses and proof here. Besides, from the news that has come about the storm, and the looks of the fire, it may be days before we can get off a telegram to/any old place.” “T see yez are thinking av follyin’ thim fellers. But— The livery man, bad cess t’ him, won't l’ave us have aven wan.” “There may be other horses in the town. Let’s look round. If we move, we’ve got to do it before that deputy marshal makes: trouble, and before the marshal gets back In my opinion, the marshal is likely to be worse than his assistant. I’ve been up against some of these Western marshals that were pig-headed in their stupidity.” “Wurra! If any man lays hands on me there’s goin’ t’ be a fight!” i “Then they'll sure have a case against you. Keep oun temper, Mulloy.” “Ye’re always too aisy with min who come thrampin an yer coat tails,” the Irishman grumbled. Still followed by muttering Mulloy, Merry made the round of the town, and, by good luck, found a man who had two horses, with accouterments, which he was willing to sell. “T won't have a thing for these’ horses to do till next spring,” he said. “They'll be eatin’ their heads off. So I'll sqll ’°em reasonable.” where’s yer harses? from the fire. : , Having known that in going to the new mining town of Laclede he would be where/there were no banking facili- ties, Merry had brought money, and in a few minutes the horses were ~his. He sent ‘Mulloy “out into the brush” with them. “Keep out of sight with them, while I round up sup- pliés.” Ae When, at the énd of an hour, Merry rejoined Mulloy, the arrangements had been completed. “T have blankets, plenty of food, and, in fact, all we'll need. Now we'll ride down and get them. They’re in front of Higginson’s store, where I had them’set out for me on the sidewalk.” “No wan thried. to arrest ye?” “No. But a warrant for our arrest is eut, I’m sure, and as soon as the marshal gets in from the fire, he and his assistant will be hunting for us., So it’s now or a long delay.” Mulloy was ready for anything, for he had been chafing at the indecision and inaction. There was only Higginson and his clerk at the store when they rode down. The street was deserted. Every a “y NEW TIP TOP WE ZEKLY, fl died man, with a few exceptions, was out fighting pearances justified the statement that five young men : ; were a hunting party. a glare was flung all over the southern sky. He was not sure, he said, but that a big mistake had been Higginson apparently knew nothing of what had ‘taken made in following them. M. place, and was’ only anxious to sell as many things as he “T’'d go back even now,” he declared, “if I didn’t have on could; and he.and his clerk assisted Merry and’ Mulloy the feeling that the man who helped the prisoner to * ot! in loading the supplies on the horses. escape, and the prisoner himself, hold the key to this As if in a spirit of defiance, whén they were riding mystery of Bart Hodge.” fe quietly, out and away and. were passing through the street For somé time they debated whether it would not be ' where the livery stable stood, Merry drew rein there, see- wise to invade the camp and make a demand for infor- ep Ba ing the stableman. mation, but abandoned the idea. There would bé no way we “You wouldn’t sell us your horses,” he said, “but we of forcing the suspected men to tell what they knew, if is ae secured others, as you can see. I don’t want you to*think they kuew anything, and if the five other young fellows” 4% we're of the crowd who took horses from ‘your stable. were their friends, probably there would be a fight, as ile ha Our purposes are entirely honest, and you merely lost a ultimate result, and nothing accomplished. ; of good trade, for I was willing to pay you your own price With this ‘thought, that the two men. named -held the i" ng for horses. If you see the marshal’s assistant, just say to key to the mystery, they kept to the trail, but mot mean’ am Z him for me that F still claim to be. honest and honorable, enough, they hoped, to be discovered; and so followed) 7a) re) and that in time I hope to return and prove to his complete over thé divide, through a low and easy ‘pass which held a ba satisfaction that I am so,” little snow, and on into the Yellowstone Park. ; ee mE Then he rode on with Mulloy, and took. the trail. that In the pass and beyond, and within the park, they found ‘ ; led toward the hills on the east of the town, knowing plenty of snow and much colder weather than on the 79% pe that for a while they would be surely following the youfhg’ western slope. men. Later results proved that they had not been as caué They camped ten miles or’ more’ out from ‘Cyanide; tious in their pursuit as they meant to be. fearing to imiss the trail they were following if they went One morning “before daybreak, ‘as.they lay in camp, thei gee farther. And they set out again as early in the morning horses were’ stolen. as they could see. Merry roused up, hearing the confusion, and in the dim They were expectitig’ pursuit, and’ it was a novel ex- light he saw one of the horses being ridden away, and perience to be running away from an officers’ posse, and was sure he recognized in the man on’its back the escaped eR ipleasaiit one.’ Metry would niuch have preferred to prisoner. in “and boldly face and refute in Cyanide ‘all charges at could be brought against him. CHAPTER VIi. e) é trail of the horsemen they pursued went straight-on, VE ON 4 The trail of the horsemen they pursued went straight on ia salsarineihke’ ma well-defined mule path. Seven were in the part; : A : : fy | The sg OFT > horse rye vary s thing tortu- aliead. Apparently the prisoner and lits ally had joined The loss of the horses was a serious’ thing. . Rortu He the five, or been joined by. them: nately, the man who had taken them was the man they /~ As the party had moved fapidly, Merry and Mulloy: did had been following, so they would still be following tim a not’ reach the spot where they had passed the night until while they tried to regain the horses. a close oh noon. They had seemingly moved at daybreak. Barney Mulloy, roused out of deep sleep, sat up witty a Theircamp fire had long been: dead, in his blanket, sputtering questions in a brogue so. thick There was not much snow; except. on the hills, where it that even Merry would have been puzzled by some Of gleamed in great white patches through ‘the pines and them,.if he had: bothered listening. i aspens,- yet the tops of the mountains were well cov- Instead of listening, he was running in the direction " no ered. taken ‘by the horseman. ° a wo , inthe sky behind trailed the smoke from the. fires. “Both horses gone,” He announced, in a vexed toné, as_ i rar 3ut the fites were dying down. The snowshed fire. had he came back to the camp, “and taken by the mam we co% doubtless burned out, and the forest fire was failing, where have been trailing. {We'll follow as soon as it is Tight ] it encountered snow. It promised not to be serious now. enough to see.” wa It was not until after nightfall that Merry received proof “Did he take th’ supplies?” rea positive that the escaped prisoner and his companion had “No. We can cache those that we can’t carry. Now ee. the joined the other horsemen, though this had long been we'll stir up the fire and have something to eat. .Wevé Me apparent. probably got some work cut out for us to-day.” j “he gleam of their camp fire was seen after dark, far It was a natural inference that Merry’s camp fire had chi off on the hillside, like a red star. been seen, and that this blow was aimed to cripple Hig? ‘do j Leaving Mulloy to guard the camp, Merry rode off to pursuit; also, thé blow had been struck because the horses. To inspect it, and, finally, by a on foot, got near | were valuable, ‘and thé party obtaining them could - WSC®: cir enough to see the fellow from Salt Lake City, Mr:. Ernest them as pack animals. ! +4 es wh 5 Hart, and thé escaped prisoner, Oe by the cafnp fire “Th’ way t’ Tipperary is goim’ t’ be longer than teu ane with the others. ’ bekaz av it,’ remarked Barney, as he sat roasting strips y, 4 re a 4 * ; “ 1.9 ‘ ra Z - i The fivé other young men were of the party which had of bacon. over their fire. “Th’ ‘snow’s gittin’ worse, . r r. | ‘ > A > he in: > e been siting in the smoker. The escaped prisoner and his Wurra! It will soon be throublin’ us to get out ay here companions seemed to have no- weapons, but the rest were on fut, to say nothin’ av overtakin’ thim harses. I’m que well armed. prayin’ in me heart that Bart ain’t oop here’ at all, at 4 In reporting this to Mulloy, Merry declared that ap- all!” arr f f, Bisa! he Watt ie ii It was easy to follow the tracks of the horses, as soon as they had light enough to go by. oat “The man I saw. was alone when he did the work,” Merry was soon able to announce. “You can see that ve one horse went along steadily, and sank deeper than the sn oo other; all of which proves that the other had no rider.” a The thief had tried to baffle pursuit by entering a snow- fed stream, where all signs were lost. Kia Here the pursuers separated, Merry going upstream, and oe ||. “Barney down, with an agreed place of meeting. Neither a was to go far. In any event, they were to meet at this if i point at noon. 3 se sf In searching the’ banks of the narrow stream, Merry ie had recourse to the expedient of climbing to ‘the top : of a ridge, from which he could look down, and, mov- ce ) ing along it, keep as much as possible under cover. ay x He put in two hours of hard work before he was d, ey =sotewarded. Then he caught sight of the horses, at the \ a > . e td) ae base of the opposite ridge, under a shelter of low-grow- Cy ing pines. id Making a hasty but quiet descent, he tried, after cross- He. ing the stream, to get near them. In doing so he moved downstream. He thought the camp of the party he and 15 Mulloy had followed must be close by the horses. He i Was wishing he had Mulloy with him. That he would <9 be able to do anything alone seemed most uncertain. The surprise of the morning came when he caught in sight of two figures sitting together under a \pine, some id distance above the horses. Merry stared at what he saw, d Hen rubbed his eyes, and stared again. For the man Wwho had stolen away the horses, he who had been the Prisoner in the Cyanide jail, was sitting with his arms Mfondly round the other, and now and then kissing him. And thag other was Ernest Hart, the young fellow who Phad acted so strdngely about the newspaper, and then had aided the prisoner in breaking out of the jail. I~ ar Wes ~ Merry pursed his lips.in a silent whistle. me “A woman!” he said. In his concealment he stood up, and looked for the y 4 othér members of the party. Apparently these two were KP «alone. And that of itself was another singualr dis- iF) ae covery. Merry tried to understand what he beheld. There was n now not a doubt in his mind that Ernest Hart’ was a woman. He wondered if she was the man’s wife. A new 3. : 3! range of strange possibilities was opened by this dis- 3 ama | covery. Mt | Merry saw her take out of the pocket of the coat she i Was wearing a’ bit of paper, and, unfolding it, begin to mh réad it to the man. That it, was the strip torn out of the newspaper which she had refused to let him see, Merry felt sure. » As the desire to regain the horsés° was now Merry’s . schief interest, he cast about to see how he could get down to the animals. The valley there was narrow. “To retrace his Way across the stream and make the long circuit round, would, he knew, occupy so much time that when he came back to the stream, the horses and the man and woman might be gone. r (As he debated this, he was thinking .also of Bart ) Hodge.: What did these two people’ know about Hodge, WH anything? This might be a good time to press that question. » The escaped prisoner and the woman with him were "armed, though they had not seemed to be so when they NEW. TIP TOP WEEKLY. were seen before. They had rifles leaning against the tree under which they sat. : As the man would no doubt feel that Merry was fol- lowing for the purpose of returning him to the jail, he could be expected to use his rifle if cornered. “If Barney was here Barney was not, and could not be reached, so Merry came to a quick decision. He would move down on the couple who were love-making under the pine, and, if he could get round them without discovery, he Would do it and secure the horses, but if he could not, he would ap- proach them boldly, and risk the result. This effort brought another surprise. The difficulty of getting by them was so great, that, having approached closely, Merry was about to reveal himself, make demands, and bluff the matter through, when he heard the man speak the name of Bart Hodge. The sound of the name, voiced here, stiffened Merry to a quick stop, under the tree that concealed him, not 4 dozen yards from the speakers, “And you 4 “Well, I had to do it,” the man declared, as if answer- ing; “I’ve been wantin’ to tell you evér since you told me about what you did in Salt Lake, but I kept hangin’ back. You see, it was Hodge or me. I thought the fool had money, but he didn’t, and I made a mistake in carry- ing off his coat. I was denyin’ everything, down there in Cyanide, after I had wired to you, and then they found them letters in the coat linin’. I didn’t know what to do then but to say that I was Hodge, and stick it out.” Leaping up suddenly, his attention drawn by a move- ment of the horses, the man now surprised Merry by starting off. The woman in man’s clothing rose and stood by the tree. The slip from the newspaper, which she had twisted together, was in her hand. Before Merry could make up his mind what to do, there was-a wild yell, and the man came into view again, running. Two of the four horses had- broken away, and went clattering down the stream. That the man was scared out of his wits was seen by his manner and the speed with which he ran. The woman began to run to meet him. “What has broken loose now?” Merry was wondering. The thought occurred to him that the man and woman had separated from the larger party, perhaps, after steal- ing or taking something, and now the members of that party had located them. “What is it?” the woman screamed. Merry marveled that he had not before seen that this was a woman. Her yoice, while heavy, had a feminine quality, and her movements, as she ran, were those of a woman. Her shoulders were narrow and her waist was slender. Merry was saying to himself that he had been blind not to observe this—blind because he had not been suspicious. “What is it?” the woman. screamed again. “Hodge!” the man screeched. “Hodge? He’s dead!” she screamed back a him. “His ghost, then!” the man yelled. Merry quite forgot that he had been hiding. The name made him fling himself forward, out from the shel- tering concealinent of the tree into the open. He was seen instantly by the man, who shouted: “Look behind you!” waited Fibs 12 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY, The woman looked, screamed, and ran faster. When scampered away together, running close by the she met him, the man turned about, and. they stream. She caught him by the hand, and clung on, and he fairly lifted her Merry plunged after them. “Hodge!” he gasped. When he came up to the point where the man had first yelled and retreated, he found two horses, his own over obstructions. and Mulloy’s, plunging wildly on their ropes in an effort to break away. He did not tarry to get one of the horses, for the man and woman were still in sight; but he flung glances round, as he hurried on. Once he called out the name of Hodge. It was perhaps a mistake not to stop and get one of the horses, if he meant to pursue. Merry was not certain that he wanted to pursue far. The that he had seen Hodge’s ghost served to halt Merry’s headlong chase before he had gone far, and he turned about. man’s declaration CHAPTER VIII. FROM THE NEWSPAPER. From what he had overheard, Merry had gathered that the man believed he had killed Bart Hodge, then that he had seen Hodge again, or Hodge’s ghost. Unless he had one of those mental delusions which come to the guilty, he really had seen some one who resembled Bart Hodge, if not Hodge himself. Merry was well aware that murderers now and again do see “ghosts.” For, though there are no haunting ghosts, in the popular acceptation of that term, a constant brood- ing on the guilty deed, or a continuous thinking of the dead, produces, at-times, hallucinations and. illusions, and “ghosts” are seen, which are, mere mental creations of the people who see them. It was possible that here was such a case, Merry wanted to be sure, however, as perhaps the real, living Hodge was somewhere near, and had been seen by the man who believed him dead. So, when he had pursued but a short distance, he re- traced his way, and when he came back to the picketed horses, he called Hodge’s name, and looked about in the hope that he would find a man’s tracks. Finding none, and getting no answers, Merry returned to the tree that had sheltered the man and woman, and looked for the paper she had dropped out of her nerve- less hand when she ran. He soon found it. Having smoothed it.out, he read this: “Tt is now said that the death of Frank Deming was due to poisoning, and his wife is. accused of the crime. She has disappeared from the city, and the police are looking for her. It is known that on Tuesday she re- ceived a telegraphic message in cipher from Cyanide, and it is claimed that she had an accomplice. ‘Last night a ticket for passage over the Oregon Short Line was pur- chased by a man who has since been declared to have been Mrs. Deming dressed in male attire, and as this ticket had for its destination Cyanide, the marshal there has been wired to hold the suspected party on New light broke on the situation, Taking from his pocket the torn bit from the newspaper : arrival.” that told of Bart Hodge being held in the Cyanide jail, he fitted it to the { together, the message from Cyanide coming first in the other and found that they belonged 1e ic } column. Perhaps in the “make-up” department of t] newspaper they had been put thus together intentionally. This was the bit of news, rather than that concerning Bart Hodge, which in the train the woman had sought to cover with her hand, and had refused to let Merry gee. And she had been so frightened by reading it for the first time there in the smoker that she had, leaped from the train. For she+had thought she would be ar- rested when she came into Cyanide. However, she had ventured on in, walking, thinking That risks because she had for the jail, who, Merry now saw, was undoubtedly the accom- she could baffle discovery. was i made up her mind to take man in the plice mentioned. 1 Also, he was the man who, probably, had killed Bart Hodge. Some other conclusions were possible, but Merry did not take time to run them out. He was thrilled by thoughts of Hodge. / He began to search round again, down by the point where the horses were picketed—searching and calling. | When he could find nothing, he took the horses and the rifle the woman had left, and rode off down the river,” looking for the man and woman, determined, if he could 4, i overtake them, to have the truth, if he had to fight 7m for it. His mind was in a turmoil. Yet he would not let his excited mental state lessen his caution. he could expect them to put up a fight, the man in partiews lar. and would resist. trying to overtake them, he went cautiously, scanning every bush and tree before approaching it. They The snow was wet and soft, and The tracks of the horses were farther up the. slope. j : Merry that the and had come upon the horses, by the stream, had captured them, mounted, and ridden away. As this had occurred so short a time before, | Merry did not lessen his caution as he continued to follow, Close by the stream he saw the tracks he pursued. were easily followed. not deep. The tracks had sprayed out slushily. Soon found man woman Somewhere below was Barney Mulloy, and the tiders ahead were going toward him. It was as if Merry Were driving them down upon Mulloy. In effect, he did that, as he was to learn later, Por Mulloy, having found only discouragement in his seareh, was ascending the stream at the time, to rejoin his friend. Mulloy encounteted the fugitive riders, much farther down. | s Hearing the splashing of hoofs in the wet snow, he? dodged behind a tree, and was looking out when they came into view. There was neither bridle; nor saddle on the horses, but only the severed ends of picket ropes With these ropes the riders’ were gestive. their necks. to guide’ them. “A runaway, and a foight befure it!” tered. ‘ on There could have been a fight with no one up there Following murderers, as they doubtless were, § They would think he was trying to apprehend them ™ So, while he hurried to some extent ‘ What We saw was peculiar and sige 7% 7 ig | ol fe . —— id killed Merry! not taken The hot that he was hardly a sane man. “Whurroo! I'll stop yez, if I have to kill ye both!” he grated. : They had decamped ‘so hastily they had time to saddle and bridle. blood of the Irishman so flew to his head He stepped from behind his tree, with his rifle, and commanded hands. at Mulloy with a ’ them to throw up their Instead of obeying, the man rode yell. Mulloy fired, but fired high, for even in his rage he did not want to kill, Aside from his natural horror of bloodshed, the fact that dead tell enough to deter him, for he wanted to ask them about men no tales. was Merry. The man rode him down furiously. As Mulloy was struck by the horse and bowled. over, he threw out his hand and clutched the rope which was about its neck in a loop. The horse was swung round, Mulloy, rising, and on one knee, threw all his strength into his pull on the rope. With a yell the man tumbled on top of him, armed, and he had drawn his knife. Mulloy .released the rope, and struck at the knife arm. lt was almost a bone-breaking blow, and the knife He was dropped into the snow. The horse dashed on, Mulloy and the man clinched, and went down together. The woman, screaming and yelling in fear and rage, tried to pull her animal round and drive it upon Mulloy, but the beast was scared and obdurate, and plunged. “Get help!” the man panted to her, as he went down “@nder Mulloy, and felt that perhaps the wild Irishman hands of Frank Merriwell. would be too much for him. /He had dropped his rifle. The woman’s rifle was in the Pulling her jumping beast round, she tried to swing down and get Mulloy’s rifle, or that of her companion, but the antics of her horse kept her from being able to do so. Seeing that she was likely to lose her position on the horse, and being frightened, believing also that she could serve her accomplice better by riding off for help, she righted herself on the animal’s back, and dashed away. Mulloy hardly knew, what the woman was doing, for a hot fire was singing in his brain, and, for the moment, he was blind with the fury of the fight. The the jail long enough to weaken him. van was a powerful fellow, and had not been in With a_ bearlike hug, he was trying to break Mulloy’s back, and he bent the Irishman’s spine until it seemed to be snapping. In his desperation he half turned Mulloy, Then the Irishman got him down again, and this time got a grip on his throat. Still the man fought, and continued to fight with all the fury of desperation, until Mulloy choked him into unconsciousness. All this Mulloy was to f@ll about afterward, as well as he. could, which was not very well, for he had, from the first, a dizzy sense of not knowing much about. it. But hé had the man tied with his own belt, cut into cerds for the purpose, and was sitting by him, when Frank Merriwell came riding down at a gallop. Merry had heard the shot and seen the fighting going on, while -still some distance off, and had not spared the horse he rode. NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. “Too late!” Mulloy called at him. “Too late! “Ah-h! Th’ Merry sprang down. sir You're hurt?” Ye missed ut.” foightin’s over! I’m But Th’ thot phat ingagement whilst I tought | iligant ut lasted, Wan kilt. I’m still breathin’, ye can see, though it ain’t aisy. flew, whin this felly wakes oop ye can make him tell yez he knows about Bart.” He described the fight as well as he could. Before he had finished, the man lying on the wet ground was struggling back to consciousness. Twas th’ sayin’ to yez. toime was other man and ’s goin’ f’r hilp.. I’m hopin’ CHAPTER ‘IX: TRACKING THE GHOST, When Merry and Mulloy went back to the point where the four horses had been picketed, which they did at once, taking their prisoner, they made a close search for traces of Hodge’s presence. Though, apparently, with his mind occupied by what he was doing while riding downstream, Merry had been given time to think the matter over, and had reached the conclusion that his search there had not been thorough enough. Another thing whi¢h took them back was the hope that they could force the prisoner to tell them just where Hodge’s “ghost” had been when he saw it. The prisoner now valiantly denied that he had seen a “ghost,” or knew anything about Hodge.’ When they demanded an explanation of the story he had told in the jail, and of the coat and the letters in tt, he said he had bought the coat of a secondhand dealer in Butte a month before, and, as for the letters, he had not known of them, and had merely taken the name of Hodge, when they were shown him, as he did not care to tell his own. Yet Merry knew the man had been badly scared by a “ghost.” Further proof of it was given by his manner, His eyes gleamed with superstitious fear, and he kept looking round as if he feared the startling thing would appear again. Leaving him in charge of Mulloy, when he refused to help by a confession, Merry spent a long time search- ing over the surrounding rough country. At last, near the top of, the hill, he found the tracks of a man in the snow. Merry looked: at them with keen interest, noting their shape. He also took note of the direction in which the man had gone. When he tried to trace them back, toward the stream, he saw that the man had found a wet depression, in which he had walked both in going down and in returning to the top of the hill, this having been the thing which at first had kept Merry from, finding his tracks. Apparently he’ had descended to the horses, to look at them, or for some other reason, and had ‘frightened two of them into pulling their picket pins, then he had quietly retreated to the top of the hill, when the man began to yell. “We'll follow his trail,’- Merry announced,, when he reported this to Mulloy. To their prisoner he said: “Il have found tracks of a man at. the top of the a & ’ pe og jn tomers 14 NEW ridge, and saw where he descended to the place where you kept the horses, so, you may know you did not see a ghost. Now tell me, did you think you saw Bart Hodge?” Though the fellow’s manner changed somewhat, he seemed still fear-stricken, and he refused to answer truth- fully, still declaring he had seen nothing, ga had not been at any time frightened. Forcing the prisoner to go with the trail at the top of the hill and The discovery that there was a real trail, real man, had a good effect on the prisoner. insane glare went out of his eyes. Yet his pallor, ative of fear, scarcely lessened. As they passed over the hill, following the tra dark face assumed a look of cunning. He glanced about, lagged, and complained of the heaviness of the walking. Merry thought he understood the meaning of this change. The man feared the real Hodge now, or the vengeance of these friends of Hodge. And he was hop- ing a chance would come, or he could make one, that would enable him to break away. Mulloy, who walked at the man’s heels, and could ob- serve his expression even more closely, soon became con- vinced of the same thing, and grated a/warning: “Ar-r-r-h! Git ut out av yere mind, ye thafe o’ th Av ye make wan joomp, it will be th’ worse them, they picked up began to follow it. made by The half- indic- cks, his y , wurruld! f'r yez,” “What has become of the party of young fellows who armed and left Cyanide?” Merry asked. “You joined them somewhere afterward. We know that, for I saw you and your friend with them.” “You know a lot!” the fellow growled. “Much more than you think I do,” declared Merry. “Tf you know so much, maybe you holdin’? me; for I don’t. I ain’t done nothin’ you.” “You know, perhaps if you told me what you really know about Bart Hodge we might be able to come The obdurate man repeated his denial of knowledge, and continued to look about, with that cunning gleam -in his eyes. On the other side of the hill the snow lay deeper, and the tracks they were following plowed through it heavily. That sloshy trail held a strange fascination. Where would it lead them, and what would they see at the end of it? They had left their ridge, knowing well it was a perilous thing to do, and now Merry wanted to halt and send Barney back for them. It would eat up much pge¢cious time, for Barney would be compelled to bring them a long way round. He turned it over in his mind, and discussed it with Mulloy. Time was not the only there was. the heart-pulling to draw them on. Merry found it hard to believe they would find Bart Hodge at the end of the trail, but he wanted to know, and soon. His active mind swept round the whole circle of this strange quest for his old friend. He saw what a feeble thread it was he had followed ait from Cyanide. A man had been found in jail there, wearing a coat that held letters’ of which he had no knowledge, but which bore the name of Bart Hodge, and, apparently, they had been received by Hodge That was all, Except that it Know why you're against all right,“so we'll not waste words. But to an understanding.” much horses on the other side: of the factor, TIP TOP WEEKLY. was known Hodge had been somewhere in this mouns tainous country. Marooned at Cyanide, and cut off from all communication by wire, Merry had simply followed the wearer of that coat, believing he held the secret, and that in some manner it could be forced from him. "To this point the singular trail had led. And here the man had seen the “ghost,” after confessing to the woman who had fled with him that he had killed Hodge. Apparently, these tracks in the snow had been left by that ghost. With luck, the mystery would /soon be solved. Merry could not stop to send Barney Mulloy back for the horses. Before them lay a region covered. deeply with snow. A vast, snowy mountainside, which they had seen afar off, gleamed in the sunshine, a glittering wall of white. The snowfall had been heavy, except in the pass and in the valley they had followed, and up which a warm, chinook- like wind from the western slope had spread, melting the snow there almost as it fell, and sending it singing away as water down innumerable rivulets and streams, into rivers flowing to the Pacific. Down the rough hillside, with the snow getting ever deeper, and into and across a snow-choked valley, the trail led. Following it rapidly, they were conducted into a path beaten by footprints coming and going, and were brought up ‘with a jerk of surprise by finding that a telephone Tine® led along this path. The surprise was not shared by the prisoner. Appar-» ently, he had known it was there. Also, he was & pleased, but rendered desperate, for he now broke a turned into the path that led on in the other direction, and made a desperate effort to escape by running. j His hands were tied together at his back, though } is. feet were free, and this hampered him. He was noe as Barney Mulloy, who overtook him after a hot race, and forced his return. \ Arrah !” Mulloy yelled at.him. “Do ye want me t play policeman an’ crack yez over th’ head? Thry thot agin, an’ I'll do ut. Whin we git to a pay station on this telly- phone line, we'll call oop centhral, an’ maybe foind out phat ut’s best to do wid you. In the meantime, howld ’twill be the fleet of foot as ye whist, or worse f’r ye.” The “pay station,” to which they now looked forward eagerly, was a log hut, as they discovered, cuddled smtighy under the shoulder of the big white mountain, and seen ” at a distance was a mere brown dot against the vast ex- panse/of snow that lay all round as well as above it. The path and the telephone line led straight to it, and up to it they hurried. As they drew near the’ log house, the door opened » and a man stepped forth. It was Bart Hodge! “Hodge!” cried Merry, starting forward. “Whurroo!” Barney yelled. He clapped his hand on the shoulder of the prisoner, who was wheeling round. . “No, ye don’t! I’ club ye wid me rifle, ay ye thry ut. That’s Bart Hodge, th’ man ye killed, and ye’ve got # face him. Sure, it’s cryin’ I am, t’ see him, and too happy ~ to mess oop th’ scenery wid ye. Now walk along e Bart Hodge stood staring, even after Merry cried out. his name and began to hurry toward him. He looked © thin and pale, and his strong frame so shrunken that his NEW TIP had this declaration to show the fellow’s black guilt. A fire-was burning in ‘a stove in the cabin, making the place seem almost too warm, after the exercise of the heavy walking, ‘Against the walls canned -goods were heaped, giving the interior the appearance of. a They had seen empty cans outside, at the end of the store. cabin, a big heap of them, sticking their rusty: surfaces up through the snow. In the room, in addition, were four barrels, sugar bags, coffee bags, and many ‘other things of like character. This was in the front room. sleeping cots and hooks for clothing, for rifles, and the like, © Here, too, was a spade, pick and shovel, and: clay- soiled clothing, like those of a miner. “Shove your prisoner in there, and we'll talk,” ‘said Arch; “he can’t get. out, for the window is barred. One sleeps better’ when he can feel sure that a mountain) lion The. rear room contained or wild cat may not crawl through and go to clawing him impthe night, so I keep the window barred.” "The prisoner was ordered into the back room. and Merry. looked about~ there, at the window, and the things ‘it held, “Are those rifles loaded?” he asked. “No,” said Arch; “but Pll take them out.” With the door-closed on the prisoner, who. seeme enough in there with his hands-tied, talk was begun in the front room, a running, fire of.comment, questions, ex- clamations and congratulations, which -would seem a hodge- podge if set. down in-cold print as it. was. delivered: Bart Hodge related, in a. disconnected way, for on this occasion no other way-was possible, the story-of his visit to the Yellowstone, and what. had befallen him. On his arrival he had been the guest of the-superin- tendent of the park, at the Mammoth Springs headquay- ters, the superintendent having met him ‘at Cinnabar, _ After. -a out.-with. a- few -men to look the country over, atthe point where the projected + surveying was.to be done at the opening of. spring. day’s: rest, he had set There was a good deal of:snow in the park then, ari the weather was cold, much colder than it had been sinc: aid the cold and snow hampered their work, Yet Hodge would have gone back to Mammoth, Springs in good season, if they had not discovered that game killers were. at .work in. the park, along the western -boundary. “At various: points:in the- West,’ he.remarked, -“‘eyen out in. California; -I. had found \that antelope meat and buffalo-meat could be obtained in. certain -hotels,. served rather discreetly and privately to the guests who were not particular about. such things, and were willing. to-pay well A ‘for what they liked. As for bear meat and deer: meat, t-thought little about it, even when it .was- to be -had out of season, for I knew that deer and bear: could ‘be found more or less all through the mountain but I knew that buffalo meat could not, and that antelope country ; steak was becoming about as easy to secure as humming- bird’s tongues. “When I came up here into the park; I ran up against what is, at least, one explanation: game killers from And I judged, by judas 5 running the outside were raiding the park animals. what | that down through some of the easier passes to points on-the discovered, they were game ay, and getting off with it. course, game animals from*the park, not being held by any artificial boundaries, cannot be kept from wandering out of bounds,-and they may be killed by any one when’ the law permits hunting. But no game may be killed in the park, except by consent of the superintendent. He allows bears to be killed, at times, and always his men. are warring with mountain lions and wolves, be- cause they attack the game. “When -we began to follow the game killers, I happened to go along with Arch. He had been in to headquar- ters, and, after leaving us, he was to push on to this place, where in summer he acts as forest guard, and in winter. keeps an eye out for poachers, and a lonesome job he firids it, éven though he has telephone connection with headquarters. That is, he did have until lately, for, while he was away, a storm struck his line and put it out of commission; a thing that didn’t trouble me’ though, -at first, as 1. wasn’t-in a condition when I was brought here to know were -in with: the whether we communication euter world or not; I I was pretty nearly in \commtni¢a- \ tion withthe next world, I can tell you. “ft had run afoul of the game killers while separated from Arch. The man you have now in the other room 16 NEW was one of them. I came on him when he was alone, after he had shot down a mountain buffalo. There is a. fair- sized buffalo herd in the park, but these- mountain buf- faloes are different; they’re smaller and darker, and with hair closer and curlier than the ordinary buffalo, which once lived on the plains. And there are not many of them now living. But what did this game killer care about that? He saw a buffalo, and he downed it.. “He was skinning it, when I came on him. I admit that I was in a rage; I’m hot-tempered, you know, Merry, and you've had cause to know it. .I rushed on him; and he struck me over the head with his rifle. “Well, that’s the last I knew of anything clearly, until I came to myself here, in Arch’s cabin. Arch had looked about for me, had struck.a trail, and had found me, freez- ing and dying in the snow, for the scoundrel even stole my coat. But he had cut out without his buffalo. Arch brought in the carcass to the cabin, afterward, as it was frozen, and we have been enjoying buffalo steak, thanks to the exploit of a game killer. “As for the scoundrel himself, I never saw him again until you brought him in, but often enough I’ve thought of him, and there have been times when, if I had mét him, I fear I should have shot him. “Arch carried me to this place, as I said, and care of me; and after a while I came back to life, concluded to go on living a while longer. As I. got stronger, I began to take walks, making them longer each day, for I had no notion of being cooped in here all winter, and intended to make a try to reach Mammoth Springs, just as soon as I was stromg enough for the tackle. “To-day I walked out as far as that hill, Then I saw horses in the lower ground, down by the stream, and went down there. It broke me all up with surprise when I saw that one of them was the very horse I had been riding when I was knocked out, and that one of the other horses was Arch’s. “T had pulled their picket pins, when a man came yell- ing down on me; and as I felt too weak to fight, and thought the whole company of game killers was out there, made a quiet sneak, and so missed seeing you.” It took time to relate all that Hodge wanted to know; his questions were endless. He was especially anxious to get news from home, though Merry could give him none. That was why he had been trying so hard to get back his strength, that he might make his way to Mammoth Springs. He wanted to send a telegram to Elsie, telling her that he was safe, and would soon be on his way ‘home. took and ” “She must be wild about me,” he remarked thought- fully. “You see, we have kept Uncle Sam busy carrying our letters, and this long break must be a serious thing to her. No doubt she has wired to Mammoth Springs, but they don’t know there where I am nor what has befallen me, for, as I said, the telephone line here went out of business before we got here. Searching parties may be out looking. for me, for all I know, but the snow is deep in places and the going bad.” There was much speculation about the prisoner, who had, apparently, separated from the game killers he was with, after his assault on Hodge. Yet it was-possible that some of them, or alt of them had gone on to Cyanide with him. There he had attempted a street robbery, and had been TYP TOP WEEKLY. thrown into the Cyanide jail. _He had been, then, wearing ~ the coat he had taken from Hodge. From the jail he had sent his cipher telegram to the woman in Salt Lake City. Perhaps the message urged hef to come to his aid. But he may have sent her a telegram before he got into trouble. It seemed that the” receipt of his telegram had prompted-her to the OA, of her husband and, flight. “They’re two av a kind,” said Mulloy; “they both nade a taste av th’ rope, and belikes they'll git-ut.” - sid “The woman may join the game killers now,” said Arch? that your prisoner here was trying to connect with them, and knows where they are. I haven’t even tried to. look for them since Hodge has been with But yesterday I thought I heard reports of, “it seems probable me here. rifles,” ’ On further thought, it seemed clear that the prisoner and the woman, after joining the party that had ridden @ arated from them, perhaps after a quarrel. But it wal admitted that this was really no more than conjecture, “To think that you are here!” said Hodge. “It:beats the wildest dream I ever-had, and I’ve had a good many) them lately. Even now it doesn’t seem possible. You @ Mulloy here! I was planning to see you, Merry; wh [ came out next spring, but I expected to have to mal a journey into the SouthWest to do it. And now you? here!” “Aladdin’s old brass Iamp can’t. beat it,” laughing. “Tt’s. almost too good to be true.’ “What are you going to. do with your. prisoner?” asked | Arch, nodding’ toward the door of the other room. “Vm beginning, to feel sorry. for that woman, wherever she is, * in spite of the fact that she’s probably a murderess, and as bad as they make ’em, We'll have to begin a search for her. If she doesn’t find those game killers, how is she going to get along, without supplies, and fightifg the cold and snow? None of us can say he thinks it would serve her right, if even the worst came to her, for we’ré not her judges.” “Wurra!” cried Mulloy, his Irish heart suddenly sof aa I dunno as I’m blamin’ her, seein’ that we don’t know i rights av ut. But she sure had lost her good, taste,” to pick' oop wid an omaudhaun like the felly in there’? ~ “What's to be done with him?” said Arch again, com-) | ing back to that point. “Are you going to hold him here?” The connecting door flew epen with a crash, and the man leaped into the room. ; “Not while I live, you won't, keep me!” he yelled, with, a leap that made the cabin rock. All-started to their feet, and revolver. Vith another jump the prisoner was over by the stove, 2 close by the door, and had kicked the stove door te His face was that of a wild man. He had broken the’ cords. that held his wrists, or: had worked out of their in one hand he held a stick of dynamite, taken from a> keg in the other room, and in the other a box of ex+® ploding caps, while from one of his pockets a loose end of firing fuse trailed, showing he had styffed theyfuse: into his pocket hastily. fa “Into the stove they go,’ said Merry, Arch reached for his” he.screeched,. ip the wi NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. | 17 °“we'll all go up together! Back, I’say; back! Or— go!” 9¥ was moving to the door, to, keep him from out there, but that awful threat, and the look 1 the man’s face, showing that he meant it, stopped even the réekless Irishman. lf the man chucked the dynamite and ‘the exploding cabs fogether into the hot fire of the stove, there would be an explosion which would tear the cabin into frag- ments and kill every person ‘in if. im “In, they go!” he howled, waving the dynamite round, as if it were a club. Suddenly he sprang for the door, threw Mulloy off side, and jumped through. The next instant he was running down the path with thé speed of a wild + deer. Arch leaped into the doorway and drew his revolver, 7 but Hie had not the heart to shoot the man, and the revolver getting to one very one ran out of the cabin, and Merry ran_on m the path; but-it was all the result of excitement ia impulse; for at the speed at which the man ran it ¢ ild have taken a horse to overhaul him. CHAPTER XI. PURSUIT. Arch; “but said ® Wad forgot about that dynamite,” fre held us up with the fear of it.” nervously tried to laugh. 77) fadn’t the least notion that he could free himself, and ‘that’s the truth; and I wouldn’t have’ thought of femoving the rifles, if you hadn’t mentioned them.” “Arch explained that there were times when he had little to do; then he prospected a bit, and: found need of the Bie Re. springs. But there. are dh ptioas sacs: the condi- toms are different, and I do my work there. Usually N) Gross out of the park, for, if I should have the fool Wuck to hit on a vein of- ore, I should want it to be where I could claim it. When I’m prospecting, [ now and then blow out a ledge with dynamite, and that accounts Or the stuff being in that back room. I haven't used any of it for months, and overlooked it when the prisoner as put in there. » “Still” he added, as he glanced at the stove, “I’ve éard that dynamite will burn like a candle, but I never had the nerve to test it. But that fellow was going to make Sure it exploded. He intended to chuck the caps mothe fire with it. = gs.” He didn’t intend anything of Ahe. kind,” said Hodge; an see that now. He meant to throw a scare into us, @et away. And he did. I admire his nerve.” he temporary excitement had flushed Hodge’s face and eproved his appearance. For the moment he was some- at like the Hodge of old—the sturdy and resourceful f hitter ; the man of grit and backbone; sullen at times, ger tO avenge an insult, ready to meet a foe. It had Mérry to the heart to find him shrunken of frame and I guess that would have stirred ‘the west. the old flush of earnestness on his dark face. Good old Hodge With the unexpected escape of the prisoner, thoughts turned to the horses. “I think Barney and I had better go out and get them,” he urged; “for if that fellow follows our backward trail, and finds them, good-by horses.” He had been somewhat anxious about the horses since they had been left behind. “T’ll_ go with you,” said Arch. “I’d like to see what’s become of that rascal. I suppose he'll try now to find the woman he was with, and that they'll again join the killers. Also, I’d like to see what the killers are doing. You'll be all right here, Hodge?” “Oh, sure,” said Hodge, though his face showed that he wished he felt strong enough to join them. Arch saw the look. “T’ll stay with you,” he said unselfishly; “there’s not the least need in the world that I should go. I hope he does find that woman; for she needs company and some one to look out for her.” So when Merry and Mulloy set out remained with Hodge, at the cabin. Merry’s ever game together, Arch Following down the path which led straight away from the cabin, they soon discovered that the escaped prisoner had not gone on toward the horses, nor on in a direction that would enable him to rejoin the woman who had called herself Ernest Hart. He had swung round, and, from the direction he-had taken, it seemed he meant to climb the mountain behind the cabin. Merry stood looking at the tracks in the snow. “Go on and get the horses, Mulloy, ” he said; to follow this fellow.” “T want “And have him t’row a sthick av dynamite at ye!” “I’m not much afraid of the dynamite, Barney; if he threw a stick of it at me it would probably land in the snow, and that would cushion it so it wouldn’t ex- plode; and he has no weapons, you know.” “T didn’t see/anny whin he wint out through th’ dure,” Mulloy confessed; “but maybe he had a gun in his pocket; I saw the fuse thrailin’ out, and who’s to say what ilse he had? He may’ve found more than dinnamite in th’ back room.” But Merry sent Mulloy on to get the horses, and turned to the tracks of the mah. Following them, he found that the snow was deep, and the man being well ahead of him, would be hard to overtake. He turned back hastily to the cabin. “T saw skis here, and snow shoes,” he said, surprising Arch and Hodge by this return; “and, if you don’t mind, I'll take a pair of the skis. That fellow has turned toward I’ve sent Mulloy on to get the horses.” Arch. brought out two pairs of skis, one being for himself. “T’ll just go along with you,” he said, “a short distance. I’ve an idea the game killers must be’ over west, and he’s probably struck out to find them. The shooting I heard was over’ that way, and I’d like to get a line on about where they are now.” Hodge came to the door as they were setting out. “I'd go myself,” he declared, “but that the walk is- likely to be too long for me right now, but I hope you round up that rascal. When Igo out of here I’d like té take 18 | NEW: TIP “TOP WEEKLY. him with me, and see that he gets what he earned when he pounded me up.” “It was all my fault “He bluffed us with that dynamite. [I ought to have re 1 1 99 A ; { the a rit o« AW re ‘ Leto tial Ne Zot away, Arcn. asserted ” was in there. was in there, too,” membered that it On i] “but it had slipped my mind,” Merry. laughed. “You're knew. it Hodge admitted; ” he said. “I’m the guilty guy. J Barney had him cinched crowding me, was a bit too tender-hearted. tight, and he was making a great kick. about. the cords cutting him; and I eased them up for. him.” They had seen, in the back room, the knotted cords, unsevered, showing that the prisoner had slipped.out of them. “T'll not be gone long,” said Arch; “I’m -anxious to get a line on where those game killers are working.” The work of the game. killers had already. become a well-worn subject with Hodge and Arch, and it..excited their indignation, for the garne killers were not sports- men, but butchers, who were raiding the park animals) for mercenary purposes, They believed that the young men who had come. out fromm Cyanide were members of the game killers’ company, or meant to. join it, and had knowledge of it; and the things Merry reported he had seen in Cyanide, furnished something like proof. Apparently the. station agent. at Cyanide, and also the stableman. were ih. with them, and getting a rake-off, and the game was shipped out from Cyanide, after being .conveyed to that. point. by pack mules, lt could readily be seen that it was a form of work, combining adventure and what might be considered sport, by which ceriain young fellows could enjoy the excitement of hunting and at the same time make good money, with- out much risk. Yellowstone Park is as big as two-thirds of the State of Connecticut, and it would take -a- strong company of military to police it properly; In fact, there are corners and cafions and obscure valleys that are almost unvisited and unknown, for the tourist zone is confined to the vicinity of the trail that leads to the scenic wonders. Setting out with Harold Arch, Merry conducted him to the point where the tracks of the escaped prisoner swung westward, along the face of the mountain. When the snow began to impede walking, they adjusted the skis to their feet. Although Merry had not put on a ski for along while, he had once been renowned as a ski walker and jumper, and in the interval he had not lost his skill, though he was not hardened to the use of skis now. Arch was a skillful user of the ski, and he and Merry swung along at a good pace, going faster on ithe skis than they'could have gone on level grounds without them ; for now and then they came to slopes down which they’ could, skim with almost birdlike swiftness. They were gaining rapidly on the escaped prisoner, but they had not yet sighted him. Merry struck a faster gait, and became pacemaker. To see Frank Merriwell on skis was an enlightenment Many movements. as to the possibilities of ski walking ‘and gliding. ski. users stiff their Indeed, a ski, to one not properly initiated, seems a séem and awkward~ in unmanageable. fine, athletic figure, clumsy thing, that becomes readily Frank Merriwell on skis was a stride, gliding down and lightness, with and swift declivities and sure swinging .on ae witn’ ease needed, with’ an» airy across’ hollows and taking leaps, when they were speed that was like the flight of a bird. Arch, himself hard. pressed in keeping up -with proficient, soon found Merry, and he who thought himself o . 1 ‘ 1 found his well. tested, “We'll soon overtake the fellow, at this rate,” he. said, fairly. had ta wal- legs and. lungs breathing heavily, in a brief- halt; “he ” low along here. changed his course, and seemed This had made heavier. work The fugitive had climbing the mountain. for him, and it was now: making: heavier work for those following him: Arch. expressed wonder as to why this alteration of course had. been. made. Merry naw expressed, the thotight: that: had: struck him earlier, but: which he had pushed aside as wildly improb- able. “Arch,” he said, stopping suddenly, “I’m. going ‘to-ask you to-hurry -back to the cabin, while I go on after this fellow. . My .idea is probably as crazy as they make ’emy but it presses on me, and it is that the: fellow is’ making ee start ©. l, tay. 9 ‘ cabin,: and. eee get has hap fien hav had wit nov pen I’m wo! the pl as wi tw A 1e gg ua oS re aa Bail ae tery of the Yellowstone.” Pand are of a most interesting character. And again he expressed wonder that the cabin for Arch’s use had been built in a position of such peril. “Well, you see,” said Arch, “in the first place, I didn’t build the cabin, nor pick the site, and it was set up there in the who probably had little idea of how deep the snow can that As has given me some uneasy moments, but nothing ever happened, and this wouldn’t if it hadn’t fiend with the dynamite who wanted to kill ts all. summertime, when there was no snow, by men get on mountainside. I’ve admitted, the thing for that He'd have got us, too, if we had been in the cabin, and hadn’t had good ~warning in time.” been “If the snowslide didn’t get him, we will,” said Hodge, with a recurrence of his old anger against the man who now, for the second time, had tried to slay him; “the penitentiary is the place for a scoundrel like that, and I’m going to see that it gets him, if the slide failed. It would be simple justice, if the slide got him.” “tT hope that woman wasn’t fooling ‘round near the Arehy: «(SE to be sorry for a woman like that, yet I seem to be. oughtn’t I’m basé of the mountain here,” said sorry she’s here.” Later, gone in that they encoun- tered Barney Mulloy, who had found the horses where they had been left, and was bringing them in. From a distance he had both seen and heard the snowslide, and he was hurrying and filled with fear for the fate of his friends. “Th’ scut that he is,” he cried, when he heard of the attempt made by the escaped -prisoner. “Wan time at Hodge wasn’t enough f’r him, and he had to thry ut ag’in.” ‘As soon as he could get his mind off this, he announced having direction, that in returning, having chosen a different route, he had encountered a trail that might be that of the killers. “Tt was goin’ downsthream, in th’ game direction taken be thot woman, d’ye moind!” “Perhaps she has joined them,” said Arch. “We'll know that _At_ present was work. They had to plan how they could excavate down to the cabin, and get at the,supplies there buried, and also plan for camping out while that work was being done. Merry meant to get Hodge back to Mammoth Springs as soon as he could, and Hodge about said there later,” Merry. before them more important was declaring that he would not go untik he could take with him the man who twice had tried to kill him. “And there are the game killers,” said Merry, when “Hodge announced this. “And that who, for all we dying in /the snow,” said Arch. “Wurra!” cried Barney. “Already I’m seein’ iligant toimes aliead dy me, wid a grea-at crackin’ ay heads and advinture to bate the band. I’m glad I’m out here.” woman, know, may be 4 THE END. The telling of the further adventures of the senior Mer- riwell in this section will be found in the next issue of Tip Top, No. 129, out January 16th, in thé story entitled "Frank Merriwell and the Phantom Fear; or, The Mys- The adventures of Merry, as Marrated in this story, are distinetly out of the ordinary, NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 21 WILL O’ THE WISP. By W. BERT FOSTER. (This interesting story was commenced in No. 124 of the NEW TIP Top WEEKLY. Back numbers can be’obtained from your news dealer or the publishers.) CHAPTER XI. IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY. Incident had fallen upon incident so rapidly during the last few hours that Kemp had little time to think of ‘his He rode away in Washington’s train, delighted that he had so easily gained the result craved personal affairs. so heartily since his experience at the Langdon farm- house. This leader who so inspired the patriots with confidence felt. it must be so before; now, in this brief event of his first meet- was really a remarkable man. Kemp had ing with Washington, he was assured that his judgment had fault. Beaten as he was at White Plains, driven back from the Hudson with the loss of the forts not been at and of a large part of his army, General Washington did Qnot have either the air or look of a defeated commander. There was sadness in his eyes, and he had a brooding brow; but his depleted ranks and overturned plans—the defection of his generals and the desertion of m@hy of Indeed, one looking into the great man’s countenance for the first the volunteers—could not quench’ his sure spirit. time, as did Kemp, gained an everlasting -impression that here was a soul unmoved by disaster, The cavalcade the over the frozen byways about’ Newark, for the staff was on Driven back from Fort Lee by the surrounding commander galloped a tour of inspection. triumphant legions of Cornwallis, Washington had hoped to make another stand. But it was not to: be. From de+ sertions by the volunteer companies, and the refusal of General Lee to make a junction with his troops, Wash- ington’s forces were depleted until scarcely three thousand Newark. here now since the twenty-second, Hoping. to be re- enforced; but after five days of waiting, the British were Continentals were gathered at They had lain reported very near. The dispatches Kemp had brought were read by the commander in chief as the party circled the camp. Evi- dently the information they contained fulfilled the worst forebodings of the chief officers. Kemp heard but little of the discussion carried on by Washington and his ad- visors, for he rode behind with the aids; but every face was downcast, and they returned to the town at last in a state of settled gloom. Little attention was paid to Kemp on arriving at the house where the commander was stopping, and he was left to cool his heels in the yard until it became ‘some- body’s pleasure to notice him. He was determined to wait for a chance to make himself personally known to his excelléncy. The younger officers with whom he had ridden dis- mounted and went about their various affairs, There was not a soul he knew among them, and they looked upon him askance. A man in citizen’s dress, who rode wildly to present dispatches carrying a naked sword in his hand, and without even a hat upon his head, did not commend himself to the members of the staff. Kemp appeared to be neither “flesh, fowl, nor good red herring.” 22" There were several members of the commander in chief’s guard—called later the Life Guard—in the com- pany; Kemp knew them by their distinctive uniform, which was a blue coat with white facings, white waistcoat and breeches, ending in black gaiters, while their cocked hats were adorned with blue-and-white feathers. Two guarded the door of the. general’s headquarters with muskets crossed; they carried side arms, as well. The moments slipped by, and nobody spoke to Kemp; but the appearance of the guards did not encourage him to try to force himself into the presence of General Wash- ington. Even in those comparatively”early days of the war, the patriot cause was cursed by the envy and unfaithfulness of certain officers of the army. With it was a struggle for personal preferment, rather than an ambi- many. tion for. the establishment of the liberty of the colonies. Washington’s character was by no means understood by many of his associates, and history told of few great mili- tary leaders whose success had not ended in their becom- ing dictators. It is natural for one ‘courtier to fear the approach of another near the throne; few of these offi- cers desired to see an unknown like Kemp familiarly approach the commander in chief, who, in their minds, might yet actually occupy the exalted station of king. One there was, however, who finally spoke to Roger Kemp. The latter had seen this gentleman leave the house, and noted that he was treated with marked respect “by the subalterns standing about, although he wore only the insignia of captain. And, too, he came to Kemp with something of a cordial manner. “You are the gentleman who brought’ the dispatches to his excellency from General Cadwallader?” he inquired, saluting Kemp—a gesture which the latter’ was quick to acknowledge. “T brought the dispatches—yes.’’ “You are in the service?” “I am not. But I come to offer myself to General Washington as a recruit. I think I can easily assure him of my identity and sincere intentions——” “You desire to see him, then?” queried the young officer. “I do, sir. 1 wish to explain, as well, how I came in pos- session of the papers which I delivered to him.” “The desire seems to be mutual,” said the other dryly. “Follow me, sir. His excellency has asked to speak with you.” , The moment was not auspicious for meeting the cont- mander of the army. No leader can be expected to ap- pear at his best when the Fates are arraigned against him. Disaster-had followed disaster of late, and the future held nothing bright in store for the distressed leader of the rebel army; yet Washington’s countenance was un- ruffled as Kemp was led into the room where he sat. When the general looked up from the papers before him, in the perusal of which he had been engaged, Kemp saw only the sadness in his eyes. The calm face masked, lre was sure, a soul much wrought by the tempests of opposi- tion which assailed it from every direction. Here was a man, indeed, who fought not alone the bat- tles of his country, confronting an enemy outnumbering his army in many cases three men to one, but fought thie divergent apinions of his brother officers, and suffered from their envy and treachery. For all of these leaders of the revolution were not great and good men, with lib- erty and the general good of the new confederation at NEW TIP TOP. WEEKLY: . heart; many were rank adventurers, who, like Benedict Arnold, let personal ambition overtop duty and patriotism.. “Your mame, sir?” queried Washington, measuring Kemp’s slight figure with commending glance. Even in his disordered dress, and hatless as he was, the young man was one to attract more than a passing glance. He returned one’s gaze boldly, yet his eye was mild, and he could not be termed a forward person. Rather was he retiring; his air marked plainly the ;studi- ous life he had led heretofore. “Roger Kemp, an it please your excellency,” Kemp said, with a “Perhaps my father’s name was not un- known to all here,” for the room was filled with a crowd of officers and civilians, who, at his presentation to the turned to gaze upon Kemp as their moud bow. commander, dictated. “We dwelt much at Philadelphia before I went to Eng- land; from where [I returned but recently. Master Ephraim Carney® of Philadelphia, can youch for me: He has some small affairs of mine in his hands. Before going to Oxford, and previous to my father’s“ demise, I was captain of a certain military company at Morristown. I have ridden here, sir, to offer my services to the catse of the United States of America—hoping, sir,” with an- other bow, “to render myself so agreeable to your excel- lency that ] may be found a place under your own ‘eye. “Well, well!’ said Washington, perhaps not unaffected by this speech, for he tiked young and enthusiastic men} “of that later. Let us take the matter of the dispatches first. You come from my good friend Cadwallader?” “T never met him in my life, sir; but I know him by reputation,” responded Kemp, smiling’ “I knew that repué tation so! well that, when the papers fell into my hands’ through the death of their original bearer, I hastened here to deliver them.” He went on to tell his story briefly. His explanation _ that he was on the way to offer his sword to the com- mander when he saw the dispatch bearer shot bore some Likewise the fact that he had had a brush with the British horse in the neighborhood of Morristown was noted by the company. weight. » “I feared as much. They are hot after us, gentlemen,” “If they do not And if they declared Washington, rising wearily. attack before morning, it will be a blessing. come in force we cannot withstand them.” He turned again to Kemp. “Your request I will weigh later. I know Mr. Carney personally. Meanwhile I give you into the care of Captain Polk.” 4And he béwed to the young officer who had brought Kemp into the room. “T shall not forget your effort to serve the cause, Mr, Kemp. Good day, sir.” It was a short dismissal, but there was something so kindly in the tone and look which accompanied it that Kemp could not take. offense. “He was glad, too, to go, with Polk and obtain rest and food. tain Polk had found him a military coat, and a hat with Before night Cap- a cockade, besides a scabbard and belt for his sword, and ws a pair of horse pistols. By exchange with the sergeant of horse who had endeavored to make’him a prisoner, Kemp obtained again the big bay which had served him so well, and for which no owner could now lay claim, thanks to the cowboys. He was billeted with Polk and two other young officers, and found them agreeable fellows, although at first in- clined to look upon him with some suspicion. When him that he was to be General Washington sent word t attached, for the present, to his own staff as aid, Kemp's began fo treat him with marked cordiality. Hressimates That evening, however, there was little time for them,to become acquainted. Kemp's own report, and information from other sources, chief that the i 1 a British i ae a ba endeavoring to cut off his retreat. Fight he assured the commander in were could nof, for ammunition was low, his troops hungry and ragged, and Cornwallis had more than tw6 men to: one of the Americans now left to Washington. Retreat was ordered before daybreak of the. twenty-eighth. As the troops left the Newark on the worn and: hopeless outskirts of “aad NI , Yeste reale | +. road to ‘ew Brunswick, tne music of the British bands could be heard. entering the other end of the town. Kemp had joined the army at a time when the day seemed darkest. To a man of less positive convictions, the condition of the American forces, and the apparently hopeless state of the cause in general, would have utterly routed that desire to join’ Washington’s command which had; burned so- heartily in IKemp’s breast since the night of liis reappearance in the neighborhood of Lawe House. jut once having made up his mind that the. cause of the rebels was just, and that he désired to be, with his. coun- George III. and trymen, liberated from ‘the tyranny: of fi ‘ Mis Ministers, nothing could shake Roger Kemp’s resolu- Pane agi ; fitter and long were the: days that followed, and the is of the men were worn thin. Sickness, hunger, and, ¥ “ . . ; Me@erst Of all, lost hope,’ were the wolves that tore at their Siearts. The rank and file could not be blamed so mich eS ef ? . : _ ° ' tor deserting; patriotism thrives illy on empty’ stomachs. ” There was little glory in prospect, and had Roger Kemp sought his position for the sake of the pomp and panoply Of War, he would have deserted likewise! Sut his heart was moved by the faith and trust displayed by most of the men in their chieftain. Whatever may lave been the feeling among the. officers, the rank and file ‘came nigh to worshiping General George Washington. And ! mysteriously indeed this same impression of the man’s character stamped itself upon Kemp’s soul. now how true that answer in fire had been to Major John great He saw FPayor’s sneering query, the night they talked together at Lawe ‘House. Liberty might be a will o’ the wisp; the cause of the Americans might be visionary and seemingly impossible Of Success, but the inspiration of this chieftain had led them thus far, and Kemp felt it would lead them farther, The bugle music of the flushed and victorious army of the conquering Cornwallis might greet the ears of their fear guard as it left the towns to the occupancy of the enemy—Newark, New Princeton, and Tren- ton were lost without a, blow being struck—yet, withal, Washington’s superb courage held the little body of troops together. ; SLong ere that awful retreat was finished, Kemp had @iven up his horse to a weaker man, and marched in the Tanks himself:: It was. maddening to be so helpless—to tollow on behind the poor. fellows and behold, here and there on the frozen ground, the bloodstains from their brokén feet. There could be no enthusiasm under such depressing cireuinstances. Brunswick, The ranks plodded dully, the file officers sWearing and driving the men on like beasts, the torn at NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. - 23 banners drooping, and the shrill fife like the eerie shriek of a lost soul, rather than a ringing note of encourage- ment. Well-disposed folk along the route of march dared only bring the fugitive army succor. b. stealth; whereas, a few been Kemp months before the entire Jersey plantations had aflame: with patriotism. Ah, that is a. flower, learned, that blooms quickly and fades at thé! first suspi- cion of the frost of disaster. The retreating army was obliged to take by force in many cases what’ had freely been offered them before. So it happened that the first duty of any importance which fell to Kemp’s lot was acting as guide to a foraging party through a section of the country north -of Prince- ton; which he happened to know very well. It was with his aid, too, that several boats. were found when it be- came evident that safety for the American troops lay only Delaware, These weré the farther shore of the small matters, yet Kemp hoped for something better when upon the army should be reorganized. The broken lines finally escaped across the river, and, having secured all the boats for miles up and down the stream, it was put out of the power of the British. to fol- low until the ice should become thick enough to bear up is had. left guards. in all fifteen hundred Hessians—some of the very savages who had bayoneted: Colonel Magaw’s men at Fort Washington: Cornwal L horses and. artillery. ( ihe principal towns, and established’ at Trenton With the rolling river between the-enemy and the hand- ful of Continentals, Washington stopped, and, with im- The news Arnold's defeat and the loss of the American flotilla, as well as Clinton’s success- mense optimism, began to reorganize the army. from: the Champlain country of ful descent on Newport, darkened the cloud:of doubt and uncertainty which hung above the American camp. —Con- gress, believing Philadelphia to be threatened, departed for Baltimore on December twelfth; but it took measures to provide a permanent army, and soon gave his excellency almost absolute power. ' Fearing dictatorship as they did, this was a last desper- ate resort. In the hands of another man the power given the commander in chief might have been misused, and to the final and utter destruction of the cduse of liberty. To George Washington, however! it promised at length the ability to make his under generals obey, and to move the enlisted brigades to some purpose. The arrival of some Pennsylvania recruits, including General ‘Cadwallader’s brigade and a part of Lee’s divi- sion, swelling the army to some seven thousand men, gave heart to the faithful. Even the young officers with whom Roger Kemp associated knew that an important move was at- hand. Something must be done to give impetus to the cause—to rivet and clinch the wavering hopes of the colonists, and the entire army was on the qui vive as the month of December drew toward its close. CHAPTER XII. IN PERIL. The American camp was very much alive at this time. The divisions. were quartered. as far south as Bristol, where General Cadwallader’s brigade lay. And it was Kemp’s fortune to be offered the command of a, company under this eminent friend of Washington. By courtesy he was already addressed as Captain Kemp; but his only 24 commands were foraging parties or small scouting expedi- tions. In this last work, however, he had been success- ful, arid had received personal commendation from his excellency. Therefore, Kemp hesitated to accept a com- mand that would. tie him to a brigade, for the opportu- nities of a free lance were greater. General Cadwallader was a very fine gentleman, indeed, and it was something to be marked out by him as a’ sub- altern; Kemp realized the honor, and when he was called before Cadwallader and the commander in chief, he strove to make his position clear. Mr. Cadwallader was rather a tall man, with a long, ruddy, beardless face and a very high forehead. His aquiline nose and prominent chin be trayed both determination and haughtiness, and had it not been for the kind. interference of General Washington, Kemp might have found disfavor in the eyes of the com mander of the “Silk Stocking Company’—a term of good- natured raillery which had stuck to Cadwallader since the beginning of the war. “I have offered Master Kemp his Washington said, “and, like the rash young man he is, he has chosen the alternative. The honor of being under your command, sir, seems less to him than the chance of having his ne¢k stretched by the Britishers—though God forbid!” “Ah!” exclaimed Cadwallader ; tain Kemp for that duty?” “He has chosen himself, as I tell you. It laid between him and Polk. I give you Polk, and Captain Kemp crosses the river before daybreak. The matter is arranged.” Kemp’s eyes sparkled at these words, for, although the matter of a secret visit to Trenton had been broached to him, he had not been sure, despite what Washington called his own choice, that he would-be allowed to undertake the dangerous mission. The moment was ripe for an attack on the British forces, which were carelessly rest- ing on their arms—strung in a chain of posts. across Jer sey—while Cornwallis was enjoying the Christmas holidays in New York City. After General Lee’s capture, his division under Sullivan had joined Washington’s force, quartered at Newtown, and other troops were numerically increasing the strength of the main army almost daily. Yet Washington would not . attempt to strike a decisive blow at the garrison of Trenton without haying the reports of its unpreparedness verified. - With several men picked from a corps of »scouts wh¢ had been under General Putnam’s. personal command. be fore that officer was sent to take charge at. Philadelphia, Kemp left the headquarters on a ‘small branch of the Neshamming Riyer, at nightfall, and rode hard over -the bad roads, made worse by the marching and countermarch ing of troops and the heavy traffic of Colonel Knox’s artil- lery, to McConkey’s Ferry, eight miles above Trenton. A mile from the ferry Kemp exchanged his fagged horse for the bay, which he had sent on in advance. At. a choice, general,” “you have ‘chosén Cap friendly farmer’s he changed his uniform for the dress, of a foppish gentleman of that day, and, with a port- manteau behind him on the saddle, rode down to the log. ferryhouse. As previously arranged, although he crossed the ferry with some of his men, he did not speak to them, or they to him. They were dressed like drovers, and their side arms were hidden beneath their rouch coats. The only thing Kemp lacked as he roda into Trenton in the guise of a “macatoni” from one of the Southern col- onies was a body servant; but he explained to the host ( NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. of the inn that his black man had been confiscated by a party of Continentals near Harrisburg—and his expres-5 sions of anger and disgust over the incident leit no doubt in mine host’s mind as to Kemp’s distaste for the Ameri- cans. This “play acting’ was not pleasant; but he was in peril, and must use every art possible to evade suspicion: The task of gaining exact information as to the numbers of the Hessian troops and British lighthorse at Trenton and Bordentown, their means of communication, and their preparedness—or lack of it—to meet a quick sortie from across the river, was not unimportant. And if he, an officer of the American army, was captured by the enemy in their midst, and in civilian dress, the shadow of the gallows would certainly fall upon him. His ability to learn that which Washington and his ad- visers considered necessary, and to do so without attract- ing suspicion to himself, was enhanced by the fact that he understood and spoke German. And, with this attribute, and his gentlemanly and cheerful bearing, it was an easy matter for him to become acquainted with the young Hes- sian officers, as well as those of the lighthorse quartered in the town. Kemp fell in with a certain Lieutenant Piel and an ensign named Von Drack in the public room of. the inn that very day, and was taken by these new friends about 7§ = the town and to the various quarters of Knyphausen’s regis ment and Rohl’s grenadiers. Colonel Rohl was in command of the garrison, and h had gained, with the British officers, a hearty contempt #01 the rebels. The men were allowed to plunder from peaceful inhabitants of the surrounding country, and thes lines were in no state of defense. What else could be ex!) pected of mercenaries? It was all a matter of gold to them Their masters-had sold them ‘for thirty-six dollars a héad ~ to King George, and their only desire was to get out! of the conflict alive and gain «such portable possessions as they could. gamble away and drink up during the long winter nights. An attack from the beaten Continentals was not dreamed of. The purchase of the Hessians for the American cam- paign was a most atrocious ‘act, condemned in Parliament, and jt brought over many right-thinking Englishmen’ to the American cause, -They were merely trained fighting machines, but, it must be admitted, they were. as savage as St. Leger’s Indians. - Altogether, seventeen thousand, five hundred and twenty-six of these hired butchers were bought from the Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel, the Duke of Brunswick, the--Prince of Hesse, and. the Prince of Waldeck, and.in almost-every: battle in. which they had av part thére were atrocities committed. So disliked were these foreign soldiers that the British would not themselves associaté with them. The young officers whom Kemp met were delighted that a “white” gentleman should show them any attention, and, therefore, it was the easier for him to gain the information which he sought. Hé spent half the night with Piel and Von Drack, and in the morning he managed to see one of his” “drovers,” and sent him back across the river with a” written report to General Washington, . This was the day before Christmas, and great’ prepara- tions were being made for the celebration of the holiday. Kemp himself was invited to a banquet to be given by the junior officers of the Hessian troops on Christmas nisht, He saw that, unless warned in season, the enemy would” . sae i fe NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 25 fall an easy prey to the American arms, if General Wash- imgton’s plans were carried. out. . But every hour Kemp delayed his departure from Tren- _ t0n increased the danger of his apprehension; until relieved of instructed to return to the army, he was bound to stick to his post. With this anxiety on his mind, he was ex- pected to be gay and cheerful as the season demanded, and to act a part that was, at the best, quite foreign to his real nature. For Roger Kemp was no fop, and the ribbons and laces, the powder and wig, and the various niceties of his present toilet, were not to his taste. He nevertheless strutted in the taproobm of the inn, among Tory gentles and officers alike, and was not unpopu- lar with those whose acquaintance he made.’ There were 7 tew in Trenton at this time who dared flaunt their patriot- ism, and, although the cause of the colonists lobked so desperate, nearly every house in the town displayed signs get cheer on Christmas Eve. The Rutherford and Dickin- . “son mansions were ablaze with light, and there were sev- ral private dances as well as two military balls planned teakor the evening. * Many of the officers under Count Donop, in garrison at srdentown, were in Trenton to attend these soirées, and Kemp wished that Washington and his board had planned feestrike the blow at. this time.. The disorganization of pel Rohl’s command seemed. complete. fe weather had turned colder, and therein was another Fiment for Roger Kemp. Suppose the Delaware should we to a thickness which. would‘interfere with the pas- of boats, yet too thin to uphold the. troops - which ington had determined to throw across the stream? @ the possibility of nature’s taking up arms against e Patriot cause before him, the young man must appear imang the acquaintances he had made at the tavern as Ough he were perfectly light of heart. A dozen times he went to the door, however, to assure imself of the increasing cold.. Wheels creaked in‘ the streets‘and the ring of horses’ hoofs could be heard at a Ong distance. Mine host of the tavern came out, rubbing his hands delightedly, and pronounced it “ideal Christmas weather’—when Kemp would have given his fortune for a thaw! “This tempers us all, sir,” host, with satisfaction, “to the real holiday spirit. be a good bit of gold in my till before morning. ha!—what’s this? More guests, ’pon me soul! "more welcome than now.” He bustled down the stair as a heavy traveling. coach, drawn by two big horses, turned into the street with the Plain intention of seeking the tavern. Kemp would have turned away idly had his attention not suddenly been \ attracted to one of the men who sat: stiffly upon the coach- Mans seat, but who, the instant the carriage stopped, limbed actively down. declared the round and ruddy There'll And— And never ot Lamson—or his wraith!” muttered Kemp, a@wing behind a pillar and wrapping his cloak about him, © muffling the lower part of his face. “What—and who “brings him here?” ' The tavern keeper bustled forward to open the chariot door before the old serving man from Lawe House could "accomplish that duty. It was then Kemp made other dis- sfoveries. A single rider rode hard after the Chay, and he inn, Kemp sepounized him, as well as the other man on he coachman’s seat. The horseman was Major John Favor; the driver of the chariot was Granby, the major’s man; and it ‘was then easy to see that the vehicle itself was the one which had broken down near Lawe House on the night of his first meeting with Favor. 5 Favor swung himself out of the saddle and began stamp- ing his benumbed feet upon the ground, slapping his gauntleted hands meanwhile. His resonant voice echoed across the courtyard before the inn, as he addressed Bar- naby Lawson: “Open that door, old man! By my life, you and the’ fat man are as clumsy as thofigh ye had no hands at all.. Dost want,the lady to freeze? Open it, I say!” Together Barnaby and the innkeeper finally accom- plished the task. The door of the carriage flew back, and at once a silvery little laugh rippled out upon the night air. , “Ah, Major Favor, we have been as warm as a break- fast urn in here, while you have chilled yourself on horse- back. Come, father! We have arrived’ at last.” The speaked leaped out, disdaining the assistance of the hands outstretched to her, and turned to call back into the depths of the carriage. Kemp uttered a smothered ex- clamation of surprise. It was Mistress Sylvia Perrine, and no other! Through the busy days which had followed that never- to-be-forgotten morning at Perrine House, when Kemp had defied the lady’s. father, and the scene had ended in his chance duel with Favor, the young American had often thought of Sylvia as she had been revealed to his eyes at that time. It was easy enough, in soothy to conjure a vision of the beautiful girl as she haughtily welcomed him at her father’s table. Kemp, in those few moments, had been deeply moved. His old remembrance of the squire’s hoyden daughter was quite blotted out. Now, when he beheld her disem- barking from Major Favor’s chariot before the Trenton tavern, his heart leaped again. And there stirred in the depths of his being a feeling new to his experience. Jeal- ousy awoke! Heretofore he had recognized Major John Favor as a rival claimant to, the property which Kemp was assured old Michael Lawe intended for his benefit. Now Favor appeared in the guise of a rival of anothér kind. There could be no misunderstanding of the British officer’s attitude toward little Mistress Perrine, and the familiarity of his tone and manner spurred Kemp’s sudden rage. “Run in, run in, I pray you, mistress!” urged Favor, as the old squire, with much groaning and no little pro- fanity, climbed out of the deep interior of the carriage. “The air is shrewd, and a hot nog and/a warm fireside ye'll find e’en more comfortable than yon carriage.” The main door of the inn had been flung hospitably open by now, and the lights streamed out. Serving men and maids lingered about the entrance curiously to watch the new arrivals, and the hostess came forward with unctuous smile, seeing that there was a lady in the party. Kemp held his ground, sure that his disguise in the height of dandyism would shield him from recognition by any easual glance. Mistress Sylvia, with a laugh, mounted lightly up the stair, her ample skirts held up modestly in front to admit of her taking the steps without tripping. The glare of the light pouring from the house was jn her eyes, and she mounted heedlessly. During the middle of the day the sun’s warmth had let the meltihg ice from a leaking drain drip upon the steps, and these drippings had , forth both hands quickly NEW TIP 26 Just before upon now frozen. Mistress Sylvia reached the top of the a patch of, this Kemp alone saw her sway and drop her skirts, reaching to save herself. But she would injured—had stairs she’ trod ice. have fallen—perhaps been sorely the dis- guised American officer not sprang to her aid. One stride, and he was at the head of the stairs, and had seized her’ as she fell backward. The landlady cried out in alarm, and all eyes were turned upon the two figures at the stairhead, outlined clearly in the glare of yellow lamplight, “Zounds!” ejaculated the squire, in his high-pitched, angry voice. “Who's that scoundrel? Unhand my daugh- ter, ye villain!” He charged up the steps, but Favor him. Big as he was, the British major was quick of movement. To see Mistress Sylvia in the arms of an unknown man gave him a deeper pang perhaps than it did her father. But he understood the cause of the incident before he reached Kemp and his sweet burden. Helplessly she had fallen into the circle of Kemp's arm, and he had raised her quickly against his breast, while retaining his own balance by a desperate clutch upon the pillar at his side. For a long moment he held her so, and he knew that she, breathing quickly, but without uttering a cry of fear, gazed into his face. He dared not think of what she might have discovered there; 1f she cried his name he was lost —perhaps a dead man! Yet his first feeling was one of delight at holding her, even for that brief time, against his breast. It was over in a minute, however. Securing his own footing, he placed her gently on the top step, and his arm was before ‘fell away from her reluctantly. “Pardon my boldness, mistress, but the occasion seemed to warrant it,’ he said huskily, bowing over her gloved hand, and so hiding his own face from the glare of the light as Perrine and the major came up the stair. “You-are pardoned, sir—and I thank you!” she returned, her voice as calm and unshaken as it had been that morn- ing in her father’s house. Had she recognized him? Nothing in. her voice or man- ner betrayed any suspicion of his identity. Could he hope for equal fortune with her father, and «with Favor, who were now at hand? TO BE CONTINUED, SPORT ON THE ICE. By SNOOKS, JUNIOR. The morning was clear and frosty—very frosty, indeed —when a solitary cuss was observed wending his way toward a skating pond with a pair of skates under his arm, a tear on the end of his nose, and a clay pipe between his lips. That cuss was I, you ‘bet! The skates that I carried under my arm were high Dutch, very high Dutch. They had a yard of iron turned up in front, and looked like’ sleigh runners. My great- grandfather brought them over with him from the home of his childhood. He was a great skater. My grandfather was not a skater, and, as my father did not wish a broken neck, he gave the skates to me. And that’s their pedigree. As I was wending my way to the pond, with said skates TOP WEEKLY. under my arm, numerous little boys, as I passed them, yelled as follows: “Hello, skates! Where are you going with that man?” I didn’t mind those little ed on to the pond, where I found numerous chaps and feminine females cutting deplex circles and American eagles. Some were also cutting their heads. L put on my high Dutch skates, and resolved to. show the chaps how to do the thing up brown. Arose to my feet and found the ice rather slippery—one foot wanted to go north and the other south. Made a grand strike out with both (feet, and cut a beautiful circle—on the back of my head. Some chap picked me up and J felt bet- ter, and struck out again; struck out very fast; couldn’t stop myself, but kept straight ahead. It was “skates, where are you going with that man?” ‘sure enough; and there was a festive female in high-heeled boots coming straight toward me in a chain-lightning manner. Unless she got, out of my road, a collision must surely take place: She didn’t get out of my road, and, oh, what a smash!” We were both going under a full head of steam when we. came together, and when we were picked up we were” forty-five yards apart. wee. I tried again, and got along first-rate; was about coming! to the conclusion that I was a better skater than my greate grandfather had been, or any other man.’ Undertook? to . cut an American eagle and was forced to sit’ dowft ons : the ice, and I sat down very hard. V’ve had chairs pulled from under me by festive cusses when I was about to take a seat; I’ve sat down in low chairs when I thought they were high ones, and T'versat, down’in many other ways; but none of those sit domns” were anything to that sit itn on the ice, when I. was” trying to cut an: American eagle. . In fact, it was the hardest: sit-down I ever: had: in: my life. FP Thought I’d cut a lifelike picture of my/Susan Janej?™ was confident I could do it, and commenced it; accom-) +) plished everything but her nose;.couldn’t cut that, nohow, but cut my own hose in a beautiful way while trying to’ cut hers. ; “Try again,” was.my. motto; and I tried again; madé a desperate attempt. ta cut. the proboscis: of my S. J,, and cut a hole in the ice with my, head and went into it. Yes, I went in—I went in heavy! ,I went in dry. and came boys, but walk out wet. a : , I was pulled out after floundering there about twenty HY minutes, arid had no desire to go. in again. I had a de- t sire to go home and see my mother—a very strong desire § ] —and I went! I have a thirty-second cousin I'd like to see. break his neck, and I’m going to give those skates to him! ; A NEIGHBORLY NEIGHBORHOOD. A é “Boy Mother wants to know if you won’t lend het your carpet sweeper ?” New Neighbor—“I. haven't any.” “We saw one unloaded from the wagon.” “That wasn’t a carpet sweeper. It was a lawn mower.” “Gee whiz! . I don’t know what I’ll do now. Tf I tell her it was a'lawn mower, she'll want to. borrow that, and then I’ll have to push it. I wish you’d'send out and. buy.a carpet. sweeper, and Please don’t use your awe) mower until we move away.” Both Fine. Dear Eprror: Having read Tie Tor and Top-Notch for several years, I have taken the privilege of writing ‘Be ‘this letter tg tell you that they are both fine. Will you kindly send me a set of Merriwell post cards? Hoping this escapes the waste-paper basket, I remain, rs truly, LAMAR Moore. Jawson, Ga. Sambo Not Taking Chances. Seen war has its bright side. Two negro porters were Wdiseussing it as they waited for a train to pull into the . Jersey City station. Man,” said the first, “dem Germany submaroons is SHoly gwine to sink de British navy. Yas, sir-ree, Sholy gwine to ’splode dem naval boats dat’s waitin’ out yonda.” “Sho!” said porter No. 2. pen den?” "Why, dem Germany submaroons’ll come right on ’cross de ocean an’ ’splode de rest ob de naval boats ob de world. Dat’s what'll happen den, Sambo!” “Well, looky heah, Gawge. Ain’t yo’ an’ me better decla’ ouahselves a couple o’ noot—nootral—nootralities ?” / “Man,” said Gawge, “yo’-all kin be a nootrality if yo’ wants to. Ah’m a German!” dey’s “An’ what’s gwine ter hap- Praise from a New Reader. Dear Eprror; I have recently become-a reader of your “wonderful little magazine entitled Tre Tor, and I think it gfeat, and I will say that I like Dick and Frank, senior, best, but this is probably because I have read a great many stories about. them. I would like to see morte of the old characters represented, such as Bart Hodge, Brad Buckhart, and so on. IT expect to subscribe for Trp Top before long. Please send me a set of the post cards and a catalogue, . ) as I want the cards very much. | Hoping to. hear from some of the old characters soon, TP will close, wishing you and the Merriwells untold suc- cess, C. A. Sir. Kirksville, Mo. Capture Giant Sunfish, . After a three-hour battle in the Pacific Ocean, three " miles off the coast at Newport Beach, Cal., a giant sunfish, Weighing 2,350 ee was captured by the crew of t fishing launch Ruth “The fishermen first sighted a large fin, and, he fish for a hammerhead shark, started mistaking ot . in pursuit. Eleven shots were fired into the deep-sea visitor, partly disabling it, and as the launch got alongside the captain jumped onto the floating carcass and endeavored to pass a rope under the fish’s belly. Just as the operation was about completed the monster retaliated with’ a smashing blow from its side fins and tail, which nearly wrecked the launch. The captain manfully held his position, and called for more shot. In the struggle several of the crew. received injuries, but the fish was finally subdued and towed ashore, where it was killed. It is the largest ever, catight on the coast, and will be stuffed for exhibition at the San Francisco exposition. A Girl Admirer. Dear Epitor: I have been reading the Trp Top for just a short time, but I think it is the finest weekly I have ever read. My brother has been a regular subscriber for the Tir Top for years. I like Frank, senior, and Frank, junior, best. Please send me a set of cards, if you have any left. A loyal friend of the, Merriwells, ‘Lake View, Ia. LEAH FRANCES CORRINGTON. Family Hard Hit by the War. Six brothers, five nephews, and a niece of Joseph Eiche, of Passaic, N. J., have met deaths in the European war. Four brothers and fourteen nephews are still fighting, all on the side of the Germans. News of the twelve deaths was contained in a letter just received by Eiche from his mother. The manner of the death of his niece, Miss - Annie Hegner, was unexplained. Better ‘Than Ever Before. A long time ago T wrote to you and had the pleasure of seeing my letter in print, so I am writing again, hoping to have the same luck, L think that Tre Tor has the correct name, for it cer- Dear Eprror: tainly heads the list of all weeklies. We have “scuffles” at home over Tip Top, to find out which shall read it first, and we certainly enjoy it, too. Although Tie Top always has been just splendid, it is better. now than it ever has been before. I am surely glad you have brought some of our old friends back to- gether, for we have never forgotten them. we Mr. Standish, how in the world do you ever think of such good stories? Would you mind “telling” some of the Trp Top readers that I. would love to,correspond with them?, Yours truly, Monterey, La. Nina Rass. I have often asked Mr. Standish how he can write such ‘would prove profitable is too general, 28 NEW TIP: YOR WEBKLY: good ‘stories. He says that every time he writes a story, While is a genius, he is he tries to make it the best he has ever written. there is no question but that Burt L. also a very hard worker, Genius and work are not often found harnessed to- gether, but when so combined, they make a combination that spells accomplishment of a very high order. The Mettiwells Forever. Dear Epitor: I have read Tire Tor for about five years. I like all the-characters fine, especially Dick and Brad, but I did not like the Owen Clancy series as well as I do the stories about the Merriwells. I say the Merriwells forever ! I have a great sell or exchange. Please send me a set of cards. Will close with best wishes to Burt L. Standish and Street & Smith. Yours truly, W..F. WENTLING, Cumberland Valley, Pa. number of old Tie Tors that I will Man Killed by a Vicious Bull, Robert Hylton, of Lookout, Va., a mining town just across the Virginia-~-Kentucky border, was gored to death by a vicious bull. Hylton was feeding the cattle when the animal attacked him, pressing him against the’ wall of an outbuilding) Two other men happened to be pres~ ent, but when they had beaten, the infuriated beast, off, its victim was dead, Clean and Interesting. Dear Eprrok: Am a reader of Tip Top, and. take pleasure to recommend it to any boy, regardless of age, who wishes clean and interesting literature. Please give me my correct measurements. I am seven- teen years old, weigh 148 pounds, and am 5 feet 7.5 inches tall. As we have a fairly good-sized gymnasium in our city, what forms of exercise would be profitable? Hoping to receive the answer soon, I remain, sincerely, McClusky, N: Dak. A. E. Grogs. Your measurements ‘should be: Weight 141.5 pounds ; neck, 14.1 inches; chest, contracted, 34.5 inches; chest, expanded, 37.8 inches; waist, 29.9 itches; forearms, 10.6 inches; upper arms, down, 10.6 incheS; upper arms, up, 12.3 inches; thighs, 20.4 inches; calves, 14 inches. You question about what forms of gym exercises All forms of exer- cise are profitable, so long as a person does not overtax his strength doing them. Prize Ring Has no Idols as of Old, Tt is truthfully said that the ring game is not what it Was iti the old days.. Then the biggest figures were tiot the promotets, but the fighters. And such fighters they were! Think of John L. Sullivan, for example, and tien try to think of a professional boxer of to-day who could measure up to him in popularity. Twenty-five years ago it was freely asserted that Sullivan was the hero of America. Owing to the crowds that always followed him, John L. rarely would walk from the railway station to the hotel, tor could he go shopping from store to store the same as any other human being. He always was A ri tein he cA SRR ar eas ew ee Ee a tae What was the magnet that so attracted mankind to: Sullivan? obliged to tide in a cab. [It was not just because he was a bruiser, a victor @m the ring. It was because John L, was a man. He was always on the level. Sullivan is comfortably rich to-day, and enjoying the Even in dé- feat, after his dozen years as a title holder, he retained autumn of life on a New England farm. his popularity, On September 7, 1892, when he was virtually beaten down by James J. Corbett after. having been a target foF) the California bank clerk’s blows for more than an hou? he pluckily struggled to his feet, tottered to the side of the ring, and clutched the ropes. As soon as he was ablé to speak he made one of the manliest speeches ever uf- tered by a beaten boxer. With his lips quivering, “he “I have been defeated fairly and squarely, but I Sul- He realized that the pace said: am glad my title has been won by an Ametican.” livan never fought thereafter. of the Marquis of Queensberry code had so quickened that he was unable to keep up with the procession.. He gras fully retired. Humiliated’ by his defeat and troubled Hes cause those who had such confidence in ‘his ring ability had lost thousands of dollars in wagers, Sullivan told:higy friends. that he would never fight again. “No one will, ever lose a cent on me again,” he added firmly. Sullivan was a man with great force of character and will power. when he was approaching fifty years of age, he looked back over his varied cateer and /determined to cut out the drink. am, I cannot handle Seven yeafs ago, “As strong as 1 it,’ said Sullivan. From that day With Hall, who also Sullivan, he began a tour of the began his restart in life. Frank made the vow with country, The “Big Fellow,” as he has frequently been alluded to by his legion of friends, retired last year, giving his last public performance as a monologue artist in Philadelphia. The William Penn Theater, in West Philadelphia, was crowded afternoon and night, not by. a “sporty” crowd, but by gray-haired men and women, and children. The man the other side of the footlights, now with silver hair, was a great object lesson. A clean moral followed in the wake of his performance. No man. ever received a greater ovation than did Sullivan at those His wife is the sweetheart of his She waited for John until he gave up drink. Who knows but; after all, she’ may have beet the direct inspitation ? twelve entertaintnents. schooldays. lt was marvelous when contrasted with the boxers of to-day, Of his ring history volumes could be written, He was born in Boston, October 15, 1858, His nationality is Irish-American, and it proved a splendid combination, for Sullivan’s heart was as stout as his body was rugged On February 7, 1882, he fought Paddy Ryan at Mississippi Gity with bare knuckles for a wager of $5,000 a ‘side and the heavyweight championship, and Sullivan won in nine rounds. In that bout with bare fists he developed. won derful punching ability. With his hands incased in five- ounce gloves, his backers believed that there was not a” man in the world who could stay foursrounds with Sulli- van. He was virtually the originator of the knock-out blow, a short right swing on the jugular vein. In September, 1883, Sullivan started on'a tour 6f the country, first offering fifty dollars to any man who was on liis feet at the end of the fourth found, his opponents down in short order. He mowed Few lasted beyond Sa De 7 Rute Raa ako Se We a ok th 5 eee PY 4 } e> * the second round. Men who were eager to win-the fifty dollars became scarce. The offer was gradually increased until it reached one thousand dollars. From city to city Sullivan traveled, and in that year knocked out more than fifty men. Not one succeeded in winning the purse. Prior to this tour, Sullivan met Tug Wilson, a burly English heavyweight, in Madisoh Square Garden. They boxed for 65 and 35 per cent of the receipts» Wilson to receive the greater percentage if he remained four rounds. m The bout almost caused a riot. Wilson dived in at the bell in. each round, catching Sullivan around the waist and holding on until torn away by the referee. ,He repeated the trick in each round, and should have been disquali- fied. But he was there at the finish, and. several days afterward sailed back to England with $17,500 tucked away Wee in his jeans. .He had outwitted the referee, Sullivan, and he all connected with the show. After boxing with gloves from 1882 to 1888, John L. was induced to go abroad, where he fought: Charley Mitchell with bare knuckles on the turf at Chantilly, France, March To, 1888, Sullivan suffered a broken atm during the bout, but he managed to get a draw in the thirty-ninth round. He then returned to America and, was stricken down with typhoid fever. For weeks he hovered between life and ath. Hysique won. After he fully recovered he was again Challenged by fa f met on the tur er of $10,000 a side and the championship, with bare ckles. Might under a broiling sun. It was virtually the last He finally rallied, and again his extraordinary ke Kilrain f or'the heavyweight title. They at Richburg, Miss., July 8, 1889, for a Sullivan won in seventy-five rounds, The men hi in America under the London prize-ring rules, and feean be written without fear of contradiction that John LE Sullivan was never beaten under those rules. =) Two years later the wily James J. Corbett lured Sulli- van into a four-round exhibition in San Francisco, It de- Weloped later that the bout was arranged merely for Cor- tbett fo test his skill against the rushing, slugging tactics Be Of the champion. Corbett outboxed Sullivan, but no dam+ age was done by either. The California bank clerk had accomplished his purpose. Later his. manager, William A. Brady, made the match which was decided in New Orleans September 7, 1892,/the result of which is now history. ° ry About a Milk Diet. Dear Epitor: Please write me your opinion on the fol- lowing subjects: I would like very much to know what Byou think of osteopathy and drugless healing in general. 1 BAlso tell me what you: think of the exclusive milk diet Nior an indefinite period, used as a cure for constipation Nand as a weight gainer and a flesh-building diet. Please send me a New Medal catdlogue. Tie Tor, old and new weekly, is all right, of course Awaiting your answer. Very respectfully, Heidelberg, Miss. Story N. Coins. mF Osteopathy, which is the massaging of certain nerve and S’ muscle centers, has made some wonderful cures, and in cases that drugs have failed to help. It is well worth giv- Stomach trouble. 1 should consider an exclusive milk diet @ Wety bad thing for conStipation and for putting on "weight. Pure milk, and lots of it, if it_agrees with you, MS very good, but it is not what is called a balanced ra- a = ad Ving a trial, particularly by a person who is afflicted with NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 29 tion. Eggs come near to being a balanced ration, but the same can be said of them as of milk: That it would not be a good thing to live on eggs alone. The best cure, by far, for constipation is the eating of lots of vegetables and by taking plenty of “exercise, if possible, in the . open air. Learn to be regular in all things, and take every bit of exercise that you caf, and you will find your- self cured of constipation, and your general health vastly improved. ' Baby Accidently Killed. R. V. Palmer, a farmer, of Chelsea, Okla., got out of his buggy and threw a heavy clod at a colt that was following, to drive it back home. The clod missed the colt but struck the farmer’s month-old baby, which Mrs. Palmer was carrying jn her arms, afid fraetured its skull. The baby died. The Cards are Free. Dear Epitor: I have been a constant reader of Tir Top Weexiy for fourteen years, and | am very glad the old- timers afe coming back. The Clancy stories never inter- ested me very much. I notice in a few of the last numbers that some of the readers are asking you for a set of the souvenir post cards, and if they are free, I would like a set, and if not, please send me a price list. Yours very truly, Horace A. Codey. Hospital Colony No. 4, North Grafton, Mass. The cards are free, and we have taken pleasure in send- ing you a set. Centenarian Drives Auto. Abel Cartwright, of Peabody, Kan., celebrated his one- hundredth birthday anniversary by driving his own motor car and carrying relatives and friends about the country. Mr, Cartwright cast his first vote for Martin van Buren. He is still in good health, and enjoys driving his automo- bile. Best for Boys Who Like Sports. Dear Eprtor: I have read Tip Top for some time, and I think it is the best magazine for any Amefican boy who likes manly sports and adventure. Dick and Chip Merriwell are my favorites. ,Isn’t it about time for Dick’ to marry June? T would like to hear from Jim’ Phillips and Bill Brady. I’m not a kicker or a knocker, but I wish you'd bring Chip back East. Fisher is a dandy character, and so is Mulloy. I think Rhoda Realf is just the girl for Chip. [ do like your baseball stories, Mr. Standish ; they can’t be beat by any writer. l wish you would have Chip get a motor boat and have him tour the Great Lakes, and then tour down to the Panama Canal. Then let him go to the Panama Exposi- tion. Don’t think I know more than you, Mr. Standish, or think that you can’t write, for you’re the best writer of any boys’ magazine or stories. I would like to correspond with Tip Top readers, All letters will be answered by me immediately. I would also like to trade and buy some old copies of Trp Top. : What should my weight be?” Am sixteen years old and my height is 6 'feet 114 inches. My weight now #& 195 pounds. How can I increase it and build up my chest? Please send me a set of post cards, if you have amy to spare. coher seteancme A y Tea 30 NEW TIP forever Tre Tor. I re- FRANK LANGMEYER. Ohio. ‘Three cheers for Burt L. and main, 2618 Woodhill Road, Cleveland, You should weigh are young yet. athletic stunts for a few Take lots of breathing exercises. Running is a exercise for expanding your chest. Run a little day, and keep increasing the distance and your speed. about 180 pounds, Frank, but you Keep in good shape, but do not try any years that will overtax you. fine every Death in Ostrich Stampede. farmer living buggy and killed in of several hundred os- wife of a near from Mrs. L. D. Rousseau, Phoenix, Ariz., was thrown a runaway, caused by a stampede triches along the highway during their removal from one farm to another. Wrist Braces. ProFessor FouRMEN: Being a reader of Tip Top, as | have been for some time, I would like to secure a little advice from you. I am striving to become a pitcher on a baseball nine and want to know if wrist braces are a good thing to keep one’s wrist'from being sprained during a game? Thanking you in advance, Leroy M. JEFFRiEs. Kalamazoo, Mich. I do not believe in using wrist braces or any other brace or support, for that matter, unless a player has strained himself and must use the injured member. The constant use of a brace of any kind makes the part thus supported become dependent upon the brace more and more, as time goes on, and it grows weaker. Put your well arm in a sling, and keep it there for a month. When you take it out of the sling and try to use it, you will find that you can hardly lift a pin. Sentenced to “Dry” County. William Derry, of Kalamazoo, Mich., must spend the rest of his life in “dry” territory or serve out a jail sen- tence in Kalamazoo. When up for sentence he pleaded for mercy from the judge, and declared that if he was not sent to jail -he would take a pledge to spend the rest of his life in a “dry” county. The pledge brought freedom. Wants Army Raised to Force of 500,000. The weakness of the standing army of the United States and the lack of dependence that could be placed in the State militia in the event of war were set forth in plain terms recently when Major General W. W. Wotherspoon, chief of staff, reported to the secretary of war for the period from April 22, 1914, to November 15. General Wotherspoon has just been retired under the age \limit. Declaring that it would be impossible to defend the Panama Canal and American territorial possessions against attack with present or proposed garrisons unless they could be rapidly reénforced, General Wotherspoon out- lined a plan through‘ which he would double the strength of the regular army and create a feserve. The enlisted men would serve a short term with the colors, then pass into the reserves for periods of five or more years, being at all times under obligations td respond in ‘case of national need, ee “Assuming,” the report says, “the adoption of a short term of enlistment—say three years—for the passage of “the men thoroughly trained in the school of the regular / a eae WEEKLY, and that men so trained should not be held in the first reserve for a longer period than five years, it would appear jthat the size of the regular or standing army to be used as a school for the training of reservists should be about 205,000 enlisted or standing army into the reserves, men, “Tf from such an army, organized on a basis of three years’ training, we discharge yearly that increment below the grade of sergeant which had completed its three years’ training, we would have, with due allowance for deaths, et cetera, in the first year of its complete operation, an army of 263,700 (205,000 plus 58,700 reserves) ; in the see- ond year an army of 322,400 (205,000 plus 117,400 re- serves) ; in the third year an army of 381,000 (205,000 plus 176,100 reserves); in the fourth year an army of 439 800 (205,000 plus 234,800 reserves); in the fifth year an army of 498,500 (205,000 plus 293,500 reseryes). After this the army would be maintained at the last figure, and in addition we would be accumulating trained men in the second reserves at the rate of about 55,000 eacl year.” The chief of staff says that the present strength of the regular army, exclusive of the Philippine Scouts, is 4,572 officers and 88,444 men, or 154 officers and 7 low the authorized strength. If there be teen from thes? total the 19,899 enlisted men belonging to the staff, tects, A, nical, and noncombatant branches, the 17,201 men in they ya coast artillery the field or mobile. forces of the army is less than 52,000 men. The actual fighting strength, eliminating musicians, cooks, scouts) cetera, is slightly under 46,000. The line of the regi army is 29 per cent short of the officers deemed necesgai existing laws for its instruction, training, and dis- the total strength of under cipline. Of the enlisted*men in the mobile army, 19,000 are im the field in Texas and on the Mexican border, 1,665 in == the field in Colorado, and only 9,317 are permanent, stations. at their home, or In the near future at least one regi- ment must be transferred to Panama, reducing the home forces by at least 1,200 men further. a 34 The enlisted strength of the coast artillery corps is 9,442 under the number required to man the coast defenses of the United States, while in the defenses of foreign pos- sessions there is a, shortage of 3,666. men. General Woth- erspoon suggests that the rapid development in naval atm- ament, which gives new battleships an advantage in range over the coast fortifications, raises the question as to whether new defense districts should not be provided. The reported strength of the organized militia is 119,- 000 men, but of these only 42,599 officers'and men quali- fied last year as second-class men with the rifle, and only 67,000 fired a gun during the range-practice season. There were 38,000 militiamen who did not drill a total of twenty- four hours last year., strength marched a distance of ten miles fully equipped and armed. “In looking over the strength of our garrisons in for- eign possessions,” says the chief of staff, “it becomes at once manifest that the garrisons we are maintaining or propose to maintain there under the scheme of distribu- tion of our army as it exists at present are entirely in- adequate to the needs of those possessions. That an ef- fective defense against an enterprising enemy in the Phil- ippines could be made with a deficiency of 33-per cent of the manning details of the coast defenses of Manila and Subig Bay, and with a mobile force of a little over 7,000 533 men bes . | Not a single unit at its maximum ‘Amer pine , eters j ithe Oo } ent ¢ withe troop We Cz Re dd * , q er ne “wniliti meRECES ‘American troops, supplemented by less than 6,000. Philip- pine Scouts, is aterway of ithe Operations ‘of a first-class military power by the pres- ent’ or without the power and ability to reénforce it United States valuable territory of manifestly impossible; that the great wa- Panama Canal cannot be protected against garrison we contemplate placing there rapidly by manifest; that Alaska, in its .iso- _proposed troops from’ the is equally we can tetain our Fated position, against an enemy with any military power ay placing there a garrison of less than 500 men the fidieulous unléss we have ample forces at home to cCupy that territory in the pending conflict. EAs regards the Hawaiian Islands, all military will recoghize that the proposed garrison’ in this posses- verges very earliest stages of an persons sion is far below what it should be to meet a serious at- ‘tack, unless, on the Pacific coast ready to dispatch to the islands when rouble is impending. “It must, therefore, be Et gatrisons of ‘ , quate for the ‘purpose for which they have been sent in this case again; we have an adequate force > frankly admitted that the pres- these outlying possessions’ are entirely in- fe, and that without a material change in conditions home we have no available resources from which to re- eniorce theni, even should time be given to us to do so. e p Careful atatider ation of our ie? fidvisability ave ilable at hotne, and, in. addition irae foreign possessions, in the first line of our military establishment a mobile force of at least 500,000 thoroughly Mamied and thotoughly equipped fighting men, Wate Supplies for the operation of thisyforce for a period would indicate having at~ all “times to the needs and necessity for necessities in with ade- This is a conclusion that seems to ia all. those careful ontsideration to B this naa eet. j is also agreed that we should have, as.a second line, thoroughly equipped and trained MYnilitia of not less than 300,000 men, properly proportioned ‘as to its staff and several arms, Wmecessary for its operation in the field who ‘have. given force of organized with stores and supplies for a. like period.” = +». Canada Alert for its Home Defense. Sethe vigor Of youth is in the blood of Canada that is be- ime offered freely to the British empire for its support in tre present strenuous .conflict.. Never has greater’ loyalty to'a cause been evinced than that which domimates the Do- iition from ocean to ocean. roic conduct of the contingent of Canadiam troops sent feneland to reenforce the allies battling with ® near the French-Belgian border. This is ‘well shown by the When the Germans again: massed a formidable army pgainst thé allies in w estern Belgium a considerable num- her Of Canadian troops were hurried from ‘the camp at ‘Salisbury Plain, England, to the scene of renewed con- ict, and the casualties reported prove that the Dominion yoys fear no foe, and can be relied on to bear the brunt of thé enemy’: onslaught. ; | 18 was @imounced recently that 6,000 additional men: will P sent With the second contingent from Canada to Eng- “‘Yand, which sails in January, bringing the strength up to (24, 000 instead of 15,000, as originally intended. Thguiries at the government offices in Ottawa have been ‘met With the response that no anxiety whatever is felt Regarding the possibility of German ships attacking Ca- nadian ports. The British Columbia ports of Vancouver fiercest the. Ger- “NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY 31 and Prince Rupert, on the Pacific coast, are fully mined, and these are the only two points where an entry could be effective into. Canada from the Pacific. The immen- sity of Canada is pointed out as being one of the greatest natural protections of the Dominion. At the ports of Vancouver and Prince Rupert are the only railway termi- nals leading inland. They are five hundred miles apart, and each provided with an excellent harbor. It is only within the past fortnight that Prince Rupert has been completely connected with the interior. Recently Japanese war vessels have been within sight of Vancouver, and the recent southern Pacific encounter is now taken as an explanation of their presence. The Japanese consul in Ottawa gives no news of the Japan- ese. fleet movements, and, furthermore, says that if he had information he would not oe lish it. He warns Canadians against too much publicity being given to any preparations or maneuvers. But it is quite evident that the Japanese and Australian fleets are ready for united action in the Pacific, also Cana- dian cruisers and recently constructed submarines are sta- tioned ready for service. Canadians can rest assured that not only the Pacific coast is well protected, but that a large force of militia “is ready, in case of any arising, for any part of inland. On‘ the Atlantic coast the care of harbors is being as thoroughly undertaken as on the Pacific. Another indication of Canadian vigilance has been shown in the careful watching of wireless apparatus, and the final elimination of all stations not under the control of the government. From a° European standpoint, need defense of the country Canada might appear to have been very lax in her treatment of the Germans and Austrians within her borders. But at the same time there has been watchfulness of the few who were considered chiefly The newspapers in western Canada There are-now over six hundred, in custody likely to be spies. Germans, conducted by great liberty: Now, however, the order by the Do- minion ‘that their pro-German and anti-British contents must: be discontinued. Germans have been given has been sent out Nearly all the older: German settlers in Ontario appre- ciate more than they do, the: national sentiment which ‘might draw them’ toward Germany; this was shown clearly im money con- tributions’ to the’ British relief funds. But in the western previnces there are immigrants who have only recently come from Germany, lived in “communities” by. themselves, and have-not even been: naturalized. In addition, there are thousands of Austrians in the same lo- calities, also thousands of Italians and Russians. There are in all 400,000 Germans and 200,000 Austrians in various parts of Canada. the freedom they have gained in Canada who have The government is now perfecting plans for the intern- \ ment of every one of these who jis likery to be a menace to the peace of the country. But all those who have been so long in the country that they have learned to ‘Whefer British authority are to be left entirely undisturbed in hee work, ‘and their homes. The larger cities afford the ‘greatest number of theve recent arrivals who must be watched. They are being gath- ered into encampments, where they will be cared fou ing the winter months. A. Montreal Star correspondent with the Canadian ex- IPT LT NRT kT TPT eT ae ee 22 NEW: TIP TOP’ WEEKLY. péditionary forces in England, writing from Bustard Camp, ing in this country. It is said the rumors began about Salisbury Plain, makes some complimentary comment on forty yeats ago, in fact, and among the scores of stories the improvement he notes in the ranks. He says: concerning the hidden wealth is one which has to de-with “The average Canadian soldier, ig beginning to feel that how, the Indians once “shoed” their. horses with) the ' Valcartier, rough though itjmay have been, was not so précious metal taken from said mine, and another which bad a place, after all. He is beginning to realize the states that immediately after the Civil War the , mine great work that was achieved there, the thought given to. was operated by white men, who made the ore into bars his comfort, and the conveniences that made the days and carried them away to some unknown plage *beyond pass with‘less. hardships than must be met here. the mountains. “For on Salisbury Plain the soldieys are really in active Since 1890 a great deal of money and time have been. service, without the excitement of the action. And they ‘spent in vain searchings for the lost mine, More than ss argue that it is the fighting that makes such conditions one enterprising gentleman, fascinated b¥ crude maps. worth while. At Valcartier the men were all in one great and diagrams and wild tales of vast richéspshas hired)? ¥ camp, and there were the main streets, well, lighted, where dozens of mountaineers to scour that section Of the for- they strolled in the evenings, met their friends, played, est where the treasure is supposed to lie hiddén. Many and felt some reaction from the hard work of the day. curious marks: of these w6odsmen’s axes, knives, picks, “On the Plain there are four) different camps, each far and spades can be seen on the rugged ridges and down in’ from the other. Thére are no lighted streets. The whole the deep ivy and laurel-grown, ravines of pine moun place is; in darkness. \When night comes, and it comes tains. Rough letters on some of the trees state that® immediately after supper, there is nothing to do but gather stich and such persons have looked here for ‘the mine) in the tents or about the canteens, of which there are few, and on many rocks semimysterious cary ings indieate that; ad 4 ° ; or stroll away over the roads to one of the villages, sev-’ it is thought that the mine must be. within?a short dis j'4 eral miles away. tance of such and such a spot. _ | Wik “The troops have received any number. of evidences of A number of maps and diagramsPhaye been drawn, Of” the appreciation of the English folk. Reading matter is the country in which the mines is supposed to be waits being prepared, and will be sent by the carload to the camp. ing to make immensely rich the mati who shall find and a Peers have delivered the warmest and softest of blankets, uncover it. The oldest and most interesting of ” niet F vy and ladies have passed out delicacies in every camp.” maps is one which is supposed to have been made and © ; used by those men who took ore from the mine just)” 4 Prince of Wales’ Post. after the Civil War. This section of Tennessee’ was a) ON Te ree eigen mE Ee TY oar wilderness in those days, and, therefore e, it 1s thought that the map was dtawm by the operators to Be consulted. in. i case they themselves should forget the a agour of. tle. mine. ih A few dim words written on this map State “that Swift.’ Silver Mine is located about two and a half miles duc” It was officially announced in London this evening that’ the Prince of Wales had been appointed aid-de-camp to Field Marshal Sir John French, the commander of. the British expeditionary force on the Continent. The Prince of Wales went to France recently and was heartily cheered by the troops when he embarked to cross the Channel. east from the little village of Boston, Ky, and about / three hundred Be ta within the boundaries of Tennessee” Stayed for Chicken Dinner. “The mine,” says the description, “is overlooked by im Because the prisoners in the Denton, Md., jail were to fifty-ton vou. which is shaped like a ‘smoothing iron,” and ~ be «given chicken at difner the following day, Leonard while standing on the poitit of this rock and looking OM Adams, a negro,.locked up there awaiting transportation | OVer the mine, one faces the /Great Red Réck.!” - to the House of Correction to serve a sentence, refused The village of Boston is almost on the dividing line of, to join three other negroes who escaped from jail, Jack Tenmessee and Kentucky, It contains about fifty ver f Perkins, held for the grand jury on a murder charge, also old houses and a quaint little church, and was once the’, remained behind. metropolis of this section, being by far the oldest town © ‘% ; within a fifty-mile radius. Renew Search for Hidden Silver Mine. A year séldom passes when the inhabitants of Jellico, ” Tenn., and the surrounding country are not stirred by a 200 SONGS {Oc revival of the rumors that “great riches lie within gm" Hoven it You Talk in Your Soop Ch Mr hour’s ride of the town, The latest reawakening of the Dream Man; Everybody's Doin’ Init Ven ve story, which is familiar to evéry man, woman, and child the Honeymoon, F'm Going Back fo DisiogAlesands Rag a ins these parts, lies in the fact that seyeral Eastern cap-°, red ane eit kek Me Gall Yer Couette os 4 italists, have been in Jellico recently trying to locate OYER Be Lesa Sous Eitte ms 20 pieces PLAT Minaia Eee noe } the celebrated “Swift Silver Mine,” which is supposed to ENTERPRISE ©O., TT 3348 LOWE AVE., CHIGAGO, la exist somewhere among the Pine Mountains lying to the — northeast of Jellico. . od + Many natives of that section have a firm belief in the existence of the mine, while a few consider the’ stories connected with it as merely the remnants of ancient lore, handed down from the Indians to the first jsettlers and As : ee them on down to the present generation. eno Bis leuohy Bock vt Wes tie, oP f *’ For several years, however, the Swift Silyer Mine has enough. No obligations whatever. Write today~now. Bh NQjp Wg We Gr HAROLD LACHMAN COMPANY 4) heen discussed, more or less earnestly, by the folks liv- Michi: ;