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If not correct you have not been properly credited, and should let tis know at once. No. 121. NEW. YORK, November 21, 1914. Price Five Cents. Or, A BATTLE IN THE DARK. By BURT L. STANDISH. CHAPTER I. DIANA, THE HUNTRESS, _.. Frank Merriwell liked to handle the ribbons behind a _ pair of good horses, so had small use for a hired coach- --man‘or driver, even when driving abroad with his wife for the mere enjoyment of the air and the outing. ; He was thus driving with Inza down one of the pleasant streets of Colorado Springs, behind a pair of spanking bays, whose clattering hoofs on the hard way made merry music, when he was compelled to draw rein by a young ‘woman, who appeared before him so suddenly that he -.séemed about to run her down. + The handsome bay horses almost. reared under the pull of Frank’s strong arms. The animals towered above the head of the young woman, but she stepped back quickly, ind was quickly out of danger of their pawing hoofs. ‘Inza’s gloved hand had fallen involuntarily on Frank’s arm, and her face had paled, for she had expected to see the woman crushed to the ground. ' ’ Unharmed, and smiling, the young woman came up be- side the carriage, and she was seen to be the daughter of Santanel, a man who had done everything in his power to injure Frank. The girl was dressed in becoming gray and white, with a fashionable hat pressed down on her black hair; a young woman much darker than Ifza, with black brows, Oriental and dusky black eyes, and a beauty as marked as Inza’s though of a different type; a ' beauty that attracted by fascinating, rather than by pleas- ing. She was holding out an envelope, that, apparently, con- tained a letter. " “For Mr. Frank Merriwell,” she said; “a man I have found it difficult to interview. So I take this means of communicating with him. I hope. his wife will not be She swept Inza a keen glance. “To be read now?” said Merry. ai ge “To be read at your leisure, for I want. you to think it over. You will pardon the informal manner in which I hailed you. I am a very informal person.” ioe “Your father is in town?” : 30th Merriwell and his wife, as well as their friends, had been sure that Santanel and his daughter had fled from Colorado Springs, fearing arrest on account of cer-_ tain actions of theirs, which had seemed to make them — criminally liable, but this was seen to be a mistake, so far . as the daughter was concerned. “It?s queer you shduld ask me that question, for, whether [ say he is in the town or out, you will surely think Iam | lying. Yet I will say he is not at present in the town. But | I am his representative here. Anything you have to say to him may be said to me, with the assurance that he haye | it repeated to him.” ee She laughed with reckless ‘lightness, and again swept Inza a glance. “That would, seem, perhaps, to be an invitation to you to follow me, shadow me,” she said to Merry; “for, of course, you are quite anxious to put your hands on my father. However, you will not need to resort to desperate measures to locate me, for that letter will tell you whe J am now to be found, and it-holds, also, an invita 0! for you to visit me.” ei _. She looked full at Inza again, that laughing ligh eyes. In her dark cheeks were spots of red, rambler roses. Her brows seemed to pucker making almost a straight black line across he just over her velvet black eyes. Though holding for her, at the moment, an repugnant dislike, Inza could not bit admire _ dark beauty; a beauty that was gypsylike, withe 7 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. of the gypsy’s greasy coarseness; a beauty backed by intelligence, and a certain marked, if florid, refinement. Each woman took the measure of the other as their eyes met. “You will not object, if your husband makes this call on me?” came the question, and there seemed no doubt that it held a threat. Santanel’s daughter did not wait for an answer, and, ap- parently, expected none, for she quickly turned away, gained the sidewalk with quick, lithe steps, and walked off, without once looking round. Inza’s eyes were following her, as Merry shook the reins, and the horses moved on. “What an extraordinary creature!” “No doubt about that, I guess,” said Merry. “Can it be possible that Jack Diamond has taken a fancy to her?” ; Merry laughed. Diamond had experienced a strange adventure, and not ‘much was known about it, aside from its inception. About all that was known was, that when he was thrown down in attempting to stop a horse San- tanel’s daughter was driving, and which had bolted, ~he was knocked senseless by his fall, and she had driven away with him, saying she meant to convey him to the hospital, which she had not done; but where she had taken him no one knew. Diamond ‘had appeared at the l, finally, but of his experiences he had refused to That was what Inza was thinking of now, basing her questioning wonder. was opening the letter Santanel’s daughter had lagine she would fascinate: almost any man,” said en are queer creatures where .women are. con- He snapped the letter open. vet held a card, in addition to the written communica- ais card bearing the name of Diana Santanel. It ‘was-a-business card, announcing her as a clairvoyant’ and - fertune teller, giving her residence and place of business and. stating. her fees. In one corner of the card was a picture of Diana the Huntress, wearing the new moon as her. coronet. Miss Santanel was not bashful in proclaiming her. won- derful powers. If her card was to be believed, she was a marvelous fortune teller, capable of revealing both future and past, uniting separated lovers, reconciling mismated husbands and wives, locating lost articles, and finding hid- den treasure. She proclaimed that by blood she was in part Hindu, and that she had studied under wandering East Indian necromancers, as well as high-class yogis. _ From this card Frank and Inza turned to her letter, which, was as follows: ; ‘Mr. FRANK Lennrwress The inclosed card will tell you > I may be found at present. I should like to see . is evening, say, at about eight or nine o’clock. This very. en matter to you, much more so even ‘ ment of calling. "Though I ask you to. come is not because there is ee other Feason than my desire to have a talk with you that shall not be feagee by others, hence, if at first you fear a trap, disabuse your — mind of the notion. You can, if you wish, have a whole company of men stationed in the street before the house, ~~ and another company in the hall and on the stairway, to protect you from my terrible machinations and mur- derous scheming. Just as you please about that. no charge against me that you could make hold a minute. So T am not at all afraid of you. fears for your safety, she may come to the house with you, and sit on the banisters. But our strictly private. “If you fear to come, I shall take no further sien to. i confer with you, but shall go on in the plan I am mark- ing out. But I think you will come. black cat claw you. Diamond. Diana SANTANEL.” It was a singular letter, from a most singular person, | and its contents quite as surprising as the writer’s sudden appearance had been. Inza’s curiosity concerning it had given way to a chit of fear. “You won't go?” she said, ~ “Not even when she says you may go along and sit on the banisters?” said Merry, in a chaffing tone. — “Honestly, I’m afraid of her, Frank. The name gabe: , tanel makes me shiver whenever I see it er hear it. If Dion Santanel could have had his way, you would not be here now, and you know it.” ¥ “This is not Dion Santanel.” “This girl’s father is his brother, and just as bad in , every way, and the girl herself is just as bad and dan-— I would not trust her one i gerous as either: of them. minute.” “She says that what she has to say is more’ important to’ me than it is to her.” ‘ “Oh, of course, she would say anything, if it served her purpose, But whatever she wants to-say, she could. have written it to you as easily as she wrote. this letter, and in place of the letter. So it isn’t that she merely has a communication to. make. don’t just see where it is, but there is a trap somewhere, You must pay no attention to it, Frank.” eit Merry. looked. ahead at his. shining bay horses. as he folded the letter and put it in his pocket, thinking — £ the contents of. the letter and seeking for a meal . that lay outside its lines. If your wife has any interview must be © You) #4 ‘ can see I have not left the town, and I assure you that — I do not intend to leave it until IT am ready. You have — I will not let my i a My regards to your friend Mr. Ms There is something else. I “T can take all the precautions that may be eens She seems. generous enough in that way. I may bring whole companies of guards, and”—he laughed—“she willing, while she talks with me, for you to sit outsi o the room on the banisters of the stairs. What could be more generous?” “And the spider, you remember, when he invited the fly into his parlor, made all sorts of pretty little speeches to him, which the fly believed, and went in, and was devoured. I don’t want to sit on her banisters. not going, Frank?” Merry laughed again., “Needles and pins, needles and pins! When a man marries, his trouble begins.” “Do you think it's nice to make sport of me?” You're mee, leard your | hole use, way, nur- that lave - lute, any you, be , to | my Mr. ” on, woman can’t be trusted. You) i ' captured you, and here you're trying to prove it.” take no chances. Notice that name—Diana? make you think of Dion? was a fiend in this world, it was that same Dion San- tanel.” ; NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. “Was I?” “Of course you were. A married man’s trouble begins when he refuses to take the advice of his wife. That And she is a Santanel.” Yet she knew, even better than he did, that he would act on the invitation in that letter; she knew that while he thought he was turning the matter over in his mind and trying to decide, he had already decided. And she knew all that because she knew Frank Mer- ‘riwell so well. CHAPTER II: THE HUNTRESS AT HOME. It was not only interesting, but amusing, to observe the look that came into Diamond’s face when he was shown that letter from Diana Santanel. Both Inza and Frank tried to get its meaning, and failed. A moment after he had read it; Diamond’s strongest feeling seemed to be for Merry’s safety. “Better keep away,” he urged gravely. place.” When they broke into a laugh at that, he looked at them ‘as if he did not understand them. “Inza’ has been hinting that Miss Santanel’s beauty has \ “Vil go in your Diamond’s dark face flushed. “That so?” he said. “I’ve noticed,” Inza declared, “that you’ve never said a word about what passed between you and her when she _ carried you off that time, after she set out to take you to the hospital.” “That so? That does seem foolish and inexcusable, of ‘course. Still, there are reasons why I can’t talk about it. But I can talk about this. And I think Merry should It does me. And if ever there “Yet you seem quite willing to face this terrible woman ? gaia Merry, smiling. “Tt doesn’t matter About me so much; you've got Inza to think of. And I’ve a reason for believing she will not injure me, nor try to trap me or hold me; proof, in fact, for when she had me in her power, she Well, | didn’t mean to touch on that! But I’ll take your place, Merry, and find out just what lies back of this letter— exactly what she means by it. She may be trying to get you into the power of~her father.: For, though she says he As not here, can you believe her?” ‘She hasn’t captured your admiration very much, I fear,” ad Inza, looking at Diamond as if she tried to read his i face. “My opinion is—she should be ignored.” Yet that evening, when the hour approached, Frank Mer- _riwell_ was making his way to the address given on Miss - Santanel’s card. He had thought it all over, or believed he had. The street and the number were not only well known, but rather centrally located. The street was well lighted. Even at night the room or rooms used by Miss Santanel were not the only onés occupied and lighted in the building. They were flanked by office rooms, and other rooms, where men often sat late, transacting business. There was an elevator, and the stairs were more or less used. People, at that hour, would be on the street, and officers within Doesn’t it. call. fone could go to a place like that and meet any- body in safety. It seemed foolish to think otherwise. Merry would have preferréd not to have his steps shad- owed, and had'‘said so, yet he felt pretty sure that Inza had sent forth Greg Carker and Joe Gamp for that pur- pose, and that Jack Diamond would act in the same way on his own initiative. They did not believe Santanel had quitted Colorado Springs; nor did they, believe he very much feared any accusation that could be brought against him in a court of law. He was resourceful, and he seemed to have money, and with those two things as weapons, one may make a pretty stiff fight-in a degal way. Besides, any charges brought against him would have to’be braced with some rather peculiar evidence, that might be looked’ on in a questioning light by judge and jury. ’ So believing that Santanel was behind his daughter’s ap- peal to Merry, they meant to take measures to be near enough to go to his aid, or summon officers, whichever might be needed. Without fear of the consequences, Merry entered the big, well-lighted hall of the building, and ascended to the fourth floor by way of the elevator. There he found the room, with a red globe over the electric light by the door, and on the door an elarged copy of the business card he carried in his pocket. The door opened ashe stopped to“look at the card on it, and he glanced into a red-lighted room, which at first seemed unoccupied. But a voice inviting, he en- tered, and the door swung to of its own accord. Out of the dim recesses of the room came Diana San- tanel, in a flowing: gown of shimmering red silk. Her cheeks were very red with excitement, or their color was heightened by rouge. The whole effect of the red gown and the flaming rose red of her cheeks, in combination with her black éyes and midnight hair, was to give her a wonderful and exotic beauty. She was so much the embodiment of one’s dream of an Oriental princess that Merry almost expected to hear the tinkle of silver bells on her wrists and ankles. “Welcome, Mr. Merriwell,” she said, salaaming before him. “It is ‘a brave man who defies his wife and friends. But I beg to assure you that you are not to be murdered. I am not Diana the Head Huntress.” Merriwell followed her, not without a quick glancing about, as she retreated toward some chairs, where a red- globed lamp burned on a table. The big black cat that came rubbing against his legs was like a familiar spirit./ It was purring now, and friendly, yet he knew full well that in an instant, at her command, it would attack wi the viciousness of a tiger. “Come here,” she commanded, snapping her fingers, and the cat sprang into her lap as she sank into one of the chairs. : “There are no hooks. on that chair, to spring up and hold you,” she said; “so you may occupy it with confidence. I am favoring you this evening, for I have already turned away three despondent maidens who were crazy to have me tell them how to win back their recreant lovers. One elooked so suicidal that I told her to claw the eyes: out of her rival; I thought that would so insipirit her that she would forego the chloroform bottle. Girls are fools, Mr. Merriwell.” . “All of them?” he said, settling down. Fp PI SER EA uate telly te. NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. “T except myself, of course,” she declared, laughing. “I suppose you were very much afraid to make this visit?” “Not exactly afraid. You will admit that certain ex- periences might cause me to hesitate.” “You have men in the street, and in the large corridor below ?” “None, unless my. friends placed them there, or are there themeslves.” “And your wife is sitting on the banisters ?” “She is not quite a fool—and I saw no banisters.” “I didn’t know. Not that it makes any difference. I could with safety trick you, trap you, or do whatever I willed with you, and they could not prevent. For I am Santanel’s daughter.” “Boasting doesn’t become you,” said Merry. He even disliked to think of her as Santanel’s daugh- r; for Santanel was such a sinister and unpleasant com- bination of serpent and fiend. If he had to think of her in that connection, he preferred to consider that she in- herited chiefly from her Oriental mother. “You think that was boasting?’’ Her smile was scorn- ful, “Let it stand at that, then. We will pass to the lec- ture I invited you to hear.” Her ringed fingers were strok- ing the big cat. “I will begin by saying that my father is no longer here, that is to say, he is But I am here to represent him—to as you have no doubt surmised; not here in person, stand in his place. “T will say, in addition, that we have managed to keep pretty well posted as to all recent happenings, and your doings: For one thing, we know that you have again accepted the thankless task of trying to make good foot- ball material out of the eleven here.” “It is public news—was published in the papers.” “Oh, you have been reading the Pilot!” she said mock- ingly. “Perhaps it is not public news,” she added, “that a gambling syndicate, made up of local men and men from Denver, has put up a large sum of money, backing the eleven to win in the game against Cafion City, which is is to be played next Saturday on the grounds here, and that this big bet was placed some days:before the Colo- rado Springs boys lost so ingloriously in their contests with Manitou. I doubt if the syndicate could have been formed to back the local eleven, after that. “Now I’m going to be quite frank with you, Mr. Mer- riwell.” “I’m glad to hear it,” he admitted. “Tt will be a grateful change? This is the situation— ‘or, rather, why I am interested in the outcome. It is not known by that syndicate that my father took: their bet—put up the money ; they think their wager is with a Cafion City syndicate, whose representative they met.. It does no harm to let them think so. “The amount wagered is five thousand dollars—an enormous sum to be staked on a game like this; though it would be very small if college elevens—Yale and Har- vard, say--were to be the players. Large or small, my father, naturally, does: not want to lose it. oe “Now I know that you have no love for him, Mr. \Merriwéll, nor for me, So I put this up to you purely as. a matter of business. is to discontinue your work of coaching the local eleven, and, for doing that,.I am authorized to offer you five hun- dred dollars. You ay ee it is 1 a6 much money ; and All we' seek to get you to do. it may not be much to you, though to some people ies would be a large sum. The game is five days away, and, by simply doing nothing or, rather, refusing to do any- — thing, you can earn, or gain, one hundred dollars a day. “Hear me through, please! You have had abundant iD causes given you for quitting the thing dead cold, as a sport might say. You have been worse than insulted. Some of the eleven are truculent hot-heads, with whom 7 no one can get along. You had trouble with one of them — yesterday. You will admit that they ought to be de- i feated.” “The conduct of one or two men “One rotten speck ruins an apple “As it does a character !” “The conduct of a few members toward you can rightly © be considered as vitiating any claim that the eleven can have on you as coach. What do you say to that easy money, Mr. Merriwell?” It was strange how little she knew Frank Merriwell, after all, It seems so inevitable that most men and women — should judge others pretty much by their own standards. She had known only one class of men, and could con- ceive of The men she knew would sell their — honor. at any time, and pass with untroubled con-_ sciences. The only question, in approaching them, was to know if the price offered was high enough. And her fear here was that five hundred dollars was not high enough. i Frank Merriwell was reputed a wealthy man; hence, an offer of five hundred might~ meet only his scorn, because it was‘ not enough. . She was watching his face closely, and, as he hesitated she judged he was wondering whether he ought not to hold out for more. She was prepared to double the five hundred, yet she felt she cours mardly go beyond that, no others. on She sie never Pte able to undevetantl that it was set there by his chagrin that any one could for a moment sil ‘ pose he would be open to such a dishonorable proposal. The red light in the room, while it seemed to din of the eyes. It had often enidbleti her, as fopitiea teller, to detect how close she was coming to truth in her con- She considered herself a good reader of faces. jectures, her tone are “HON I ieee See: fa she said, it ! fess the Yond: fruit tree. “I’m sorry you made that offer,” he declared, “Tt isn’t enough? Why “Tt is entirely too much. An offer of onie dollar would . be too much. Of course, I can’t accept it.” . She laughed and tapped the carpet with her red slipper. “Very pretty of you—excellently done. Just tell me, | please, what is the amount you can accept?” Merry wanted to get up and leave the room. Irritation | and loathing struck him. The low ideals of this girl were disgusting. Had he lived all these years, trying for up-— rightness and the honorable conduct of a gentleman, with- out his thoughts and deeds beating into his’ very face and manner a denial of the right of any one to oe “him in this way? His tones broke with unaccustomed harshaess. } ‘ NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. “You couldn’t offer.me money enough to do. what you ask.” “Dear me!” she exclaimed lightly. “I have offended in some way, when I’m sure I had no such intention. Though I suspect the truth is that you have some private grudge which makes you determined to continue in your course. You mean to throw down the Pilot man, after all. I don’t know as I can blame you, if it’s that; he has been nasty in his comments. Woman as I am, I think I should have put a knife into him, if he had talked about me in that manner. Yet I thought men didn’t care so much for such things.” She was still trying to read the changing impressions in his face. “Isn’t there something I can do to win you to my way of thinking?” she asked, changing from lightness to soberness. “Really, Mr. Merriwell, this is important— to me. I hope you are not refusing because you want to satisfy a grudge against my father? It is that? Or a grudge against me?” She had a feeling that somehow she was not getting hold of his real thoughts. “I can say,” she added, “that I regret many of the things that have been done, and I wish that it hadn’t seemed necessary at the time to do any of them. But you must have noticed that my father really has not been vindictive, when you consider what has been at stake, and recall that he is quite sure that you drowned his brother at New Haven. To me it seems even generous that he has not killed you.” . “You mean that he hasn’t tried to?” “Surely he hasn’t.” “Let it go, then. I thought he had. ter now. As to your offer——” “You are going to refuse it—turn it down?” she cried. “T can’t do anything else.” “You seriously mean that, Mr: Merriwell?” “Ves,’’ “Tt must be a big grudge that makes yeu refuse—and, of course, that grudge is against my father. I hoped you wouldn’t feel that way and that you would be willing to ery quits. I wish we might be allies, instead of enemies. He could make it worth your while. He has ‘been turn- _ ing over in his mind a proposition he hoped to make you, but he will not be able to do so if you are to remain enemies. Yet it doesn’t mat- / “He knows of the work of your Merriwell Company. He says it is the cleverest thing ever got up in the West. __. He touches many people, who in turn touch others, Many of them know of mining propositions, water-right fran- ‘chises, coal and ore lands, timber lands, he spoke of a certain copper proposition. All the sur- face indications show that there is a vast body of copper _ ore. At present, though, it is too low grade to be worked with profit. He said the Merriwell Company could take it, incorporate a company, and float and sell millions 6f _ stocks and bonds on the basis of what could be shown, as there were certain veins which could be exploited, so that the buying public would think the ‘whole copper mine was _ the richest thing that had ever been offered to the invest- ment public. For every ten thousand dollars put into it, he _ knows there would be taken out a million. That is only one of a number of things just as good that he can put ' your company wise to. What—going?” A ne ere Merriwell was rising from his chair, To illustrate, “It doesn’t seem to me necessary to prolong this inter- view,” he said, a bit coldly, “since the question that brought me here has been settled.” For a moment she was bewildered, Merry’s mental life lay so far from all she had ever known that she could not even glimpse it. It was behind a door, forever barred and locked. She belonged to a different world. She stood up, and seemed to tower in her shimmering silk. “Going—without hearing me through?” “Tt’s useless to prolong the talk.” : But he dropped back into his chair. A sudden pity for this girl-woman sweeping over him. She had wonderful beauty, intelligence of an uncommon order, and a wild and untrained sort of education, but she was totally blind on the honor side. Though Merry had dropped back into his chair, the girl stood, smiling her strange smile, holding in her arms her great black cat, much as if she thought of hurling it at his face. “You refuse to hear me through! You are not like your friend Diamond! He could no more insult——” “I’m sure IT haven’t meant to be insulting,” Merry re- turned, in a tone of contrition. “Put the idea out of your mind, please.” “Jack Diamond is a gentleman!” “T quite agree with you.” “He has told you what we talked about the other even-, ing—what I talked about.” “He has not mentioned it, I assure you.” “No? I thought, of course, he had.” “You have just said that he is a gentleman!” “T didn’t know but that he would speak of it to his friends, though he promised that he wouldn’t, when I asked him not to. I’m glad he didn’t. I'll say to you, though, that I asked him to marry me—and he refused; ~ just as you refused my request now. You still refuse it?” “My dear young lady, I can’t do anything else. You ought to be able to see that,” Merry urged. “You could if you would, but you simply dcev’t want to. — Let it pass. Now I’m going to say this: You, like Dia- mond, have made yourself my personal enemy. And J am a Santanel! haps, but it will mever, never win that game against Cafion City. There are a hundred ways to prevent it, — and I shall use every one of them if it is necessary. “More than that, Mr. Merriwell, I shall not run away. Any day or hour you can find me right here, or, at least, in the town. I shall strike you and your friends, and you — won’t see me when [ strike, and won’t know where the “ blows come from. I'll break your nerve before half of the five days are up—mark that; and I'll have your friends and the eleven in a panic. Play Cajion City! They'll be in_ a wild stampede before the time comes to play Cafion City.” She stood aside, still holding the cat as if she longed __ ‘to launch it at him. ‘, “That all?” said Merry, as if to show he did not fear her. ee aaa “You will discover that it is enough,” she said coldly, with a drop in her voice, which had been pitched almost to shrillness. — a rising. “I had hoped, expected, something different.” — Fin, You may go on and coach this eleven, per- NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. He moved toward the door. “That is your last—word ?” It must be my answer to your understand me, “Only if you make it so. invitation. I see you do not at all and I admit that, l almost fail to comprehend you.” she cried. “If you interpret. it that way, I shall have to accept your interpretation. I have no desire to fight. Yet I must go on in the path marked out, fulfilling my promises as well as I can.” . As he approached the door, out. Good-by, ment. In the lower “Gug-gug-gug-goshfry,” you nun-never was comin’. cuc-critter’s room. Wh-what did she say to ye?” “TIl tell you later,” said Merry; “but, in short, she is going to throw the poisoned harpoon into us again, in the Santanel style. So we've got to look out.” “Slam the w-witch intew jail! If she and her dad gug-go ‘on the w-warpath ag’in, it’s goin’ tew be worse than Cuc- Carker’s earthquake. She didn’t meanin’ tew do?” They passed on out to the street as Gamp talked, and found Jack Diamond waiting there for them. “Hello!” he said, in a relieved tone, his face brighten- ing when he saw Merry. The charmer didn’t throw her black cat at you?” \ “Then you defy me!” it opened, and he passed ” she said, her voice cold again with disappoint- Carker and Joe Gamp. “w-we thought that hall he met Greg Gamp stuttered ; l’ve been advisin’ raidin’ sus-say jest what she’s “Safe again. CHAPTER III. THE FIRST BLOW. ' After telephoning to Inza, Merriwell went to Silsby’s harness store, accompanied by his friends. In the back room at Silsby’s, the eleven now evening to talk over football matters, and, in particular, the practice of the afternoon on the local gridiron and the coming game with Cafion City. Their interest was high, and their hopes, that had been somewhat dashed by the hard and unexpected throw-down given them by Mani- tou, were rising. The feeling of an approaching victory was again in the air. For a while that feeling had been noticeable only by its absence. Usually Merry came to the meetings. He knew them well now, and liked them, and for some he had even con- ceived a very warm friendship. met each In particular, he liked Silsby, the young captain, whom he had found a clean-cut, honest fellow, and an excellent strategist and player. Silsby had sense enough to know his ignorance, and that is saying a good deal for any man; so he was willing to be wisely guided. Also, he liked Merriwell, first as a man, then as a coach. Merry knew the game, and Silsby knew that he knew it. It may appear a bit strange that next to Silsby, Merry _ liked rather better than any other, the young fellow who had been his causeless enemy. That was Leslie, the editor of the Pilot, whose excoriating attacks had been rained on him. from the moment he put his foot in Colorado Springs until a very few days before, and all because there was political and personal bad blood between Leslie ‘and Greg Carker. -Carker was a red-hot and enthusiastic socialist; » and Leslie was so bitter an opponent of the socialistic theory of government that he could see no good in any man who. held it. Leslie had fallen under the influence of San- had been bribed by him, at a time when in addition, fact, Leslie was sorely pressed for money. tanel; in particulars of this, though he but he did know - from the malevolent in- Merry~did not know the had been told a little by, Leslie. himself ; that Leslie had withdrawn fluence which had so warped him, and was making an inner fight for his old self-respect. now Merry read this in Leslie’s face and changed manner. To help a man who was fighting to help himself was a part of Merry’s creed. Leslie needed help and friend- ship, and Merry was willing to give both utisparingly and forget that there had ever been anything but the best of feeling between them. : It must be added, that for another and entirely different Merry also liked Leslie: He was a football player best there was on the eleven, good football mate- reason, of no mean skill—about the and in the contest that was coming, rial would be sorely needed. Gamp and Carker, Diamond, when they had seen Merry safe at Silsby’s did not intend at any time to be far off. Yet within half an hour they had, to all intents and purposes, been abandoned by Carker, for he had become engaged in a heated political argument with some ac- quaintances in the street, and was lost to everything else. “Gug-great feller, Cuc-Carker,”’ said Gamp, as he’ and Diamond strolled on; “if that pup-pup-pup-pup——” . Diamond snapped his fingers and whistled. “Th-thanks!” said Gamp, breathing heavily. .“I th- thought I was gug-gug-gug——” Diamond whistled again. ‘Thanks ag’in. Wh-what how ?” “Blest if I know.” “Oh, yes, I tecklect. went on their way Still, they with was I trying to say, ‘any- I was going to say that if Car- ker’s pup-political earthquake don’t come along purty sus-soon, ’twon’t be his fault, will it? If I'd been as interested in mum-my studies wh-when I was going tew — school, I’d been a mum-mental giant by naow, I bet ye. Cuc-Carker’s sure a. case.” ; : There was oné thing notable about Carker, however ; his enthusiastic support of his political principles could never be greater than his enthusiastic friendship for Frank Merriwell. \ This was a remarkable fact about all Merry’s friends, and it éxplained the character of Merry’s friendship for other men- From his boyhood until the present time he had been given the loyal allegiance of many fine fel-— lows, because his friendship for them was of a kind that deserved it. Along with this was that his sturdy defiance of whatever he considered dishonorable, gained him many bitter enemies. It seemed that if a man liked Merriwell he was ready to go to any length to serve him, but if he disliked him, he often became so bitter in his hatred that he often felt he wanted to kill him. Yet, in the end, a number of these bitter enemies had become Merry’s friends, simply through seeing ‘finally that he had been right all along and they had been wrong. After an interesting informal talk with the football boys, Merry left them, to return to his hotel. He had NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. said nothing about Diana Santanel’s story: of the big _ bet that. had been laid against the success of the eleven. He was not willing to believe that Diana could do _ anything to prevent the eleven from winning, nor very much to annoy him and his friends. Nevertheless, he meant to be watchful and take no chances. He hoped it was true that Santanel had left town. Some distance below the harness store, on the corner, he encountered his friends, who were awaiting him. Car- ker had some time before brought his earthquake mutter- ings to a close. Now he was talking about football. Merry’s intimate friends made it a point to avoid politi- cal arguments among themselves. It was the best course. Carker was not the only one of the.a who could not talk politics without showing a good deal of heat and earnestness. Diamond, for instance, was sure to’ explode with more noise than a skyrocket. They held various and clashing views. So in their friendly circle, politics was tabooed, with the exception that sothe one occasionally spoke of Carker’s “earthquake,” a thing that Carker geni- ally permitted, and even laughed at. It gave him a chance now and then to put in a dig for his beliefs with- out violating the wordless agreement that sustained the taboc. Merry gave Diamond a smiling giahce as he came up, as he thought of Diana Santanel’s statement that she had pro- posed marriage to him a few evenings before. Merry knew now why Diamond would never refer to his adven- ture of that day. Diana had asked him to marry her; and, when in his gentlemanly way he had met this singular. pro- posal, she had bound him not to mention it. Together the friends went on to their hotel. On their arrival, Merry went instantly to his rooms, where he expected to find Inza.. He did ‘not see her on entering, and call her name. When he got no reply, he went on to the ladies’ parlor, thinking she probably was there, ta!king with acquaintances. As he turned back, he was startled by seeing a willowy woman glide through the hall and disappear down’ a stairway—a woman who so closely resembled in general appearance Diana. Santanel that Mery felt a shock of fear. . He could not be at all sure that the woman was Diana yal Santanel, for he had got only a back view, and the ‘dress was not one he had ever seen Diana wearing: Yet the sight of. the woman hurried him again to his rooms. He entered them, calling Inza’s name. _ Proceeding to the room farthest back, he switched on the light there, and saw Inza lying on a lounge as if asleep, a white handkerchief thrown over her face. _, As soon as he could gain her side, he cast off the hand- _kerchief, and bent over her, calling her name. She started up, bewildered. In the room was a queer _ odor, and it had been strong on the handkerchief. “Oh, it’s you, Frank?” she said.’ “Why—how queer I feel Py Taking her in his.arms, for she seemed weak and reel- ing, he carried her into the other room and placed her in a chair. Her face was white, her lips were blue, her eyes Stara; ( “Why—why did you do that—carry me in here?” she asked. . . “7 didn’t think you could walk, and it wasn’t advisable we for you to remain longer in that room.” She passed her hand over her face as if to brush away mental cobwebs. “What is that strange odor?” “T don’t know; the room you were in was full of it. You didn’t put a handkerchief over your face when you lay down on that lounge to rest?” “A handkerchief over my face? I have no recollection of it. How straight you are looking at-me! Is anything the matter?” “I hope not. Shall I bring you some water?” “I—I don’t feel the need of it. I had a bad. dream. That’s all, I guess. I thought I was being smothered to death with a pillow, and that——” “Go on,” he urged hoarsely. “That Santanel’s daughter was pressing the pillow down on my face.” “I don’t wonder you feel faint,” “You puzzle me, Frank.” “T can leave you a moment?” “Oh, yes,” she said, with an attempt at lightness of man- ner. “But don’t remain away long. You were gone a good while, and, as I got tired waiting, I thought I'd lie down on that lounge a few minutes.” Merry disappeared into the other room, and came out with the handkerchief. As he passed the dresser he saw-a bottle standing on it that he had not before noticed, He stopped, and stared at it, for, though it was empty, it bore a poison label and a pictured death’s-head. : He returned to Inza, bearing the odorous handker- chief. “Not mine,” she said, as she looked at it. “That’s odd! It was over thy face as I slept? What a peculiar odor! No wonder I dreamed I ‘was being smothered—with that on my face...What is it? And—who did it?” While Merry stood hesitating, wondering if he ought to express his fears at once, Inza leaped up and-~ hurried to look into her. hand bag.. She saw that. it stood open, while she had a distinct recollection of having closed it.- “Robbed!” she said, as she put her hand: into it, - “I had my watch in here, and my purse, with some pea Fine: watch !” : It was a valuable watch, made more valuable by Che fact that Frank had given it to her as. a birthday present. “This. explains. it,” depths of the bag. there, to get away, the thief threw that drug-soaked handker- chief over my face.” Merry -had moved over to the dresser, and, “peacoat being observed, slipped the bottle into his pocket. was a bewildering complication. “Call down to the office and report that my hand “a has been robbed, here, in my room,” Inza requested. The excitement of the discovery of her loss seemed to | have restored her completely. The pallor had gone out of her face, and the dull stare out of her eyes. When Merry seemed to hesitate, she used the telephone he said, with meaning. “I’ve been robbed while -I:lay in — herself. Merry wondered if he ought to exhibit the bottle to the man who came up from the office in answer, and if he should speak of the woman he had seen disappear down the stairway. His doubts on these points made him do neither. He was held back chiefly because he did not want to she. exclaimed, as she explored the ee sleeping, and, to make sure that he’d have time Here (om SF stares oS ee ‘that old war. she will never again shéw him such attentions. _ to have the hair cord made into a watch chain. The only person who has even thrown the light of a guess on the startle and alarm Inza, and he did not think the search would be forwarded by confiding in the hotel man. ’ As soon as he had opportunity, he gave the bottle an inspection. It did not have the odor that was so notice- able on the handkerchief. What that odor was he did not know, but he fancied there. was something Oriental about it, and it made him think of Santanel. The bottle gave him no clew. He could imagine.but one reason why it had been left on the dresser. It was a threat and a warning. He re- called that Diana had said that she would strike, and strike again. Was this a stroke at Inza, and the first blow ? Eke Yet Diana Santanel, whatever she might be, had not exhibited herself-as a common sneak thief, and the filch- ing of the purse and watch was the work of a low order of thief. Perhaps Diana had placed the bottle in the room as a warning, and some one else had done the other things. Or Diana might Have hired some one to leave the bottle and drug Inza in that manner, if opportunity offered, and, being by nature a thief, that one had not been able to leave the rooms without stealing something. “Give it up!” thought Merry. He felt bewildered and a good deal alarmed as he re- turned to meet Inza. CHAPTER IV. ' GAMP AND DIAMOND. When Joe Gamp awoke in the morning, and prepared to turn over for another lazy half hour, he observed, to his astonishment, that the chair he had left standing by the door-of his room was now by the side of his bed, and over the back of it a newspaper was thrown. if “Kuk-kind of the nun- newshoy to bring the pup- paper in tew me,” he muttered; “but—haow did he dew it?” As Gamp stared in dull wonder at the paper, he saw that heavy red lines had been drawn round a heading and some paragraphs at the top of a column. “Some more news comin’ in of terrible dud-doin’s in Newsboy marked it fuf-fer me, sus~so’s I wouldn’t miss it.” e pulled the paper from the chair and spread it out. Then he -saw that it was an old paper. The red lines were drawn round a news story, which read: “Dan McGlory, the lively Irishman who: has _ been wrestling trunks at the Golconda Hotel, will never want to see a black-haired woman again. McGlory’s experi- ence was unique. He was found choking to death in the basement room at the Golconda this morning, with a wire- like rope round his throat, cutting into it. The rope was made of long black hairs, from the head of a woman. It was a serious thing for McGlory, as he came near passing over the Great Divide. Yet the peculiar circum- _ stance that the choking cord was made of a woman’s hair has caused him to become the target of all the -» jokers of the town. _ know, he says, how he came to be in that condition, nor McGlory does not in the least who. his black-haired friend can have been, but he hopes. He is mystery is Doctor Tarleton, who, after examining ‘the sngulat choker, declared that it resembled, to his mind, NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. : the famous and deadly bowstring used by the murderous thugs of India. But this is not India. And no Hindus have been seen around.” Joe Gamp was shivering before he had read this through, and when he came to the statement about the bowstring and the Hindus, his face became fairly blue. “Br-r-r-r!” he gurgled. “Wh-what He looked at the date line. It was a Salt Lake City . paper, and the date was of more than a year before. “Huh-Hindus! In the nun-name of Mum-Mike! Wh- what’s the meanin’ of this here, anyhaow? Dan Mum- McGlory! And Sus-Santanel called himself a Hindu!” He could not fail to remember that Dan McGlory was the name that had'been assumed by Santanel’s confederate recently in this town and at this hotel, where he had secured a few days’ work as a porter. He had since disappeared, gone with Santanel, or on before him, every- body hoped. Gamp’s desire for a few more winks of sleep had been effectually blown away. His eyes roved round the room, big and staring, and he huddled the bed clothing about him, as he sat up in bed, as if he had a chill. “Gug-gug-great cuc-cats!” he gasped. “Sus-say, this gits my gug-goat! I'll have tut-to show this to Merry. But wh-what’s eatin’ me up with cuc-curiosity is: Haow did the thing git into my room, when I had mum-my door locked ?” Having surveyed the room, much as if he expected to see a Hindu jump out at him with a bowstring from some corner, Gamp got gingerly out of bed and began to hurl himself intoe his clothes, now and then glanging, round with startled eyes. ‘ As soon as dressed, he took the paper, folded it so that the red-lined story could not be seen, and hurried out, intending to see Merriwell. ~ Outside he ran into Jack Diamond. “Huh-hello!” he said. “Mum-Merry up yit? got somethin’ tew show him.” He drew Diamond into a corner. . “Jest tut-take a look at this, will ye? Beats mum-my time. Had my door lul-locked tight’s a drum, and the I gug- chair by it, and wh-when I wakes up a while ago, the . chair is over bub-by ‘my bed, and this old paper hangin’ on it. in the room, so fur’s I cuc-could see, but there ‘twas. I want yeou tew take a look at it.” ‘ Diamond suddenly seemed as shaken as Gana: as he tread it. “Don’t it beat ye? Gug-gug-goshfry—tho’t I was gug- goin’ tew faint when I read it! Notice that name—Mum- McGlory? And that about Hindus? Is they any sugges- tion in them things? right off,” “Tust wait a minute,” said Diamond; to be looked at and. considered first.” He brought out a narrow slip of paper that held faint pencilings. \ “See that?” he said. Gamp strained his eyes, and read: “This is the third warning.” “Gug-gug-gug-gug-goshfry !” “That,” said Diamond, speaking slowly, “was pinned to my pillow this morning—I mean, I found it this morning, and it was pinned down with this.” He drew out of his pocket what was apparently a “here’s sone Th-the door was stitt locked—hadn’t anybody beén a I gug-got tew show this tew Merry ‘ sa ak or 4 \ ee i a i St = queried Carker, looking it over, “I can’t make out whether that ever really happened, or. McGlory just told a-whole-cloth lie to the. newspaper man who. wrote it up. I’m inclined to think it was a lie concocted. for some purpose that-is. now beyond us. Mc- Glory is Santanel’s tool. The yarn is altogether too fan- tastic. There was some purpose behind it at the time that has nothing to do with us here and now, except as - it has been used in an attempt to stampede us.” ” “We're a hard crowd to stampede,” said Carker grimly. “The whole thing looks to be a piece of idiocy on the part of Diana Santanel. All the\Santanels, from old Dion on, have been bughouse, Poof! I’ve been up against worse things alone, since I’ve been fighting the battles of so- cialism here in Colorado.” This view made Joe Gamp*feel much better. tered and laughed. , “Th-they was tryin’ to scare ye, Carker, w-wouldn’t bring on that sus-social earthquake. ahaw!” , Gamp’s levity lacked naturalness. so’s yeou Ahaw, NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. . strictly honest and honorable. He stut- - CHAPTER VY. LESLIE TEMPTED. The youthful editor of the Pilot liked to trail his name out in full with heavy strokes and many flourishes, and liked to see it in big black type at the head of his editorial columns—Thomas Jefferson Leslie. He took himself quite seriously. He even fancied that in the fierce political bat- tles of his tempestuous State, his trenchant pen was a weapon of power. He called it his claymore, and thought of himself as literally slashing with it into the ranks of his political opponents. This was his egotistic side. It was also the side which gave htim whatever strength and effectiveness he possessed. | He had that sort of imagination which seems to be always answering to clarion calls. Whenever he fancied he heard such a call, he was, like the members of the Old Guard, “up and at ’em!” ; He had been “up and at” Carker with slashing fury, and “up and at” Merry, because in a time of need he had gone to Carker’s aid. He did not know that his journalism was of a bygone style, which, in other days, would have brought him innumerable duels. Jack Diamond, having something of the same type of mind, had actually chal- lenged him, for, though still a young man, Diamond also lived in the past, so far as many of his sentiments were concerned. Merry and Carker and most others merely laughed at the young editor’s vicious swings, or gave his efforts over to -the silence of contempt, which was the. most effective way of dealing with him. Having said this much by way of revealing Leslie’s character, it must be added, to balance the account, that, with some recent exceptions, he had always tried to be For instance, he never sought to stab any one in the dark. He stood out in the open and delivered his blows fearlessly, where all might see, He said harsh things, but he said them in plain print, where anybody might read them. All this he had done until recently. The change in his methods had been brought about by two things. Be- cause in an argument, in which he ‘had insulted Carker, Carker had knocked him. down, he had ceased’ to’ be ‘Car- ker’s political opponent and bécame his personal: enemy, an. enmity transferred to Merry when the latter apaesred as Carker’s friend. ; This would- have been all right if Leslie had -nat ibe honestly tried. to cover -it. up .and.continued the claim that his attacks on. Carker were still delivered for. politi- cal reasons.. That was a dishonesty that broke his inner ideals. A man may be wrong, yet so long as he hcideridy thinks he is right, he can keep intact his inner ideals, but as soon as he knows he is wrong, and goes ahead) in spite of it—when he can no longer look himself in the face without beginning to make excuses—he is damping down — the fine fire-that keeps his soul aglow. Leslie had done that. He had taken money from — Santanel as a bribe, and had tried to believe that it was _ not a bribe. That had been one step down. It led to the second, in which he had, following Santanel’s. instruc- tions, shamelessly lied about Merry, claiming he had — secured proof that as coach Merry had sold to a rival eleven the fodtball signals that were to be used in a game with them : i rs ars Me TT ee ie Pd -10 4 He had discovered, then, that even in that, Santanel a had lied to him as shamelessly as he had himself lied ; to the football boys. It can be seen by all this that Leslie had been on the swift toboggan slide, which leads to moral suicide. Yet no longer than: two weeks before he had still been able to feel that he was a young man of honor. Several things had brought him up with a halt, and were now promising to save him. The discovery of San- tanel’s deception was one, and Merry’s generous treat- ment of him was another. The third was that, ina moment of temptation, he had been able to rise against it and withstand it. ~That he had. angrily attacked Santanel, sh the tempter, can hardly be claimed in his favor, as. justifi- te able and right. Leslie was now back on the football eleven, which he’ had furiously quitted: when Merry was chosen as coach, and Merry was again coach, with his approval. cure Having seen that he was a good football player, Merry had wanted him in the eleveri. et Some of these things Leslie was turning over in his mind as hé sat at his desk and stared at a bill which he did not see how he could pay, If he had taken Santanel’s money again, he could ‘have paid it. .: Virtue is its own reward, giving a fine mental satis- faction, but it does not-pay bills. Leslie almost weakened in his new resolves, as he looked at that ,bill and tried to think how he could. meet - it. While he was scratching his head in perplexity over it, Diana Santanel paid ‘his office a call, making the excuse that she wanted some advertising matter printed. She. had on a gray-and-white suit, and a hat that was very becoming to her, together:with what Inza Merriwell would have called her ‘‘walk-into-my-parlor” smile. No one could be more gracious and winning than Diana Santanel when she tried. Diana knew all about Leslie’s financial troubles, having been enlightened on that point by her father, and she caught a glimpse of that annoying bill before Leslie had time to tuck it out of ‘sight. Leslie was a bit astonished at this call, after his violent break with the girl’s father. To all appearances she was ignorant of that break, But he could not-avoid the effect } of her beauty. No man could do that quite. In the mere setting forth of her desires in the mat- ter of the advertising she wished done, she contrived to a be extremely bewitching, altogether charming, Leslie thought her, as he listened to her pleasant voice and silvery laughter and looked into her smiling face ard enchanting dark eyes. That she was setting forth claims as a fortune teller she did not here treat seriously; it was as if she looked on it as something of a joke, or pastime. _ “Some women get money at bridge whist,” “this is my way. — they need their winnings, but it makes the game amusing and interesting. _I must be doing something. And you can have no conception of the amount of ‘happiness I am able to spread round ‘in just that way, Mr. Leslie. Foolish girls believe what I tell nes and I mene tell she urged; ee CRN, I don’t need the. money any more than NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. Leslie did not at all believe her, or try not to believe her; yet he could have sat listening to her by the hour. And during this, his busiest time of the day, too. “What a wonderful fraud you are,” he kept thinking; “vet what a lovely one. You’re enough to make dis- honesty seem beautiful.” He did not discover that this talk about money—that she did not need it, and, in fact, had more than she really knew what to do with—was intended to influence him, until she suggested, in a laughing manner, that she could let him have two or three hundred dollars if he could use it. Leslie thought of the dun on his desk, and his face flushed. He had been running behind financially lately. He made himself think it was only a temporary mat- ter, and that if he could have a little money to tide him over, he would soon be on his feet again. He sadly needed the two or three hundred dollars of which Diana Santanel spoke so lightly. Could he accept it, after all that had happened, even if there was no string to the offer? He had already proved to himself that a man cannot expect favors without | giving favors in return. It is just as impossible for him to do so as for a judge to take money from one who is a party to a lawsuit and still hold the scales of justice eyen between the opposing men. Yet the temptation was so strong that Leslie could : not help asking: ; “Vou would want me to do something in return for that—loan ?” i “It is merely a negative favor I have in mind,” she urged. Her enchanting eyes were trying hard to capture him, or so bias him that he would accede to her wishes: “lm ready to hear what it is,” said Leslie, beginning a fight with himself. ae eit “Well, I am such a partisan,” have so many friends in Cafion City—so many more thari here, and I have been getting letters from some of them. Three of the best of my friends—but I will not go into that; count, if Cafion City should win this football game.” He sat staring at her. te “Tt would let you have that three hundred dollars, and you could take your time in paying it back, or never pay it—if you would simply contrive in some way, at the last moment, to be unable to play with the eleven here. I don’t think I’m flattering you when I say that, with you out of the game, your eleven is likely to lose. Many } think that; Mr. Merriwell does, I’m sure.” Diana wondered at’once if she had not made a mise at It had flushed eth take in mentioning the name of Merriwell. Leslie’s face to a fiery red. In her shallow heartlessness and unscrupulousness she had no conception of the inner tumult she had roused in Leslie, She was only hoping that her bait was strong enough to draw him. Leslie had confessed to Silsby, his captain, all about his treacherous conduct toward Merry, and they ~had agreed that he ought to make the’ confession to the eleven, but he had not done so. He could not bring himself to it, and had excused his failure to himself, and to Silsby, on the plea that it would arouse a dislike of him with the players, and thus. weaken their ae sip worl i val she said, pouting. “I only, it would delight me, on their ate. direction of Diana, -all.. Will you please tell me what it is you have written - gency——’ \ you ought to use a pencil. Also, though he had yielded to Merry’s wishes—to his almost irresistible drawing and compelling power—and at the time had thought it whole-hearted allegiance, it had not, after all, been a full yielding; but was filled with the self-seeking forever absent from Merry himself. He had yielded to Merry’s praise of his ability, to the praises of his friends, and had felt warmed and encouraged by the acclaim of the spectators of the recent game with Manitou. Now he unexpectedly had pect of him. He found himself wondering if he had proved that he was a fine football player, and he had, outwardly at least, shown that he held no grudge against Merriwell. Had he not fe- established himself? And if he had done that, this offer of money, , might he not safely accept at a time when he needed it so badly, and find some convenient falsehood, perhaps that of a temporary illness, to him from playing against Cafion City? That was the cause of the unpleasant red which Diana Santanel beheld in his face as she smiled on him and her bewitching dark eyes sought to win him to her side. Suddenly the pleasant voice of his sister broke in on them. . She worked in the composing room, and was one excuse ‘of his best compositors, doing far more than her rightful share of the work of making the paper a success, for she not only set type, but she solicited ads and job work for their little Gordon. press. “You're such a bungler of a writer,” she said to Les- lie, with an apologetic and yet searching’ glance in the “that I can’t make out this word at here?” Leslie looked at it nervously. Sometimes, when his writing got “cold,” he had trouble in reading it him- self. “That?” he said. “‘Honorable conduct in this emer- ”? “Thank you, Your pen is awfully splashy, you know; There’s a big blot there, and I thought at first it was dishonorable, but that didn’t seem to make sense.” “The sneaking little tavesdropper,” thought Diana, catching a look in the luminous brown eyes of the re- treating girl; “she knew what that word was well enough! She has been listening.” Glancing at Leslie, she saw that a change had come over him. He was wondering if his sister had an object, other than a desire to make out the obscurely written word. Didn’t she know what it was? But even while he thought this, he could not deny that she had, in a measure, a right to interject her disapproval. But the chief effect of her interruption had been to bring before him a mental picture of his mother, at home. Lifting his eyes, they met Diana’s. “I—I think. I couldn’t do that,” he said. feel quite right about it, you see. The fellows are bank- ing. on me to do my best in that game. Of course, I might be able to furbish up some excuse that would let me out, Dut they might by and by question it, and, anyway, I shouldn’t feel right about it. I thank you for your offer, of course——” Soo “T couldn’t NEW kd ae WE ot fulfilled all that his friends could rightly ex-. tEKLY. TI Diana knew when she was beaten. She found it hard to keep the rage out of her face. She wanted to go into the other room and shake the girl who had inter- fered, feeling that she would have had Leslie in another minute, if his eavesdropping’ sister had not interfered. “The minx!” she thought. “That makes me hate her!” With a great effort she maintained her outward ap- pearance of sweetness. “Just as you think about it,” she said. “I hope you'll excuse me for being such a partisan—for so wanting to stand by my friends. It isn’t a very bad failing, is it? I always try hard to favor any one who is my close friend, And those Cafion City people are really such dears.” She returned now quite calmly to the subject of the job work she wanted done. And a little later she left the office. Leslie was glad it was almost time for the afternoon football practice. He needed the tonic and bracing of the other members of the eleven, and the uplifting im- pulse he always felt when he was with Frank Mer- riwell. “T suppose I’ll have to go under if I can’t meet those bills,” he reflected. Then he thought again of his mother. CHAPTER VI. ; DIAMOND'S HANDWRITING TEST. The Santanels, Diana and her father, should blamed too severely. They were highly intelligent people, who would have been successful in the legitimate walks of life, if by any possibility they could have followed them. It, was constitutionally impossible for them to do so. There is in the human eye a blind spot It can do no sort of good to say this blind spot should not be there, even if we tl@nk so, that does not remove it. The Santanels, father and daughter, had each a very large motal blind spot. It was born in them. They could not get rid of these blind spots, and did not really know they existed. So they had to go on, blind to most things on the moral side of life. This may be said to excuse them, in the same way that it may be said that.a snake is not responsible for his venom, nor a- mad dog for the virus of rabies that has been injected into his veins. In saying that much, one virtually declares that such people are public enemies, even if they cannot help it, and must be fought to the bitter end. While. hoping for the success of her effort with Leslie, Diana Santanel had been prepared for failure. She had other plans, and had already entered on their exécution. to its success as the young editor of the Pilot, unless it was Silsby, the captain and quarter back. She did not believe she could do anything with Silsby. Hence, it seemed that intimidation must be her weapon. That, and trickery. before she was out of Leslie’s office. One thing she hoped to accomplish. trouble Merriwell that it would react against the suc- cess of the eleven. She could bewilder and scare his not be. There were other members of the eleven she | hoped to purchase, yet none, she knew, was as important — She was busy with these things even That was to so niplenipteta tin diets ie he hpentta wos ntaretatasimaematibertien ts I2 making a feint against fancied, to implore wife and. friends—perhaps by Merry himself. Inza would begin, she him to drop his football work, even his friends would urge him to. do it. He would probably refuse to accede to their demands, but he. would be worried. The football boys would see this, misunderstand it, and begin to think he was worried because he was fearing defeat in the game. She knew that if an eleven begins to feel that their coach has no real belief in their winning ability, their power of winning passes quickly. “Oh, there are many ways,” she thought, as she hur- ried along. “Father has put this task.in my hands, and I'll prove to him that I am equal to it. And that five thousand dollars! He, was foolish in risking so much, I fear, but—if he wins rs When she reached her rooms, she found Jack Diamond waiting there, before her office door. “Why, how delightful!” she cried, sweeping him a bow. “You weren’t satisfied with your fortune, as I told it the other evening?” She unlocked her door—the one which had on it her fortune teller’s card, and invited him to enter. “You give written horoscopes, at times?” he asked. “Oh, surely.” She caught up the black cat that came to greet her. “Let me see,” she said to Diamond, “in what month of the year were you born?” AMR USE. | “Why, of course—when the dog star rages you are so rabid and fiery at times!” She took the chair she usually occupied, table, after lighting her red lamp. “T ought to make a change of clothing,” ‘she said. “You've no idea, Mr. Diamond, how much a woman’s moods depend on her clothing. If she feels that she is properly dressed, she can be angelic, and if she knows she is not properly dressed, she can be Ll wonder why you want a horoscope, instead of ordinary fortune tellings? - You think the result will be differcht? Perhaps it will. Let me see.’ Diamond had stood standing, until she asked him to be seated. _ '*T said some foolish things to you the other evening, Mr. Diamond.” “Tf so, I have forgotten them,” he returned, customary gallantry. ‘ “That’s good. Girlish fitbad clvetiesh accounts for a good _ many things, Mr. Diamond. I’m afraid I have my share i, of By the way, how is our dear friend Mr. Merri- well?” Diamond enough, She made zodiacal signs on a sheet of paper, under the red lamp, wrote down the names of stars and constella- tions, strung out rows of figures, and computed them; and all the while talked in a stream, dimpling her cheeks \ and wrinkling her brows very prettily. Diamond had thought he disliked her so intensely that he could not feel other than hatred of her, yet in two minutes he was enjoying her sallies and admiring her immensely. Nevertheless, he did not put out of his mind ‘me de- ; that is why beside her with his rallied, and was soon talking cheerfully be ermination which had sent him there. When she shad soribbled and goss ed over the paper NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. a while, she began to set down‘her predictions on another sheet, picture of zodiacal signs. It pretended forecast the principal happenings of his life, as they were prophetically revealed by the stars at the time of his birth. It was very clever, and would have impressed immensely any woman foolish enough to’ believe in such things. “I might do better if I had on my red dress,” she said, laughing, as she passed, the written chart to Diamond. “How much?” he asked. “I’m going to be absolutely conscienceless, Mr. mond—lI’m going to ask you five dollars for that. You see, I need the money.. I asked you five dollars for telling your fortune once before. The next time I'll charge you ten. For you see,” and she laughed, “it is such a strain on me to remember what I said to you then and not confuse it with what I say now, or have said to other people.” Shé was not even pretending to him that there was anything in her “art.” Diamond paid over the money, and soon left her office room, She was laughing at him as the door closed on him. “He thinks he is wonderfully sly,” she thought, “but I think I fooled him, and I made him’ pay me for let- ting me fool him. I wish I could see his face when he compares them.” ‘ In the big corridor below, Diamond stopped, and tak- ing from his pocket a faint-penciled words, he compared the writing with that on the card she had given him. The faint penciling was that which he had found in his room, pinned to his pillow with the sword-shaped hatpin. “Not the same handwriting,” he muttered. There was disappointment in his voice and face. Then his dark eyes kindled strangely. through a spebian ene and found this at bi bottom of i “Carking ee, will get a blow to-night, and that will be the fourth warning.” Taken in connection with the farrago of nonsense which had preceded it, this would, under ordinary circumstances, not have attracted a second thought, for it seemed as a part and parcel of what had gone before, under a printed the to “ But Diamond began to read into it a sinister meaning. hike “Carking Care!” he said. 1 wonder if it means him? ‘well as she knows mine.” “Otherwise, Greg Carker? ‘She knows his name as Carker’s name and his seriousness were. often Seat on by his friends, and sometimes by his enemies. He did this — Perhaps she knew this—she knew so many ~ had usually sat under a cloud of gloom. still, at times. urate r, Carking Care. My wonder what Merry will say to that idea?” he was f2 asking himself as he hurried on into the street. a It was always that way, not only with Diamond, but with many others, This taking of their puzzles and difficulties to Merriwell was more than a mere habit. It was not a confession of individual weakness. It was the natural expression of their feeling, that Merry Was not only their friend, but, their: wise counselor and ey 1 teat ee Dia- strip of paper that held some i He had read on. ? In the | old days, when he talked of his coming earthquake, he — Diamond had often heard i fellows call Car-"" CHAPTER VII. THE BLOW AT CARKER, Greg Carker professed to get a vast amount of amuse- || ‘ment out of Jack Diamond’s horoscope. Setting aside the q _ Carking Care warning, if it was a warning, the horoscope || was so mysteriously worded in places that, as Merry re- ae marked, it was like Davy Crockett’s coon trap; “set to 999 ketch ’em comin’ or goin’.” Diamond was to be a suc- heesstil man, gain a great fortune, win a beautiful wife, enjoy a long life, so the horoscope said, when read straight along, But by the transposition of a few words, - which seemed to invite it, a different meaning was con- veyed. Then there was the warning.’ “Not for me,” said Carker, trying to laugh; “Carking Care and I are strangers. It’s only a slander on my everlasting cheerfulness that I was ever called that. I’m _Carker because I can’t help it, but I’m not Carking Care.” _ . Nevertheless, because of that “warning,” Carker had an _ extra-bolt put on the door of his room that evening, and ‘made sure, before he went to bed, that the bolt was in _ place and the door securely locked. All the room doors that had not bolts were furnished with them. It seemed certain that whoever got in be- fore had used a skeleton key on the locks. But the bolts could not be slipped, unless the would-be intruder cut holes through the door panels. _ Early in the morning the discovery was made that Car- “ker’s room was vacant. * » Jack Diamond made the discovery. He had not slept well, and had awakened early. Rousing out of an un- pleasant dream, he recalled the Carking Care warning. And it seemed to him he had been aroused by hearing a noise in the hall. Carker’s room adjoined his on the right, Joe Gamp’s on the left. _ Rising quietly and dressing hastily, Diamond unlocked and unbolted his door and stepped out. The hall was ~ deserted, the lights were burning low. There was noth- ing visible to create suspicion. A glance through a win- _ dow showed that the dawn was breaking, “His thought, naturally, was of Greg Carker, and he turned to Carker’s door. It was closed, and appeared locked, and Diamond was on the point of turning back, when he changed his mind and rapped softly. Getting no response, his hand dropped to the latch. He discovered, then, that the door was not locked. - “Hello, Carker!” he called softly, opening the door and putting his head into the reom. “Asleep, Carker ?” Impressed by the stillness, Diamond turned on the light from the switch by the door. There was no one in the room. The bed showed that it had been slept in, and when Diamond went over to it and dropped his hand to the pillow and the bed clothing he found they were still warm, showing that Carker had recently risen. sound I heard,” thought Diamond. For a few minutes he walked up and down in the hall, hesitating. He disliked to awake any of his friends, as it was quite possible there was no need. He went downstairs and into the office. The night clerk seemed dozing - in his chair, and he saw a porter asleep in a snug: corner, NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. | ge “He opened his door, and wert out, and that was the It was plain that if Carker, had passed” through the office he had not been seen by these per- sons. Diamond went quietly back upstairs. A minute’or so later he was at Merry’s door, rapping ‘softly. “Carker is gone from his room,” Diamond reported, when Merry opened hie door and showed his head: “Wait just a minute.’ In a little while Merry was with him in the hall, com< pletely dressed, and they were moving to Carker’s room. The hurried investigation they gave the room. revealed nothing, except that the clothing that Carker had been wearing the previous day was there, undisturbed. And, apparently, he had taken no clothing out of his closet. “Slugged him, picked him up bodily out of his bed, and carried him away just as he was?” Diamond said, questioning. “It sure looks it.” Visiting the office together, they aroused the clerk and made inquiries. They learned nothing from the clerk. But a hallboy appeared who had seen a man on a back stairway that led to the rear basement. “I wondered what he was doing there at that time,” he reported, “but didn’t ask him; ’twasn’t any of my business, I thought.” This led them on a search hte the back part of the hotel, and there they found Carker,; in an obscure dark room, dressed only in his pajamas, his hands and feet bound with straps, a soft-leather gag in his mouth, and round his throat a noose made of plaited hair, like the one they had seen before. Carker was conscious, and the hair cord on his throat was not hurting him, as. it had not been tightly drawn. His eyes were wild and staring, and he began to try to say something as the light was flashed into the room. As soon as the gag was removed, he tried to talk in a furious and angry stream, but could hardly say an in- telligible word, for his mouth and jaws .were stiff and cramped. When the straps holding his hands and feet were re- moved, one of them was seen to be an ordinary trousers’ belt. By the time this was done, and the hair cord taken from his throat, Carker’s vocal organs’ had been suffi- ciently restored to enable him to stammer briefly his story. “No, I wasn’t slugged in my bed, nor taken from my bed,” he said. “I heard some one at my door, trying to get in, I thought, and I got up and went to the door. I wanted to know who it was, and I thought I was pre- pared for whatever might happen. “Then, though the light from the hall lamp was poor, I saw that hair cord, or another like it, lying on the floor by my door—as if it had been pushed under the door. And, almost at, the same time, I caught sight of a man beyond the head of the stairs, disappearing. “His manner was sneaking, and he seemed ready to bolt at the slightest noise. I began to slip along after him, in my bare feet, thinking that perhaps at some turn I could get to see his face, for I wanted to identify — him. “The chase got a bit hot, and it led me down here into the basement. I was about to call the clerk, and ask for help, as it began to seem I was trapping the man, whey ; biff!—I got it in the Jaw. gc SRS i gS : oo : lah ote ee a ae, € os, man — ven, ter- i that be- had Mc- © and ges. yuld nce, ved | she — rom: vith fuf- raid at: one our, up- at’s you aw, she es She a | pme\ | aa omar ked, in that first warning. the tide that was running against him, _ the eleven, tried to inspire the men with his own in- - domitable spirit, and continued his work with a smiling — face. | AT . pee would happen to put Leslie out # the appt Be: “Is there anything we can have that woman arrested and jailed for?’ questioned Carker darkly. “Well, of cuc-course she didn’t mean that!” Gamp protested. ~“No, she didn’t mean what she said to you,” Carker admitted ; night.” “It was plainly to be seen by Merry’s grave face that he interpreted it in the same way. Diamond stood frown- ing. “If it wasn’t a woman we're dealing with,” he re- “I'd suggest a raid on her fortune-telling rooms, and that she should be kidnaped herself, in advance. But, of course “We haven’t anything against her that would be ac- cepted as legal proof of guilt,” Merriwell admitted. “Dia- mond admits that he failed to identify her handwriting Even if we should show that the singular hatpin has been worn by her, she could claim that. it was stolen from her. We haven't a shadow of evidence that she knows McGlory is here; nor could we prove that he is here.” Yet Inza Merriwell was not kidnaped that nigtit for’ the good and sufficient reason that Carker.and Diamond and Joe Gamp: remained in the corridor the. whole night through, to make sure that nothing of the kind could “she meant that Inza would be kidnaped to- ” on be carried out, and the few winks of sleep. that Merry - got were not at all refreshing. As they thought it over afterward, it was suggested _ that possibly all Diana Santanel had hoped to accomplish 3 was to keep them anxious and wakeful, and wear them out nervously and physically. 4% : : Merry. was so heavy-eyed and. pale, and his: friends i showed such evidences of their night of watching, that Eh Inza, who had not been let into the secret of their anxiety, began to ask questions, which they found hard to answer _ without arousing her suspicions. { The next afternoon, when Merry went out to the -_ gridiron, he found two more of his most reliable players ) out of, it. Ly _ to Denver by a telegram, and the other sent, word that One sent a note, saying he had been called he was ill. Visiting, that evening, the one reported ill, Merry came to the~ conclusion that both of these’ men, who - were ee friends, - Glory, and were out of the eleven for good so far as the had accepted bribés from Diana or Mc- anion City game was concerned. - "Tf Diana keeps this up,” he confessed to his friends that night, “she will beat us.’ -“Haow cuc-can yeou stop her?” “We can’t. anything.” Silsby had not been able to be in the practice game that day, and a visit that Merry had made him brought evidence that Silsby was probably out of football for Gamp inquired. In addition, we can’t prove that she is doing i ist the season. Disliking the thought of being beaten by Diana San- _ tanel, even more than he disliked the thought: of losing othe coming game, Merry did the best he could to stem He reshaped Merry’s fear now was that at the last minute some- NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. I5 visited Leslie frequently and had Leslie call at his rooms. fe talked with him a great deal about the game and the His object was to keep Leslie so filled readily’ withstand any practice work. with enthusiasm that he could assault or temptation. Over and over he assured Leslie how much he was needed, and made him see, what in fact was now true, that on his shoulders rested much of the responsibility of the final result. Continually he warned him to be on his guard against trickery or treachery; informed him that a big bet had been laid against the success of the eleven, and that underhand methods were being used to cripple the team. He almost expected that something would happen to Leslie on the day of the game, for he knew that Diana must now be desperate enough to do anything. Yet Leslie was with the eleven and ready to play when the hour came, but a lesser blow fell—one of the ends was reported sick at his home, Merry put in his best substitute and announced that the eleven was ready to go into the game. If-he felt, in those last moments, that there was any weakness of a kind to be feared, there. was nothing to reveal it in his face or manner. CHAPTER IX, THE GAME, It was good football weather, and good Colorado weather, for that time of year—crisp and sharp, and with a bright sky. There had been a bit of snow a few days before, but it had all passed off, and the gridiron was dry. A big crowd appeared to witness the game. In fact, half of Colorado Springs seemed to have come out to back their eleven, and there was a strong contingent of supporters from Cafion City, and these made up in noise and cheering what they lacked in numbers. Merry was pleased to see that Diana Santanel was there. She had secured a good seat, and carried her head well up. High color was in her dark cheeks, and a look of confidence and satisfaction in her dark eyes. So long as she was there it did not. seem possible she could work any trickery against Merry’s eleven. , Colorado Springs was practicing when Diana arrived, and she watched their work critically, and as if she under- stood it. / “What is there that she isn’t master of?’ Merry thought.. “A wonderful girl! It’s a great pity she isn’t as honest as she is good looking.” Catching his eyes, she smiled at him, ignoring Inza.' As Colorado Springs spread out over the field to re- ceive the kick-off, the talking and shouting spectators subsided into something like silence, with the exception of the young fellows who were cheering. The ball was poised. “All ready?” the referee questioned of each team. When they assented, the whistle blew, Cafion City sent. the pigskin flying down the gridiron, and the game had begun. The Cafion City eleven knew of the weakening of their | opponents, and, made confident, they began with snappy play, starting in with a jump. _ From their first line-up, their right half back took the ball and went outside of tackle for r eighteen yar dss Then 16 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. they began a rushing advance, which carried the ball to the fifteen-yard mark of Colorado Springs. But Colorado Springs strengthened, as the ball went toward the goal line, and Cafion City tried a forward pass to their right end, which failed. Colorado Springs, being now in aeace se of the ball, immediately lost it, for the man who had it fumbled, and a Cafion City player bored into the scramble and seized it. Cafion City ther made three rushes and put the ball through for a touchdown. Then kicked a goal. Cafion City’s lively contingent of rooters felt that they had cause to turn themselves loose, and they did it with a will. Banners and hats waved, as one wild cheer rose after another. Leslie,‘ the Pilot editor, since Silsby was out of it, was the man on whom Merriwell felt that.he must most rely. For that reason, Merry had built his strategy round Leslie, who: was a brainy football man, a fine runner, and a good punter. If Diana Santanel had put Leslie out of the game, Merry would almost have been ready to give up the fight. Knowing what was expected of him, Leslie was keep- ing himself cool. He was resolved, that, by what he did to-day, he would wipe out forever the stains he had “put on himself. This dependence of the Colorado Springs evi on Leslie was not unknown to Cafion City. They knew his quality and respected it: They knew, however, that there must necessarily be a weakness in an eleven whose play- ing is built round and depends so largely on that of one man. So they were instructed to watch Leslie, and stop him, feeling that they had little to fear from any other of their opponents. Hence, it soon began to seem that any move he made would be thwarted. _When he caught a punt in the back field, some of his opponents were sure to be right down on him, ; This was so. successfully done, that when the second period opened, Cafion City’s confidence had been greatly increased. Cafion City, with her left half, and then her right half, made gains. But when her quarter rattled out his sig- nals, and tried a forward pass from Colorado Springs’ twenty-five-yard line, he threw too far, Colorado Springs now had the ball, on its thirteen-yard line. Ahd Leslie kicked. Cafion City, excited, violated the holding rules twice, suffered the penalties, and so was driven back to its own side of the gridiron. Then Cafion City punted. Leslie was ready for this, and he caught the ball on his forty-yard line, and made a dash that carried him fifteen yards. lps Leslie was himself again; in the enthusiasm, and excite- ment of the game the shadows had rolled from his sky. He heard the cheering of his friends and supporters, and, more than all, he knew that Merry was watching and approving his work. _ He did not take time to think how strange it was that’ _ he should care about Merry’s approval, but he did care, _ and he was singularly uplifted by the feeling that he was doing good work, which Merry would like. Almost in a flash, as it seemed, Leslie was repeating his performance. Cafion City had been for a moment or two deceived. They were not \expecting that the ball would go twice in succession to Leslie, and thought it had passed to another man, Before they could readjust their wits, Leslie was through with the ball and running like a race horse. In a great dash he carried the pigskin to the thirty-four-yard line. A try was now made at the line, and it put the ball forward, but only by two yards. Cafion City thought they were ready for Leslie the next time, And Leslie, by his peculiar smile of knowingness, tried to make them think the ball was comritig to him again. But suddenly, by a forward pass, it was in the hands of the left end. With good interference, he went round and on with the ball. The spectators began to stand up, yelling, as it began to seem that Colorado Springs was about to score. But the daring runner was pulled down on Cajfion’s City eight-yard line. In trying a rush, Colorado Springs lost a yard. The Cafion City eleven was anxious and desperate—_ too anxious. They were in before the ball was put in play. By this they lost five yards, as a penalty. +And when once again the ball was sent to Leslie, he hurled himself over the line with it for a touchdown. Colorado Springs kicked goal. The score was tied, and the excited spectators were howling, each cheering his own side. “Leslie is all right,” - Merriwell felt sure that he would be.” Apparently he was more pleased with the fact that Les- lie was “all right,” than that his weakened eleven was holding the Cafion City fellows level. Mk “Tf you had more men like Leslie,” Inza commented. Shé had been following the play with scarcely less in- terest than Merry himself. “It’s too bad that er isn’t heré, But that left end did some fine work.” The Colorado Springs eleven was now so hopeful that they were ready to continue the battle with a. growing confidence in their final success, in spite of the fact that they had lost some good men, and Silsby was not there to lend his fine playing and encouragement. Cafion City kicked off again. Leslie again secured the ball, . With eellike slipperiness, he went through, taking it to Cafion City’s forty-five yard line, in spite of the frantic efforts made to stop him. ; Colorado Springs now began to crowd their opponents’ defense, and broke it. The snapper back gave the ball to — his backs, and, twice, first down was made by :quick line plunges. Cafion City braced, twenty-five-yard line. Colorado Springs attempted a for-. ward pass that was declared unlawful. On a plunge at center, Cafion City secured the ball. Cie ol Leslie was ready for their punt, and it came on the first down. He secured the ball, and made a drive to get round with it. But his inteference failed. downed. It seemed rough-house work. Anyway, he crashed. downward like a tree falling, and twisted round as he fell. Then he lay white and faint. It was small satisfaction that Cafion City was pen- alized and forced back to her thirty-yard line, for Leslie had been so severely injured that he had to be lifted and carried off the field. Merry almost groaned when he saw this, both because he sympathized strongly with Leslie and because he feared now that Colorado Springs was doomed to defeat. A substitute was brought in, as Leslie was borne to the dressing room, and a doctor hurried in to look him over, and the game went on, “and I commented, in desperation, on her — He was hand kindly. had passed already beyond the fighting of the football duty and do it. -alties and harsher ones, that was not for him to say _ where 'the absence of Leslie had weakened it. _ cruel schemes should win. Colorado Springs struck, with an end run, that put her forward seven yards, and then punted. was moving in whirlwind fashion. Cafion City, with the ball, made a drive of three yards through right tackle. Then she worked a fine forward pass to right end. The end squirmed through and carried the ball to Colorado Springs’ twenty-yard line. Two wild rushes following gained very little. Cafion City thereupon dropped back to the thirty-yard line and sent the ball over the crossbar with a drop kick. Before anything more could be done, the first quarter ended. Cafion City was in the lead by three points, the score being nine to six. How the Cafion City supporters howled! In the interval between the first and second quarters, Frank Merriwell had an .opportunity to take a look at Leslie and do some bracing work with the eleven: Leslie was apparently seriously hurt, his back being badly wrenched. However, the doctor who had fingered him over declared that the injury was not of a per- manently serious nature, but that Leslie would be laid up a few days, and for the present could not for an in- stant think of returning into the game. “Too bad, Merriwell,” said Leslie, as Merry took his Then he added, showing that his thoughts field: “It’s going to make it hafd all round, for how is my paper going to be run now?” “We'll see about that later,” a\ smile. Merry assured him, with It was a battered and bruised set of football players that Merry» looked over. There had been some rough work. He heard a number of accusations, but paid no heed to them. The cfficials were supposed to know their If there ought to have been more pen- now. He spoke to the men encouragingly, pointed out to them where their playing had been weak and where it had been strong, and indicated, also, what he considered the weak spots in the work of Cafion City, showing them how they could take advantage of those weak places. He had them cheered and encouraged again before he left them, and the time drew on when they must go again into the fight. During the second quarter neither side scored. When the third quarter opened,, Cafion City still had great confidence in her ability to win, and began to hammer hard at Colorado Springs, on the latter’s right, She hurled her backs time and again into that spot, as if it were a hole she was enlarging, and made gains. The battle threatened to become a rout for Colorado Springs. ~ Only once did Merry glance at Diana Santanel. She was leaning forward} eyes bright, cheeks glowing, her red lips half apart. She understood every movement on the gridiron, and scented victory for Cafion City. “She thinks that five thousand dollars is safe,’ -was Merry’s thought. “I don’t wonder. Still, there is always a chance for the road to turn. It would be a pity if her I still refuse to believe that they will.” ‘Merry saw the Cajion City eleven “drive from their Everything NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 17 forty-yard line to the twenty-five-yard line of their op- ponents—drive resistlessly. Their success seemed assured. Then the road turned slightly. By a fumble they lost the ball. Colorado Springs made a stand, and poked the ball through the center’ for twelve yards. Cafion City held stubbornly there. So Colorado Springs kicked. Cafion City got the ball, and came back, making gains through the weak spot in Colorado Springs’ right. With no more than two minutes of play left in the third quarter, the ball was down on Colorado Springs’ eighteen-yard line, and apparently her eleven was doomed to sure defeat. If Cafion City had tried a goal from the field, she might have made it. But she tried for a touchdown, and pushed the ball again for three. yards through the weak spot. They had not given themselves enough time, for the whistle ended the quarter. While Colorado Springs was making this last-ditch fight, Silsby, her captain, had appeared, fully clothed for work, out of the dressing room. He had plunged into the room, almost’ unnoticed, after his arrival, when he saw how things were going. And just before it was time for the last quarter to begin, he came running up to the umpire, announcing that he was going in as right half, thus taking the place that had been held by Leslie, and a place where strength was now.so much needed. “All right, sir,” said the umpire. The used-up right half was glad to get out of the mélée, and he yielded his headgear willingly, even joy- fully, to Silsby. It was remarkable how the faces of the worn players of Colorado Springs brightened when they beheld Silsby. ‘It was like giving a whiff of reviving oxygen to a breath- lesg and exhausted man. The howling supporters of the eleven, seeing what was taking place, began to scream their applause. 2 When the playing again started, Cafion City made the discovery that there was no longer a hole in the Colo- rado Springs right. Merry was anxiously watching Silsby. The latter’s entrance into the game thrilled him. Yet, knowledge of the condition Silsby had been in made him fearful. . Silsby was heroic and now self-forgetful, but would his heroism and self-forgetfulness stem the tide? That was now to be answered. The tense anxiety of the spectators was shown by the silence that settled on them. All were bending forward with an eagerness they took no thought to conceal, all wondering what would be the effect of the change made by the coming of Silsby. Colorado Springs hurled Silsby at Gatos City’s left guard, and got him through for;an advance of four yards. Then there came a thing which irats had long feared. The game with Manitou had been played with other sig- nals. Through a slip of memory the Manitou-game sig- nals were called, and the man who hit Cafion City’s ic was without the ball. Colorado Springs kicked, and their opponents got the — ball. On Colorado Springs’ forty-yard line Cafion City — used a forward pass, and made ten yards, They then 18 tried an end run, which failed to advance ‘them, and kicked again. The playing was fast and furious. To Merry’s satisfaction, Silsby was standing up weil under it. If his leg and ankle were paining him, or weak, he did not show. it. The left tackle of Colorado Springs got the ball, but let it drop, and was knocked down while trying to recover it, and a Cafion City player had it under him, on Colorado Springs’ twelve-yard mark. When two attempts to advance it failed, Cafion City dropped back and made a kick from the twenty-eight- yard line. Colorado Springs made a desperate attempt to stop the ball, breaking through and jumping for it, but, though they seemed almost to have it, it passed over their fingers, and crossed the bar. The scoré was again tied. There was no more than five minutes more of play, when Colorado Springs kicked off. The Cafion City man who got the pigskin was downed instantly. A forward pass failed. An on-sidé ‘kick went out at Colorado Springs’ forty-five-yard line. When the ball was brought in ‘Colorado Springs drove through their opponents’ center, and gained twelve yards. It was almost like the old-style smashing. It went, however. After some hot work and changes and punting, the ball was in possession of Cafion City. On the thirty-eight- yard line of her opponents she took it round the left end, with good interference, and made fifteen yards. A plunge through the left tackle then gave her five yards in addi- tion. The time of play was drawing close to its end. The game was moving with whirlwind speed. It was at times hard to follow it. Yet it began to seem that Cafion City was sure to win. But here came the turn of the road for which Merry was so anxiously waiting. When Cafion City’s quarter dropped back, and the ball came to him, he hesitated, waiting to locate his end to make a forward pass. Silsby had been feeling twinges in his ankle, and knew he had weakened in his playing, but, seeing that a desperate situation was facing his men, he ignored the | pain heroically, seized. the opportunity so suddenly pre- sented, hurled himself: irresistibly past the man who op- posed him, dodged another, and was on the Cafion City quarter before he had sent the: ball. The Cafion City quarter went down, and the ball rolled out of his hands. Out of the midst of the wild scramble that followed Silsby rdése with the ball and went down the field, flying, with no one ahead of him, though, in- _ Stantly, there was a wild and desperate pursuit. _ Silsby ran as if he had never been injured. Hotly chased, he edged toward the middle of the field. As he neared the goal line, his closest pursuer was gaining on him, for Silsby ankle was weakening and his pace slowing. The pursuer pitched at him for a tackle. Silsby evaded it with a flying leap. Then he went over the _ goal line, though instantly he fell, and had the feeling that he had lamed himself for life. ° -. There followed the kick for uss Time was up. Silsby was carried off the field, not even able now to walk when all the wild excitement was over. Be ii And the Colorado Springs adherents: were roaring, _ Merry looked for Diana Santanel.” coe. ‘Was gone. NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. room had been McGlory. CHAPTER X. DAN M’GLORY. Frank Merriwell had been battling in the dark. He guessed the points from which the blows came. Though sure that it was the hand of Diana Santanel that was con- tinually driving at him and his friends, he would have been hard put at any time to prove it. It seemed that this matter was likely to continue to be something of a mystery. However, it really mattered little, if only the blows now ceased with the disappear- ance of the apparent cause of them, which was Diana’s desire to have the Cafion City’s eleven win the game, that her father might be sure of his betting money. Santanel had lost, Diana’s utmost efforts having failed, and Merry and his friends felt sure that Diana would | now vanish from the town of Colorado Springs. Like- wise, they hoped they would never see her again. Merry’s efforts to recover Inza’s stolen watch led to a revelation. He had visited the local pawnship, where he had de- scribed the watch with much detail, and told the pawn- broker that, if it came into his hands, a reward for its return was ready that was much larger. than the actual value of the watch, sentimental reasons, This brought results, game. The pawnbroker telephoned Merry, saying he thought he had the watch. And when Merry reached the pawnship he found this to be true. “IT am an honest ».an,’ see your name. unt if you gif me vundred it is yours.” . Merry laughed. He had seen “honesty” like that be- fore. The -man was a “fence,” dollars, who left it with him did not own it. However, for a very obvious reason, Merry was Fes i inclined to haggle about terms. “I'll give you the hundred dollars. you demand,” he said, “if you will tell me who left the watch with you.” “No, I do not know his name!” The man shrugged. He was a sallow-faced, black-bearded fellow. “I haf the nameé vot he gif me, but, of course, it is not likely to be "hes his true name. I vill show you that.” He brought out his book, and pointed to the CAPE nu Patrick Gleason. “That’s not the name,” “Tt is vot I t’ink. true name. But it is all that I know.” This was a plain lie. The pawnbroker’s whole manner told Merry that he knew the name of his customer. “You can’t fool me,” said Merry. “And I know the name myself! here, and the name he gave out before that. appeared in this town, he was a pretended cowboy; then he turned up as a hotel porter, under the name Of said Merry decidedly. Dan McGlory.” Merry was thrusting in the dark, too, now. He he That is, I know the last name he bore When he which Inza prized so highly for ~~ on the morning following the ’ said the broker suavely, ‘ae I. vouldt gif it to: you anyvay, but. insite the case I I geef feefty tollar for the vatch, . and. a thorough scoun-. Ent drel. He probably had not advanced the half of fifty = but no matter what he had advanced, the thief I say I do not tink he geef me his _ : lieved, however, that the thief who had invaded Inza’s face—a sickening of the yellow until it was a tallow color— The pallor of the pawnbroker’s _ 7, an © ee ae or a dangerous man; informed him that his guess was right, and the pawn- broker knew the man under that name. “Now I know I am right,” said Merry; “and I’ve just this to say to you: Tell me where I.can find the man you got the watch from, and I’ll pay you the hundred dollars. Or, if you do not want to do that, I will take the watch without paying you.a cent and get out a war- rant for your arrest as a receiver of stolen goods, Which do you choose? I’m in a hurry.” “Oh, you are. make the meestake,” the pawnbroker whined. “I do not know~—this man, so how can I say where he is to be found? It is a meestake.” “All right,” said Merry, dropping the watch with a quick motion into his pocket. “I shall have you arrested within half an hour. Then you can tell your story to the court.” “Haf some pity on me,” you that I am the honest man. believe that I am honest.” “He knows you, does he?” “T haf been charged before him. me the prejudice.” Merry turned away coldly. “You will have to settle that with the judge,” “you have refused my offer.” “Tf I tell the truth?” The geared rascal came around his counter and pulled at Merry’s sleeve. “If I, tell you the truth?” the rascal whined. “I assure But the judge he will not So he haf against he said; “Tt’s all I ask. You got this watch for a small sum, from a man you knew was a thief, and you thought you could hold me up and make me redeem it for a large sum. I'll guarantee that you didn’t pay twenty-five dollars for it. Likely you paid no more than ten. Yet you ask me to turn over to you a hundred.” “You will pay the hundred if I tell all what I know?” “T ought not to do it now, but I’ve said I would, and 1 will. I want to get hold of Dan McGlory. And I know [ve got to move quickly to do it. He may be leaving ‘the town now, or has gone.” “You know the barber shop down there, vhere you get shafed? It is the new barber they haf a few days ago take on.” | Merry stood looking in dumfounded amazement at the fawning pawnbroker. That barber? It. did’ not seem possible, Only that morning Merry had talked with the fellow, and the barber ’ had asked questions about the football game. “Tg that possible?” he said. “I thought I knew Dan McGlory.” “You will not tell that I reveal this to you? He is the my throat he would cut! And how shall I get good of the hundred dollars, eef my throat. it is cut?” epot could pay it over to the surgeon for stitching it up,” said Merry, to frighten the fellow the more. He stood looking at the scared pawnbroker. “Tell you what I'll do,” he said. “It seems impossible that the man you name-can be McGlory. I'll leave with you my conditional promise to pay you a hundred dollars if he is.” : “It is the money I want. This will get me into trouble, and I must haf money then.” ; - Merry penciled a promise to pay conditionally, and, leaving it lying on the counter, he hurried out into the NEW: TIP TOP WEEKLY. street. He felt that he must be moving at once if that man was McGlory. Hastening to his rooms, he secured the belt that he was sure was McGlory’s—the one that Carker’s ankles had been tied together with; and with the belt and watch he repaired to the barber shop. He was pleased to find the barber still there. He observed now that physically the man was like McGlory. Facially, he seemed not the same, but his man- ner was entirely different. He seemed simply a loquacious knight of the razor. There were two other barbers in the room, aad a cus- tomer. “I think I haven’t shown you these things before,” re- marked Merry; and exhibited the watch and the belt. The change which came to the man’s face was nothing short of startling. The smooth lines vanished, wiped out by sudden fear. His face now seemed a combination of that of McGlory and the cowboy. A master of facial change, in that moment his mask fell away. With a snarl of rage and defiance he ducked behind his chair and lifted his razor. . With his other hand he reached up and began to pull his coat and hat off the wall. “Stop!” Merry commanded. “If you come near me,” McGlory threatened, Mind what I say!” The other occupants of the room were too surprised to do more than stare open-mouthed, as if they did not comprehend what they saw and heard. Merry knew it vould do no good to summon them to his aid. He knew, also, that McGlory would attack with the razor if he was pushed. “T’ll slash you with this razor. Only for an instant did Merry hesitate. Then he seized a bottle of bay rum that stood close by his hand and hurled it into McGlory’s face, following this\with a jump that took him within striking distance before the fellow could recover. A straight blow, delivered with quick and smashing force, struck McGlory’s right arm, and the razor dropped to the floor. Then Merry was on him, and bore him backward. “Telephone for the police!” he yelled to the astounded onlookers. The fight that followed was short. McGlory was a powerful man, but the bottle that had smashed) into his face, and the quick blow following it, had dazed him, and now Merry’s clutching fingers, tightening on his throat like iron bands, completed the work. When the-police arrived, McGlory, shaken and sub- dued, lay in a corner, his wrists tied together with Merry’s handkerchief, his ankles bound with the belt that had. held Carker’s. Later, in his rage against the Santanels for deserting him in his time of need, he made a full confession of his connection with them, admitting that he ‘had’ made the visits to the rooms of Merry and his friends in the hotel, and had tried to help Diana by carrying on a cam- paign of fright. Diana herself, he said, had not been in the hotel, but had given instructions, and furnished him with the various _ articles he had used. Likewise, he admitted, he had © been the man who had assaulted and bound Greg Carker. Where Diana was now no one knew. \ : t NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. CHAPTER XI. CONCLUSION, Even before the exposure and capture of McGlory, Merry had gone to the aid of the editor of the Pilot. The young editor was at his home, laid up from his injuries. His sister was trying to take his place in the office. It was plain that she could not do it. She was needed in the type-setting department, and she was needed at home, to assist her mother, for the latter’s strength was not equal to the work thus thrust on her. It was quite impossible for Leslie’s sister to write the editorials, gather the news items, set type, help her mother, and do the hundred other things now demanded of her. Yet with a stout heart it seemed that she meant to try. This was the situation when Merry and Carker invaded the Pilot office. The time was late afternoon, and the matter for the issue of the little sheet for the following day was not on the copy hooks. Leslie’s sister was at his desk, trying to write up something like a satisfactory account of the football game, for she knew that would be the first thing nearly every reader of the paper would be looking for. It was a wonderful thing she was composing, as she knew little enough about football. “Something I can do for you?” she said, when Merry and Carker came in. Merry had been kind, but Carker, as she believed, was still her brother’s enemy. “We had thought that perhaps there is something we can do for you,’ said Merry. “You must be finding yourself handicapped.” “IT am, very, yet I’ve just got to do the best I can. [ll fill the paper up with clippings, and a short account of the football game, and put in a little notice, about a stick long, explaining that the condition of the paper is due to the fact that my brother was hurt in the game. As he was doing. his best for the eleven, I think the readers of the paper will be willing to overlook the failure of the paper to be interesting.” “Would you let me write an account of the game for your” Merry asked. “T should be delighted to,” rising. _ She was such a contrast to Diana Santanel. She had none of the beauty that made Diana such a success in her way, but she had something better. She was pure gold. And her face, while not beautiful in itself, was she declared, her . color made beautiful by her luminous and intelligent eyes. “T£& you only would!” she cried, and relinquished her . chair to Merry. “Now, isn’t there something I can do?” asked Carker. “You?” _ “T’m the little boy indicated. Excuse me while I throw flowers at myself. You wouldn’t want me to write any- thing, I know, for fear that something socialistic would run off the end of my pencil before I knew it, and I admit ‘there might be that danger, as I’m so soaked with it. But once upon a time, when I wasn’t as old as I am now, I used to set type in my father’s office; he ran a mall country daily, much like this one. I set my eight: thou- nd ems a day straight along, and I can do it now.” “Why, that’s better than I can do!” “Oh, don’t I wish we had one! . My brother is hoping to get one by and by. Still——” She did not add the thought that came to her, that he had been troubled lately because the paper seemed to be losing patronage. “Give me permission and a stick and lead me to some cases, and [ll set anything you bring. I should much like to.” “And you are my brother’s enemy!” “Oh, no. I’ve got over it, Didn’t he do fine work to- day? Our differences ought to be only political. Really, I hope I shall never hold ill will for him again. Now that he’s laid up, Merry has said that we must help him out with the paper, and I’m here volunteering for any- thing I can do.” And this was Greg Carker, whom she had been assured was a terrible man! Tears came into her eyes. “You're awfully kind—you and Mr. Merriwell.” “Diamond is out with Gamp looking for a nurse for your brother, and they’ll find one if they have to visit every. doctor in the town. In talking it over, we've thought that if you felt you were needed at home, I could’ do the work you have been doing here, and Merry would edit the Pilot, He will not put a line into it that your brother wouldn’t approve of, and to make sure that is so, all the proofs will be taken to your brother for his inspec- tion. What say?” Carker leaned back in his chair, beaming. , The long and short of it was that Merry for more than a week acted as the editor of the Pilot. type for it with an industry that any one might have admired. Every line of proof went to Leslie for his inspection, and. gained an approval so emphatic that he said the paper had never been so well edited, and never — half so interesting. Lo Merry did much more than edit the paper. He got out me and hustled for advertising matter for its columns, and _ He had Diamond ~ for job work for its little Gordon press. doing the Same, and Inza. Even Joe Gamp helped in this, and kept an eye open for anything that happened in the a city of a newsy character. Gamp was not good at writ- " ing up what he saw, but he needed only to stutter out the — facts to Merry to have him put them in presentable shape. Altogether, the new force on the paper was able to reach SN many more people and business men than Leslie had ever i done. There was something persuasive about Merriwell, ke i. way he put the matter up to the citizens made them all _ feel that they ought to assist the plucky young editor in his fight against misfortune. Inza got the ear of dressmakers, milliners, and uk dealing in goods for ladies in a way that Leslie had not been able to do. ‘ Before Leslie was ready to take the editorial helm — again, the advertising columns were so crowded that Carker said they would soon need expansion, or the stuff would have to hang over the edges, and, as for job work, orders were piled up that would take more than a month | to clear away. Many men who had been sending to Den- ver for letter heads and billheads and things like that had been induced to see that it really was to the interest of their town, therefore, to their own interest, to have” , the work done there. ie “Merriwell,” said d Leslie, wringing ee hand on | the: Greg Carker set NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 2r after his recovery, fellow occasion of his first visit to the office “you are certainly the finest fellow and the best . I have ever met. I'll never forget you, nor Carker, nor any of your friends. And your wife is a jewel of a woman ; my sister is quite in love with her, and so is my mother.” _ Leslie saw before him now an era of prosperity, which _ he could not fail to enjoy, if he but lived up to the new light that had come to him. THE END. “Dick Merriwell’s Charm; or, The Heart of Gold,” _ the title of the story that you will find in the next issue of this weekly. No. 122, out November 28th. The story abounds with incidents, and is one that you will long remember. . The Garden of Adventure. By BARRY WOLCOTT. (This interesting story -was commenced in No. 117 of the NEW TIP Top, WEEKLY. Back numbers can be obtained from your news dealer or the publishers.) CHAPTER XVI. IN THE DARK. _ Already the inner door, stout as it was, shook under the blows. In a few seconds more it would be down. More- over, it undoubtedly would occur to some of the attacking party to send men once more to the front of the house. _ There were no words after Denny had spoken; the gravity of the situation was plain to all, and to none more ‘so than the half-breed guards, who, despite their lack _ mitted. But now panic seized them all—all who had been sta- "tioned in the room with Jack, Lonnie, and the two girls. With yells of fear they huddled like sheep, bunching to- gether with, instinctive desire for common protection. Then, moved by one of the sudden impulses to which stampeded mobs of whatever size are so subject, they crowded and pushed through one of the windows, strug- gling, jamming, and tearing at each other, each in his rantic effort to reach the ground outside. j “Come on!” called Jack. “Now’s our time! We can’t o anything for them; they’re far beyond leading. Out f the other window—quick !” He vaulted out of it as he spoke, with Denny almost breast of him. Striking a slippery place. on the turf, where he landed, he staggered, almost fell, but recov- ered, and stood with machete and pistol to protect the irls, if protection should be necessary, while they were handed down by Lonnie from above. Fortunately, however, no protection was necessary then. What few of the enemy’s men had been left in front of _ the house all were gathered around the panig-stricken men ‘tumbling from’ the window. The other five were un- ‘noticed in their exit, and in another moment théy had ‘vanished into the deep shadows. . Once, as they passed over a patch of moonlight, a man se before them-—probably some straggler intent on a shots, which were growing faint in the distance. when Jack’s fist, big body behind houses. He started to raise his rifle, with all the weight and strength of the it, took him on the point of the chin. He dropped without a word, and the little party passed safely on. “Where are we going?” whispered Lonnie, after a little, “The canoes, I suppose ~the ones that were made ready for you afid me,” replied Jack. “Eh, Denny?” “Sure,” agreed Denny, with a sigh. “There’s no other place for the present, I fear—at least, none that see. But don’t stop to talk; that will come later, we're out of the woods.” So no more was said until the canoes Each one of them—there were three—had two picked men sleeping in it, ready for the beginning of the morning’s journey, and these though trembling excite- ment at the sounds of conflict which reached them, had remained faithful to their trust, and were alert and ready when the party arrived. Even to persons of far less experience than these men, it was evident that the newcomers were fugitives. The girls had hardly been bundled, with scant ceremony, on board the Goddess, when the lines were cast loose, and swept by the swift current, they shot downward, keeping well in the shadows which were cast by the bluff banks. For a time they sat in silence, listening to the rattle of Then L can when were reached. men, with Jack spoke. “Just what wads it that happened, Denny? know ?” he asked. “T can guess,” answered the young Irishman sorrow- fully. “It was Valdez; I saw him. I suppose when he got away he managed to collect a few of his followers— for, though too many for us, it wasn’t a large party—and came back, thinking he’d capture all the heads of the revo- lutionary movement, or most of ’°em. And also——” He did not finish his sentence, nor was there any need to; the pause was enough. Both Jack and Lonnie knew that he alluded to Alice. Valdez’s infatuation for her » was a matter well known to them all. Fortunately, however, the girls did not hear what had been said. The rustlé of the water on the shores went far to drown the low-pitched voices, and the girls were in the farther end of the cabin. Maud was kneeling on the split- reed cabin floor, her face buried in the lap of Alice, who was leaning over, trying to comfort her, Then it occurred to Jack what the especial necessity for this comfort was. He opened his lips to put a question, but thought of Lonnie, sitting close beside him, and closed them again. So it was Lonnie that asked. “Say, Denny,” he ventured, with a pitiful attempt at’ bravado, “I suppose you didn’t see—that you don’t know— _ what became of the old man?” “T did,” replied Denny sadly. “I saw it all—what little — there was to see. There’s no use in blinking matters, Lon- | Do you ‘ nie; that would be a poor kindness.” So Denny, almost in a whisper, told what he ca to. tell of Don Alonzo’s fate. As he had said, there was not much to ae Don Alonzo, after trying in a futile sort of way to use the oP pistol that some one had thrust into his hand, had been — captured and carried away by Valdez and some of his | men. Denny, fighting for his own life, and to win his way. 22 back to the side of the woman that he loved, had seen it. He had snapped his revolver at Valdez, who, being so inconsiderate as to move his head at that had allowed the bullet to go by him, and take effect in the body of one of his men. moment, That was all, except for what minute crumbs of com- fort they could pick up. It was evident that Don Alonzo would not at: once be shown “what a churchyard wall is for.’ Had that been the intention, it could have been carried out, in effect, with none of the risk, loss, and. trouble that it took to capture the poor old man. And it would doubtless be a strong card in their hand, this having the theoretical head of the revolutionary movement as a captive. i These suppositions—for, after all, they were nothing more—were dwelt upon at length, and with such enthusi- asm on the part of Jack, Alice, and Denny, that after a while the other two took some heart of grace. Then the subject gently was shifted to a discussion of what their own. movements were to be. It was decided at once that there could be nothing gained by attempting to make their way up the river against the current. Further than this little could be decided upon; they must, in the main, be governed by circumstances. But, to begin with, they must make sure that they were not _ followed, . Denny made a great point on this. The night wore on. The two girls slept in each other’s arms in the cabin of the Goddess. Thé Indians, except two in each canoe, guiding it, all were curled up on their sleeping mats. The three white men sat in the bow of the foremost craft, watching, and from time to time con- sulting earnestly in low tones. The banks, so far as Jack could tell, bore in that light no resemblance whatever to those he had passed on his upward journey. They now seemed to be lying in an even, uninterrupted line. It was with surprise, therefore, that he saw Denny suddenly wave his hand in an emphatic signal that the canoes should be turned shoreward. Still greater was his surprise when the banks ap- parently retreated, and opened as the canoes approached them, finally darting into the mouth of a creek which Jack. then recognized as the one in which they had taken refuge on their upward trip. “TIsn’t this risky?” he whispered to Denny, as the ‘canoes came to a stand. “Valdez is dead onto this hiding place, since we tried it once before.” “Risky! Of course it is,” Denny agreed. ‘“There’s no help for it, though; this is the only place where we can hide for more miles than we can cover before daylight. ~ Lon, tell all hands to take their rifles and follow Jack and me—and tell them to be mighty still about it, too.” Lonnie vanished into the darkness, while Jack and Denny crawled up on the high bank, where-the creck emptied into the river. And here, a few minutes later, the others joined them. " Hardly had they done so, when they heard the regular, throbbing grind of oars against tholepins. “T thought so; boat,” whispered Denny. they’ve taken old Don Alonzo’s whale- “Silence, you men. Don’t fire ~ without orders—mind that!” . oeBe spoke severely, for his quick ears had_ discerned the click of breechblocks. All sounds from the banks , ‘eqaved those r made by. the oars drew nearer and nearer, NEW TEP “DOP ‘proceeded to make good his word. WEEKLY. CHAPTER XVII. ON BOARD THE “JARISCO,” - “Surely we ought to have overtaken them by this time,” said a fretful voice from the darkness, speaking in Spar- ish. “I don’t believe they came this way.” “Might they not have gone up this creek, as they did before, sefior?” another voice respectfully queried. “No, fool! They are not idiots; they know that such a trick cannot twice succeed. Had you brought this boat sooner R ; “But, sefior, I could not do it sooner,” interrupted the . second voice apologetically. “I had first to find the boat, and afterward to raise it, get out the water, and plug the holes in the bottom. That took time. But as soon as re aed The passing boat had reached a point where the words no longer were distinguishable, and the sound of the oars grew rapidly fainter. Denny chuckled. “’Twas mesilf that pulled those plugs afther fillin’ the bottom av her with serap iron, so that she sank in about — foive feet av wather,” said he. “An’ the thrick av duckin’ into this blessed creek wouldn’t wurruk twice, eh?” stopped, in order to chuckle again, and the men joined hirn. “What’s the next move?” asked Jack. “To get these canoes under way just as soon as the powers above will let us,” In a few minutes the canoes once more were gliding down with the current, with only an occasional dip of the paddles to hold them steady. “TIsn’t it awfully risky to keep on running down = same bank?’ asked Lonnie uneasily. “I was debatin’ it in me mind,” said Denny. you think, Jack?” “I think it’s the safest thing we can do,” Jack answered. “That mutton-headed officer, whoever he was, will reason _ that as we wouldn’t dare try the trick of dodging into — that creek again, he must have passed us—ahd he oe do that only if we came down close to the other bank. So, pretty soon he'll turn and pull upstream on the other side of the river.’ “An’ he’s crossin’ the Listen !” All of them heard onte more the grinding thump of the oars, and the voice of the officer “You're right,” agreed Denny. river right now, if me ears don’t deceive me. They listened. raised in angry tones. his unfortunate subordinate, but they were too far onan to distinguish the words. Soon the sounds ceased for the second and last time that night, but now in the direction opposite to that in which the little flotilla of canoes was going as silently 3 as a procession of ghosts might have done. The east turned gray and then pink as the dawn broke: Jack looked around anxiously, but could see no break in~ the straight banks, now dotted here and there by dwellings and storehouses. Denny saw the look, and surmised its cause. q “It’s only a mile or so more now, before we lay up he said, ,in reply to the unspoken question. © ; for the day,” “And a mile doesn’t take long to pass, ni bageen to help us,’ As there could now be nothing gained by inal: the paddlers were set to work, doubling the pace of the He p> promptly. replied Denny, and — “What do Doubtless he was again berating — een oe eee F Teeee i canoes, so, as Denriy said, the mile soon was passed. ‘out orders the boats, parting a thick growth of. tall rushes and cane, pressed forward into what at first sight - seemed a far-stretching, green meadow. l- ; “Why, it’s a swamp!’ exclaimed Jack. id f “It is, and an uncommonly nasty one, at that,” admitted * Denny gravely. “Still, there’s no other place we can ‘h i reach early this morning, and we're reasonably safe. Are t8 ie the girls awake yet?” AK _ They were not. Utterly exhausted by what they had ne. | been through, they had slept through the night, and now, ah though the sun mounted high, they were sleeping still. ig No spot in the swamp could they find that was suffi- on ciently firm to allow them to land; none was dry enough even for a fire to be built. So a meal was cooked in the ds canoes, and when it was ready, the girls were called. rs Afterward the men lay down to sleep. Both Alice and - Maud insisted upon their doing this. Their strength he would be needed when the canoes were under way; now ut | there was nothing to do but watch, and this the girls ty a 4 La could do as well. as any one—far better, they said, than He sleepy men. ed of Sleepy the three young men were, and very tired, yet |) their rest was troubled. It was hard to sleep in that | still, fetid air, with the sun beating down mercilessly on the | the basket-work roof of the cabin. They felt dull and ind ‘unrefreshed when nightfall brought them once. more out the on the river, in the:comparative coolness of the evening. nt, Hour after hour and mile after mile passed in’ silence, em - broken only by the low tones of the two girls as now and then they chatted together. -For Denny did not, .ac- this © Ai cording to his usual custom, seek solace in Alice’s com- | pany. He was thinking, and thinking hard. Jack looked davccn more than once longingly toward Maud, yet he did not \¥ attempt to engage her in conversation. A new bashfulness sade ene him, He knew what she must feel, _with . son ses into > het. é yuld cat was well along toward morning when Denny called ank, | MM. ther sf “Pye been thinking what it’s. best to do when we get Ma ‘to Guayaquil, Jack, my boy,” said he gravely, “It’s not the ‘an easy decision to reach—there are so many faults to’ ‘find with every plan. But there’s one that may work. Do you know the Jarisco?” “No,” answered Jack. Lonnie, sitting close by, looked up quickly. ‘the old government sailing ship?” he asked ; belongs to the navy?” “The same. She’s just half the navy, in fact; the other half is a little, modern gunboat. The Jarisco hasn’t had ‘a sail bent or her mudhooks off the ground in years. ‘There are only four or five men aboard her. But old sandy MacAngus is in charge of her—or was, a little “You mean “the one that ng ia him,” said Lonnie. “He’s a bully old chap.” “He’s all that. And, what’s more to the point, he’s a tanch friend of both your father, Lonnie, and of General ‘Baynes. There’s as much room as in a hotel on that old ship—and_ it’s the last place in ihe world that Valdez or Ts Papen two girls.” . “But if. one of them did?” objected Lonnie. t's ano a matter of the place where there’s aay NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. With- 23 risks to be taken, Lon,” said he. “There spare at the best. Have you a better We haven’t much time left now. Look!” He pointed as he spoke. They had rounded a bend of the river, and before on their right, lay a few scattering lights that shone from windows in’ Quayaguil: Above these lights, anchored out of the fairway, and well toward the left shore, loomed the great bulk of the Jarisco. Lonnie had no better plan than the one that Denny offered, and said so frankly. And, indeed, it was not so desperate as at first thought it might have seemed. The war was a civil war; there was no notion of any naval forces being engaged, and, even if there had been, the old Jarisco, a. sailing ship, would be considered, in the natural course of modern warfare, a negligible factor. In answer to low-toned orders, the canoes turned slightly in their course, so they hardly cleared the port side of the Jarisco as she lay at anchor. Denny, armed with a boat hook, stood in the bow of the Goddess.. He caught, as they drifted past, the bowsprit shroud of the Jarisco. Naturally the Goddess turned. As she did so, the-next canoe caught her stern; the third caught the second, and so. on, so that, with a series. of soft bumps, they. rode close to the side of the big ship. But they were not asleep aboard the Jarisco. A lantern bobbed along her deck, and a head peered over her. bul- warks as a raucous voice roused the echoes of the shores. “Whaur in the name o’ the de’il d’ye think ye’re gaun?” it called. . “Sheer off, or T’li——” “Sandy!” said Denny, in a loud whisper, “is it you?” “Aye, it’s me,” responded the voice, instantly. lowering © itself to match the one which had answered, “Wha speaks ?” “It’s I—Denny Hyde. Quick !” There was a moment’s hesitation. Then a line could be seen, whirling against the sky: like a writhing snake as it was thrown. It fell across the deck of the Goddess; and Jack. secured it there, as the voice from the ship spoke once more. to be the fewest enough plan? are and to them, Throw a line. I have to see you. “Come by yersel’, Denny,” it warned. “Mind ye that it’s nane sae deeficult tae cast aff the line!” Denny laughed under his breath, and, unmindful-of the- implied threat to loosen the line from above, and thus drop him, made the Goddess fast, then went up, hand over hand, as-a monkey might have done, and vanished over the Jarisco’s side. A whispered conversation, of which those in the canoes below could catch only the sound, ‘was followed by rumbling orders, delivered in Spanish, with a strong Scotch accent. Bare feet, running forward, mounted into the rigging. A moment later something descended at the end of a rope from the fore yardarm. It was a chair, and on its seat was coiled a guy line to steady it in its upward journey. There was no need to ask what it was for. One after another the two girls were seated in the chair, and fas- — tened there, then hoisted over the side. After the second trip the chair did not return, but Denny called eagerly to the two young men who had remained below: © “Jack—Lonnie ! Come up!” So up they went. It was not as om for them as it ap: 24 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. parently had been for Denny; neither of them was a sailor, but both were young and active, and they managed it. Jack, dropping upon the deck, glanced quickly at the figure that confronted him, holding the lantern. And a strong enough figure it was. An old man, with a frame that once was a most powerful one, but now twisted and gnarled by rheumatism. Yet the face still was strong and resolute. One twisted hand was raised in salute. “Colonel Hyde,” said the old man respectfully. Jack started. It was the first time he had been ad- dressed by his new title. But he returned the salute. “T’m Alexander MacAngus,” ken weel, colonel, that had I ony rank in the reevolu- tionary army, that ye’d be my superior. But I’m a far aulder man than you, forbye havin’ mair expeérience, an’ so we thocht—Denny an’ me—that for the guid. of the sairvice——” “What is it you want me to do?” interrupted Jack, im- patient of this flow of words. Evidently this labored cere- mony of speech was irksome to the old man himself, for he nodded, and smiled as Jack checked it. “Can ye hear?” he asked, by way of reply. Jack listened.’ From the streets of the city, something like a mile away, came faintly the sound, now grown only too familiar, of. rifle fire, “What does it mean?” he asked. “Naething ava’, from a poleetical point o’ view. Juist a han’fu’,o’ people, no vara content wi’ the present gov- ernment, expressin’ their sentiments by firin’ on the troops frae their windows. But it signifies that we have frien’s in the ceety, and we need some o’ them at the present time. Come wi’ me.” Together the two men, old and young, went aft to the main hatch, and so to the deck below. Here MacAngus halted, and held his lantern high. Seeming doubly de- serted on account of the bare cleanliness and order of the place, two rows of old, muzzle-loading guns pressed their mouths against closed ports. On one of them old Sandy laid his hand affectionately. “Thae auld guns can sing their sang yet, colon, if. need be,” said he. “And, wi’ the twa lassies aboard now who bide ‘in the lower hold, far below the water line, the need will come, I fear. Shot we hae—enough to ballast her wi'—but not ane grain o’ powder is there on this blessed ship.” ““No powder!” cried Jack, his voice echoing something of the dismay expressed by that of old MacAngus. “No: a grain,” the old Scotchman repeated, leading: the way aft, and entering the cabin, “But there’s:a mon in yon toon. what juist has received sax dozen kegs for blastin’ purposes. It’s no vara guid tae use in the guns, but far better than naething. Nones, his name is.” “Will he sell it?” “He’d sell his saul—save that I’m thinkin’ the de’il a’ready has it. A bad an’ treacherous man is he—but he owns the powder. Will ye go get it for us, laddie? Will ye tak’ the chance? Pm no denyin’ there’ll be danger, ye “mind.” What danger there could be, beyond that which natu- . rally would be met with in streets where people were ex- pressing their political sentiments in the manner related by _ Sandy MacAngus, Jack could not imagine. Yet he could not doubt that such danger existed. Instinctively he knew that the old Scotchman wasn’t one to breed useless alarm. the other went on. “I, ‘ of her name no longer showed on her sides. CHAPTER XVIII. A DEAL IN HIDES. “When do I start?” asked Jack gravely. “In an hour. It'll be nearin’ daylicht, then. An’ it’s rainin’, thank Heaven! The rubber cape’ll cover the uni- form ye'll wear.” Jack would have asked more questions, but the old man hobbled quickly away. So he dressed and went on deck, instead. A drizzling rain was falling, as Sandy had said. Its depressing influence seemed to extend even to the people expressing their discontent, for the desultory firing had all but ceased.\ On the Jarisco, however, there was much quiet activity. Over the side farther from the town, men were busily en-— gaged on the Goddess, painting her, so that. the letters Parties were aloft on all three masts, but what they were doing Jack could not guess, for the darkness concealed them. Lonnie, with two men, dropped into the disguised God- dess, and drifted silently astern. Then old Sandy came hobbling to the place where Jack was standing. “The boat’s at’the gangway, laddie,” he said. on oor way, noo.” : “On our way?” cried Jack. “Surely, you aren’t going!” “Muckle guid ye’d do wi’oot me, I’m thinkin’,” replied Sandy, seating himself in the stern of the whaleboat that rode alongside. “Are ye ready? Then give way, men.” _ No word was spoken during the journey, save once. Jack asked where they were going to land, and received a grunt as his only reply. near.the upper end of the city. Old Sandy, scrambling out — of the boat, hobbled up a dingy street at a gait wonder- — fully quick for one partially crippled, as he had been, by his rheumatism. It was very dark. Once or twice Sandy stopped, listen- ing intently, then went on. .At last he reached what was evidently a door, though Jack could not see it. He rapped twice with his heavy walking stick; then, after a pause, three times more. __ } Instantly there shone a gleam:of faint light as a wicket e was opened and ia face peered out. Quichua. tongue were CARRE and then the door swung catitiously open. (pecs Sandy pushed Jack inside, snd followed, They were in the inner court of a large house, fast. falling’ into’ dis- repair.. A veranda -ran. around all four’ of its ‘sides, and. by the dim light of a floating wick in a saucer of oil Jack could see that every available inch of it was covered by sleeping men. ’ a “We'll be The man who had admitted them, and who evidently had been on guard, woke the sleepers, and passed into — the house, from which other men immediately began’ to issue in seemingly endless procession. “Throw back your cape,” whispered Sandy, Jack did so, exposing the uniform that he wore be- neath it. The men nearest saluted. respectfully. Sandy spoke a word or two to each of them, and each, saluting again, passed silently out of the door, and was lost in the darkness. Many had thus disappeared when Jack began counting them. Five hundred and forty, he made. it, when at length the last had passed. In amazement he turned to Sandy, who chuckled. “We've no’ been entirely idle, here in Gueveay A said, he, They did land at a rickety wharf — Some words in the — NI acing one NEW “There was no use in wastin’ the men we have, though, | while the other side outnumbers us so, for the city’s fair choked with their troops. But we mustn’t stand yammer- in” here—daylicht will be on us afore we know, an’ there’s a. much to do yet.” % Turning, they left the house, and retraced their steps. ; ae s a No sound of a footstep was heard, and when they reached the river front once more not a soul could they see by the light of the inefficient street lamps. Those hundreds in of men had vanished as utterly as though they had k, become part of the darkness which concealed them as they | left the house. ts “Where on earth have they all gone?” asked Jack. le “Various places. -Ye'll see later. Talk no more now. ad Ye can’t tell wha may be listenin’. I’ll do all that’s neces- sary.” ; of ty. It was a long walk this time. Daylight, dingy and gray l= with mist, came before it was ended. Here and there a T'S door swung open, but not many. People were chary of re doing that. Into one of the open doors; however, Sandy ick boldly passed. It was that of a counting room in front of a warehouse. A sharp-eyed man stood behind a desk, d= looking over some books. Save for him the place was me" deserted. . _ “Good morn, Nones,” said Sandy. “Aye the firrst on be deck, aren’t ye, ye auld scoundrel?” “Did you take the trouble to come ashore to call. me 45 _insultirig names?” asked the man, in good English. “Why ied aren’t you on that old hulk of yours?” Let “T cam’ tae do business wi’ ye. Are ye buyin’ alligator aM hides? I have some for sale.” aCe. “Tam. Where are they?” d . “Ootside. What are ye payin’ ?”’ art “How can I tell till I see them? Have them brought out in.” : ler Stepping to the door, Sandy raised a whistle to his lips, , by and blew a shrill blast. To Jack’s astonishment a long procession of men mounted the steps of the river wall, ten- ‘and came in single file toward the warehouse, They were vhat strong men; that. was evident at ea Yet each bore He — on his head a burden that would hardly have incon- er a -yvenienced a stout boy of alligator skins, néatly rolled; hs and ‘each, as he passed into the patio of the warehouse, icket placed his burden on the ground as directed by his leader, the and stood aside. ying | This leader attracted Jack’s attention. There was some- olen thing strangely familiar about him—yet he was clearly, ia from his dress and bearing, an ordinary half-breed, and ges - Jack’s acquaintance with this class was not large. Then, and. looking more particularly, the truth flashed upon him. It Jack was Lonnie! d by Impulsively Jack started to speak, but recollected him- self just in time. It would not do for Don Alonzo’s son ently to be recognized in this hotbed of his father’s enemies. into © _ Nones had some of the hides unrolled, looked at them, nthe then, with Sandy, went toward the countingroom. Jack i stayed outside. ‘But he was watching narrowly. He saw that Nones was e be- uneasy at the number of men who had gained access to sandy his warehouse. He saw, also, that Nones was watching luting — hits. st in - A small man with beady eyes had loafed into the patio, Jack -and he stood idly looking over the hides. In passing, made. Nones spoke a few hurried words to hit, Jack caught nt he one of them. It was “Wade.” Jack’s suspicions and cl id he. : TIP TOP WEEKLY. Sandy’s were-roused at the same instant, and in that in- stant the small man darted away. “Stop him!” they called, together. One of the men who had brought the hides sprang for- ward. With the speed of light a knife glittered in the hand of the running man, and, partially parried -by_ the other, buried itself in his shoulder, where a red stain ap- peared and spread. The wounded man gave back. His assailant, running with amazing swiftness, darted up the street. Jack whipped out a pistol. “Don’t shoot!” called Sandy. that sort here.” Then he turned furiously upon Nones, with a string of the most blistering sea blessings that Jack had ever heard. “Ane cowardly thief in the employ of anither!” he fin- ished. “Man, yell sweat bluid for this!” Shrugging his: shoulders, Nones smiled evilly. think so?” he sneered. “Aye, that I do!” “Have I no right to choose my own messengers?” “Ye have, maybe. An’, seein’ ye’re the creature ye are, naught could be more natural, I suppose, than that ye should choose The Rat! Now, look here——” ‘Look here yourself!” interrupted Nones, suddenly cast- ing aside his air of sarcasm. “You’ve said quite enough— and more than enough! You’re in a bad way, my man! Don’t you know that your loyalty to the government has long been suspected? And now-you’re here with that young American fool, Hyde, and old Don Alonzo’s son, in disguise, to prove that the suspicions were correct. I don’t think V’ll buy any alligator hides this morning.” Old MacAngus for a moment was fairly staggered, but recovered himself quickly. “T’ll not tell ye that ye’re a liar, Nones; that goes with- oot the sayin’. But ye’ll not turrn doon twa thoosan’ sucres’ worth o’ guid hides that ye can buy cheap.” “Did I say I would?” asked Nones, the evil grin re- appearing. “I didn’t in the least intend to do that. I said I wouldn’t buy them, that’s all—and I won't.” “Ye mean that——” \ “I mean that you’ve called me a thief. Now I'll prove it, And I mean that young Hyde won’t miss either the skins or the money that is tied up in the bank by his guardian, working through my good friend Mr. Wade. In two minutes or less the troops will be here, and—— Don’t shoot! It'll only go the worse for you! Don’t!” It was to Lonnie that the latter words were addressed, and there was murder in the young man’s face as he drew a pistol and leveled it deliberately. A grim smile broke out on old Sandy’s ‘face as he blew another call on his whistle. “Nones,” said he, turning to the frightened man, “gi’e me the key to yon warehoose.” ’ Nones obeyed. Sandy unlocked the door and threw it open. “Oot wi’ the kegs, lads,”! said he, addressing the men. “Oot wi’ them. There’s nae time tae lose!” Then, recol- lecting himself, he repeated the command in their native tongue. , He was indeed right when he said there was no time to lose. Already a bugle had sounded in the barracks, and now the sound of running feet could be plainly heard. The precious kegs were shouldered, and the men who bore them, surrounded by others, who appeared apparently _ “We want nae noise of “Do you 26 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. ‘from nowhere, started at a run across the broad street 'to the river wall just as the troops appeared, a quarter of a mile away. They fired a scattering volley, which went wild. In another second Jack and Lonnie,; one on each side of old Sandy, and helping him, were on the lower steps of the wall, and sheltered by it. Jack’s capacity for astonishment had been well-nigh worn out that morning. Therefore he was but mildly curious as to the antecedents and ownership of a-trim and powerful launch. which lay alongside the wall, with steam hissing through her valves, and with the boat which had brought Sandy and him ashore, the Goddess, and two other canoes‘ already fast to her by towlines. This curiosity he restrained for the moment, however; there was no time in which to answer questions then. With Sandy already at the launch’s wheel, the men piled the kegs aboard of her and the other craft, tumbling themselves in after them. They cast off, and, with a noise as though chuckling to herself, the launch swung out into the stream, the other craft trailing behind her like the tail to a kite, all hands who could working hard at paddles and oars to add what they could to the speed. TO BE CONTINUED, TOO ENTHUSIASTIC. By MAX ADELER. Some time ago the authorities in our county appointed Mr. Slingsby assessor and tax collector. The principal charactéristic of Mr. Slingsby is enthusiasm. He has an idea that whenever a man gets anything new it ought to be taxed, and he is always on hand to perform the serv- | I had about fifteen feet added to one of my chimneys last ‘spring, and when it was done, Slingsby called and assessed it under the head of “improved real estate,” ‘at eighty dollars, and collected two per cent on it. A- few days later, while I was standing by the ava Slingsby came up and said: “Beautiful dog you have there!” “Ves, it’s a setter.” “Indeed! then made his escape. A fortnight afterward he: was tiuhd with his. former master, pursuing his old trade on the bridge: Sita Would it come in as ‘stat- A New Reader Likes “Tip Top.” Dear Epitor: Although I have been reading Tie Top only about three months, I already like it better than any py my height and measurements should be. \ 632 Troost Avenues Kansas City, Mo, weekly I have ever read. Of the Merriwells, 1 like Dick the best, with Frank, junior, a close second. I have noticed that many of your.readers are asking for post cards. If you have any left, I would like very much to have a set. I am fifteen years old. Would you please tell me what Yours truly, SAM ROSENBERG. he will Send Professor Fourmen your height, and gladly give your proper measurements. ih Radnor, is in the throes of a ghost scare. Police Hunt the Town Ghost, Garrett Hill, Pa., which is in Delaware County and near A number of ‘residents declare they have seen the phantom of a man killed by a train at Radnor station several months ago. _ Late travelers on lonely roads approaching the village have been frightened out of their wits by a shape suddenly i flitting out of dark corners, moaning. A woman reports - being called to her back door to find a man, who stared a at her piteously and moaned, train, who was well known to all of them. township police investigated, be a crank or a thief. The scare assumed such proportions that the Radnor thinking the “ghost” might They have not found the ghost. Wants to Grow. Dear Epitor: I have been a reader of Tir Top for the last two years but have never taken the liberty to write favorite. I like all the Merriwell characters, but Dick is my I wish to congratulate Mr. Standish on being ‘such a good writer. old; my height is 4 feet 8 inches. I am avery small boy for my age. I am fourteen years I weigh 70 pounds. I would like to know what would make me grow. A loyal Tip Topper, ‘There is time yet for you to take a spurt. cee mm > ma, ¢. Tyler, Texas, Don’t worry bout it. Some of us get most of our growth by sixteen, while othérs stay small till they reach that age, and then take a big spurt. I remember, well, that there was one then disappeared before. boy in our partitular crowd who was very small for his age. We used to call him “Runt.” His lack of size, by the way, did not prevent him from being the best little athlete among us, that is, in doing athletic stunts that did not absolutely require “beef.” Well, when we were all about nineteen, the Runt started to grow, and he certainly did grow “for keeps.” I remember that it was quite a strain on him, and that he used to drink about a quart of cream ev ery day. By the time he was twenty- five, the Runt, we still call him by that name, was the biggest man in the crowd. And he not only went up, but he broadened out in a proper proportion. The only explanation that he could give was that there had been something holding back his natural growth, and that’ that “something” just had let go. The best advice that I can give you is to do everything that you can to keep yourself in the very best of health. Study yourself to see if there is not something that you can do, or stop doing, that will make you feel better in every way. \ Some New Inventions. A recently invented convenience for the home is an electric motor, that is driven by a storage battery, this having been made to operate sewing machines, washing machines, and the like. Square heefs patented by a Washington shoe dtaiane are said to wear longer than curved ones, and to increase the comfort of their wearers. There has. been invented a parachute for aviators, so carried in a knapsack on a man’s back as to open without any attention on his part should he fall. To save room an Ohio inventor has combined a kitchen sink and bathtub, the former being over the latter and helping to hide it when not in use. One of the newer napkin rings is a spring affair, with which a boiléd egg may be held for removing the shell. The face of a new blackboard eraser is made of felt, so perforated that the crayon dust is gathered inside ‘it. An electric railroad.in Pennsylvania has adopted cars that may be used either for freight or passengers, the seats folding against the sides. Father and Son. Dear Eprrdr: This is the first time I ever undertook to write to you about good old Tip Top, and probably it is the only letter you have ever received from this town. I take Trp Top every week, and like it very much. My father took from number one to four hundred. ‘ I think Tie Top is the best weekly published. There is one thing I would like to suggest about the cover: There NEW ‘ should be reading under the picture, and then the cover coyld not be made any better. In the Compass I see you are ete away post cards, and I ask you to send me a set, for which I will be thankful. Hoping for the prosperity of Frank, Dick, and Chip Merriwell, and for Burt L. Standish and for all the rest, I am closing. Hoping this won’t reach the wastebasket, I am, sin- cerely yours, Louis B. MERRIMAN. Torrington, Conn. Kaiser Photographed at Front. The newspaper La France publishes the following: “Moving-picture operators are following the German armies and making films. Kaiser William posed for one of the films, which bears the title: ‘The Emperor Under the Enemy’s Fire.’” Whether this is merely a French fantasy or whether it has a basis of truth is not disclosed. Best Weekly Published. Dear Eprtor: I have been a reader of Tre Tor for some time, and will say it is the best weekly ever pub- lished. I would like you to give me my correct measurements. I am fourteen years old, 5 feet 2!4 inches tall, and weigh 108 pounds. Cart Hormetster. 2453 Harold Street, Philadelphia, Pa. Your correct measurements should be: Weight, 103.3 pounds; neck, 12.2 inches; chest, contracted, 29.9 inches; chest, expanded, 32.3 inches; waist, 24.8 inches; forearms, 9 inches; upper arm, down, 8.3 inches; upper arm, wp, 9.9 inches; thighs, 17 inches; calves, 11.6 inches. Feared to Tell of Lad’s Death. After a vain search had been made all night in hospitals and at the morgue for seven-year-old Francis Fitzgerald, a nephew of Fire Chief Kenlon, who failed to return to his home, 22 Morton Street, New York, a playmate of the missing boy, John Church, of 27 Thomas Street, confessed to his mother that little Francis had been buried in the subway excavation at Bleecker and Commerce Streets. Francis, the boy said,, while playing with his eight-year- old brother, John Fitzgerald, and other mates in a sort of cavern in the sand, had been caught in a treacherous slide of earth when. several of the lads walked over the roof of the cave. The boys ran to tell a watchman, but the watchman, the boy said, chased them away. Then they went home, agreeing not to tell what had happened. When the Church boy’s story was brought to the Fitzgerald home, little John Fitzgerald broke down and _ corrobo- rated it. Late the next day, after several hours of digging, with a large crowd of the neighborhood looking on, a little white hand was unearthed in the subway excavation, and presently the missing boy’s body was recovered. Liked Clancy Stoties Best. Dear Eprtor: As I have been a reader of Tir Tor for : _ quite a while, I wish to show my appreciation of the best weekly on the market. I admire the Merriwells and their ar especially Frank, senior. But I liked the Owen ee init best of all ade hope I will hear more of TIP TOP WEEKLY If you have some post cards and a catalogue of Tip Tor WEEKty, please send me some. : Three cheers for Burt L. Standish and Street & Smith. I remain, Francis DasH. 417 New Street, Peoria, IIl. Federals Seek Peace. Club owners’ of the Federal League are ready to maken ee ft peace with organized baseball on any “fair and honorable | terms,” according to a statement made in Chicago recently * by James A. Gilmore, president of the Federal organiza- j tion. “We stand ready to meet organized baseball halfway on any peace proposition,” Gilmore set forth in his statement, “but I don’t want to place our organization in a false light. — We are not standing on the doorstep, hat in hand. The ui baseball war could be ended promptly and honorably if President Johnson of the American League and his asso- ciates would deign to meet us as business men and dis- cuss the subject as a business proposition.” $i President Gilmore asserted his belief that peace would come to baseball whether men identified with the National and American Leagues wanted it or not. There is no room for three major leagues, he asserted, and believed one must fall. Is ‘Too Light. Dear Epiror: Tre Tor for a number of years, and think it is the best weekly ever written. fos I am thirteen years old and only weigh 97 ecsaiiat ‘iE think I am too light. What should I do to get heavier Please send me some post cards, Hoping to see this letter in print, I remain, 1924 Belknap, Superior Wis. _ VINCENT ELNNISS. . See my answer to S. M. C. in this issue. No Trade for Zimmetman, Manager McGraw denied emphatically recently that h had ever been considering a deal by which Marquard ie Bues, and Grant were to go to Chicago in exch om Heinie Simmermat. the Giints, ahd in the second ics I tin not even fare on a ert - eens seuisehions for him. of any kind until next winter. ‘* If I make any trades, everybody will be notified, and any advance notices a purely the result of imagination. When this season. over, I will not even think of baseball for next yee until , have had a vacation.” ae A Valued Critic, Dear Eprror: We saw your decision of our ‘ecouaae ~ in No. 113, under the Compass. Thank you very much; my brother loses and I win, I felt I was right and that some mistake had occurred, : F We are theatrical people, traveling all the time, ke never a week passes without Tip Top. When I was a little girl, my brothers read Tre Top. I read it also—up _ to the present, and I Rene think it is the finest weekly. published. It is aa to have all the old friends back. We € thous I have been a constant reader of hie 6 ane according to the National Geographic Society. NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. the Clancy series fine, for we know Arizona so well; also the continued story in the back of Tre Top. As for _the Compass, I think it would be too bad to lose the ‘news items. I have cut many out for my scrap book, find- ing them quite interesting and educational: We are bag punchers and fencers, as well as Swiss bell ringers—great admirers of athletics. I just love to read Burt L.’s baseball: stories, he will give us some hockey games this winter, born in the North, so love the game. Could Professor Fourmen give the correct measure- ments for a woman standing 5 feet 5 inches? I would also appreciate a set of post Cards. With every good wish for the continued success of Trp Tor, believe me, a constant reader, DorotrHy I hope I was E. WATSON. Permanent address: 124 Rubidge Street, Peterboro, Ont., Canada. Thank you for your very interesting letter. The fact that you know Arizona so well makes,your criticism of the Clancy stories very valuable, and it is a pleasure to us all to know that you liked them. According to requirements approved, unani- mously, the proper measurements for a woman your height should be: Weight, 132 pounds; neck, 1234 inches; chest, 3014 inches; waist, 26 inches; biceps, 11 inches; forearms, 9 inches; wrist, 614 inches; hips, 37 inches; thigh, 23 inches; calves, 14 inches. almost Contrasts in Kongo, - Belgian Kongo, in Africa, frequently mentioned in re- cent dispatches as a possible objective. point of the German troops, is the home alike of the most progressive negroes of Africa and of the most primitive and. savage cannibals, This Afri- can colony is so cut up by rivers and impenetrable forests that the tribes inhabiting the country vary greatly in ‘their customs and language. But a few miles distant from barbarous savages are endless plantations of millet and grain of their civilized countrymen. - The cannibal Bankuta, of Belgian Kongo, makes a prac- tice of removing the upper incisors. Their dress consists of a plaited skirt, which does not quite meet on the right thigh, but the women in the south wear a hide girdle with a deep fringe of palm-fiber. string. Among this tribe the slaves are compelled to wear a pecial dress, which is, in fact, the ordinary costume of the Akela, to which tribe most of them belong. The nkuta are cannibals, and the victims are always slaves. n fact, all slaves are ultimately eaten, since it is believed ‘that if a slave were buried, his ghost would kill. his master. Their chief weapon is the bow, poison being used on ‘the arrows; shields are now obsolete. The Bankuta are almost the only tribe of this region who have been success- ful in resisting the advance of the white man. The way feading to their village is defended by poisoned spikes hidden by leaves. They use bows and arrows set like traps in the form of primitive spring guns, and are quite ready, if a white man is expected, to bait such traps with a live baby, being sure that the European will be unable to resist the one to pI up an or. abandoned kept houses make an impression of general prosperity. The Batetela is an excellent agriculturist and stock breeder and very industrious. Rice, Madagascar potatoes, and fruit trees, imported by the white man, are found in every village. The havoc of sleeping sickness is greatly limited by the native custom of isolating cases of this disease in the forest. The disease is most acute along the caravan route. Here*one finds villages of 100 huts, with but ten sorry witnesses of its once importance. And to add to the horror of the disease, here lions and leopards have become man-eaters, since the half-fed sick one, driven from the fear-stricken village, is the easiest game to stalk. A Poetic Contribution. Dear Epiror: If I had the skill to write a rhyme, I'd praise old Tip Top all the time; Its stories are neat, Its morals complete, And the price is but half a dime. Praises to Frank and Dick I fling, In prose and rhyme of them I sing, Yet that is not all, For I’m sure you'll recall That Chip is now in the ring. Inza I am now going to mention, For June I'll make an extension, But now let me see, Can it possibly be, Miss Hodge has got Chip’s attention? Burt L., I think, should be praised, He, the boys’ ambitions has raised, He has set up a model After which we will toddle, And imitate to the end of our days. For Professor Fourmen I now have a word Of his teachings, oh, much has been heard. Our time is now spent For development, But for him it would not have occurred. A word for any S. & S. publication, I say this without hesitation, Their stories are’ there With room to spare; To read one is a real. recreation. Yours truly, CLARENCE WELCH. 207 West Henley Street, Olean, N. Y. “Some” poem, brother. Come again. Citizen Papets Saved Him. John Svob, a native of Croatia and a naturalized Ameri-° can citizen, arrived recently from Genoa on the Italian — liner Stampalia with a party of twenty Croatians, on his way back to his farm, in Centerville, Iowa. ; “T went over to visit my relatives at Fuzine, Croatia,” said Mr. Svob, “and was ordered to join the Austrian army, but I refused, as | am an American citizen. They — threatened to put me into jail, but I said the government. NEW TIP. TOP WEEKLY: would have to pay me for every day I was locked up, so they let me go after I had shown my citizenship papers.” Mrs. Alfonsina Fierro, twenty years old, wife of a gardener at Orange, N. J., gave birth to a girl baby on September 29th, and was sent to the hospital on Ellis Island with her baby from the Stampalia. Explosion Kills Five. H. B. Thearle, president of the Pain Fireworks Dis- play Company of America; E. M. Connor, a salesman; Florence Hill, a stenographer; Roland H. Wolf, a sales- man, and Joseph Johnson, electrician, were instantly killed in Chicago recently in explosions and fire which destroyed the building occupied by the company at No. 1320 Wabash Avenue. Four employees were injured, among them John Cos- tello, the office boy, who was blown through a door. His condition is critical. The explosions blew out a wall of an eight-story fac- tory next door, from which the occupants fled by fire escapes. The cause of the explosions has not been learned. Damage amounted to $50,000. / Suez Canal. The Suez Canal connects the Mediterranean with the Red Sea, shortening the route to India from England and America more than 5,000 miles. It was commenced in 1850 and completed in 1869. Length, roo miles; average breadth, 329 feet; depth, 26 feet. Cost in gold, $65,000,000. ' Distances: English Channel to Calcutta, via Cape Good -Hope, 13,000 miles; via canal, 8,000 miles. New York to Calcutta, via Gape Cood Hope, 14,500 miles; via canal, - 9,500. Robins Get Eight Pitchers. President Ebbets, of the Brooklyn Nationals, announced recently that eight new pitchers, all right-handers and all big fellows, have been signed for the Robins for 1915. The eight are: Edward Appleton, of the Fort Worth Club of the Texas League; L. J. Cadore, of the Wilkes- Barre Club of the New York State League; J. J. Chabek; of the Harrisburg Club of the Tri-State League; W. Dell, of the Seattle Club of the Northwestern League; Edward Donald, of the Waco Club of the Texas League ; R. H. Goodbred, of the Oshkosh Club of the Wisconsin- Ulinois League; R. B. Howell, of the Chattanooga Club of the Southern League, and F. Toney, of the Louisville Club of the American Association. Manager Robinson believes that with a good pitching staff the Robins will have a fine chance to win the Na- tional League pennant next season. Robbie believes that among the eight recruits he will find one or two at least fit for the big league. Robbie ‘is keen for the big fellows, and the Brookiyn scouts have certainly got big enough pitchers. The eight average 6 feet 1 inch in height and 191 pounds in weight: up _ Perfect Shoes for Army.’ A nation-wide shoemaking contest has just been brought to a close by the awarding of two army contracts to the i winners. “Next to the quality of the gun he carries,” said one _ of these army experts, “more depends upon the condition in Washington. . of the shoe he wears than upon any other factor that goes toward the make-up of an effective soldier.” It took more than a year of experiment to obtain satis- factory results. Countless X-ray photographs were made, the position of the bones of the feet were noted, and the anatomy before, during, and after marches were studied and compared. Alli this time different models were tried and theories were worked out. Finally the type of shoe was evolved with its straight line on the big-toe side, its snug instep, and a chance for the toes to lie as freely and naturally as in a moccasin. All-star Club to Hawaii. 4 Jim Scott, the Chicago White Sox pitcher, has agreed iz to do the main heaving for the all-star club which Ed R. — Maier will take to Honolulu at the close of the Coast League season. A Gambler’s Sad Finish. Frank England, one-time race-track plunger and known in the betting ring as “Pittsburgh Phil II,” was arraigned in Flatbush Avenue Court, Brooklyn, recently, charged with robbery. Penniless and hungry, he admits, the police say, that a note pinned on the door of Mrs. William Howard’s home, at No. 808 Church doing. The note contained the information that no one — was home and instructed the grocer to leave his packages at the door. . The. ex-plunger, at the time he found and read the ute * was going from house to house begging food. After he had entered Mrs. Howard’s home, as he now confesses, the shabby man was seen by Policeman Hill, of the Park-— ville station, as he slunk into the street. is The policeman called to him and the man fled. The chase lasted for two blocks, then the fugitive stopped and said, with a despairing note in his voice, that he would surrender. ‘Taken to the police station, he gave his name as Frank 5 Dent, but as soon as Captain Coughlin saw the prisoner, he recognized him as England, once the favorite of gamblers’ luck, though now palpably “down and. out.” “How did you get to stealing?” the captain asked. “I’m broke antl hungry and I did it to get something to — pawn for food,” said England, and he wept. 5 In his pockets were a few pieces of jewelry, which Mek! es Howard said were her property. He also had same silver- — ware and engraved trophies Mrs. Howard had won in ) swimming matches. England was locked up. In 1905 Frank England, a Brooklyn trolley conductor, had a day off. He went to the Gravesend race track. His ‘entire capital on arriving there was seventy-five cents, He bet it on a race with one of the cheap field book- He won, bet his winnings, won again, and so on He went home with several hun-_ makers. through the afternoon. dred dollars. He resigned his job with the B. R. T. next day, aie’ in a month was recognized as one of the most daring — plungers on the Eastern race tracks, His fortune soon was estimated at $250,000, seventy-five cents. He invested in real estate. A house at No. 29f Cum- berland Street was purchased and deeded to his wife. His family lived there in luxury. At Saratoga that summer he won $30,000 on ‘Schidal- master. Next he flattened the purses of the bookmakers \ Avenue, Flatbush, was his un- | run up from that original So lucky did he become that it was sus: a NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 3r - pected he was’ betting on fixed races and detectives were set to watch him. He laughed at that, saying: “I never spoke to a jockey in my life, and I don’t want to. I get information about the work of horses in my own way.” England planned to retire from the betting ring and devote the rest of his life to his family, but the gambling craze was too strong for him. He still was on the top wave of prosperity when racing got its deathblow in this State. Other tracks were open, and he turned to them ‘but in recent years his luck turned. Gradually he lost everything. He said yesterday he was homeless. ‘What had become of his family he would not say. British Boys Now Fighting in Ranks, “Teach ’em to shoot; never mind the drill.” _ This order of Field Marshal Kitchener is the keynote of the British attempt to rush recruits to the front. _ Kitchener has abolished the red tape that compelled an endless amount of formalities and long terms of drilling - and maneuvering before a recruit was ready for fighting. “ “Tt doesn’t make any difference,” said Kitchener, “whether they know their right foot from their left. Teach ’em to shoot.” The battles of Europe now being fought are the blood- -iest in history. They are fought with as great bravery aS any ever recorded. _ Yet they are being fought by boys, recruits, conscripts, French soldiers who were not tried out in actual war- fare. Very few of the men engaged in battle—offi- cers and privates—were ever under fire before the present war. There are fewer veterans engaged than in any pre- ‘vious European war. - _ There are a few of the older generals who saw service in the Franco-Prussian War as young subalterns. There re a few men in the ranks who saw fighting in India, ‘Africa, or in out-of-the-way colonies. But the veterans are scarce. It isa war of the recruits and conscripts. But this doesn’t mean that they lack courage. “Give me the conscripts, sire,” said Marshal Ney to Napoleon. “Our veterans think too much; they know ‘too much about the dangers. Give me the conscripts, who = simply do as°I say, without thinking.” Many Would Marry This Girl, ince her return home to Greeley, Col., from the Chey- ane Frontier Days’ celebration, where she won the ladies’ relay tace, Miss Mary Harsch, a pretty seventeen-year- iI ‘girl, has been submerged with proposals of marftiage th ugh the mail from all parts of the country, Each mail ‘brings her from ten to a dozen of these proposals, addition to innumerable others, offering her liberal contracts for riding in public exhibitions, The marriage roposals she has turned down, but she is considering Accuse Crown Prince of Looting Her Chateau, ccording to the Matin, of Paris, the Baroness de Baye crown prince, Frederick William, who made his head- uarters during the early days of the battle of the Marne in ae magnificent chateau near sc et The ‘rown pe plundered Ke whole reek He stole medals, old- arms, rare and precious vases, tapestries, icons, cups, and gold souvenirs most dear to my family. He caused to be packed choice pictures and pieces of furniture, but some of these cases were left in the hasty flight of the Germans.” Commandments for Students, The implied encroaching of caste and superluxury, of cynicism and snobbishness, into the collegate life of the University of California recently inspired President Benjamin Ide Wheeler to promulgate the following ten commandments to the student body: Leave your automobile at home. Avoid too much dancing and other things that direct nerve energy into the wrong channels. Be loyal to the love of one another. Avoid tobacco and «alcohol. Do not overexercise the telephone. Cultivate the religious side of your life. Take daily exercise. Do not procrastinate. Avoid the terrible modern short story; read solid litera- ture. To fraternities—improve your scholarship, Leg Broken; No Pain, James Barbaro, six years, was struck near his home at No. 232 Chrystie Street, New York, recently, by a brewery truck, driven by Matthew Opperman, of No, 170 Have- meyer. Street, Brooklyn. A wheel ran over the boy’s right leg. Bystanders, supposing he was hurt badly, car- ried him to a drug store. But Doctor Eggley, of Bellevue Hospital, found that the boy’s right leg was a wooden one. That is, to be exact, it had been a wooden one. The auto had fractured it beyond repair. The boy was taken home. His mothér ‘said a car had cut off James’ leg two years ago. - \ Digs Graves for Family. Because he does not trust gravediggers, Jasper Suiter has prepared a sepulcher for. himself, his wife, and their son, Roscoe in their family plot near their home in Ohio, across: the river from Huntington, W. Va. Suiter is an old riverman, now engaged in faewither. Though he. is. sixty years. old, he does .not anticipate passing away in the near future, nor does he anticipate the demise of his wife or son, but he wanted to “be prepared.” He has dug three graves, just wide enough to fit the coffin of each, and with just enough slope to drain properly: “Oh, it doesn’t worry me at. all,” said Mrs. Suiter. “Jasper wanted to know that our graves were dug proper, and so he did it himself. He said he didn’t want any- body digging his burying place, because they'd do it in the quickest way possible, and so he did it, and took his time. I reckon they’re done right.” Suiter worked on his last resting place in moments he could spare from farming. 7 ‘Horse Dies io Master’s Bed. It’s a lucky old horse than can die on a bed of straw in a horse’s stall, but this nag was wise enough to select a real front-room couch for his place for eine up his — equite ghost. ary Grube who lives. on ‘Harry Murphy's farm, $ 32 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. a horse from “All I have in the house is under my pillow,” said she. six miles from Bloomfield, Ky., purchased loose in the They pulled out the money, then tied her down. Going a traveler for $35. He turned the horse back yard and it walked around to the front, came in into her nephew’s room, they pinioned him down, too. the front door, lay down on Grubbs’ bed, and died. His After he had heard the men leave the house, the boy nose came just to the edge of the bed and its legs were wriggled his hands free. Then he untied the cords around bent at the knees, giving him a very humanlike appear- his legs. Next he freed his aunt. ance. The cause of the horse’s death is unknown. sere allt Burglats Eat Heartily With Victims Tied Down, Tobacco Habit Banished Two masked burglars ate a hearty meal recently in : e if Yes, positively permanently banished the home of Mrs. Anna Bier, of Mineola, L. I., while In 48 to 72 Hours almost before you know it Pleasant, i ‘ asy to ck, sure, Jasting © craving for tobacco she and her young nephew John Bier lay bound to their in any form after first dose. ‘Not a substitute. Harmless, no rik hp ; ) risonous habit forming drugs, Satisfactory results guaranteed beds on an upper floor. After finishing their meal which in every case or money refunded. nz 2bacco Redeemer is the only : 7 ef C orougniy ependabie tobacco rem was washed down with wine the intruders withdrew tak- ever discovered, Write for free booklet and positive proof. 7 Newell Pharmacal Co. Dept. 128, St. Louis, Mo. ing $40 and jewelry valued at $75. When Mrs. Bier was awakened by the glare of an electric torch she saw two men, both armed. They told OLD COINS WANTED— her they would shoot her if she didn’t. tell where she $1 to $600 paid tor hundreds of coins dated before 1895. * Send 10c for our new iiagiretes Coin Value ON 4x7. kept her money. Get Posted. CLARKE & CO., Box 67, LE ROY, N. Y. Sarr ET evr yeyyy ery yy MAAAADAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABAAAAAAAAA ADA AA AL a? My torre MOVIES 50,000 Boys Made Happy Description of This New Model Motion Picture Machine A Re al Motion Pictu re Show This Machine ts ae of eae eau nee ee ej nee es — drives the ae Pictures; excelsior diaphragm lens, triple polished; standar ouble extra reflector, throwing ray o ght many feet, enlarging the picture up to three or four feet in diameter; lamp is fitted witha great safety in Your Own Home carbide generator, and produces the highest light power. Has far greater light power than the ordinary electric light, producing 500 candle power on the screen and bringing out every detail of the pic- A Box of Files Free With a ro permed Scanian. . ee learn in five min- utes. how to run this really wonderfu achine. This Motion Picture Machine which I want to send you FREE Your Machine gives clear and life-like Motion Pictures as are shown at any of ee negular Pg Paes Sanat. ee yt eo anon Rea d These Ha L tt the sheet before you. 8 Machine an Ox 0 m are FREE— absolutely free to every boy in this Jand who wants to write for an py eters Outfit, free to girls and free to older people. Read MY OFFER below which shows you how to get this Marvelous Machine, One of the Boys Made $12.00 In One Night Dear Sir: Ido not suppose you remember me, but I Received your Motion Picture Machine and am) am one of the boys who received a Motion Picture Ma- well pleased with it. My chum, Tom Neal, and 1, chine some timeago. I tell you that I am. pretty slow together, made $12.00 in’one night. Every boy in the 4 at returning my thanks, but I must admit that it is @ United States ought to have a Motion Picture Ma- beauty. I suppose I have had it about six months ‘noes chine in his home. There is no end of fun. T.M.( but I have never had a bit of trouble with it. Chas. PIERSON, Jr,, Welona, Ala, Lester Bean, Denmark, 8. C, it Is a Beauty Sold 300 Tickets Dear Sir;— I take pleasure in tell- T am ver y thankful for that wonderful Machine and en i have rece my jae mac na 10. ( I think it 13 the best [have ever secn. Iam going to have tis ot ae oan eae a an entertainment today, and therefore I have not mu¢ mis re we . oO describ “t time to write letters. 1 think I will make about $10: t Lh ee rox lee I have sold 300 tickets already. Joseph Rauch, 2411 W, L you to do for it. it Broadway, St. Louis, Mo. is @ beauty and many Wouldn’t Sell for $25.00 CLARENCE A.(_ 1am slow about sending in my thanks. for the Motio HITTEN, } Picture Mwould not sell tt for $2500.11 T could Dot Amherst, another one like it. Leland 8. MacRae, 416 pot get St., Laurium,, Mich. Made $17.85 One Might Please send me your film list, as I lost the other one. I made $17.85 in one night with my Motion Picture ge One boy of- fered me $10.00 for my machine, Fred Mull, College Park, Ga. : > > > > > * > > > > i RS RA REARASEALEAKAAAGAAS KAA AARAASL AMAA K AA fi ae ee 7 | (MPROV, : D A Motion Picture Machine Is a Greater invention than the Phonograph ; at WMop a > > > Answer at Once--Be the First in Your Town to Get Gne a : oN. 2) r 5 es HF HERE I3 what you are to do In order to ‘get this amaz- : a ee || Bit . My Wonderful Offer to You ing Motion Picture Machine and the real Motion Pictures: : 1} Ce cI Send your name and address—that is all. Write name and address very plainly. Mail to-day. As soon as I ie —S F receive lt I will mail you 20 of the most beautiful premium pictures you ever saw—all priliant and shimmering . w colors. _There are fourteen different colors in the pictures, all wrought together inthe most splendid manner. I want F yeah you to distribute these premium pictures on a special 25-cent offer among the people you know. They cannot get these pictures at the art stores at any price. When you have distributed the 20 premium pictures on my liberal offer you will have collected $5,00. Send the $5.00 to me and I will immediately send you FREE the Motion Pieture Machine with complete Outfit and Box of Film. 4 50,000 of these machines have made 50,000 boys happy. Answer at once. Be the first in your town to get one. M. DOONAN, Sec’y, G49 West 43d Street, Pept, 188 New York AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABAAAAAAAAABAAADAAMAAAAAMAAAAAAAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALAAAAAAAAAN AAA % SOME OF THE BACK NUMBERS OF W TIP TOP WEEKLY SUPPLTED 87—Dick Merriwell’s Control. 88—Dick Merriwell’s Back Stop. 39—Dick Merriwell’s Masked Enemy. 40—Dick Merriwell’s Motor Car. 41—Dick Merriwell’s Hot Pursuit. 42—Dick Merriwell at Forest Lake. 43—Dick Merriwell in Court. 44—-Dick Merriwell’s Silence. 45—Dick Merriwell’s Dog. 46—Dick Merriwell's Subterfuge. 47—Dick Merriwell’s Enigma. 48—Dick Merriwell Defeated. 49—Dick Merriwell’s ‘‘Wing.”’ 50—Dick Merriwell’s Sky Chase. 51—Dick Merriwell’s Pick-ups. 52—Dick Merriwell on the Rocking R. 538—Dick Merriwell’s Penetration. 54—Dick Merriwell’s Intuition. 55—Dick Merriwell’s Vantage. 5¢€ —Dic k Merriwell’s Advice. 57—Dick Merriwell’s Rescue. 58—Dick Merriwell, American. 59—Dick Merriwell’s Understanding. 760—Dic k Merriwell, Tutor. 761—Dick Merriwell’s Quandary. 762—Dick Merriwell on the Boards. 763—Dick Merriwell, Peacemaker. 764—Frank Merriwell’s Sway. 765—Frank Merriwell’s Comprehension. 766—F rank Merriwell’s Young Acrobat. 767—F rank Merriwell’s Tact. 768—F rank Merriwell’s Unknown. 769—Frank Merriwell’s Acuteness. 770—Frank Merriwell’s Young Canadian. -Frank Merriwell’s Coward. —Frank Merriwell’s Perplexity. Frank Merriwell’s Intervention. Frank Merriwell’s Daring Deed. -Frank Merriwell’s Succor. Frank Merriwell’s Wit. -Frank Merriwell’s Loyalty. rank Merriwell’s Bold Play. rank Merriwell’s Insight. rank Merriwell’s Guile. rank Merriwell’s Campaign. rank Merriwell in the Na Forest. —~Frank Merriwell’s Tenacity. —Dic k Merriwell’s Self-sacrifice. Dick Merriwell’s Close Shave. 6—Dick Merriwell’s Perception. —Dick Merriwell’s Mysterious pearance, 788—Dick Merriwell’s Detective Work. 789—Dick Merriwell’s Proof. 790—-Dick Merriwell’s Brain Work. 791—Dick Merriwell’s Queer Case. 792—Dick Merriwell, Navigator. G9 3—Dic k Merriwell’s Good Fellow ship. 794—Dick Merriwell’s Fun. 795—Dick Merriwell’s Commencement. 796 —Dick Merriwell at Montauk Point. 797—Dick Merriwell, Mediator. 798—Dick Merriwell’s Decision. 799—Dick Merriwell on the Great Lakes. 801—Dick Merriwell in the Copper Coun- try. 802—Dick Merriwell Strapped. 803—Dick Merriwell’s Coolness. 804—Dick Merriwell’s Reliance. 805—Dick Merriwell’s College Mate. 807—Dick Merriwell’s Prodding. 809—F rank Merriwell’s Interference, 810—F rank Merriwell’s Young Warriors. 811—F rank Merriwell’s Appraisal. 812—Frank Merriwell’s Forgiveness. 813—F rank Merriwell’s Lads. 814—F rank Merriwell’s Young Aviators. 815—F rank Merriwell’s Hot-head. 816—Dick Merriwell, Diplomat. 817—Dick Merriwell in Panama. 818—Dick Merriwell’s Perseverance, 819—Dick Merriwell Triumphant. 820—Dick Merriwell’s Betrayal. 821—Dick Merriwell, Revolutionist. §22—Dick Merriwell’s Fortitude. 823—Dic k Mervriwell’s Undoing. arte Ga vie 7 . 7 > steetstSSte a F49-3-2-3 77- g- 9 0-— 1- 2— “i -F Ii r —F tional OU oi 17: TT ‘ fe ‘ ‘ 7 7 8 S 8 Rs R82 85 RE 87 jeter >] ~ Disap- 824—Dick Merriwell, Universal Coach. 825—Dick Merriwell’s Snare. 826—Dick Merriwell’s Star Pupil. 827—Dick Merriwell’s Astuteness. 828—Dick Merriwell’s Responsibility. 829—Dick Merriwell's Plan. 83 < Merriwell’s Warning. 831—Dick Merriwell’s Counsel. 838—Dick Merriwell’s Marksmen. 834—Dick Merriwell’s Enthusiasm. 835—Dick Merriwell’s Solution. 836—Dick Merriwell’s Foreign Foe. 8838—Dick Merriwell’s Battle for the Blue. 839—Dick Merriwell’s Evidence. 840—Dick Merriwell’s Device. 841—Dick Merriwell’s' Princeton nents. 842—Dick Merriwell’s Sixth Sense. 843—Dick Merriwell’s Strange Clew. 844—Dick Merriwell Comes Back. 845—Dick Merriwell’s Heroic Crew. 846—Dick Merriwell Looks Ahead. Oppo- NEW SERIES New Tip Top Weekly 1-—Fra nk Merriwell, Jr. —Frank Merriwell, Jr., in the Box. —lrank Merriwell, Jr.’s. Struggle. —IFrank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Skill. —Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Idaho. Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Close Shave. 7—Frank Merriwell, Jr., on Waiting ders. 8—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Deaae iP; 9—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s,’ Relay thon. 10—Frank Merriwell, at the Bar Z Ranch. 1—F rank Merriwell, Jr. Ss, Golden Trail, —I"rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Compe titor. Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Guidanc: —Frank Merriwell, 1: Js, Scrimmage. Frank Merriwell, Misjudged. Frank Merriwell, Tele Star Play. —Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Blind Chase. Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Discretion. Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Substitute. Frank Merriwell, Jr., Justified, Frank Merriwell, Jr., Incog. 22—F rank Merriwell, + Meets the Issue. 23—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Xmas Eve. 2 24—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Fearless Risk. 2 -Frank Merriwell, Jr. on Skis. o6—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ice-boat Chase. 27—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ambushed Toes 28—Frank Me rriwell, Jr., and the Totem. 29—-Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Hockey Game. 50—Frank geerne els Jr.’s, Clew. Ss Or- Mara- 31—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Adversary. 52—Frank Merriwell, Aa Timely Aid. 383—Frank Merriwell, in the Desert. 384—Frank Merriwell. 3; ’s, Grueling Test. 35 —Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Special Mission 86—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Red Bowman. 37—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Task. 38—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Cross-Country Race, 89—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s oe -l’rank Sere 2 Tie 41—lI'rank Merriwell, —Trank Merriwell, , Four Miles. , Umpire. r., Sidetracked. , ’s, Teamwork. 3—Frank Merriwell, i Step-Over. {—Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Monterey. 5—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Athletes. 46—F rank Merriwell, J1 Outfielder. 47—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, “Hundred.” 48—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Hobo Twirler. 49—Trank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Canceled Game. 50—F rank Merriwell, Jr. Weird Adven- ture, 51—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Double Header. 52—Fr: — Merriwell, Jr.’ s, Peck of Trou- dle. 42 4; 4 4 122 538—Frank Merriwell, and the Doctor. 54—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Sportsmanship. 55—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ten-Innings. ’s, Ordeal. Wing. s, Cross-Fire.” Jt., Spook 56- _Fr ank Merriwell, Jr. 57—F rank Merriwell, Jr., on the 58—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’ 59—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Lost Team- mate. 60—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Daring Flight. 61—F rank Merriwell, Jr., at Fardale. 62—F rank Merriwell, Jr., Plebe. 63—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Quarter-Back. 64—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Touchdown. 65—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Night Off. 66—F rank Merriwell, Jr., and the Little Black Box. 67—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s 68—Frank Merriwell, Jr.'s, emy. 69—F rank Merriwell, Jr., 70—I’rank Merriwell, Honors. —Frank Merriwell, Jr.’ Frank Merriwell, Jr.’ Frank Merriwell, cation. 4—Frank Merriwell, Wolves. 5—Frank Merriwell, Jr., 6—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’ , Classmates. Repentant En- and the “Spell.” Jr.'s, Gridiron s, Winning Run. s, Jujutsu. Jr.’s, Christmas Va- ) » i—— Jr., and the Nine on the Border. s, Desert Race. 7—Owen Clancy’s Run of Luck. 8—Owen Clancy’s Square Deal. 79—Owen Clancy’s Hardest Fight. 80—Owen Clancy’s Ride for Fortune. 81—Owen Clancy’s Makeshift. 82—Owen Clancy and the Black Pearls, 83—Owen Clancy and the Sky Pilot. 84—Owen Clancy and the Air Pirates, 85—Owen Clancy’s Peril. 86—Owen Clancy’s Partner. *87—Owen Clancy’s Happy Trail. 88—Owen Clancy’s Double Trouble. 89—Owen Clancy’s Back Fire. 90—Owen Clancy and the “Clique of Gold.” 91—Owen Clancy’s “Diamond” Deal, 92—Owen Clancy and the Claim Jumpers. 983—Owen Clancy Among the Smugglers. 94—Owen Clancy’s Clean-Up. 95—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Pick-Up Nine. 96—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s Diamond Foes. 97—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Great Game. 98—The Merriwell Company. 99—Frank Merriwell’s F irst 100—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’ 101—-Dick Merriwell and June Arlington. 102—Dick Merriwell’s Turquoise Tussle. 1083—Dick Merriwell Tricked. 104—Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Commission. s, Cryptogram. the Gulf of Fire. -Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Stampede. 106—Merriwell vs. Merriwell. 107—Dick Merriwell and the 108—Dick Merriwell Mystified. 109—Dick Merriwell’s Hazard. 110—Frank Merriwell, Jr., at boy Carnival. —Frank Merriwell’s River Problem. Frank Merriwell Against Odds. —l rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Pueblo zle. 114—F rank Merriwell, Jr., at Bonnet Mine. 115—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, New Foe. 116—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Hunting Trip. 117—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Indian FEn- tanglement. 118—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’ Dated Nov. | - 119—Frank Merriwell Again in Colorado. — Dated Nov. 14th, 191 : 120—Frank Merriwell’s ¢ onquest. Dated Nov. 21st, 1914. 121—Frank Merriwell’s Unseen Foes. Dated Nov. 28th, 1914. Dick Merriwell’s Charm. 105- the Cattle Burglar. the Cow- Puz- the Blue s, Riddle. Tth, 1914 PRICE, FIVE CENTS PER COPY. your news dealer, they can be obtained direct from this office. Street & Smith, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Ave., New Ygrk City . i e ee If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from — owe Postage stamps taken the same as money.