No.108 © NEw

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AUGUST 22

 

 

MERRIWELL MYSTIFIED
The Chase of Death»

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Issued Weekly. Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York Post Office, according to an_act of Congress, March 8,.1819. Pubiished by
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No. 108. NEW YORK, August 22, 1914. Price Five Cents. “

 

DICK MERRIWELL MYSTIFIED; -

Or, THE CHASE OF DEATH.

By BURT L. STANDISH.

CHAPTER I.
THE CANNON BALL.

“Get a lead! Look—out! Watch—his—glass—arm!
Look ou’—there! It’s a hit! Run, you centipede!”

Snappy-eyed Ben Tyler, coaching down by first, noisy
as usual, howled the runner on.

The hit had been made off Chip Merriwell.

In his jubilation, Tyler yelled like a wild Comanche
and bounced about like a rubber ball.

A runner was now on first, and one on second.

Tyler stopped his gyrations and wagged a signal to
the batter up, telling him to get a base on balls if he
could... Tyler fondly believed that he was a wonder as
a baseball strategist.

Chip Merriwell stood turning the ball in his hands as

he watched ‘the runners, then flung a glance at the por-
tion of the crowd standing off at the left of the diamond, -

near the road.

Dick Merriwell was out there, and Joe Crowfoot. Dick
was talking in a jovial way with Tom Benton, the Star-
bright town marshal, who had ridden up a short while
before and dismounted, Having hooked the reins over a
post, heyhad turned to speak with Dick.

“Thought I’d ride out and look at the boys play,” he

. had said. “I’ve been wishin’, though, that you were in
_ the game, Merriwell. Your reppytation as a pitcher come
' on before you, you know.”

He looked off at the players.

“How’s the game stand?” he asked. ;

“Opening of the third inning,” said Dick; “two' men
on bases, and nobody out. Chip seems to have gone up

_ in a balloon. I suppose it’s my fault; he didn’t want to

play.”
“No e

“He’s sore on Tyler,” Dick explained; “thinks Tyler
and his crowd didn’t use him right. I told him to for-
get it.” |

“So, when Tyler challenged, he agreed to play again?”

“That’s the way of it.” be

“Well, I reckon you done about right. The Starbright
boys sure want to see Chip play. I’ve heard a heap o’
talk about it. Chip’s made a lot o’ friends here, and
ain’t been here more’n three or four days; got a mighty
takin’ way with him.”

“Score, Chip, two; Tyler, one,” said Crowfoot. “Now
Tyler boy, he git another, mebbyso. All time too bad
for Chip; Crowfoot to blame.”

“Crowfoot thinks Chip is aéroplaning because he hap-
pened to be away, and so failed to make ‘medicine,’” Dick
explained.

“Lot’s o’ the Indians around here got notions similar,”
said the marshal. He laughed queerly. “I’m took that
way myself, sometimes. F’r instance, last week I went
out to Jackson’s to arrest an Indian there, that had been ~
fillin’ himself up on bootleg whisky that he’d got some-
how. I didn’t bring him in, because I couldn’t find him.
Jest the same, Miss Melinda Jackson, she came out and
cast a spell on me.”

“Cast a spell on you?” said Dick, incredulous.

“You ain’t never heard o’ that—her ability in that
line? She’s the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter,
and the first one was the seventh daughter of a big
medicine man, old Cloud Thunder.”

“That gives her some sort of witchcraft ability?”

“Everybody thinks it does.”

“So she cast a spell on you. What did she do?”

“Held up her hands, cup-shaped, toward me; that was
to waft me the curse, you see!+and howled some king -

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of Indian words at me. And her eyes! Well, you've
seen her eyes

“Blue as cornflowers,”
eyes, I call them.”

“They was jest like blue fire;
see sparks shootin’ out of ’em, as she wagged that curse
down on me.”

_ “And it brought you bad luck?”

“Lost me five thousand dollars, slick as a whistle,” the
mafshal declared, in a way that showed he believed it; “in
that thunderstorm yesterday afternoon, the pool of oil
at the side o’ my oil well was struck by lightnin’, and
the whole thing went up in smoke and fire. I don’t think
five thousand-would cover it.”

“Too bad,” said Dick; “and I’m sorry for you. So,

 

said Dick; “really wonderful

seemed to me I could

that was the fire and smoke I saw after the storm, off

east, last evening? But, really, Benton, don’t you think
that would: have happened if you had’ never seen Miss
Melinda Jackson ?”

Their attention was drawn to the ball game by the ring-
ing cheers rising there.

Having struck out two men while Dick and the marshal
were talking, Chip was crouching now under a high fly,

‘ready to smother it.

Smack !

It was in his glove, and the side was retired,
having been able to pull a run over the rubber.

_“Good. work,” said the marshal. “Looks like
nephew o’ yourn has climbed out o’ that aéroplarie.”

It was a curious crowd that had assembled, and was
assembling. In addition to a big gathering of young
fellows of Starbright, there was a spattering of business
men, with many who were merely visiting strangers.

‘Statbright was growing like a mushroom, and more than
half the people jn it were strangers, chiefly oil-land specu-
lators, real-estate boomers, and agents and sellers of every-
thing from clover hullers to penny whistles. The talk was
mainly of oil, Even while they watched the ball game,
these men stopped now and then and turned to bargain-
ing, beating out their arguments by slapping the palms of
their hands with folded legal documents.

Dozens were so talking in the crowd about Dick and
the marshal, slapping their hands, while they lifted their
voices in emphasis and chewed their cigars to rags.

“The game was going on. | |

‘Tyler passed in two wide curves, in trying to keep the
ball well out, and yet put it over the corner of the rub-
ber. They were “balls.”

A big fellow named Norton was at the bat, and was a
In fact, Chip had a better
nine to-day than when he had played here before. . He
had gained friends in Starbright, and these friends had
not permitted Tyler to have it all his own way when the
nines were being made up. Norton, having taken a liking
to Chip, and a dislike to Tyler, had insisted on being in
Chip’s nine.

Seeing that in his efforts to put the ball wide out, ind
still over, he was in danger of presenting Norton with

without

that

a pass, Tyler shifted with lightning quickness, and sent

in a drop.
, Norton lifted it for ps left field, but lifted it $60
high; the mah covering left making a backward run and

a clever capture.
Tyler struck out the next man up.

i

In his jubilation, trying now to get the ball close in,
he passed the next man to first by hitting him.

The next man at the bat for Chip’s side was a “waiter.
Two balls were called, then a strike; after which the
batter connected, and leaped for first. But the runner
from first got his medicine at second, and the side was
out. :
“Chip’s warriors still belong to the Cloud Hunter tribe,”
Dick remarked, with a laugh.

“Oh, well, Chip can’t help what them critters done,”
said the marshal. “He didn’t have a chanst himself.”

Crowfoot let out an encouraging yell as Chip stepped
into the pitcher’s place, and Chip turned and waved a
hand at him, smiling,

“Oh, L ‘don’t know! I don’t know!” Tyler was calling.
“He. ain’t-such a much. ‘Went up in a balloon, and is
comin’ down in its rags. When he hits the ground—
squash!”

Chip faced the batter; smiling. But his eyes were
narrowed. He was trying to pull himself together, after
being a bit shaken. He was every inch an athlete’ in
appearance, and looked the pitcher all over.

Tyler had received good advice from some one who
was observant. Chip had recently been under a good
deal of strain, and had been made a bit nervous; all of
which he had not:yet overcome. A bow strung: up too
tight is in danger of snapping, and the danger becomes
greater if it is not now and then let down. Having seen
that Chip had been strung up fora time, and had ‘not

”

regained eyuipoise, this clever adviser had urged Tyler

to play the waiting game, and increase Chip’s nervousness ;
he declared that the\very strain of playing against a team
of “‘waiters” would go against Chip.

All of Tyler’s men had not heeded this well-meant and

good advice, but Tyler was bringing them to its observ-
ance, and trying hard to bring himself to it,. for .Tyler
was of the quick and impatient class that does not make
good waiters.

Tyler’s men continually ‘tried to make Chip throw. to
the bases, and tire himself; but Chip saw this, and -re-
fused to be tempted too often. Chip was using ‘high
speed and not many curves.

One of Chip’s swift balls-twitched-a hanher on Sie elbow, -

and sent him down to first, where he hopped:as if: doing’
a war dance, for that tug at -his elbow. -had brawar ht
excruciating pain.

After striking out two alias Chip let the man next

up push the runner on to second; and so two bases were

filled.

Then Tyler hit across the diamond into right; shave the
fielder, after making a good jump, merely ‘knocked the
ball down, and began to chase it around his feet.

The runner from second, gaining third, ha right on,
and beat the ball to the plate.

-- Tyler’s adherents yelled themselves hoarse ; for ‘now the

score was two to two. f
The next man up struck out.
“Oh, I don’t know!

ing, as He went to the vie place.

right up.”

The colle way that Tyler call have ee kept still
would have been by the use of a gag; his accuaintanhee
said he howled in his sleep.

While Chip and his nine were going in to the etoiives

and Tyler was cheerfully predicting Chip’s complete un- | Ff

I don’t know!” Tyler was iy
1 We’ re ‘coming ;

 

 

 

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doing, Hank Gordon, the well shooter, came driving by
in his nitroglycerin wagon.

His appearance there was, to the marshal, like a red
rag to a bull. As Gordon drew his roan ponies to a
stop, on seeing Dick Merriwell, the marshal walked out

* to him.

“See here, Gordon,” he growled, “how many times have
I got to tell you to keep off these streets? Next thing,
Tl have to run you in; and I hate to do it. You're
goin’ to blow up the whole town, one o’ these days.
People aire kickin’, and I got to enforce the ord’nance,
don’t you see?”

Gordon sat in his high spring seat, laughing at the mar-
shal’s earnestness.

“Shucks!” he said. “Don’t git red-headed. First place,
this ain’t a street—it’s the big road, and you're outside
your jurisdiction; second place, this soup I’m kerryin’ is
as harmless as cordwood. Settin’ quiet here it’s in no
more danger o’ blowin’ up than I am o’ droppin’ through
to Chiny. Folks aire skeered of it jes because they don’t
understand that it’s harmless, if it’s handled keerful.”

He laughed again, as the marshal continued his ex-
postulations.

“Why, Benton,” he protested, “what would this place be
if’t wa’n’t for me and my soup? Don’t I keep all the
old wells goin’, and shoot all the new ones? Wouldn’t
be a bar’l o’ oil h’isted out o’ this hull country if my
soup didn’t h’ist it. You’re knowin’ that.”

A buggy came up at a rattling pace. j

Dick Merriwell, who had stepped up to the nitro-
glycerin wagon to speak to its genial driver, saw the
buggy and the girl who sat in it. The marshal, noticing
her at the same time, remarked:

“Speakin’ o’ angels—there she is!
She’s lookin’ at you, Merriwell.”

Dick, smiling, lifted his hat. The girl in the buggy was
Melinda Jackson, dressed in becoming gray. It was the
eyes at which he looked that drew Dick irresistibly—
wonderful azure eyes, the like of s»which Dick had never
seen elsewhere; eyes that now returned his smile in a
queer way.

“A beauty, ain’t she?” said the marshal, as the buggy
passed on and turned into the river road. “Them eyes!
You rec’lect what I was sayin’ to you about her.”

Then he began to argue again with the driver of the
dangerous nitroglycerin wagon,

“What if that ball should come over and hit one of
your cans?” he demanded.

See them eyes!

“Settin’ right here, we’re too fur off,” said \Gordon.

“Well, you’ve got to clear out; you got to keep off’ the
streets of Starbright! I’m tellin’ you. I don’t want to
arrest you.”

“You dassent try it,” said Gordon, refusing to be seri-
ous. “If you tried it, ’d climb in among my cans and
joggle ’em. Shake ’em hard, and they might bu’st. Then
where’d ye be?”

They heard, over on the diamond, the bat collide with
the ball—a ringing blow.

Chip Merriwell had nailed one of Tyler’s wide ones, and
it was coming like a swooping skyrocket over into deep

left.

“That’s going to reach here,” said the marshal, with
some concern. “That’s what I’ve been tellin’ you, Gor-
don; it’s dangerous. See her come!”

 

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NEW. TIP TOP WEEKLY. 3

Old Joe Crowfoot, changed instantly from apparent list-
lessness, began to yell.

“Ay-yah! Chip knock um high-sky! Man in moon git
um eye put out. Ay-yah!”

A great commotion rolled and roared, as the spectators
shouted and cheered. Chip was going to first, while Doc
Fisher, who had been hugging the cushion ‘at third, was
flying for home. ‘

Suddenly Dick Merriwell, whose eyes were on the ball,
started and paled; it was shooting earthward, and he
saw that it was going to strike in or near the wagon.
He was about to yell to Gordon to drive ahead, but
changed his mind when he saw that to do so would put
the wagon right under the ball.

Then the terrifically driven ball struck—one of the
ponies.

The jump of the pony rolled Hank Gordon out of the
spring seat to the ground, and the next instant the ponies
were running away.

CHAPTER II.
THE CHASE OF DEATH.

The frightened ponies, drawing the bouncing wagon,
that was filled with cans of nitroglycerin for well-shoot-
ing, swung round into the river road.

Hank Gordon rolled to his feet, shake? and pale.

“Looks like there’s soon goin’ to be a hole dug in
the ground up there that you can bury a house in,” he
said huskily. “Can’t stop ’em now, and that girl in the
buggy is right ahead of ’em!”

Dick Merriwell was not: wasting his breath in words.
While the marshal stood, ashy-faced, ‘Dick was leaping
toward the marshal’s horse. With a swoop of his hand
he lifted the reins over the hitching post, and with hardly
a stop, leaped and landed-in the saddle. A jerk on the
bridle pulled the horse around, and Dick was off and
away in pursuit of the runaways.

The people at the diamond had stopped cheering’ the
ball game; but a yell rocked the sky when they saw the
horseman spring in chase of the flying wagon.

Dick bent low over the horse’s neck as if in his eager-
ness he would outdistance the horse, Looking ahead,
he saw the wagon whisk under the shade of the trees of
the river road. A moment later, in another leafy open-
ing, he caught sight of the buggy that held Melinda

Jackson.

He saw that she had suddenly become aware of thé
peril threatening her. She stood up, as if to make sureg
then, dropping back into the seat, she began to lay the
whip across the flanks of her horse.

The strange, wild race was on.

Dick Merriwell had been over the river road on two
occasions; once in riding out to Jackson’s; and again when
he returned over the same route in Gordon’s nitroglycerin
wagon. He recalled the peculiarities of the road; that in
places it widened, even as the river widened beside which
it ran, and that in other places it squeezed in so that two
wagons could barely pass.

If wagons or buggies should be encountered in one of
those contracted places, and a jam result——

Dick put the terrifying vision aside as he raced on.

With a thrill of joy he discovered that the marshal’s
horse was a.good runner. The ponies could go, he knew;
and they were going, too. Also, it seemed from the way

  
   

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4 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

in which it was now tearing along, Miss Jackson’s buggy
horse was not slow when it felt the sting of the whip.

“Good boy!” he said to his horse. “We've got to over-
take those ponies. Bend down to it!”

He struck his spurless heels into the horse’s side. To
this and his words the horse answered with a magnificent
burst of speed. He began to gain on the ponies.

The buggy was now tearing along like mad. Her face
deathly pale, her dazzling eyes filled with strange fire,
Melinda Jackson, down on her knees and bending over
the dashboard, was plying her whip with all-her might.

At the same time, knowing that the ponies were com-
ing up at a runaway pace, and hearing the bouncing clat-
ter of the wagon, her very flesh was cringing.

If no explosion came, and she could keep out of the way
of the ponies for a mile or so, there was a turnout lead-
ing into another road that she might drive into and be
safe; that is, if the ponies swept on by and did not
follow her.

But—that was a mile or more away.

“Go, Thunderbolt!” she screamed, pounding frantically
with her whip. “Go! go!”

Before her eyes swam a blur, like road dust. She
cleared, it away by an exercise of her will. Then she
plied the whip again. .

Dick knew that he was gaining. He thought of the pos-
sibilities. Nitfoglycerin was the trickiest stuff, in spite of
Hank Gordon’s declarations to the contrary. As he began
to close the space between himself and the wagon, he could
not be oblivious of'the fact that if the wagon went over,

or jammed into a tree, or swung off toward the river

bed in one of the sharp’ turns, an ees would be
almost inevitable.

If it came, neither he nor the girl nor the a would
live long enough to know what hurt them.

He recalled some drawling comment of Gordon’s when
Gordon was telling of an explosion such as this would be
if it came.

“T dunno jes what happened,” Gordon had said; “no-
body don’t. It jes bu’sted. They couldn’t never find the
remainders. And I sure hated to lose them ponies and
‘that wagon.”

Yet Dick did not cease his efforts to drive’ his horse
ever faster. Steadily he was lessening the distance. Once,
when a pony stumbled, Dick’s heart went into his mouth
and he felt his hair rising as if it would lift his hat. But
the pony did not fall; it was jerked on by the other, and
soon they were running wildly again, side by side, while
the wagon bounced and swayed behind them.

At another bend and opening Dick saw the buggy again.
This time he did not see the girl. The horse was gallop-
ing. The buggy was swinging about even more than the
spring wagon.

The discovery that sent a chill quivering up his back
was that the ponies were gaining now on the buggy.

Clatter, rattle; patter, bathe burr-r-r; patty-pat, patty-
pat!

Those were the sounds that howied out through the
trees and over the water, scaring the birds into wild
flight.

“Go!” cried Dick to his horse, as he saw the girl’s
increasing danger; “go! go! go!” Heavily he drove his
heels into his horse’s sides and lashed it with the bridle
reins. “We must gét there; we must+we must! Go!”

He was now within a hundred yards of the wagon.

At every bounce it seemed that it would jerk loose from
its springs, or that the cans of nitroglycerin. would be
shot bodily out of it. They were churning around like
little milk cans, banging against each other. It was court-
ing death of the most terrible kind to ride up on them.
Yet not once did Dick Merriwell draw rein. His imagina-
tion pictured the fright of the girl in the buggy. He
was determined to save her if it could be done, and all
thought of self was put aside. If he held back his horse
and witnessed an explosion when the scared ponies fouled
the buggy, he would have felt it as a haunting memory
all his life, and with it the sting of a sense of cowardice.
Dick Merriwell had been accused by his enemies of many
faults, yet no one had ever said that he was a coward.

As he closed in, until not more than a dozen. yards
separated him from the plunging wagon, he saw that
the girl was trying to pull the buggy off to the left of the
road, apparently in the desperate hope that the ponies
would go plunging by; yet Dick discerned that the space
was too narrow and it could not be done. The wagon
would. bang into the buggy wheels, possibly the ponies
would go down, and the explosion would come as
sure as the sun was shining. Why it had not already
come under the shaking the cans of explosives had received
was a mystery.

Fortunately, the buggy, though the distance had been so
decreased, was still some distance ahead.

Dick drove in his heels again, lashed with the bridle
reins, yelled, to excite his horse to a terrific final effort.

Yard by yard he was crawling up.

Now there were but six yards between him and the
wagon. Now but three.

He pulled his horse to the left, drove his heels again,
lashed, and yelled—till it poked its nose alongside the
flying wagon.

“Go!” Dick screamed, for every instant the buggy was
being brought closer and still closer; “go, go, go!” His
command had become a wild yell. “Go!”

The wagon was passed; the horse was soon galloping
neck and heck with the galloping ponies.

Dick steadied himself, rose in the stirrups, paused for

balance, then threw his left leg over, and pitched at the |

pony on that side. He struck it fairly; his left hand
clutching its mane, his right taking hold of the harness.
Under the impact and the pull of his weight, the pony

swayed over toward him, but did not go down. The

next instant he had drawn himself up and on its back, and
his hands were searching for the reins.

With the reins in his hands—they had been trailing—
Dick began to pull on them, and saw back and forth, cut-
ting the bits into the ponies’ jaws. He did not look: to
see what had happened to his own horse.

-Then he saw the buggy.

The girl was drawing it aside in her desperation, elon
ing her horse over to the left—in a place that was
narrow.

Smash!

The buggy struck a tree and was swung round; a ‘fila My

shattered and went to pieces ; her horse was down, floun-
dering.

Dick sawed the ponies toward the right, using every °

ounce of his herculean strength; he seemed literally to

be lifting them over—over.
They were now almost on top of the broken buggy

and the floundering horse.

 

 

 

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Again Dick Merriwell seemed to be lifting them—to
lift them bodily. and fling them to the right, almost into
the bushes, They shot past the buggy. Behind them the
wagon danced, its cans rattling, its wheels ringing.
Around it went, careening on three wheels. .A tree was
grazed. But Dick had seen it and allowed for it,. Then
the ponies were in the road again, with their wagon; and
the broken buggy and the fallen horse were behind.

Now that he had not the buggy to think of, Dick
began to bring the ponies down. He had feared to throw
them back-on their haunches when the buggy seemed lying
right in his path; now he did not hesitate. He drew
the ponies up as before—they seemed almost lifted; the
strain and the pain of the tearing bits brought their fore-
feet off the ground.

When they came down, the ponies were beginning to
find that a master had them in hand; their terrific gait
was broken. They were growing tired, too, as they dis-
covered as soon as they became sane enough to know

anything. Up to that moment they had simply driven ,
headlong, in the blind madness that impels the runaway —

horse; not seeing, not knowing.

Their little sense returned slowly to them, as the
pain began to gain more and more their attention. The
thing that had frightened them—they did not at all know
what it was—was forgotten under new sensations.

A fourth of a mile down the river road Dick Merriwell
brought the ponies to a full stop.

When he jumped down he was shaking and white.
The heaving and trembling ponies were sweating so that
water ran in streams from their bodies. Dick cast a
glance down the road, but the buggy was hidden by a

- turn.

He did not see the horse he had ridden,

Dick used the lines for tying ropes, and tied the ponies
to a tree. As he did so, he glanced at the fearful cargo
the wagon had carried; not a can had bounced out of its
place, though some of them had careened.

“Gordon says that nitroglycerin is as safe as cord-
wood,” Dick was thinking; “and, really, I am beginning to
believe him.”

He turned from the ponies and the wagon, and began
to run back along the road, to see what had befallen
Melinda Jackson.

“A narrow escape!” his lips were whispering.

He felt that though he had met many dangers, in all his
life he had never taken a more fearful risk.

CHAPTER III.
AFTER THE RACE.

When he reached the broken buggy, Dick Merriwell
found that Melinda Jackson had been pitched out of it,
and lay on the ground,

Her horse was down, and terrified, but had stopped

floundering. Its eyes seemed to appeal to Dick, as he
passed by, on a run. The buggy had been practically
demolished.

Dick’s fears that Melinda Jackson had been killed was
driven away by the discovery that she was breathing. So
he lifted her carefully in his arms and carried her across
the road, and down to the edge of the water.. There he
began to dash water in her face.
back to consciousness.

With a gasp she came |

    

 

NEW, TIP TOP WEEKLY. 5

Dick stripped off his coat, and made with it a pillow for
her head.

“Just lie heré quietly, while I do something for your
horse,” he said.

Her sapphire eyes were staring at him, and a faint
flush was creeping into her cheeks. But she did not
answer.

Running back to the horse, Dick got busy with his
knife, and cut away the tangled harness. Then he took
the animal by the bridle and pulled, and, after a few
floundering attempts, the horse struggled to its feet. It
stood, trembling, as Dick tied it to the limb of a tree,
using one of the broken lines as a hitching strap.

By this time there sounded the clattering ring of hoofs
advancing on the road. And in a little while some of
the men from the ball field were arriving on horseback.

One of them was Benton, the marshal, who had seized
a mount and followed Dick as quickly as he could. An-
other was the well-shooter, who had acted similarly. They
looked frightened and wide-eyed.

When they saw the broken buggy and Dick Merriwell in
the road, they jerked their horses to.a stop.

“Oh, you’re all right!” said Benton, with a gasp of
relief. “Where’s the lady?”

“Over there, by the .river,” Dick replied; “she was
thrown out, and fainted. But I’m hoping she was not
much hurt.”

“Um!” the marshal glanced around.
he commented. “I was expecting that nitroglycerin would
jest about tear the world up out here. Where is it?”

“In the road beyond, a short distance; the Renlie, I tied
to a tree.”

“You stopped "em? But, of course, you did, or they’d
been runnin’ yit.” His tone, if not his words said:
“You're a wonder!”

“Safe as cordwood,” Gordon was muttering, “if you
handle it right.” But he did not look now as if he really
believed it, though the evidence certainly was with him.

The other men on horses had clattered up, and ringed
Dick in, asking a shower of qe Dick did not try
to answer half of them.

“There’s the buggy, and feeceit you will find the wagon
and the ponies. No great harm was done, except that
the buggy was smashed, and Miss Jackson fainted. That
is, I think she wasn’t hurt. I’m going to see, though.”

He turned about, leaving the eager questioner’s to ride
on and inspect the wreck and the nitroglycerin wagon,
while he leaped down the bank of the stream, and was
soon again at Miss Jackson’s side.

Her blue eyes were big and staring; but she was fully
conscious, he saw at a glance.

“T hope you were not hurt,” he said.

“TI think not; but I seem to be all out of breath, and
weak as water. I can hardly lift my hand!”

She held it up, trembling—a shapely hand; and the
sleeve of her dress having slipped back, disclosed that
her white wrist was as shapely as her hand.

“Shall I get you some water?” said Dick, cupping his
hat and starting to the river.

“N-o, I think not; I don’t need it.” The dazzling eyes
roved over him. “I think I’m using your coat for a
pillow. You had better take it and put it on. You must
have ridden like a fiend, and you’re covered with perspira-
tion. I don’t want you to take a. di on my account,” |
Dick laughed.

“Some race that,”
  

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NAMM LE EP PILE TEL ON II Fe

ae NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

“Oh, I’m all right,” he said; “just so you’re comfortable.
A coat is only a superfluity in weather like this. You're
sure you weren’t hurt?”

Lifting herself, she drew the folded coat from under
her head.

“Put it on,” she commanded, adding: “I’ve an interest
“jn you now, more than I had before; and I don’t want
you to take cold.”

Smiling, Dick put on his coat.

“I hear some one talking.”

Dick explained.

“And you really stopped those wild ponies ?”

“T had to,” he said.

“You had to?”

“Necessarily.”

“You mean I would have been killed if you hadn’t?”

“It’s a miracle that you weren’t killed, anyway.”

“What about yourself?”

“Tl say the same for myself.”

“Gordon says nitroglycerin is safe—if only people think
so.”

““Safe as cordwood,’” said Dick, quoting Gordon.

“My horse and buggy?”

“You can use your buggy for kindlings—it’s not worth
much else now; your horse is all right. I tied him to a
tree. But I had to cut the harness to pieces?”

Out in the near-by road they heard Gordon and the
marshal arguing.

“Safe as cordwood,” Gordon was saying,
proves it, don’t it?”

“Because your ponies were stopped by Merriwell! If
he hadn’t stopped *em——”

“Couldn’t nobody stop them ponies until they wanted
to stop, after they got to goin’,” Gordon declared.

“What if they had slammed your soup wagon into a
tree?” the marshal demanded.

“Tf they had—I reckon the dirt from the hole that 4
Been dug wouldn’t been through fallin’ yit.”

“Everybody would have been dead!”

“Like enough—everybody that was nigh it. But, shucks,
it didn’t happen! What’s the good o’ supposin’? That’s
jes what makes people nervous about my soup—they’re
allus supposin’, I never do. I jes go on about my busi-
ness, and nothing ever happens to me. The man that
was workin’ for me and did git blowed up—well, we
never knowed jes how that come about; couldn’t ask
him, ye see.”

“Tf you come into Starbright with that, death load
again,” the marshal threatened, “I’ll run you into the
cooler; jest remember it! This last is the limit. "Twouldn’t
happened, but fer you bein’-——”

“?Twouldn’t happened,” Gordon cut in, “if Chip Mer-
riwell hadn’t lammed out a hit, the likes 0’ which wa’n’t
never seen in Starbright before; that’s what done it. So
don’t go to blamin’ me. Blame him! A Merriwell started
it, and a Merriwell finished it; that is, if the ponies didn’t
jes stop o’ their own accord.”

The sapphire eyes had an amused look in them.

“ ‘Safe as cordwood,’” she said, and laughed.

“You must be better?” Dick queried.

“IT am; I think I can,go on home soon.” i

The marshal and Gordon, with some other men, were
coming down the bank to the river.

“Hello!” Gordon called. “Here ye aire, jes as pert as
a pair o’ honeysuckles; I mean turtledoves.”

“and this

He came on around, red-faced and smiling, but plainly
nervous.

“T’ll pay for that buggy,” he said; “buy you a new
one. But ’twasn’t my fault: Chip Merriwell——”

Aw, cut it out!” the marshal grunted. “No baseball
could uh hit that, no matter how hard it was hammered,
if your soup wagon hadn’t been there, in the way.”

“’Twas a pony that was hit, rec’lect.”

Gordon stood looking down’with an apologetic expres-
sion at Melinda Jackson, as more men came trooping
over the bank. é

“I’m beggin’ your thousand pardons,” he was saying,
“though I wa’n’t to blame, and I'll buy you a bran’-
splinter new buggy, any kind you like. Not on account
o’ what Benton says, though. You seen yourself that I
was in the road, outside uh the town; he ain’t no marshal,
any more’n I am, when he gits outside the copperation
limits; and he knows it. But I stand ready to buy you
a new buggy.”

“Yellow wheels and red running gear,” she said, smiling.

“Anything you like. Genuine-leather cushion seats, too,
All ‘quarter oak and second-growth hickory—best they
make.”

She laughed at Gordon’s earnestness. Color had come
into her cheeks; the quivering of nerves that had shaken
her was passing. Though she felt bruised, she knew
she had not been injured, and that her fainting, as she
was thrown out of the buggy, had been caused by fright.
She looked around at the gathering throng, then sat up,
putting her back against a tree.

“I’m glad that my horse wasn’t injured,” she said; ‘ft
value him highly.” She looked at Dick Merriwell. “I
think I can go on home in a few seconds.”

Other horsemen came clattering up. One was Chip
Merriwell, another was Doc Fisher. Seeing the girl on
the river bank, with a crowd around her, Fisher flung
himself out of the saddle and came rushing over.

“I’m not a doctor,” he said, pushing his way in, “but
I’ve studied medicine and surgery; so I——”

He stopped, seeing that the girl he had thought must |

be in a serious condition was smiling at him.

“Oh, I beg your pardon!” he cried, sweeping off his
baseball cap. He had been with Chip in the game, Ene
if there is anything I can do, you know?”

“I think there is nothing,” said Miss Jackson, her Sap-
phire eyes capturing his.

Chip had had a load lifted off his heart when he beheld
Dick standing there, unharmed.

“When that ball hit the pony,” he said, “and a
tan away, I nearly had heart failure.” ;

Gordon disappeared, and came back soon.

“Them ponies 0’ mine aire all right,’ he announced,
“and so’s the wagon.” His red face and his kindly
eyes were smiling again humorously, “So if you're willin’

that I should give you a lift in that spring seat, Pil /

do it. Safe as cordwood.”

Melinda Jackson began to laugh, with an approach to
hysteria.

“Mr. Gordon,” she said, as soon as she could speak,
“if yott should offer me forty buggies with yellow wheels
and red running, gears, I wouldn’t ride in that wagon
with you.”

A dozen men offered their horses,

 

   
  
   
  
   
  
 
   
    
   
   
  
    

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“Or we can rig up somethin’ and kerry you,” Gordon
suggested.

“There’s a buggy coming now,” said Dick, hearing the
rattle of its wheels; “no doubt we can use that.”

CHAPTER IV.
MELINDA JACKSON.

In the buggy furnished him, Dick Merriwell conducted
Melinda to the Jackson home. This was his second visit.
The first he had made. under the name of Ashmead Jones,
a spendthrift young millionaire, whose reputation had
preceded him into Oklahoma. Jones was a_ highbrow,
talked “literachaw,” and thought himself a poet. He had
engaged the Merriwell Company to look into an oil-land
deal for him, and had instructed Dick to go into Oklahoma
and play Ashmead Jones, with all his eccentricities,

Dick had obeyed, even while questioning} the wisdom
of this singular order, and events had been made interest-

_ing for him. And now he was here again, in the Jackson

home.
This time he met Melinda’s father, Mr. Jackson. Jack-

son, known familiarly as Jack Jackson; a man who was

an eighth part Indian, yet showed no trace of his Indian

“ancestry.

Jackson had very little of his daughter’s good looks,
though he had eyes that were an azure blue, yet lacking
the appealing fire that lay in hers, When Dick met him,
at the house, he was. dressed in a suit, of mixed gray,
and wore high tan boots that laced halfway to his knees.
His age was around sixty, yet there was no gray in his
hair, which was black and thick.

“If the government allowed us Indians down here to
drink anything stronger than lemon extract,” he said, “I’d
pour you out something with a kick in it; for I think, after
what you’ve been through, you must be needing it.”

He set out chairs on the wide piazza, that was cool and
shaded and commanded a view of the river and the river
road.

Melinda had been assisted up to her room by. some
women, apparently half-breeds, who had hurried forward
to aid her as soon as they knew of the accident and that
she needed help.

In the road could be seen a crowd of men approach-
ing. They were leading Melinda’s horse and coming on
to the house; their curiosity about the spectacular and
amazing affair not yet satisfied.

Behind them Gordon was driving solemnly along in his
nitroglycerin wagon.

- When he saw Gordon’s wagon, a frown came to Jack-
son’s face.

“Go out there, Potter,” he called to a_half-breed, “and
tell Gordon if he don’t turn off at the cross roads, and
keep away from this house until I send for him, I'll shoot
him.” *

As Potter hastened away, Dick looked at him curi-
ously ;,for he had an interesting recollection of Potter.

Gordon seemed not to want to obey this command when

' the half-breed delivered it, and Jackson strode out angrily

to see that it was enforced. From his chair on the piazza
Dick could hear them arguing about it; then saw Gordon

-come on, with Jackson, still talking, walking beside the
wagon.

As Gordon passed the house he waved his whip to
Dick.

   

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. ”

“Luck to you,” he called across; “I had to go on by
this road, as I’ve got to shoot Ellis’ well, out beyond, and
it’s too fur around.”

He turned to Jackson.

“Shucks!” Dick heard him saying. “You've got to
treat me right, you know. Otherwise, who'll you git to
shoot that old well for you? You know you'd never
git a bar’l o’ oil out of it if I didn’t drop soup into it
now and then. And I’m goin’ to git her a new buggy!”

He flicked at his ponies, and his “soup” wagon rattled on
past the house.

Dick did not want to talk with Jackson; he desired to
talk with Melinda. So, when a little later Jackson ex-
cused himself and rode away on horseback, Dick~ felt
relieved. Before going, Jackson extended to him an in-
vitation to remain overnight, so that they could talk about
the oil-land lease the next day.

Yet, already Dick had made up his mind that. the lease
of Jackson’s oil land was not worth the sum Jackson- was
asking Ashmead Jones to pay for it.

Dick was thinking out his line of action, when, an hour
before sunset, Melinda came down, gowned becomingly,
with the dazzle of her blue eyes on full exhibition.

“Who am I to thank for my rescue?” she demanded
coquettishly. .

Dick chose not to understand her meaning.

“f mean, is it Mr. Ashmead Jones, or-——

“Dick Merriwell, this time,” he returned.

“So you're not dénying your masquerade?”’

“It would be useless, and needless now. You Have heard
from the town, and: been ‘there. I. cast aside. that mas-
querade when I went back to Starbright,”

She was laughing, as her wonderful eyes searched
his. :

“Mr. Merriwell, you ought to be ashamed: of your-
self -——” .

“Perhaps I am.”

“You came here, informing me that you were areas
Jones.”

“I beg your pardon if I seem to correct you: Toa
certain ‘extent, wasn’t the fault yours? You thought you
recognized me as Ashmead Jones, after I had ridden to
your aid, when I thought you were snake bitten.”

She bared her wrist.

“T thought it was snake bite—that I -had been struck
by the rattler which got away from your old Indian; the
marks of those thorns are there yet. See?”

She looked at ‘him’ ‘again, as she ‘drew aii a
sleeve. mag
“Later, you accused me of having made those marks

”

with a hypodermic néedle!”

me wasn’t sure but that you had’ déiie that very thing
at the time.”

“Do you still believe it?”

Dick hesitated. /

“No,” he said.

“You are still not convinced, I see. Oh, well, it doesn’t
matter. But why did you. play Ashmead Jones 2” eas e

“Tt was by his instructions.”

. “He told you to come here and ‘represent him ‘in that
way ?”

“T think he would be willing for me to admit it how.
When you see him, you can ask him for his motive.”

“He is coming here?”

“I don’t know.”

:

  
 

 

RS OLR ELLE LOT Ee aga

8 NEW TIP TOP WEERLY.

Disappointment showed in her face.

Dick understood the look. Ashmead Jones had money to
burn, and was willing to burn it, and see it burned
by another. A husband like Ashmead Jones would have
been a joy to a girl like Melinda.

“When you accused me of stabbing my arm with that
hypodermic needle, was it only because you had found
the needle on the floor of your room, here? Give me a
straight answer to that, Mr. Dick Merriwell. Do you
think I bear the appearance of a morphine fiend?”

“You do not,” said Dick, very positively.

“Then why did you accuse me?”

“As I recall it, I didn’t accuse you; what I said was
in the way of a questioning suggestion.”

“Why?” she insisted.

“Do you want the blunt truth?” he asked, Then addedi
4] think I should prefer not to answer.”

Melinda urged a reply.

“Well,” said Dick, flushing under her scrutiny, though
he was not loth to shoot a dart at her and witness its
effects “you know, of course, that after I was attacked
in my room here, I think by Potter, I escaped from it
by means of a rope made of twisted sheets; I thought it
was. time for me to leave the house, and in my mood
then I preferred to do it secretly. I had already suspected
you because of those marks on your wrist; that is the
answer to your question. But now I add this: As I came
around the house, I listened, before I went out to the
stable and got my horse, and I heard you speaking
with Potter—you charged him with butting in!”

-The color went out of Melinda’s face, Then. she
laughed.

“It was very clever, the way you brought that around,
Mr. Dick Merriwell; made it seem that in demanding
an answer to that question I had driven you into making
a second acctsation. But it’s all right.”

“Yes? I hope so.”

“Just what I meant doesn’t answer; éxcept that I then
thought you were Ashmead Jones, I believed your lie,
you see.”

Her color was coming back, and her self-possession.

“IT suppose a little money would look good to you, Mr.
Merriwell? I never saw the man yet to whom it didn’t!”

“As a reward for stopping those ponies?” Dick asked,

though he knew better.

“Oh, dear no; my gratitude is the only pay you can
ever expect for that, I assure you. I do thank you for
that! Really and seriously, I do. But this other-——”

Dick thought she was going to try to bribe him to make
a report on the oil-land lease that would favor her father;
yet he was not wholly surprised when ‘she said baldly:

“Mr. Ashmead Jones would make a good, husband, don’t
you think? Now, perhaps, you guess what I mean, Bring
him down here, and to this house. A man who loves
diamonds and has millions of money must be a better catch
than any of the so-called oil kings one finds around here.
If you do that, just so I can get acquainted with him,
Y’'ll pay you handsomely.”

She was laughing and making a pretense that she was
jesting; yet she was in serious, deadly earnest.

“You wouldn’t marry a man you had never seen?”
“Oh, no; how could I do that? I'll see him, won’t I,
when he comes here? \And if I should, by that means,

 

by any of the ordinary standards,

get to have the spending of some of those millions, I could
pay you handsomely, couldn’t 1?”
“Miss Jackson, you are a very singular girl,”
“Come! You heard that in Starbright. Every one there
says that I am a singular, mysterious, flirtatious witch;
seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, with all the
knowledge of an Indian medicine man, able to cast spells,
make charms, and that they are afraid of me. Oh, well,
I was just joking, to see how grave I could make you

look. You have a very grave face—sometimes. I’m sorry |.

that you have such a poor opinion of me; as it would be
the proper thing for us to marry, since you doubtless saved
my life to-day. They always do that, in stories.”

There was a pause.

“Why don’t you say something?” the girl questioned,

“You bewilder me.” a

“I would have married you, if you had really been Ash-
mead Jones. Oh, don’t look so shocked! Truly, I would.
But your old Indian told: me that you have a girl. I had
a talk with him in town only yesterday. Let me see—
what did he call her, Oh, I have it. Juno Arlington, Is
she a Juno?”

“You drive me to thé wall,” said Dick, flushing again,

“I don’t suppose you could talk highbrow to-day? You
did it that other time perfectly, Let me see! You made
up some poetry; but I can’t remember it.”

“Some wonderful poetry,” said Dick.

“And you wanted to discuss the nebular hypothesis,
Oh, you——” She shook her slim finger at him accusingly,
“To play on the ignorance of a poor girl like that! Now,
aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

“I’m afraid I am,” Dick admitted.

The volatile creature was surely driving. him to the wall;
her smiling attacks confused him,

“Well, you ought to be!” she declared. “I’m ashamed
of you. But I forgive you, for what you did to-day—
everything, And I'll be your truly friend, if you will
let me. Do you know—I’ve heard of the Merriwells?”

“Since they came to Starbright.”

“Before that, There was something about you in the
Kansas City Star, just before you came down here; it
said that the famous Dick Merriwell' had come there to
meet the young millionaire, Ashmead /Jones. Then it told
about Jones’ diamonds and expensive tastes ; and said about
you-——” j :

“I didn’t happen to see it, 86 you will have to en-
lighten me.”

“It said that you could play ball! Why, évery school-
boy can play ball, Mr, Merriwell.”

“I guess that’s right,” Dick admitted.

“Now I must go,” she said; “after having made you
feel as small as I could for having deceived me. Vl
meet you at the supper table, in about an hour, If you
find yourself lonesome, walk out and take a look at our
oil well; it’s flowing beautifully, since Gordon shot it the
last time.” ;

Dick walked out to the flowing oil well when he found
himself deserted on the piazza. He was beginning to be-
lieve that Gordon was right in saying that Melinda Jack-:
son was not only a marvelously beautiful girl) but a most
singular one, who was not to be understood or measured

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CHAPTER V.
THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK.

Dick Merriwell developed a convenient headache before
the arrival of the supper hour. He had decided that if
he touched food and drink while at Jackson’s, it. would
be sparingly, and with caution. Sure that the half-breed,
Potter, had on a previous occasion tried to ram a hypoder-
mic needle into him, he thought it well to take no chance
of drugging or poisoning.

Potter was very busy in the preparation of the sup-
per, as Dick had no trouble in discovering. Potter seemed,
in fact, to have charge of the kitchen servants. All this
Dick observed out of the tail of his’! eye as he walked
slowly past the kitchen and down to the river.

On a bench by the river he sat thinking it over,

Off at his right a few yards was the spot where
Potter had fallen, when, having been attacked by Dick,
he had hurled himself from the second-story window—
the window of Dick’s bedroom; that is, if it had been
Potter.

Dick had meant to make an examination in the mud
of the shore there for Potter’s footprints; but, having
ridden away from the house while it was still night, he
had not been able to do that. Now it could not be done
on account of the lapse of. time.

The motive that had. induced Potter to hide in Dick’s
closet and try to get at him with a hypodermic needle

while he slept had never been clear to Dick. His suppo-"

sition had been that Potter had sought to drug him into
temporary helplessness, and so delay his action on the
lease of Jackson’s oil lands.

Dick based this notion on the idea that the Jacksons
wished to delay action that they might, when, Jones’ time
option expired, get a better price for the lease from some
one else, who had offered that better price.

Yet the whole matter was enveloped in haze. For, as
he had not seen the man’s face, he did not know positively
that it was Potter who had made the mysterious attack.
His proof was this: After the struggle and escape of the
man, Dick had found the needle on the floor, and had
taken it down to Miss Melinda Jackson. Later he had
heard Melinda charging Potter with trying to “butt in.”
It was a flimsy foundation for the case Dick had built up,
yet he believed in the general correctness of his, theory.

It can be seen readily why Dick had desired an oppor-
tunity to return to Jackson’s: He wanted to probe this mys-
tery to the bottom.

When that attempt had been.made against him, tie was

supposed by the occupants of the house to be Ashmead
Jones. Yet it did not change the situation much, now that
they knew better.
was the responsible man in the matter of the oil lands’
lease. Jones would close the deal within the time) limit
if Dick wired him to do so; he would refrain, if Dick did
not so instruct him. If Dick was drugged and placed
out of the game long enough, he could not wire to Jones,
who was in Denver, and the time limit would expire.
Then the Jacksons. would be free to lease to the other

*" man.

Melinda Jackson’s liquid voice, calling to him oe the
piazza, brought Dick out of his reverie.

“Everything will be stone cold, Mr. Merriwell, if you do
not come at once. What have you been dreaming about

under those trees?”

\

For he was Jones’ agent, and more; he’

   

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. : 9

Melinda expected that Dick’s gallantry would cause him
to declare that he had been dreaming of her wonderful
eyes.

“Not pleasant dreams,” he said; “but about the horrible
headache and the nausea that have attacked me; I couldn’t
touch a mouthful of food, I assure you.”

The dazzling eyes searched his face.

“Oh, but you must eat something! When we offer
hospitality down here, we expect people to accept it.”

“T will go in to the table with you,” Dick assented; “but
I really can’t eat anything. I’ll keep you company. Your
father has returned?”

“No. He may not be back to-night. ‘The borers are
working on a new well, and they may have struck oil
this evening; they are expecting to. If they have, he
will be detained.”

Dick gave her a sharp look.

“If they have struck gas?” he said.

“They will want to cap it, in any event,” she answered,
not in the least disconcerted by his suggestion that gas,

rather than oil, lay under her father’s lands.

Melinda and Dick were the only -ones who came to
the table, spread in the airy dining room overlooking the
river, Potter was with the servants. Dick had already
learned that Melinda was the feminine head of the house.
He had heard that her mother was dead. And if’ she
were the seventh daughter, the other six had flown away
somewhere. He made a mental note that he Wome ask
Gordon about them.

Dick merely nibbled at the bread. He refused all éthiet
food and the strong tea.

“That wild ride after those ponies has done mé wp,”
he declared, ,

There was some truth in it. Yet it was not of itself
the wild ride—Dick was hardened to violent horseback
exercise; the slight headache from which he was suffer-
ing was more a result of the high emotional feelings that

had shaken him when he pursued the nitroglycerin wagon

so recklessly, almost expecting at any moment to be hurled
into eternity.

Melinda Jackson expressed her sympathy. She had
some headache powders, she said—would he take them if
she got them for him? But Dick had a good excuse,

“T’d rather not take them,” he said.

“Why?” she demanded, looking sharply at hita.

“There’s acetanilide in them,-no doubt, or some similar
drug; and all those things, when they cure a headache,
do so by depressing the circulation and the hearts: _, re
hard on the heart.” :

“You refuse to take them, even if I sk them for yout ?”
she said, reading ‘his: face.

“I prefer not to—in fact, I make it a practice never to
take anything for a headache, more than a walk in- the
fresh air.”

Dick went for that walk shortly afterward, strolling out
over the river road, with his mind again set at the puzzle
of the situation as he found it here.

Once, on looking back, he thought he detected Potter
sneaking along behind him, under cover of the trees.

But when he turned to walk back, Potter had vanishéd.

“Tt’s that half-breed that I’ve got to watch,” he was
thinking, “Yet I wonder if he is not acting under her
orders?”

Dick went up to his room at a reasonably early hour,
after a talk on the piazza with Miss Jackson; the subject

Ate PARRA Te

  
    
       
 

 

10 NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

matter of the talk being everything, and nothing in
particular.

Tt was the room he had occupied ‘when in the house
before, and he had said as much to Potter, who had shown
him up to it.

“One thing is certain,” he reflected, as he began to
look about, “Potter isn’t in the closet, here, this time;
for he has just left me, in the hall. Of course, no one
will be’ in it now.”

Nevertheless, he walked over to the closet, flung the
door open, and inspected it. As before, it held a number
of garments hanging on pegs, clothing that probably be-
longed to Jack Jackson.

Dick made more than a superficial examination; he en-
tered the closet, and searched carefully about for a trap-
door or a secret door in its walls. Apparently, it was
an ordinary modern closet, lacking all medieval devices.

Not yet ‘satisfied, Dick made the round of the walls
of the room, looking at them closely, pressing against
them, but he found nothing to excite suspicion. He was
ready to laugh af his distrust.

“My nerves are ready for the scrap heap, since that
ride,” he mused; “that’s all that is troubling me. Still,”
he added, “there surely was a man hid in the closet that
other time!” ©

Dick ‘next examined the window on the side of the
‘ house, and more particularly the one that overlooked the
river This latter window was the one that the mysteri-
ous man had pitched through when Dick attacked him; he
had torn away and carried with him the mosquito screen,
and had jarred ‘heavily thé upper ‘sash.

Apparently the window had not been harmed; another
screen was in place, and if any of the panes had been
broken, new ones had been set.

For some time Dick stood by the window, looking out
at the trees, and listening to the musical \rushing of the
stream below. The night air was close and had a river
odor. On the water lay a light mist. But the stars
spangled a clear sky. No more peaceful scene, nor one
more unsuggestive of dark machinations and darker deeds
could be imagined.

Dick had decided not to sleep in the bed. Yet
the movements he made about the room would have
suggested, after his lamp had been blown out, that he was
retiring, and then that he had retired.

After that he sat a long time in his chair neat the door,
motionless and silent, watching. Not a sound came, not a
leaf rustled.

“Tf Potter tries to get at me to-night he will wait unti'
close on morning; say two hours or so before daylight.
And I might, if: I sat here, or lay on the bed, fall asleep.”

Dick could keep awake when he wanted to. However,
his mind began to feel heavy, in its reaction from the
tense, nervous strain. He determined, therefore, that he
would get out of the room—take his chances outside,
somewhere. In the morning he could ‘easily furnish a
reasonable explanation.

“Somewhere on that piazza,” he thought, as he removed
his shoes and began once again to knot the sheets into a
rope, “I can sit or lie and hear any one entering this
room or moving about in it. I’llcamp down on the piazza;
and if Potter enters this room, I'll try to trap him as he

comes out of it. He will see the rope, if I leave it,
and slide down it, as he did before. If he slides into my
; arms=-——-” f

   

Having knotted the sheets, Dick strung his shoes to-
gether round his neck with their laces, and tiptoed to the
window, where he fastened the sheet rope to the foot of
the bed, and dropped out its other end. It was not a
long rope, but it went close enough to. the ground for his
purpose.

Climbing out of the window, he lowered himself cau-
tiously by the rope; then he put on his shoes, and, leaving
the rope in place, as he could not well do otherwise, he
walked softly around to the piazza.

There he deposited himself in the hammock that swung
at the end of the piazza nearest the river, and began his

Vigilance, his ears trained to catch any sound coming .

from his room through the open window over the stream.

Dick watched and waited so long a time that heaviness
claimed him when it began to seem that his fears were
quite needless.
picions of Potter were not unjust; for there was the pos-
sibility. to be considered that the man in the closet had
really been a burglar, and not Potter. Yet he could not
forget what he had heard Melinda Jackson say to Potter
about “butting in.”

Dick was aroused from the heavy state into which he
had fallen by the pressure of-a hand on his body.

He had seized it before he was thoroughly awake and
was pushing it from him, feeling that the hand held a knife
and he was about to be stabbed. Then he saw dimly the
figure he, had begun to struggle with. He thought the

aman was Potter,
“You. villain!” he grated, whirling almost blindly and

177

rolling out of the hammock; “you’ve come again!

The arm he held was jabbing at him, as if trying to
strike with a knife. Using both hands, he tore away the
weapon. ‘It was not a knife, but felt like the hypodermic
syringe he had once, seen and handled.

He turned it, still struggling with his assailant, and drove
it home with force enough to send it biting through the
clothing into the flesh.

Reeling backward as the figure flung toward him, Dick
collided with the hammock, which swung around, an end
enveloping his arms and shoulders.

Before he could extricate himself, his assailant was run-
ning toward the end of the piazza. ;

“Halt!” Dick commanded.

The figure sprang outward and downward, and van-

ished. Dick heard a thud of feet on the soft grass. But |

when he got there, the man was gone.

“Slid under this end of the piazza,” said Dick, and Gung

over piazza railing.

He struck a match and threw it under. The match went
out after a feeble flicker, disclosing only the bare earth
and the piazza supports on that side.

The man was not under the piazza;
parently, on around the house, aided by the darkness.
Dick ran around the house, but encountered no one.

‘When he was sure that the man had eluded him, Dick
returned to the piazza. He had dropped the hypodermic

needle, and looked for it, striking another match. He ©

found it on the piazza floor. Ho

“T'll just keep it this time; and I’ll see if it contains
he mused; and dropped the suggestive thing o

morphine,”
into his pocket.

After a while, when no sounds reached him, Dick tet
the piazza and looked carefully around the house. again ;
but, as before, without result.

He had even been led to wonder if. his sus-

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NEW, TIP TOP WEEKLY. 1D

CHAPTER VI.
DICK LEARNS MORE OF THE JACKSONS.

Now sitting ‘on the piazza, now strolling quietly about,
Dick watched and waited until daylight; a watch that was
wholly in vain. He did not hear the man enter the house,
or go toward the stables; did not hear anything, except
the natural sounds of the night.

Daylight found him lying in the hammock, not asleep,
but still watching.

There, an hour or so later, Potter found him, The
servants had been for some time astir, and Dick had caught
the odor of cooking.

“Breakfast, sir,” Potter announced.

“Miss Jackson is down?” said Dick, _Tegarding Potter
curiously.

“Not yet, sir,” said Potter. “She is not an early riser.”

“Mr. Jackson has returned?” '

“Not yet, sir. But breakfast is ready for you.”

“T think I will wait and join Miss Jackson when she

comes down to breakfast.”

The half-breed was turning away, when Dick called
him back. ‘

“T believe your name is Potter?”

Nes} er.”

There was a furtive, evasive look in Potter’s black
eyes. He was an intelligent-looking half-breed, though nét
pleasant looking, and evidently well educated. It seemed
queer to Dick that he was here in a menial capacity, when
no doubt he had a share in the tribal funds, like the
others.

But Dick had learned that other things than money
considerations frequently influence Indians; tribal ties are
strong, adherence to ancient forms is not always readily
broken, and even when a man is supposedly civilized, often
he is harboring queer taboos, odd notions of religion, and

_ traditional bonds that are sometimes stronger even than

kinship. Even to-day thousands of otherwise sensible
Americans are superstitious about Friday andthe number
thirteen, because Jesus was crucified on Friday, and thir-
teen sat at the Last Supper. Why, then, expect that re-
cently civilized people should not hold ideas as strange?
Dick did not think it could be so—was sure it could not
be so, in the civilized tribes of Oklahoma, where there is

- such a strong infusion of white blood; yet in New Mexico

he had found that the so-called civilized and Christianized
Pueblos were nearly all pagans at heart, and in their
ceremonials in their sacred estufas\ still practiced many of

their old Pueblo rites.

Looking now at Dick, Potter’s furtive eyes made no
revelation of his real thoughts and feelings.

“Yes, sir,” he repeated, when Dick seemed hesitating.

“You have discovered, of course,” said Dick, “that I
came out of my room by way of the window, with a rope
sheet; just as I did when I was here before. I seem to
be falling into that uncomfortable habit. I wonder if you
followed me—as you did before?” ‘

“T don’t understand you,” said Potter, flicking his eyes
away.

“Oh, all right.

Sometimes I talk in riddles. ‘But can

‘you explain to me the riddle of the man who came into

my room up there that other time? I told Miss Jackson

about it, and about the attack he made, and how I found

a hypodermic needle on the floor; I left the needle with
her. Of course, she spoke to you about that?”
“Yes, sir; she said something about it,” Potter admitted ;

*

‘as a matter of curious interest.

“she thought a burglar had got into the room. That has
been the general opinion.”

“And tried to poke morphine into me with a hypo-
dermic?”

“T can’t say as to that,” said Potter. He looked at
Dick, but flicked his eyes away again. “If I may sug-
gest,” he said, “I think the burglar accidentally dropped
that in the struggle with you; I don’t believe he tried to
use it on you. He was probably a dope fiend.”

““You heard him in my room again last night?”

Potter’s eyes widened.

“No, sir.

“T’m not sure he weiit into the room—he may have found
that I had left it; but he came to me here, as.I was
lying in this hammock. It’s a queer burglar that goes
about trying to stab people with hypodermic needles.”

Potter did not answer, except to ask Dick again if he
would nat now go to breakfast; apparently it was all
he could think of to say.

“Look at this!” said Dick, and held up the syringe.

Potter’s sickly-looking, yellow face took on a greenish
hue, and his eyes dilated.

“Where did you find that?” he asked.

“T tore it out of the hand of the man who tried to
stab me with it, and found it here, later, on the piazza.”

Dick dropped it again into his pocket.

“I know nothing about it,” said Potter dully.

“T hardly thought you would say you did. I showed it
T looked for the fellow’s
tracks at the end of the piazza, after daylight came; but
there’s a thick pad of grass there, and I could see no
tracks.”

“You think you will not go in to breakfast?” said Pot-
ter, turning away.

“T think I shall wait for the pleasure of the company
of Miss Jackson,” Dick answered.

“Yes, sir,” said Potter, in a subservient tone, and went
his way. \

“Now, I wonder what thoughts are under that fellow’s
black hair?” Dick was thinking while he watched Potter
depart. “I’m sure it would be more than interesting to
know. I startled him. But, as for reading his face, one
might as well try to read the sphinx.”

Dick lolled in the piazza hammock until he grew bret.
and was again becoming sleepy. He then varied the
monotony by walking about. He strolled by the river, and
along the river road.

Miss Melinda Jackson was so late a sleeper that at
eleven o’clock she had not appeared.

About this time, Hank Gordon came driving by in his
nitroglycerin wagon; and Dick, having grown tired of a
game that was getting him nowhere, apparently, resolved
suddenly to ride into Starbright with the well-shooter,

He spoke to one of the women who was passing.

“Will you be kind enough to inform Miss Jackson, when .
she comes down, that I have gone into town with Gor-
don,” he said; “give her my regards and compliments,
and tell her I shall try to see her, and her father, soon.”

“Yes, sir,” said the woman, and fled into the kitchen.

Dick walked out into the road and encountered Gordon.

“Hello! hello!” said Gordon cheerily. . “Still hangin’
around.” He glanced at the house. “Well, they’s worse,
places. Jack Jackson is a mighty fine man, in some re-
spects.”

“You haven't seen him this morning?”

 
 

12 NEW, TIP TOR WEEKLY,

“No.” ‘He laughed as Dick approached the wagon.
“Better keep away from this soup, Mr. Merriwell,” he
adjured; “it’s been declared too dangerous even for the
public roads. If the people around here keep on gittin
techy, I don’t know what they’re goin’ to do for soup.
But as they can’t open wells without it, I reckon [ll still
be some’eres around on the aidges.”

“I’m going into town with you.”

“What? On this load o’ soup? It might bu’st!”

“You're risking it.”

“But you know I don’t count; people ain’t keerin’ if I
do git blowed up; they’d think it was servin’ me right.”

“I may ride in with you?”

“I never invite, you know. Yisterday, when I ast that
girl to ride with me, I was jes jokin’; I knowed well she
wouldn’t. I never invite; but any one is allus welcome.
They takes the resk.. Then, if they’re blowed up——”

“You wouldn’t be blamed!”

“I reckon I wouldn’t; I reckon they wouldn’t find enough
o’ me to make an apology out of. Hard to load blame on
a man if you can’t find him.”

His round, red face was smiling and cheerful; ap-
parently he had ridden with death so much that even the
thought of it had become a joke.

Dick climbed in ovet the wheel and tucked himself into
the seat with Gordon. The well-shooter clucked his ponies
on, and snapped his whip.

“Lookin’ at them critters, you’d never think that they
was so tearin’ wild yisterday, now, would ye?” he com-
mented. “Trottin’ along here jes as peaceful and ca’m.
This one on the right I call Nitro, and the other’n Glycerin
—Gliss for short, That’s what they aire. Peaceful and
ca’m—quiet as tame rabbits, appeerently, no fire in ’em at
all; then they’re zzz-p! runnin’ away. Jes like the thing
they’re named for. But they don’t run without a rea-
son—like bein’ hit with a cannon ball, f’r instance; and
nitroglycerin don’t go off without a good reason, neither ;
leastways, I never seen it do it. If it does, and I’m in the
wagon—well, I won’t see it, then.”

Dick waited for him to come around to the subject of
the Jacksons, which he did ‘soon.

“What’s your opinion o’ them people back there? In-
dians, as I told you; though they don’t look it. You
might put Melinda on Michigan Avenue or Fifth Avenue,
and, togged in her finery, they might think there that she
“was French mebby, but they’d never think that she was
Indian. Mighty handsome girl, Merriwell.”

“I never saw another girl just like her.”

“Well, I guess that’s right; there never was another girl
like her, take it from me.”

“You said she was singular.”

“Single? Well, she ain't married, not’s I ever heard

of.”

“You're evading. She was very odd, you said; nobody
could understand her, and all the marriageable young men
around here were afraid of her, and kept away. Yester-
day the marshal said she was some sort of witch—seventh
daughter of a seventh daughter; and that she had cast a
spell of bad luck on him, and, in consequence, lightning
struck his stored oil and destroyed it.”

Gordon bent over in the seat, laughing.

“That marshal ain’t got as much sense as a tomcat.
heard him orderin’ me around yisterday?”

“Then there’s nothing in it?” ;

“T ain’t sayin’, Merriwell; but I wouldn’t believe nothin’

You

on the word o’ that marshal. Anyway, she’s got the eyes
of a witch, Did you ever see sech eyes? When she
looks at me, I feel as if blue gimlets was borin’ holes
through me. But—purty!” |

Dick saw that, though the well-shooter might talk an
hour on the subject of Melinda’s eyes and charms, he
would furnish no information; so he switched to the half-
breed.

“Tell me what you know about Potter?”

Gordon turned in the seat and looked hard at him,

“Nothin’, Merriwell.”

“But I can see that you do,” Dick insisted. _

“Well, they say he’s a medicine man; that’s all I know
about it. He'll take yarbs and roots, and mebbe some
hairs, and the off hind toe of a toad, and the stuff he’ll
brew with them ingreediments would make a dead man
stand up and holler.”

“And a live man fall down dead?”

“Jes so.”

“Yet he’s a civilized Indian.”

“Um! Think so?”

“Don’t you think so?”

“He’s sure had white man’s schoolin’; I wouldn’t go
furder than that; I don’t know how much of it struck
in.”

“T told you about the burglar who tried to get into my
room the other time I was out here?”

“Tt ain’t left me.”

“Could that have been Potter ?”’/

Gordon gave Dick another strange look.

“T hope not.”

“Why do you say that?” said Dick.

“Well, ’twould show that he’s after you; and”—his voice
dropped—“if that Indian is after you, he’s goin’ to git
you.”

“You won’t say more than that?”

“Tt’s enough, ain’t it?”

“But you might put me wise—tell me how;
IT can meet the thing.”

“Merriwell,” Gordon whirled in the seat and looked at
him again, “ain’t no man livin’ could do that; for nobody
would know, ’cept Potter himself. If he strikes you, it
will be the same as lightnin’s droppin’ out of a clear sky;

if it’s so,

i‘ /
and your friends won’t never know where the blow came -

from. Them Jacksons——”

“Then Potter is a Jackson?”

“Oh, yes; they’re all kin; but I reckon ’twould take
twenty Philadelphy lawyers to straighten out the rela-
tionship,”

“But what can Potter have against me?”

“Likely nothin’; likely you’re jes. seein’ things; you |
ain’t got no proof. But if he has got anything against you, f

it’s prob’ly on account o’ this oil-land bizness,”
“T had thought that, myself,” Dick admitted. .
The ponies clattered on, past the scene of the wreck of

the preceding day. The smashed buggy still lay beside

the road.

“You seen them cans bouncin’ around yisterday, and that

give you a line on the quality o’ the soup I kerry. Safe

_as cordwood, if you handle it right.”

“But there may come an explosion some time, — I’m
afraid.”

“Well, if it does,” said Gordon, ‘ ‘the people aroun here
will be through worryin’ about me.” His face cleared.
“Shucks,” he added, “what’s the good of supposin’?” —

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NEW, TIP. TOP WEEKLY. 13

CHAPTER VII.
CROWFOOT IN THE TOILS.

Meanwhile, Chip Merriwell, Doc Fisher, and old Joe
Crowfoot were having adventures of their own; one re-
sult being that Crowfoot was in the Starbright “cooler.”

Having contrived to annex some real money, in a card
game, and being foolish enough, or canny enough, to
flourish it, Crowfoot had been invited into a little upper
room, in a building on the main street; those inviting
him being gamblers anxious to acquire his roll,

Any one seeing Crowfoot squatting on the curbstone
in his dingy red blanket, or even pawing over the paste-
boards at the beginning of a card game, would be sure
that the old Indian had no more than enough brains to
keep him out of an infirmary; that is, if the one seeing
him did not know him.

The gamblers were of that class.

The oil lands’ boom was pouring men of that stripe
into Starbright, dnd they were looking about for easy
money, thinking they could secure it more readily from
Indians than from white men.

The fellows who had decoyed Crowfoot began by
matching pennies with him, and let him roll up nearly
fifty cents, a cent at a time. His inability to fail made
him shake with glee.

From pennies to cards was a short step. They were
soon showing him card tricks. Then came poker. Oh,
no!—old Joe didn’t know a thing about poker, that is, not
anything worth mentioning.

When
the cards they found in their hands were
enough to give them shivers. Yet that, too, it seemed
must have been by accident. For old Joe’s manner of
shuffling and dealing indicated that he was a bungling
tyro.

It had chanced that Doc Fisher witnessed the act of
the men in decoying Crowfoot, and he had hurried off
with the information to Chip Merriwell. }

Chip was not so much afraid that old Joe would -be
fleeced, as he was that he would get into the clutches
of the law; for stringent ordinances against gambling
had been promulgated, and the marshal was trying to
enforce them.

Chip and Fisher, therefore, hurried to the building,
planning to get Crowfoot out of it and away from the
gamblers. In spite of Crowfoot’s undoubted assistance
to Dick, Chip was almost wishing the old Indian had
stayed in Arizona. At times Crowfoot was simply in-
valuable; at other times he was a trouble and a nuisance.

The game of baseball that was being played on the Star-
bright diamond had come to a sudden and inglorious end;
everybody had broken away from the ball field, players and
spectators alike; and some on horses, in buggies, and
the others on foot, had set out on the river road, fully
expecting that a terrible tragedy had been staged.

After they had trailed back to the town, the effort
made by a number to have the ball game go on ended in
failure, chiefly through the perverseness and wrong-headed-

But he soon began to win—by sheer accident.
he dealt,

~ ness of Ben Tyler.

The hour was growing jakes many of the spectators
had gone home or were going, and the wordy war over
what should bé done and what left undone dragging out,
the thing had ended, in a muddle.

As a consequence, a good many young fellows were
feeling sore.

Chief among them was Ben Tyler.

From the first, he had taken a dislike to Chip Mer-
riwell; not because Chip had harmed him in any way, but
simply because he could not bear the thought of any
one coming into Starbright and plucking from his hot-
headed skull the crown of baseball glory which he
fondly believed rested there. The mere fact that Chip’s
ability had been foolishly boasted about by old Crow-
foot had “soured” Tyler, who could not endure a rival.
Tyler was a fairly good player, and a clever pitcher. He
knew it; and the case of “swelled head” this knowledge
gave, ruined him. In addition, Tyler was a “scrapper,”
of the kind that seéks out the little fellows to pummel,
and sends another against the bigger man, whom he fears
to meet personally.

At this time Tyler had sent out Carl Bludso, known
s “Blood,” one of his close friends and backers; a big,
bullet-headed fellow, with a hand like a ham, who fancied
that he had in him the making of a pugilist.

Bludso was looking for Chip Merriwell, intending to
provoke a row, when Chip and Fisher came hurrying
along the street. By chance, Bludso had posted himself
at the foot of the stairway toward which Chip and Fisher
were steering.

Then, as Chip came along, ignoring him, Bludso thrust
out his foot, so that Chip struck against it.

Up to that moment Bludso had been in a lounging atti-
tude, with his back braced lazily against the wall, by the
entrance; now he straightened up, threw back his beefy
shoulders, and demanded, in a loud voice, why Chip
had chosen to insult him by kicking his foot.

Chip knew what the bully wanted, but at the moment
was in no mood to accommodate him, thinking of Crow-
foot in the room above, with the gamblers.

“Stand aside,” he said; a didn’t do that purposely; you
put your foot out.”

“Do you call me a liar?” Blood roared.

“Aw, cut it out!” said Fisher, drawing his attention; and
Chip gained the stairway without molestation, and went
on up.

“T’ll hammer your head in, you white piece of tripe!”
Bludso howled.

“If you can hit me,” said Fisher; and followed Chip at
a jump.

Carl Bludso began to climb the stairs after them,
mouthing noisily ; for nothing makes your true bully roar
with lustier lungs than the feeling that the fellow he is
insulting is afraid of him. Apparently, both Chip and
Fisher had shown the white feather.

Chip did ‘not know where the room was after he had
gained the top of the stairs; there were a number of
rooms, all with closed doors. He heard nothing to in-
dicate the, location of the one into which Crowfoot and
the gamblers had gone.

While Chip was still hesitating, Bludso came on him,
there in the hall.

“Say that again!” he commanded.

“Say what?” said Chip, looking straight at him. “I
hayen’t" said anything.”

“You called me a liar!”

“If you say that,” said Chip deliberately,
one!”
Chip backed against the wall, for he saw that the bully

4

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14 _ NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

meant to rush on him. He was far from being, as big
and strong as Bludso; yet, though Bludso might be able
to whip him, he could not scare him.

As Bludso came at Chip with his bulldog growl, little
Fisher, who had been hopping nervously about, as if he
had lighted suddenly on a bed of hot coals, ducked, as if
to get by and out of the way of harm. In doing so
he contrived to so strike Bludso’s legs that the bully fell
heavily, just as his maullike fist was shooting at Chip’s
face,

The blow failed to reach; Bludso went down on the
hard floor, striking his bullet head against the wall with
a jar that shook the building.

One of the doors near by flew open, and an old Indian
in a soiled red blanket came rolling out into the hall;
he had heard Chip’s voice; hearing, also, the loud words
of Bludso, he had guessed that Chip Merriwell was in
trouble. |

He had been winning miraculously, in a game that he
“knew nothing about,” and his knotted. brown fingers
were filled with bank bills, The gamblers were jumping
after him, calling to him to stop, their greedy hands
reaching for the money.

It went out of sight. under old Joe’s blanket, as he
gained the hall.

He saw Chip Merriwell backed against the wall in an
attitude of defense, and the bully trying to get to his
feet. In indicated, to Joe’s mind, that Bludso had as-
saulted Chip, and ‘that Chip had knocked him down.

That any one, particularly a fellow as big as Bludso,
should assault Chip Merriwell—— That was enough for
Crowfoot.

An Indian war whoop broke in the hall—a_ blood-
curdling yelp. Rushing Bludso before the fellow was
fairly on his feet, Crowfoot threw him violently to the
stairway. Moving at the time backward, Bludso caught
his heel; then fell, and went bumping heavily down the
steps. A

The gamblers were shouting; down in the street rose
a cry of “Police!”

Crowfoot, unheeding this, tore loose from the gamblers,
who were seeking to detain him, and flung down after
Bludso, yelling again like a wild redskin.

At the bottom of the stairs he fell into the hands
of Benton, the Starbright marshal.

Seeing that the marshal had appeared, the gamblers
turned tail, and disappeared with a celerity that.did credit
to their caution.

Chip and Fisher were hurrying to the side. of Crow-
foot. ;

“It was him—that Indian,” Bludso was sputtering; “he
knocked me down the stairs.” ,

Chip and Fisher began to explain.

But there was Bludso, covered with bruises; the mar-
shal had seen him rolling down the stairs, and had seen
and heard Crowfoot jumping and yelling after him!
“You for the cooler,” he said, laying his hand on Joe’s
arm; “argyments can come later, before the police judge.”

CHAPTER VIII. ‘
EARNING THEIR SALARIES.

Hank Gordon drew in his roan, ponies on the outskirts
of the town, near the ball field.
“Here’s as fur as I go, Merriwell,” he said, “I gut to
¢ f 2

keep out uh this two-by twict hamlet, or I’ll be mobbed,
sence these critters run away. I got a shed out here,
beyond, that hereafter I’m goin’ to stow the wagon and
the stuff in; kinda out o’ the way, but there won’t any-
body run off with it. That’s one thing about the goods
I handle—nobody don’t never try to steal ’em.”

Dick climbed down from the seat, thanked Gordon for
the ride, and went on into Starbright.

In the main street he encountered Chip and Fisher,
and heard the story of Crowfoot’s incarceration. They
had gone with the marshal and prisoner to the jail, and
Chip had tried to secure Crowfoot’s release on bail, but
had not succeeded.

“He’s to come up for trial before the police judge right
off,” said Chip. “We thought we’d look around for, you,
then hustle back and try to do something, if we didn’t
find you. It’s lucky, meeting you here, Uncle Dick.”

When they reached the police court, they found that
Crowfoot’s examination was ended. ‘The marshal had
described what he had seen and heard. Bludso had tes-
tified, and exhibited his bruises, Crowfoot had said noth-
ing, not even when the judge asked him for an explana-
tion,

“Fined twenty-five dollars,” said the judge; “and lock
him up until he pays it.”

Dick Merriwell had entered the room with Chip and
Fisher. Not knowing that Crowfoot was even known
to Dick, the judge was not expecting Dick to do any-
thing; but the marshal looked at him expectantly,

Crowfoot surprised all of them.

He arose slowly, ‘with as much solemnity and dignity
as if his blanket had been immaculate, and began to
fumble.

“Twenty-five dol’,” he said, and sniffed contempt; “huh!
Me got um,” 4

His hand came out, filled with bank notes. He threw
some of them on the table—twenty-five dollars. Tucking
the rest under his blanket, he turned and walked calmly
out of the room.

Crowfoot had paid his fine with some of the money
he had lured from the gamblers.

Dick remained in the courtroom a while, talking with
the marshal, and was introduced by him to the police
judge, to whom he explained Crowfoot’s failings and
eccentricities.

“Sorry I had to do it,” the marshal declared, “since he
is your Indian. But if you had seen him, Merriwell—
’specially, if you had heard him! I reckon Blood sure
thought he was goin’ to be scalped. But I’ve got my
eye on Blood. and I’m goin’ to warn him; I'll warn him
to keep away from Chip.”

“That’s right; I hope you will,” said Dick. “He’s too
big a fellow to want to climb Chip. Yet,” and his eyes
twinkled, “Chip might surprise him! But I don’t want
it to happen.”

“Tf Blood cuts loose, he’ll land here,” declared the mar-
shal decisively.

Dick soon followed Chip and Fisher, and joined them.
Crowfoot had vanished.

“There’s Blood walking down the other side of the
street, looking ugly,” said Fisher. “He’s playing chesty.”

“Ben Tyler put him up to that,” said Chip; and ex-
plained again. ;

“Keep away from him, We'll drop that out now.”| Dick

en

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“and sandwich in a game now and then!

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NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 15

turned to Fisher ey, want you to take a horse and ride
out to Jackson’s.

Dick rai over pore the incidents that had befallen
him there, and exhibited the hypodermic needle.

“I feel sure that some one out there got the contents.
I turned the man’s hand and secured the needle, then
rammed it home in his body. If the stuff in it was dope,
it seems to me he must have received a good dose.”

Fisher’s eyes looked big behind their big glasses, as he
examined the syringe.

“Great cats!” he cried, marveling. “I guess you gave
him most of it. If it was morphine, it will put him—has
put him to sleep, all right.” He sniffed and tested. “But
I don’t believe it is morphine.”

“I hope I didn’t drive deadly poison into any one,”
said Dick.

“Of course,
urged.

“Still, if that killed any one,
pleasant about it.

if you did, you can’t be blamed,” Chip

I shouldn’t feel very
I don’t know that you. can do anything
out there, Fisher; or that you can even get into the
house. Yet I’m going to send you out there, and you're
to do whatever you can. I may go out later, myself. I’d
like to know who that man was, if it can be found out.
If the fellow-is one of the servants, as I think, and his
case is serious, they'll no doubt send for a doctor; unless
they choose to let Potter treat him. Perhaps you can
get a talk with the doctor, if one is summoned. Do what
you can; I can’t give more than general instructions.”

Chip and Dick accompanied Fisher to the livery stable,
where a horse was secured; and they talked the matter
over again there. Chip desired to accompany Fisher.

“You would be earning your salary from the Merriwell
Company too pleasantly,” Dick remarked, with a laugh;
“that is, your job is here, in Starbright. What is the
report? Come over here, and we'll talk it over.”

So, while Fisher rode away, Dick and Chip Merriwell
found a shady seat, where they could not be overheard
as they talked, and Chip was soon pouring forth the in-

‘formation he had collected concerning the probable value

of Jackson’s oil lands.

This information Chip had gained simply by keeping
his ears. open. On the ball field, at the hotel, in the
street, everywhere, the talk was of  oil-land values. Chip

and Fisher could hardly have helped hearing it, if they |

had tried.” Speculators, agents, prospective buyers, and
sellers abounded.

Usually, any talk of these men that was worth hearing
by an outsider, was guarded. But they gave scant heed
to the listening ears of boys who went about the streets
in baseball clothing, and whose only thought, apparently,
was of baseball.

“This is easy money—for you,” Dick commented, with
a laugh.

“TIsn’t it worth it—all I get?”

“More,” said Dick, who had been jesting; “but think of
earning a salary while you walk around and talk baseball

harder. I have to risk hypodermic needles filled with

poison,”

“And ponies running away with nitroglycerin wagons,”

Chip added, laughing, too.

“Oh, that—well, I’d prefer to go after knowledge in
some other manner; but that played right into my hands.

It enabled me to get another interview with Miss Jack-

My pay comes /

son, and see her father. I know now that he does not
want to talk with me—is keeping out of. my way, to hold
me off until after the time limit on Jones’ option has
expired. Yet he might save himself the trouble. From
what I have learned, myself, and what you tell me is the
current report and gossip, Ashmead Jones will make money
by not leasing’ Jackson’s oil land; and that is the report
I shall make to him. While it has some oil, it is chiefly
underlaid with gas.”

“Then the men who want it, and to whom Jackson
will sell it as soon as Jones’ option has expired, will be
stung ?”

“That’s their lookout,” said Dick; “the Merriwell Com-
pany is employed solely to safeguard and further the in-
terests here of Ashmead Jones.”

“I wonder what Fisher will succeed in doing out there?”
Chip mused, as Dick sat in silence beside him, thinking
over the information Chip had given.

Apparently Dick did not hear it.

“IT want you, Chip,” he said, “to play ball again; drive
Tyler into a game; accept any old aggregation of. players.”

“You want to be a spectator?”

“Oh, I may; it depends.” Dick smiled. “I, too, pick
up a lot of news by listening to those oil men sputtering,
while I’m pretending to be so interested in the base-
ball playing of my dear nephew that I can’t hear anything
but the crack of his bat. While the people here think the
Merriwells are loafing and playing baseball, they stop
watching us. I had a wire yesterday morning from a
Kansas City man who knew I was here, and he wants me
to look into oil land for him; and I received another
from your dad, who has been commissioned by another
oil-crazy capitalist to look into values. So, while I’m
still fishing in the Jackson mill pond, I’ve got other lines
in the water. We may be here a week or ten days
longer.”

“Jones’ time limit expires before then?”

“Three days more lets Jones out of his deal. The
Jacksons’, as I see it riow, are determined to gain those
three days, if they have to put me out of the way to do
it? ;

His mind turned back to his recent experience.

“IT wonder who I jabbed that needle into? Here’s hop-
ing that Fisher will find out.”

He took the needle out of his pocket and looked at it.

“There’s a druggist in this town who makes a specialty
of chemical. analysis; I’m going to turn this over to
him.”

CHAPTER IX.
BASEBALL,

Chip Merriwell had hastily got a nine together, and some’
substitutes. They were fellows who had taken a liking
to him. Some of them could play, others only thought
they could play.

This was after Chip had failed to get Ben Tyler to
agree to a continuation of the game that had been
broken into; Tyler would not take that up, from the
point where it had been interrupted, even though the
umpire himself backed Chip’s wish; for he had felt, while
in the game, that he was going to be beaten.

Tyler was disappointed at Bludso’s failure to “beat sp”
Chip. Bludso was still hanging around, exhibifing | his
chestiness, but that was all; he had been spoken to by

 

 
 

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16 NEW TIP TOP’ WEEKLY.

the marshal, who knew him well, and who had threatened
to “run him in” if he even got into a quarrel with

_ Chip,

Flinging a challenge boldly into Tyler’s face, Chip drove
him into its acceptance; and the nines and their substitutes
were now out on the diamond, watched by a hastily col-
lected assortment of fans.

“Easy way of earning my salary,” thought Chip, re-
calling Dick’s words; “well, yes; I rather like it! The
Merriwells are playing and watching baseball, and, attend-
ing to the business that sent them down here at the
same time.”

With the ball in his hand Chip turned and faced the
batter.

At the same time he was thinking of Doc Fisher, won-
dering what adventure, if any, Fisher had run into out at
Jackson’s; for Fisher was staying longer there than even

Dick Merriwell had anticipated.

“Hope nobody tams a poison hypo into Fisher !”

The ball was going over.

“One strike,” came from the umpire.

It went in again.

.“Two strikes |”

“That one was sizzling hot,” thought Dick;
nephew seems to be feeling better to-day. I wonder if it
was that talk about earning his salary?”

. “Now his arm breaks,” cackled Tyler, trying his old
ruse,

The ball came in,

“Three strikes—out !”

“Oh, well; oh, well! That’s only one man out; now the
willow artists are coming up.”

Chip, fresh and in fettle, mowed them down like hay.

The man standing by Dick looked around nervously,
while Chip’s side trooped in to the benches.

“Hope that fool, Gordon, won’t drive up again while
Chip is batting,” he said. Then he laughed. “I haven’t
got over that scare yet.”

“Gordon knows better than to do that again,” said Dick;
“Benton has been after him.”

“Now, Tyler,” Bludso called, “unlimber your wing and
waft the crooked ones over ed corner; that crowd can’t
hit you!”

“Sure they can’t!” Tyler boasted.

With the ball in his hand, he stopped and stared at

“my dear

the batter and Chip’s men on the benches,

“What’s become of that little horse doctor?” he cried;
“I thought he headed your batting list! Sending in a
substitute for him? Why didn’t you try Crowfoot?”

Chip Merriwell merely smiled at him. That always irri-
tated Tyler. Being so noisy himself, a smile often chafed
him more than words could have done.

Tyler’s confidence grew strong when he struck out the
first batter up.

The next was a young fellow named Osgood, who
thought himself a wit.

“Don’t throw it over the grand stand,” he adjured Tyler.
There was no grand stand. “My bat is right here; see
if you can find it. Any old curve’ suits me; only, don’t
put ’em too high.”

At that, he actually fooled Tyler; who sent in a ball as
low as the rules allowed. It was what Osgood wanted,
and he slammed it out.

“A hit!” was yelled. “Go, you rabbit!”

Osgood hesitated at first bag; but, seeing that the ball

\
|

 

was skipping on, he went ahead at high speed. At-sec-
ond it seemed they had him, but he slid in, and the umpire
said he was safe.

Tyler began to kick against the decision.

“Oh, that’s rotten!” he yelled. “He was out! I was
standing right here, where I could see it. Say, some-
body give the umpire a pair of specs. Where’s Doc
Fisher ?—borrow his!”

The umpire walked out toward him.

“That'll do,” he said; and said it in a way that closed
Tyler’s mouth for a second or two; “I’m umpiring this
game.”

With Osgood on second, Chip Merriwell came up with
the willow.

The man who was standing with Dick looked around
again nervously,

“Glad that soup wagon isn’t here,” he remarked, when
he had assured himself that it was not; “makes me shiver
every time I think of what happened in that other game.”

“*Safe as cordwood,’ Gordon says,” Dick commented,
and laughed.

“I should think your nerves would be in ribbons, after
what you went through.”

“Oh, I’ve stopped thinking About it?

Tyler was afraid of Chip Merriwell’s batting eye; it
was, he had found, hard to fool him. Tyler began to-put
them wide out, hoping that Chip would go after ae

Chip refused.

“Try this one,” said Tyler.

“Tt looks good to me,” Chip mumured, when he saw it
coming in—it was straight over, with a drop at the plate.

Chip lifted it out into center, placing it beyond the
fielder, who had to run back, and Osgood came home
from second while it was being fielded in.

Chip was on second, but had to stop there.

“Here is where we break in,’ he said to Tyler, who
had begun to chaff him.

“You couldn’t break into anything, even with a jimmy,”
Tyler cried.

“No, I’m sure I couldn’t with a jimmy—lack experi-
ence,”

Tyler’s face was getting redder all the time. Chip saw

the wicked glitter that came into his eyes. It was like
teasing a rattlesnake.

“You want to slam that ball into me,” said Chip; “I hope
you will! Right here, while I’m off second; and I'll
catch it for you. Oh, you won’t?” He had jumped back,
for Tyler had slammed the ball at the baseman.

Tyler was quivering with anger when he turned at last
to throw to the plate. Chip had first made him wild by
remaining silent; now he was repeating it by using his
own recipe for rattling a player,

Tyler threw a curve—or tried to; it was a failure as a
curve. The batter caught it on the nose and hammered
it down past second. dt bounced and shot by second,
eluded the shortstop, and caromed out into the open ground
beyond.

Chip Merriwell was running like a prairie fire, and the
runner at first turned for second, as Chip shot away from
third,

- The ball.came into Tyler’s hands, and the runner from
first went back; with a growl of rage Tyler threw home.
Chip was coming in, sliding in a whirling haze of dust.

Plunk! the ball went in the mitt ee the catcher; and

he jumped at Chip,

Te Ne A Ee eee ee eee ee Fg PVH. dy ee ae ke eae

  

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though he'll be there—he’ll be there!

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 1

Safe!

Tyler began to kick again, at this decision, and was
again threatened and admonished by the umpire.

Two runs had been pulled in; but it ended there for
Chip’s side, in that inning; end: soon they were walking
into the field.

Bludso, walking about among the spectators, was telling
every one that what had happened was luck, and couldn’t
happen again.

“Tyler will brace up now,” he boasted, “and his side
will bat that fraud out uh the box. Merriwell will go to
pieces now. I’ve seen him do it before. That last time——”

“Oh, rot!” some one said to him; “that last time they
were putting it all over Tyler’s nine when that runaway
happened.”

It did sem that Chip had fallen off; for the first man
up secured Wtwo-base hit.

The next batter was somewhat after Tyler’s own heart;
Tyler naturally had selected fellows who were as near
like himself as he could find. The fellow came up,
boasting,

. Tyler’s coaching chatter was ringing out.

“Get ready to divorce yourself from that sack,” he
whooped to the runner at second. “Don’t wait for him;
Dig your toes into
the turf and be ready to burglarize third. Get off!
Watch the pitcher’s arm, and be ready to move up on it
every time. He won’t throw down there.”

Chip glanced at the runner on second, and turned to
throw to the plate.

The batter swung at it, and missed. The hopeful runner
at second jumped back,..when he saw the ball coming
down.

“Oh, don’t go to sleep on that cushion,” Tyler howled ;
“you could have made third then! Play off—play off |”

The batter swung again, when the ball came in,

Plunk!

The catcher was hurtling the ball back to Chip,

“Two strikes!” the umpire warned.

“Now, here’s where he gets it; here’s where he gets
it!” howled Tyler.

The ball whistled over, and the bat found only a hole in
the air.

“Out!” said the umpire,

“Oh, dear; oh, dear!” cried Tyler, affecting gayety; “of
course we’ve got to let him think he’s pitching; otherwise
he’d quit the game dead cold, ‘like he did that other time.
Can’t somebody scare up another runaway? ‘There’s a
pair of horses over there; shy a rock at them!”

“Don’t be afraid to stand up to the plate,” said the

catcher to the next batter, who seemed to be afraid of

it. Chip had been putting them rather close in, in striking
out. “If he hits you, you walk, you know!”

Tyler was again howling to the runner at second:

“Sack that sack! Move out—move out! Here’s where
we get him!”

The batter swung mightily at the ball that came over
jumping back before he swung,

Plunk!

“One strike!”

“Now it’s a hit!” cried Tyler,
afraid of that bunk pitcher!”

“Two strikes!” came from the umpire.

A minute later:

“Three strikes—out |”

“Get a lead—don’t be

ee

Also, with the next man it was—three strikes and out. ©

“Oh, well; oh, well!” Tyler was roaring, with an as-
sumption of cheerfulness; “we’ve got to humor him, you
know! The little boy won’t play, if you don’t let him
exhibit himself some of the time.”

“Get into gear yourself; not so much hot air!” some one
shouted at him.

“All right,’ Tyler returned ;

He did.

The three batters that faced him went down.

Tyler was a good pitcher, when he could control his
temper.

As Chip started toward the pitcher’s position, he heard
a clatter of hoofs,

“now see me do it.”

Looking toward the road, he there saw Doc Fisher

galloping up with his horse at a dead run.

Dick Merriwell was seen to run out and meet him, and
Fisher brought his horse to a stop. They were well out
beyond the crowd, in the road; Fisher began to gesticulate
earnestly, evidently communicating what he considered a
matter of weight, whose import Chip would have given
much to know.

Chip stood looking at them, and did not notice the ball,
but let it fall and roll at his feet.

“You're playing ball, ain’t you?” Tyler howled at him,
“Stop your mooning and get into the game!”

“Batter up,” said the umpire, and called Robinson, as
the batter’s name,

Chip picked up the ball and stepped into the box.

But he stopped, to look again.

Dick had sprifted to get a horse, and stood explaining
something to the owner of the horse. Fisher had turned
about.
galloped away, along the river road.

“Wonder what’s up now?” thought Chip, wishing himi-
self heartily out of the game, and on horseback with
them.

“Going to sleep down there?” yelled Tyler.

Dick leaped into the saddle; and he and Fisher

Chip turned, and sent the ball whistling over thé plate, *

CHAPTER X, |
THE GAME GOES ONY

Chip Merriwell put the ball over. But his mind was on
Dick and Fisher, Why had Dick been summoned away
in that manner?

The batter smashed the ball, and sent it spinning along |
the ground near third. He was in action as soon as he

had batted, going like an alarm clock,
Tyler began to roar.
With a runner on first, Chip pulled himself together, and

tried to get his mind off Dick and Fisher. It was really |
none of his business why Dick had been summoned to |

accompany Fisher. Of course, they were going out to
Jackson’s. What had happened at Jackson’s?
In spite of his resolve, Chip’s mind was running around

in that circle of questions again, Still, he was trying for |

control.

Once more the ball went over. The batter swung and
missed. Chip tried to pin his whirling mind to the
game. ‘

There was a possibility that the runner on first would
try to steal. Chip sent his pitched ball high and wide
to give the catcher a good chance for a throw to second.

The batter let it pass, and the umpire called-it a “ball.”

pale g pepe

 

 
 

to handle it right.”

a8. NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

Chip wondered if the batter would try for a_ sacrifice.
He was watching the runner. Still, he could not keep
Dick and Fisher out of his mind. The ball*went in from
his hand. It was on the inside corner.

The batter fell back, and swung.

Crack!

The shortstop was playing too far back, and did not get
in quickly to the ball, and before he had it, two bases
were filled.

“Now we've got him going,” Tyler was cheerfully an-

nouncing.. “See him aéroplane! We'll fill the bases
now.”

He was down on the coaching line. :

“Watch his arm—watch his arm! Play off! He can’t

pitch, anyhow! Who ever told Chip Merriwell that he
could pitch?”

Chip tried now for ‘caution—tried to lead the batter into
reaching for wide ones. Three balls were called.

“Take the infant out!” squealed Tyler, on the coaching
line. -

Chip’s face had grown white, Again he sent the ball in.

Chip had pitched it wide out, but still over the plate.
The batter thought it was a ball, and did not swing. The
umpire surprised him by announcing:

“Two strikes!”

Then came the critical moment.

Chip threw what séemed a straight one, but it broke
sharply and curved outside the plate. Chip was sure it
was over, but the batter did not strike.

*“Take your base,” said the umpire,

Three bags were filled.

Chip looked at the umpire.

“I wonder if I’m up against ten men?” was his thought.

“Oh, take the child out!” Tyler called. “Say, this is
stealing gandy from a kid!”

The catcher made a signal to Chip, and they met in
front of the plate. \

“What’s the matter with you?” the anxious catcher de-
manded; “the bases are full! The next man up at bat is
Tyler!” You've got to keep him from getting a hit. If he
slams it out——”

“T understand the situation,” said Chip.

“Tyler’s clever with the bat—best batter they’ve got.
You'd better walk him to first. If he cracks it out right,
all three of those runners may come in.”

Again Chip toed the rubber.

At the plate, Tyler rubbed his hands in the dirt, to give
him a better grip on the bat; his manner was that of one
confident now of a three-bagger. Chip, in his estimation,
had “gone to pieces.” Tyler’s face was red and glowing,
his snappy eyes glittering with his thought of success and
Chip’s humiliation,

Chip knew that he was himself to blame in a degree for
what had happened.

“T haven’t been earning my salary; when Dick orders
me to play ball, to hold the interest of people away from
the things he is doing, then that.is my job, and I’ve got
His thought took a humorous twist.
“Here’s a way to earn money while playing baseball, and
still be an amateur; it must be the only way that it can
be done!”

The man on the coaching line was chattering like a mag-

pie. All Tyler’s players were gaining confidence of vic-

tory. Tyler himself had grown sure of it. He held up

his hes

 

 

oy #8 sho

“Tust get ’em over the plate!” he invited.

Chip whistled the ball over.

Tyler still smiled confidently, even though a strike was
called.

“That was close in, and fooled me ;
Tyler was thinking.

Apparently Chip threw another of the same kind.

Tyler fell back to hammer it out. To his surprise, it
was not an inshoot, but a drop, and he missed again.

“Two strikes !”

Profuse perspiration broke out on Tylet’s Forehead: his
face flamed to a fiery red.

“Whee-ee!” cried the catcher, starting to pay him in his
own kind of coin. “This fellow is easy—easy. Feed him
another gum drop.”

he'll try it again,”

“He won’t send another drop,’ thought Tyler; “the
catcher knows it, and is saying that just to fool me;
he’s going to send in something different.”

It came in swift, and looked to be a straight one. Tyler
thought he had it. He hammered for the trade-mark,
and expected to hear the crack of the bat’s collision.
But——

It was.a drop!

“Three strikes—out!” shouted the umpire, aceite to- hide
his excitement.

Chip struck out the next batter. without trouble:

With the next man up, the runner at third, growing des-.

perate, made some daring attempts. The result was that
he was trapped between third and home, and went out-at
the plate, while trying, in wild desperation, to slide in.

Chip had “come back,” and was again “earning his
salary

CHAPTER XI.

DOC FISHER’S DIAGNOSIS. j

“She’s calling for you!” was the first thing Fisher had
said when he rode up and spoke to Dick Merriwell.

‘Who is calling for me?” was Dick’s demand.

“Miss Jackson.”

“She is. dying?” Dick was startled.

“No,” said Fisher, his face twisting as if he wanted
to laugh, his eyes glistening behind his big glasses; “she
isn’t dying, and I don’t think that there is any danger that
she will. But she got that morphine dope—if it was mor-
phine; seems to me it wasn’t morphine, though! I’m doc-
tor enough to: handle the case, I think; but when she
began to call for you, I said I’d come in and get you. I
want you to see her.
Jackson wasn’t; only some of those women. I think the
half-breed had gone for a doctor; if so, he may be there
now,., But what I’m afraid of is that she will be spirited
out of that house, and we can’t find her when we get
there; those half-breeds began to look mighty. queer
when she put up that holler for you; they looked as if
they wanted to throw the pillow into her face and squeeze
down on it hard. So I think you’d better get there in a
hurry.”

Dick secured a horse as quickly as he could ;

then he
and Fisher rode away.

On the way out Fisher tried to explain further, evén as
they galloped along.

Not knowing what to do, Fisher had concluded, when
he went out to Jackson’s, at Dick’s request, that a bold
course was the most promising. Assuming that some

 

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NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 19

one there had been stabbed with the needle ‘by Dick, and
thdt he would be needing a doctor, in all probability,
Fisher had deliberately tied up his’ horse on arriving at
the house, and boldly knocked on the door.

“T’m a doctor,” he had announced; “not a regular prac-
titioner, but a medical student; and I think some one
here is in need of me. A little bird told me.”

The dark-faced woman who had opened the door stared
hard at him. She was excited, and was debating what
to do. Fisher saw by her manner that his guess had gone
straight; somebody there was needing the services of a
physician, or, at least, this woman thought so.

“Potter is gone,” said the woman; “if Potter was here
”?

‘ “But he isn’t,” said Fisher; “so you’d better let me see
what I can do.”

The woman vanished, leaving him standing at the door.
She came back with another woman, and he heard them
conferring together in the hall. Soon the door was opened
to him again.

“You may come in,” he was told.

The women were shivering with fear; that was the
only thing that had made them think for a moment of ad-
mitting Fisher.

“In a panic,” thought Fisher; “must be a serious case,
here. Somebody’s filled up with morphine—from that
hypo. Well, perhaps I can be of service, Glad they let
me in.”

Fisher’s professional zeal rose at once, superior even to
his allegiance to Dick Merriwell. For Fisher was a born
physician. To have the responsibility of a dangerous case
thrust on him always made a man of him; he increased,
apparently, in age and intellect. He was a boy no longer,
except in years.

“Just lead me to the patient,’ he said; and his tone
was not only commanding, it inspired respect and con-
fidence.

He told Dick about the surprise he had received—as
Dick galloped by his side.

“T almost fell dead when they took me into a room,
and, instead of a man, I found that the patient was Miss
Jackson !”

His astonishment, lingering, was enough even then to
make his brain spin around.

Dick tried to knot the tangled skein together, controlling
his amazement. Melinda Jackson had been the “man” who

had tiptoed to him when, in the darkness, he lay in the

hammock on the piazza; she had been in masculine attire!
It was a bewildering discovery. Was she, also, the “bur-
glar” who had attacked him in that upstairs room? What
was her motive.

Why -was she now calling for him? Fisher had said
she was not dying, nor likely to die. :

Dick shouted that at Fisher as they galloped along. As
at the ball grounds, Fisher seemed to evade a direct an-
swer, Dick was to.find out when he got jthere.

Fisher’s fear, which had so hurried them, that Melinda
Jackson would be spirited away, was not realized; Potter
had not returned, nor Jack Jackson. Only the women
They had evidently taken ‘counsel among
themselves after Fisher’s departure, and now they had
changed front, on discovering that Melinda Jackson was
not likely to die; they had admitted him only because
of that fear, as in their panic they would have admitted
anybody who claimed ability to help her,

\ ;

Dick and Fisher found the door flocked against them.

One of the woinen put her head out of the window
by the door.

“You can’t come in,” she announced.

“But—you know me,” said Fisher. “Why not? I was
here a while ago.”

“You can’t come in!” said the woman firmly, and
dropped the window.

Fisher stared around.

“Have we got to burglarize the house?” he asked, his
face serious. “This is the limit!”

As they stood there, talking, two horsemen arrived. One
was Potter. The other announced himself as a doctor.

“But, see here,” said Fisher, assuming a pouter-pigeon
attitude, “this is my case, you know!”

The man glared at him, then laughed.

“You’re a doctor?” he asked. -

“Well, er——” :

“Stand aside, then. I’ve been called here to see a pa-
tient.”

“T’m a medical student,” Fisher cried, in desperation ;
“and I’ve already made one visit, and now I’m here ‘to
make another.”

“Your case will lie in court, for practicing without a
licence. Ill just take your name.” He produced pencil
and tablet.

“Clement Gardner,” said Fisher; adding to himself,
“that’s part of it, anyhow; I don’t catch myself giving
you my whole name!”

The doctor wrote the name very deliberately, looking-at
Fisher,

“Tl see that you are prosecuted for pretending to be
a practicing physician and visiting a patient as stich,” he
announced severely.

“Fire away,” said Fisher, disgusted. “The women here
thought their mistress was dying, and I went to her as-
sistance. What would you think of me yourself if I
hadn’t tried to do something? I guess you'll have hard
work making a case out of that.” .

Potter stood glowering at Dick Merriwell, who had seen
that the game was over, and had said nothing. Dick had
even smiled a little at Fisher’s earnestness.

“T guess we'll go now,” he remarked, as the doctor en-
tered the house.

“We got here a minute too late, Fisher,” he said, as
they walked out to their horses. “But now you can break
the seal of mystery, and tell me just what you know.”

Fisher had been so indignant, and was so disappointed,
that tears stood in his eyes. Now his manner altered,
He laughed.

“Mr. Merriwell, it’s the funniest thing |”

“Share it,” Dick urged.

“l’'m afraid you will think I’m a fool,” said Fisher.

“How is that? I’ve never thought so.”

“Well, my idea seems silly—seems rot. Yet I know I’m
right. You thought you rammed that hypodermic needle
into a man, but pushed it really into the cuticle of Miss
Melinda Jackson; that’s the way I see it, and I know it is
so. Well, that needle must have held morphine; for there
were the morphine symptoms, to a certain extent; but
also something else. What, I don’t just know. I’ve built
my idea on guesswork. That’s why I was so crazy for

‘you to see her yourself.”

“You said she was calling for me?”

 
 

 

SPIES NAINA L I EE NOLAND DS NSS OTE TE REET EIT I ITB

20

“Sure. That’s what she was doing when I left. Do you
believe in love philters, love drops, or anything of that
kind, Mr. Merriwell ?”

“Certainly not.”

“But there’s no ‘telling what an Indian medicine man
—or medicine woman—might not get up, is there?”

Fisher stopped beside his horse, laughing.

“Yes?” Dick invited.

“Potter is a medicine man, and Melinda is said to be a
witch, which means about the same thing, to an extent,
I take it. Well, niy idea was that Melinda wished to put
you to sleep for a while, and, at the same time, she wanted
to arouse in you a passionate love for her; anyway, an
admiration, or something of the sort, that would hold you
to her interests for a time, even if they ran counter to
the interests of Mr. Ashmead Jones. Get me?”

“So far. But it’s silly? I can believe the morphine
part; the cther seems supremely silly.”

“You turned the needle against her, and she received the
morphine and love-drops combination, and her mind being
on you at the time, necessarily, when she came out from
the morphine influence, she began to call for you. I heard
her say plainly, ‘Dick Merriwell, I love you; I love you; I
love you!’ How’s that?” '

Dick flushed.

“Silly,” he said.

“That’s what she was,saying when I left and rode to
get you; I rode like the wind, for I wanted you to get
back and hear her saying it.”

“Your imagination ran away with you, Fisher.”

“And my ears, too? What about what she was say-
ing?”

“Forget it!” said Dick, uncomfortably red in the face,

But he had been set thinking; and as he and Fisher
rode back over the river road, more and more Dick’ began
to believe that Fisher was right, after all. The drug that
a medicine man—or a medicine woman—might concoct—
well, who could say anything about it? Melinda might
desire to win him to her side. If he could have been
made subservient to her interests for three days only, the
Jacksons would have gained their point.

Dick determined that he would wire to Ashmead Jones
that very night, advising against the consummation of the
Jackson oil deal.

Also, he resolved to hurry the chemical examination
of the contents remaining in the hypodermic syringe.

However, when he arrived in Starbright, he received a
telegraphic message himself.

Ashmead Jones was on his way from Denver, and was
nearing Starbright.

CHAPTER XII.
FINISHING THE GAME.

There had been lively times on the diamond during
Dick’s and Fisher’s absence. Chip had been “hit” Also,
he had done good armwork, and good stickwork. Tyler
had done some work that was not poor. Chip found, too,
that Tyler, being familiar with the abilities of the various
Starbright players, had. been able to pick a nine that was
better than Chip’s.

But |Chip’s nine was still in the lead; it had six runs,
and Tyler’s had five.

The ninth inning had opened, when Fisher stepped into
_ the midst of the cheering mob that watched the game.

 

NEW. TIP. TOP. WEEKLY.

“How’s she stand?” he said, stooping and peering.

Some one gave him the information.

“Where is Crowfoot?” asked Fisher.

“Haven’t seen him around. I suppose he’s hit the hay,
somewhere, and is thinking oyer that fine the judge gave
him. Dick Merriwell put up the money to pay his fine.”

“Oh, he did?” said Fisher, when he heard this bit of
information.

“You rode away with Dick, and he hasn’t come back;
what’s up?”

“I thought he needed a tittle horseback exercise; that’s
all.”

“Oh!”

The tone showed that the speaker did not believe Fisher.

}

“They say that Dick Merriwell is down here pulling in

big boodle for looking into the value of oil lands. That

so?”

“He gets a thousand dollars a minute; and whacks
up half of it with Chip and me. Can you beat it?”

The speaker thought he couldn’t, and turned his atten-
tion to the ball game.

Chip was whistling a high one over,

It was declared a ball.

The next one was started at the batter, but shot over
the inside corner of the plate.

The umpire said it was a strike.

Ben Tyler’s loose tongue was rattling as usual.

Chip tried an outcurve.

Another ball was called.

Then he put a swift one over, shoulder high.

The batter met it, and drove it to the field.
raced for it. When it seemed they were on the point
of colliding, one leaped into the air and pulled the ball
down, drawing wild cheers from the spectators.

The batter had reached first, and uttered an exclamation
of dismay and disgust as he witnessed the catch.

“Well, they have one player on the team, besides Chip,”
said Fisher. “That was all right.”

Chip now struck out a man.

“Good work!” cried Fisher, slapping his hands —

“Chip has still got the goods.”

And he still had them—striking out the batter next up.

The game was over.

“Score, six to five for Chip’s nine,” said the man who
had talked with Fisher, “Been a mighty good game, too,
take it all around.”

Dick Merriwell met them, as Fisher and Chip were leav-
ing the diamond together, ;

“Ashmead Jones will be here to-night,” he said, and ex-
hibited the telegram he had received.

“What about that chemical analysis?” Fisher questioned. .
“That druggist is puzzled, ” said Dick; “he doesn’t know

what the stuff is that was in that syringe.”
THE END,

What was in Fike syringe, the solving of the enigma of
the mysterious Jacksons, and other interesting features will
be told in the story about the Merriwells, that you will
find in the next issue of this weekly, No. 109, out August
29th, and entitled “Dick Merriwell’s Hazard; or, The
League of the White Shoulders.” ite

}
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NEW, TIP TOP WEEKLY,

THE FIRE FIGHTER.

By BERTRAM LEBHAR.

(This interesting story was commenced in No, 107 of the NEW Tip
TOP WEEKLY, Back numbers can be obtained from your news
dealer or the publishers.)

CHAPTER V.
“BULL” DONOVAN.

“I want to ask a great favor of you, sir. ‘Will you
permit me to resign?”

The instructor stared hard at Larry. “So you think
you've had enough of it already, do you?” he said con-

temptuously.

“No, sir, I don’t. Pd give a great deal for another
chance to make good. But I take it for granted that
you've got no use for me here after the poor showing
I’ve made with those scaling ladders, and—I’d consider
it a great favor if you'd let a8 get out of my own ac-
cord, instead of dismissing me.’

The grizzled instructor’s face lost its stern look. “Oh,
is that what’s the matter?” he chuckled. “I thought when
you first spoke that you were a miserable quitter and
didn’t want to go ahead. So you're afraid you're going
to be dropped because your legs trembled on the lad-
ders, eh?”

He placed his hand paternally upon Larry’s shoulder.
“My boy, don’t let that worry you. You’re going to get
all the chance you want, to make good,
make a crackajack firerhan out of you within the next
thirty days,”

A look of great relief came to Larry’s overcast face.
“Then you mean to say that it doesn’t make any differ-
ence that I’m a—that I’ve shown a yellow streak?” he
exclaimed incredulously.

“Shucks!” retorted the good-natured veteran. “You
mustn’t call yourself names, young man. You haven’t
shown any yellow streak at all. It was timidity, not
cowardice, that made you act like that. If you was a
woman instead of a husky smoke eater, we'll call it an
attack of nerves. There’s many a brave fireman. wear-
ing a medal of honor to-day who was as rattled as you
the first time he attempted the scaling-ladder drill.”

“Is that so?” said Larry, greatly cheered by these
words. “I’m glad to hear there’s some hope for me. I
was afraid I was a hopeless coward. I couldn’t under-
stand myself at all.”

“You've never done any climbing before,

“No, sir, I haven't.”

“Well, that accounts for it. No matter how brave a
man may be on the ground,. he’s liable to feel like you
the first time he climbs. To a man who’s been a sailor
or a structural-iron worker, the scaling-ladder drill comes
quite natural, but to a fellow like yourself, who is used
to having both feet on the ground all the time, it’s a dif-
ferent matter. He may be expected to feel just like a fish
out of water the first time he finds himself hanging from
We don’t
We con-

have you?”

think any the worse of a man for that here.
sider it due to strangeness, not cowardice.
“So don’t let it worry you,’ he went on; “to-morrow
youll do better, and the day after you'll do better still.
It’s simply a case of getting used to it, By the end of g

a - ee

I’m going to .

See nn coco aia bes acl agee ye emai:

20

week you'll be scrambling over the roof of yonder build-
ing as nimbly as you walk the street.”

Larry was greatly encouraged by this assurance, and
by the time the school session adjourned and he went to
report at the engine house to which he had been as-
signed, a lot of his lost self-esteem had come back to
him.

He discovered, however, to his dismay, that he had not
heard the last of that scaling-ladder incident. It hap-
pened that one of the engine company to which he had
been assigned, a husky young fireman known as “Bull”
Donovan, had been down to headquarters that day on
some official business, and had stood in the drill yard
watching the raw recruits go through their paces.

He was describing the scene to his amused comrades
who were lounging in the sitting room upstairs on the
second floor—a large, comfortable room, the furnishings ,
of which included a library, piano, and billiard table—as
Larry entered the engine house and reported to the
captain.

“You ought to have seen what a lubberly lookin’ lot,
“The big |
it’s enough to make a practical fireman |

they were,” said Bull Donovan disgustedly.
chief is right;
quit the game in disgust to see the big stiffs the civil-
service people are lettin’ into the department nowadays. '

“Why there was one feller: at the school to-day,” he
went on, with a snort of disgust, “who made me weary.
He was a husky-lookin’ chap. You'd have thought to
look at him that he was the right kind of man for this
job, but you just ought to have seen him on the scalin’
ladders. I never saw a fellow scared so stiff in my
life. He hung onto the ladder like a drowning cat, and
he closed his eyes. What d’yer think of a white-livered
young rat like that havin’ the gall to want to be a fire-
man? ?

It was just at this point that Larry Hecves walked
into the room, He had been entered in the book 'down-
stairs and told by the captain to go up to the sitting
room and make the acquaintance of the men who were
to be his comrades,

As he stood in the doorway, Bull Donovan, who
was sitting on the edge of a table in the center of the
big room, turned to glance at him, and uttered a snort
of surprise.

“Well!” he ejaculated, “if this don’t take the cake!
Here’s the very feller I was just telling you about. This
is no other than the mamma’s darling who made such. a
hero of himsélf on the scalin’ ladders at the trainin’
school to-day.”

Larry's face turned fiery red. It certainly was not
pleasant to find that his reputation had preceded him.
The grins upon the faces of the men among whom he
was to cast his lot warned him that his life here was
going to be none too pleasant, unless he could live down
the bad start he had made.

Nevertheless he advanced boldly into the room and
smiled good-naturedly.

“I must admit that I made a rotten showing to-day,”
he said simply, “but I hope you fellows won't be too
hard on a beginner. Come and see how I act at the
school to-morrow before you judge me.” ~

This meek, but manly, speech produced a good effect
upon the majority of the men. They were big-hearted,
generous fellows, and not disposed to be too severe with
a beginner, There were several of them, in fact, who

 
 

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22

remembered that they themselves had felt exceedingly
“groggy” the first time they attempted the scaling-ladder
exercise at the training school. And yet they reflected
they had turned out to be.tough, seasoned “smoke eaters,”
so why shouldn’t ‘this new fellow make good, too, in
spite of his bad start?

Bull Donovan, however, was not disposed to look at
the matter in that way. He was of a bullying disposi-
tion, and he was feeling in a Lo brome ugly mood
that day.

“You've got a darned sight too much to say for a
probationer,” he growled, glaring at Larry. “If you
want to make stump speeches, why don’t you go and hire
Madison Square Garden?”

Seeing that the recruit made no reply to this, he went
on, with a sneer: “That’s the way with all cowards,
they’re great at talkin’. They male up by the gift -
gab for what they lack in courage.”

Several of the men expressed their disapproval of
Donovan’s attitude.

“Oh, come now, Bull,” they protested, “don’t be too

hard on the young feller. Give him a show. Re-
member you were a probation man yourself once.”
“Yes,” retorted Donovan, pointing to Larry, “but I

flatter myself I was never that kind of a probation
man. If I’d shown the yellow streak that he showed
on the scaling ladder at headquarters to-day, I’d have
had decency enough to quit right then and there. I
wouldn’t have had gall enough to return to the school
the second day. It gets my goat to think that a coward
like him is goin’ to wear the uniform of a fireman.”

Larry’s face was very pale. His fists were clenched
and his lips compressed in a manner which showed he
was holding himself in check by a great effort.

“I’m not a coward,” he replied hotly. “The instructor
at the school will tell you that, what happened this
afternoon isn’t really anything against a fellow. I didn’t
come here looking for trouble, but——’ He paused sig-
nificantly,

“But what?” jeered Donovan, jumping down from his
perch on the table, and coming quickly over to Larry. He
walked with his shoulders hunched, and his chin shoved
forward aggressively. His hands were down at his sides,
but his fists, too, were clenched. “But what?” he re-
peated. . “I’m waitin’ to hear what you’ve got to say
about lookin’ for trouble.”

“T tell you I’m not looking for it,” aex red Larry
quietly. “I’d like to avoid it if it’s possible, but I’m not
going to let any man call me a coward!”

“You're not, eh? Well, I’m going to call you what-
ever I please and as often as I please. I say you're a
sneaking, white-livered, four-flushing coward. You
haven’t the courage of a sparrow. Now, what are you
going to do about it, eh?”

“This!” replied Larry, and he hauled off and smote Bull
Donovan on the face with his closed fist.

It was not a light blow. Goaded beyond the limits
of his endurance, the raw recruit put all his strength
behind that fist which landed with a thud on the fire-
man’s right cheek. But if it had been a mere love
tap, it could not have been received with more uncon-
cern by Donovan.

It was the latter’s extraordinary capacity for taking
punishment which had earned him his nickname of Bull,

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NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

He had a frame as tough as iron, and a head as hard as a
rock. When Larry’s blow landed, he merely gave his
head a slight toss, just as the animal after which he was
nicknamed might have done, and exclaimed:

“Ah! You would, would you? I didn’t think you
had the nerve to fight. I sized you up as the kind that
would go whining to the commissioner if I laid a hand
on you.

“But, now,” he went on exultantly, “you’ve struck the
first blow, as all these fellows here will bear witness
if you lodge any complaint against me at headquarters.
You’ve got to stand up and take your medicine.”

“That suits me, all right,” retorted Larry, putting up
his fists eagerly. “Come on, you bully. I'll make you
apologize for calling me a coward before I get through
with you.”

The fight did not come off, however, for just at that
moment there came with startling suddenness the crash of
a gong—three quick, sharp strokes—and everybody, Bull
Donovan included, stood in a listening attitude, keenly
alert.

\Phete was a slight break after the three strokes of the
gong, then six more strokes in rapid succession, and
afterward two more.

“Turn out! Turn out!” roared a deep voice from the
apparatus floor below. But Larry’s comrades had not
waited for that perfunctory order. All of them slid
down the highly polished, perpendicular pole which fire-
men always use instead of stairs when they are in a
hurry.

Larry could hear the thud, thud, thud nite by their
feet striking the rubber pad on the floor below, as man
followed man down the pole in quick guccession.

The last fireman to leave the sitting room, a pleasant-
faced young man named Brooks, who was the son: of
the captain of that company, turned to Larry, and said,
with a friendly smile: ;

“Come on, old man; this is our company’s call, and
you're going along, too, you know. Catch the pole, hand
under elbow, like this, and down you go.”

Larry watched him as he slid down, and endeavored
to follow suit. He didn’t go about it very gracefully,
but he at least managed to land on the floor right
side up, which he considered good enough for a first
attempt. .

“Where’s that probationer?” shouted the gruff-voiced .

captain, as Larry came down. “Oh, there you are, eh?
Get aboard the tender. You're going to your first fire.
Hurry up!” .

It seemed to Larry scarcely three seconds since the
alarm had come in on the gong, and yet the horses were
already hitched to the engine and hosé cart, and the men
were climbing into their) places aboard them. This did
not surprise him, however, for he knew that the New

York fire department holds the world’s record for “turn-
ing out.” ji

As he climbed onto the tender, he saw that Bull Dono-
van was already seated there,

The latter leaned over, thrust his scowling face into
Larry’s, and said in a low voice:

“Don’t forget that when we get back from the fire,
you've got to settle with me!”

”

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bad one.,

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

CHAPTER VI.

HIS FIRST FIRE,

Larry was perfectly willing to settle with the man
who had called him’a coward, but he couldn't help won-
dering, as the engine and its tender dashed. ovt of. the
house, how Donovan could be thinking of a little thing
like a personal quarrel when they were speeding on their
way to a blaze from which perhaps neither of them would
return alive.

“He must be a cool fellow not to feel any anxiety as
to what kind of a fire we're going up against, or what’s
going to happen to him,” he said to himself. “I wonder
how long it will be before I shall go to a fire as uncon-
cerned as that.”

As they dashed through the streets, the engine ahead
of them shrieking and belching thick volumes of smoke,
his vivid imagination pictured a big building all ablaze,
with people leaning from the windows begging to be
rescued,

He was glad to find: that he was not at all scared by
this prospect. Instead of fear, there was surging within
him an intense eagerness to get to the scene. Fast as en-
gine and tender were. dashing through the streets, it
seemed to him that they were merely crawling—that_ they
would never reach the fire.

He hoped fervently that this spirit would not die out
when they actually arrived at the blaze. The only fear he
had was that, in spite of ‘himself, he might display a
yellow streak when he went into his first battle with
flame and smoke.

He knew that if he showed the white feather now, as

‘he had done on the scaling ladders at the training school,

his life at the engine house would be made unbearable
by his jeering comrades,

“Tye got to make good,” he kept muttering to him-
self. “I’d rather be brought back dead than branded as.a
coward.”

Bull Donovan, watching his face from the other side
of the hose cart, saw the strained, worried look upon it,
and grinned contemptuously. He believed that the pro-
bationer was scared stiff. He did not suspect that Larry
was only afraid of being afraid.

The engine neared the lamp-post from which the alarm
had been sent in. A policeman standing beside it shouted

_a direction, and pointed ahead, and, thus enlightened as to

the exact location of the fire, the driver urged on the
horses, and they ran two more blocks and down a side
street, where Harvey caught sight of the enemy he had
come to fight.

It didn’t look to be much of a fire. There was no sign
of flame; nothing but a thick cloud of black smoke pour-
ing from the ground floor of a four-story structure. The
other floors appeared to be unharmed. It seemed to
Larry that a stream from a single hose was all that would
be necessary to subdue such a trifling blaze.

He was greatly surprised to hear the man next to him
It was Brooks,
the good-natured fireman who had shown him how to slide
down the pole, who made the remark.

Harvey ventured to ask why he considered the fire a
Brooks was too busy to make any reply just
then,

The engine had drawn up in front of a hydrant, the

driver reining in his horses so suddenly that they rose

CO RS Ne ne ED Ca et a Er

23

on their haunches; the tender had stopped also, and. its
men were already unrolling the long coil of hose.

3rooks, wrench in hand, leaped to the street to open
the hydrant. As he did so, another engine and tender
came dashing up, and Larry saw a discomfited look on the
faces of their crews, and ‘heard the men of his own com-
pany jeer the newcomers,

He learned afterward the meaning of these jeers and
disappointed looks, At every fire there is keen competi-
tion among the different engine companies that respond
for the honor of “first water.’ The tender which reaches
the hydrant first earns for its company the distinction of
being in full charge of the fire and the last to leave.

That was why Brooks was in too much of a hurry to
pay attention to Larry’s inquiry. But when the contest for
first water was won and the defeated company was forced
to move along to the next hydrant, he found time to an-
swer the recruit’s question.

“The reason I said it looks like a tough job,” he re- ©
marked, as their captain gave the order to “stretch in,”
and he and his comrades started to run with the hose to-
ward the fire, “is because it’s a cellar fire. That means
lots of smoke. When you’ve been at the game a little
longer, you'll learn that a fireman fears smoke much more
than he does flame. Then, too, there’s danger of drowning
at cellar fires.” ;

Harvey had taken his station at the hose. He was
next in line to Brooks, who, as they ran, was kind enough
to jerk out some good advice.

“Keep your head low when you get inside,” he said.
“There’s always more air near the floor. Be sure to
breathe through your nose only. If you get lost, in there,
remember that following the hose will always bring you
outside again.”

He had no time to give any more hints, for they had
reached the entrance to the cellar from which the thick,
choking smoke was ascending, and, with their captain at
their head, plunged down the stairs.

Harvey heard a crash as the door was smashed in, and
the next moment they were in the midst of the black,
stifling smoke, and he was staggering, spluttering, and
coughing like a man in the last stages of consumption.

It seemed to him that it would be impossible to remain
in that dense atmosphere more than a minute and come
out alive. His eyeballs were smarting, his eardrums
seemed about to burst, an iron hand seemed to be clutch-
ing at his lungs and choking the breath out of them.

He heard the hoarse voice of the captain urging on his
men. Why was he ordering them to come on, Larry won-
dered dully. Surely he couldn’t expect them to advance
any farther. It was inhuman to expect any man—even
though his business was fire fighting—to stay down in that
inferno. Why didn’t he ‘order them to turn about and
regain the sidewalk and the pure, fresh air? Did he want
to kill them all?

He heard the hiss of water striking hot metal and wood,
and causing clouds of steam to add to the horrors of the
smoke. .

Far ahead of him he could see through the thick haze an
angry, red glow, which showed where the heart of the
fire was. And it was toward this spot that the men with
the hose were desperately fighting their way. Surely they
must drop before they reached it, thought Larry Harvey.

The smart in his ears and throat, the deadly grip on his
lungs, the singing. in his ears, were increasing all tht

 
 

 

 

 

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+e PON IE ee ET See wry"

24

time, and now, as they advanced step by step toward the
heart of the fire, a new agony presented itself. He could
feel his skin blistering from the intense heat. Was he
to be burned alive before he was suffocated ?

He remembered the hint that Brooks had given him:
“If. you get lost in there, remember that following the
line of hbse will always bring you out again.” He still
retained his hold upon the hose. Why not follow its
course, hand over hand, until it led him up the steep flight
of stone stairs to the sidewalk and fresh air?

Once more he heard the hoarse voice of his captain:

“Come on, boys! Come on! We're getting at her now!
A little more over this way.”

No, he wouldn’t quit just yet, he decided. He wouldn’t
give Bull Donovan the satisfaction of proving that he did
have a yellow streak, after all, He would stay down in
that hole until——

Something within his head seemed to snap. He felt him-
self falling, and held on to the writhing hose with the des-
peration of a drowning man.

‘The singing in his ears seetmed to stop suddenly, the
smart in his eyes left him, the iron hand relaxed its mer-

_ ciless grasp upon his lungs, a sweet sensation of peace

~—-

, water into that cellar.

_ man overcome by smoke.

—

stole over him; he abandoned his hold on the hose, and
fell heavily against the man behind him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on the
sidewalk out in the pure, open air, He could hear the
throbbing of a fire engine near by as it continued to pump
The shouts to the firemen came to
him. By these sounds, he knew that the fight was still
being waged.

' “Here, drink this!” cried somebody bending over him.

Tt was a can of hot milk, the best restorative for a
Larry choked as he sat up and
drank ‘it, but after it was down he felt a little better and
was able to get to his feet.

He discovered’ that the man Wlio had handed him the
milk was a policeman.

“Feel all right now, or shall I get you an ambulance?”
the officer inquired.

“No, I’m all right, I guess,” answered Harvey weakly,

_ “Who brought me out of that cellar?”

—— eo

—

“dete

“One of your comrades,”

“Where is he now?”

“He went back there again. They’re still down there
fighting the blaze. Are you going back?”

“No, I don’t think so,” replied Harvey.
enough, this time, I guess.”

The policeman grinned. He did not know that Harvey
was only a probationer, and that this was his first fire,
for, although the man was not entitled as yet to wear a
uniform of blue cloth and silver buttons, he was attired in
the rubber coat, boots, and helmet which firemen wear on
active service.

‘This outfit had been handed to him as he climbed aboard
the tender, and he had donned it on his way to the fire.
He looked like a regular fireman, and, believing him to
be such, the policeman was somewhat surprised at the lack
of spirit he displayed.

“Guess your lungs ain’t in very good shape, ¢ are they?”
he asked,

At this remark, the words of Chief Férbes suddenly
came to Harvey’s mind, the statement which the head of

“T’ve had

_ the fire department had 'made to the reporter who had
' interviewed him in his office,

Peele
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NEW, TIP TOP WEEKLY.

“The civil service ain’t giving us the right kind of men,”
the chief had complained. “We’re getting into the depart-
ment a lot of hollow-chested cigarette smokers who quit
cold as soon as they start to choke. They haven’t got
the strength or the lungs.”

Was he of this despised class? Larry wondered uneasily.
Could he afford to have it said that he had “quit cold”
just because a little smoke had got down into his lungs?
No, he must show that he was made of sterner stuff.

He inflated his lungs with a long, deep breath of the
glorious fresh air, and then staggered—for his legs were
very wabbly—across the sidewalk toward the smoking en-
trance of the cellar.

He followed the line of blackened hose down the steep,
water-soaked stone stairs, and once more joined his com-
rades.

To his great relief, he found that conditions were not
half as bad as they had been before, The fire was under
control. His gallant company had attacked and ‘conquered
the very heart of it. That red glow at the other end of
the cellar was no longer there. The smoke cloud was
not as thick, for the truck crew with their axes and rams
had been opening up vénts for its escape, while their
comrades, the hose men, had been at work subduing the
flames. Breathing was a great deal easier now.

Harvey found that the cellar was half filled with water.
He was up to his waist in it. He understood now why his
friend, Brooks, had said that there was always danger of
drowning at a cellar fire. The latter turned: as Larry
staggered toward him. It was possible to discern faces
through the haze now, and Brooks recognized him.

“Ah! You came back, did you?” he exclaimed approv-
ingly. “I thought’you were all in. I see you’ve got grit,
Guess you’re going to make a first-class smoke eater.”

His father, the captain, also turned to Harvey with an
encouraging grin,

“Well, young man, how do yoi like this business? You
know what it is to eat smoke, now, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I can’t say that it tastes very good, at first,
but I suppose it’s an acquired taste, like olives, and I'll
get to like it in time.”

“This was really a very mild cellar fire,” said the cap-
tain, with a chuckle. “Wait until you get up against a
tough un. You’ve done well, though, considerin’ that this
is your first experience.”

Harvey was greatly surprised to learn ‘that this was con-

sidered a mild fire. He was half inclined to suspect that
the grim old man was joking. Surely,, he thought, >|
couldn’t come much tougher. than this.

The work of his men being finished, the captain gave
the order to back out. The water was turned off. at the
hydrant, The hose men, their eyes bloodshot, their grimy
faces streaked with sweat, emerged from the cellar, and
proceeded to uncouple and pick up. their lines,

Larry climbed with them aboard the tender. He was
feeling all right now except for a very sore throat and a
severe headache, both of which were a result of the smoke
he had swallowed, but he didn’t mind these things.

His heart was filled with exultation. He had not shown
the yellow streak which he had feared might assert itself
in spite of him. He had stayed in that “choke,” as fire-
men call a cellar fire, until he had been knocked out, and
then he had gone back again. He felt that he had good
Teason to feel satisfied with himself.

As they went back to the engine house to be ready for

*

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\ the next alarm, his gaze encountered the grimy face of
Bull Donovan, who sat opposite him on the tender.

Fora few seconds they stared into each other’s eyes.
Then, as though Harvey had asked a question, Donovan
said grudgingly:

“Yes, you did better than I expected. I thought yoti
was goin’ to act at the fire like you did on them scalin’
| *  fadders..
4: “But, anyway,” he added fiercely, “you've got to settle
t with me as soon as we get back to quarters, Coward, or
I ’ no coward, you've got to fight me. You struck me in
7% the face, and no man can do that to Bull Donovan and
\z keep out of the hospital,”

CHAPTER VII,
A FORMAL AFFAIR,

Larry Harvey was not at all pleased at the prospect
of having to fight Bull Donovan as soon as they returned
to company quarters.

Not that he was afraid of an encounter with that husky
young fireman; on the contrary, he was eager to settle
accounts with the man who had branded him a coward
just because he had shown timidity on the scaling ladders
at the school of instruction, But he would have preferred
to postpone the fight until the following day.

He felt that if he engaged in a fistic battle that evéna
ing, he would not be able to do himself justice; for he
was still weak and dizzy from the smoke he had swal-
lowed. A man who has been knocked out by his first
cellar fire is not in good condition again for several hours
afterward. Larry’s head was throbbing, and there was a
J sensation of rawness in his lungs,

+ He guessed that Donovan would prove a formidable
opponent even if he, Larry, were at his best; therefore, he
would have liked to have been given a chance to get into
shape before meeting him in combat.

He felt; however, that he could not very well ask for
|. @ respite. If Donovan was not generous enough to scorti
4 to take advantage of his opponent’s weakness, Larry must
go ahead and do the best he could, he decided. To have
/’ asked for a postponement might look as if he werd
1° afraid,
¥ Donovan was determined to have thé fight také placé
immediately. He felt that he could not go to sleep that
night until the blow which the probationeer had dealt hini
had been fully avenged.

i When the engine and tender weré back id the hotisé

and the horses in their stalls, all ready for the next alarm,
he touched Larry grimly on the shoulder.

“Come on,” he said, “we'll sneak down %6 thé cellar,
We can have it out without interruption down there.”
| Some of the men, hearing that. the fight was to come off,
tried to dissuade Bull from going ahead. Larry had made
a good impression on them by his behavior at the fire, and
_ “they were disposed to intercede for him.

“Why don’t you fellows shake hands and call it off?”
they urged. “We don’t want any trouble in this house.
‘The probationer has proved that he isn’t a coward, Bull.
Let him apologize for striking you, and both forget all

about it.”

*. But Dedovan. shook his head stubbornly,

a> “No apology will do me,” he declared. “Nobody oti this
earth can put.a hand on me and get off without a Sree
. ing. This fellow has got to get his; and right away, too,”

alte

 

po
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NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

25
“Well, you ought to at least bé sqtiaré @fough t6 give
him a chance to get over the effects of his first fire,” de<
clared Larry’s friend, Fireman Brooks.
morrow, Bull. This fight will keep.”

“Nope!” replied Donovan, with a stubborn shake of his
bullet-shaped .head, “Can’t wait. No tellin’ what may
happen by to-morrow. One of us may drop dead before
then. I’ve got to have satisfaction right away. As for his
not bein’ in shape, he looks all right to me. That stifle
didn’t amount to much, and he couldn’t have swallowed
enough smoke to hurt him. And, anyway, even if he wag
in, first-class shape, he wouldn’t stand any show against
me, as you all know, so he aight as well take his punish<
ment now as any other time.”

Brooks turned to Larry. “How about if, old man? f
giiess you've got to fight, if he insists; for you struck thé
first blow, you know. Do you feel in condition to go ahead
right now?”

“Yes,” replied Harvey doggedly, “I’m all right. Let’g
get it over with.”

“All right,” said Brooks. “As Bull says, the cellar
will be the best place to pull off the scrap, You won't bé
heard down there, and we'll be within range of the bell
in case a station hits in, I’ll be your second, if you like.”

Harvey accepted his offer gratefully. He and Donovati
and about a half dozen of the men crept stealthily down-
stairs to the cellar. The others would have liked to wit<
ness the fight, but it was suggested that it would-doubt-
less arouse the suspicions of some of the officers if the
entire company should proceed to the- basement. This
would have got all hands into trouble; for fighting is not
permitted in company quarters.

Therefore it was decided that theré sould be not more
than a half dozen spectators to the combat; and the men
matched coins to decide which should form the lucky
six. . .
The énginé hotisé was illuminated by electricity, so that
the cellar was as light as any other part of the building.
It had a cement floor, upon which one of the men now
drew a big circle with billiard chalk, and announced that
this would serve as a ring.

Harvey thought at first thaf the fight was fo be with
bare knuckles. He was not very keen on fighting in this
primitive fashion, for it meant that no matter which man
won, both would be badly cut up as a result of the en-
counter, He thought, however, that it would not look
well for him to raise any objection. He had struck the
first blow, so it was only fair that his opponent should
be allowed to choose the style of fighting he preferred.

He was pleasantly surprised, therefore, when one of
the | ‘men produced a set of regulation ring gloves, which
showed signs of much past service.

“Aren’t you fellows going to take off your shirts ?”

‘inquired Brooks.

Donovan snorted disdainfully at this question, ‘Hukt
What for? This fight ain’t goin’ to be important enough
to go to all that trouble, It will all be over in a few min-
utes, I guess.”

Harvey had thought of stripping to the waist; but, sinté
his adversary scorned to do so, he decided that he, too,
would fight in the blue flannel fireman’s shirt that he.
wore. \

“Wait until to-

“

Thereforé, as the two men faced each other in the .

center of the chalk circle, they did not present a very
businesslike appearance from a sporting standpoint, They

 

eee ; as lc

 
 

 

 

 

26 NEW TIP° TOP. WEEKLY.

looked as if they were about to indulge in a mere infor-
mal, friendly bout, when, as a matter of fact, each man
“had never in his life been more in deadly earnest or more
anxious to score a Victory over an opponent.

Harvey sized up Donovan carefully. as he stood con-
fronting him. His blue shirt sleeves were rolled up as far
as the elbows, revealing a pair of enormous forearms all
gnarled and knotted like a couple of tree trunks. Each
arm was tattooed, the left bearing a°crude picture of a
three-masted schooner in full sail; the other an anchor,
his initials, and the face of a young woman.

As these tokens indicated, Donovan had been a sailor
before he joined the fire department. Doubtless, thought
_ Larry bitterly, that explained why he had felt no fear the
first time he essayed the scaling-ladder drill at the train-
“jing school, and was unable to understand how anybody
but a coward could display timidity under such circum-
stances.

Donovan’s chest was: huge, and his shoulders so broad
that he seemed to be slightly deformed. He was taller
than his adversary by more than three inches, and weighed
fifteen pounds more.

The other firemen studied Harvey with interest as he
stood in the center of the chalk ring awaiting the signal
‘to start hostilities; and grunted approval of his appear-
ance. j

He was not as powerfully built as Donovan, to be sure
—there were few men in the department who were—his
shoulders were not as broad, his chest was smaller, and
his forearms not nearly as large in circumference; but,
nevertheless. they could see that he was an exceedingly
husky young man.

“Tt looks as if it’s going to be a lively scrap,” whispered
“Red” O'Reilly gleefully to Joe Lynch. “If the proba-
tioner has science, he ought to be able to give Bull a
pretty good fight.”

. _ TO BE CONTINUED.

 

EXTORTION IN RUSSIA. |

The innocence of Russian peasants, their ignorance of
law, their humble submission to anybody claiming at-
thority, with an. official appearance of pomnines it. is
well known.

It appears that the peasants really imagine that any-
body in the uniform of an officer of police must have
so much authority from the czar that they dare not com-
plain of him, A Russian gentleman told this story:

One morning sleigh bells jingled in our village. A
police captain and lieutenant drove in with a dead body
‘covered up-on a sleigh, rORE called for the village
"elder.

“Tyan. Ivanovitch,” said the cantain, eying the crowd |

of trembling peasants, “a terrible crime has been com-
mitted close to the land of your village.”
_ “What?” asked the old man.
“See /for yourselt.”
The captain drew off the cover and exposed the mu-
tilated body
. “Your village is responsible for this murder. There
must be a commission sent here to investigate the matter.”
“Anything but: that,” begged the elder. stroking. and
kissing the captain's s coat, He knew that such a commis-
. sion meant ruinous fines, to say nothing of flogging for
every witness,

 

with one voice ie ds in is appeal:

”?

The peasants
“Anything but a judicial inquiry!

“Well, but the matter is serious. It will cost me a lot

of money to prevent a commission coming,” said . the
captain.
After some haggling, the wretched peasants, suffering

for want of sufficient food or good shelter, clubbed to-
gether and paid seventy-five roubles.

The captain and lieutenant climbed into the sleigh once
more, and drove away, with the corpse, to the next vil-
lage. Here they repeated the same performance, and
as long as the fine weather lasted, that corpse represented
at least fifty roubles extorted from every village it visited.

AN OLD ARMY STORY.

The captain was an excellent volunteer officer, and be-
cause of this, at the close of our late war he received
a lieutenant’s commission in the regular army, and since
then has won his way to the command of a company.

The captain is an Irishman, and, like all his country-
men, he dearly loves a joke. Some time since the cap-
tain was stationed in a far Western fort, which was
commanded by a major of the same regiment.

The major is a martinet, and his personal dignity and
self-importance are so marked as to make him an object
of ridicule when his back is turned, and an object of con-

-tempt' at all times.

The captain, like all his brotherly officers, cordialty: ‘dis-
likes the major, and lets slip no opportunity of taking
him down when it can be done without a visitation: of
military discipline. The captain had been to Leaven-
worth, where there is a home for disabled volunteer sol-
diers, and, on his return, he met the major at the Post
Club, where the latter was telling how he had won battles
which others claimed the glory of. Suddenly the captain

said:

““T saw a — over at Laavenworee who'd give the world
to kick you.”

“Kick me!” shouted the major. “I demand his name,
sir!” p x

“T don’t like to tell you.” said tid tormentor.
“But I demand his name!” persisted the bellicose major.
“Well, if you insist on knowing—but mark ‘you, isajor,
it must. go no farther—the man was——
“Who? Who?” ;
“Don’t be in such a hurry, major. The man was old
Sergeant Billy Waters, of the First Artillery, who- lost
both his legs at Atlanta by the explosion of a shell.
Faith, he’d give all he has, or hopes to have, to be able
to kick anybody.”

 

| A QUEER WAGER.

An American acrobat in Vienna won a queer wager re- | ae
He bet a considerable sum with a Vienna strong
man that he could not endure to have a liter, 2,113 Ameri-
of water fall, drop by,drop, from a height of
three feet upon his hand. When 300 drops had fallen
the athlete’s face became red, and he looked as if in
pain. At the 420th drop he gave up,saying it was impos- ‘ 7.

cently.

can: pints,

sible to bear the pain any longer. The palm of his hand

was swollen and. inflamed, and in one place the skin — ‘
Only a small portion of the liter of — _

had broken open.
water had gone to make up the 420 drops.

 

 

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}
Books for Tr4inets and Athletes.

So many inquiries reach us from week to week con-
cerning the various manuals on athletic development,
which we publish, that we have decided to keep a list of
them standing here. Any number can be had by mail by
remitting 10 cents, and 3 cents postage, for each copy, to
the publishers.

‘Frank Merriwell’s Book of Physical Development.” °

“The Art of Boxing and Self-defense,” by Professor
Donovan.

“Physical Health Culture,” by Professor Fourmen.

~

Praises the New Covers.

Dear Epitor, Mr. STANDISH, ProFessor FourMEN, Mr.
Artist, STREET & SMITH, and Tie Top Frrenps: Those
new covers are just the thing! I hope we have them a
long time. The artist is certainly a dandy!

Glad to hear about June Arlington again. Strong Heart,
Injun Heart, and Shangowah are my favorites, though
I would like to hear about all the old characters from
Professor Horace Orman Tyler Scotch, “Hot” Scotch, as
the boys used to call him, down to Villum Kess and Hop
Wah, the Chinaman.

Tip Top is getting better each number.
one, No. 100, is fine. Where old Joe Crowfoot “mixes
medicine” is one of the most interesting parts of it.

“Chas.” gives a good suggestion about the Compass,
that Tip Toppers should try to make it a “better” Compass
by sending in contributions and drawings.

Although I have taken Tie Top but two years, it seems
like an old friend. I have every number stored away of
the New Tip Tors, and am getting the New Medal Li-
brary. I have about eighty Merriwell books of the New
Medal Library some ten or twelve of the New Magnet
and a lot of the Far West Library, probably twenty.

Some one sent a letter to the Top-Notch Magazine
some time ago, in which the writer of it criticized one
of Burt L.’s football stories. He said, in the course
of his letter: “You don’t understand football very well,
do you, Mr. Standish?” Think of that! Why, it’s ab-
Burt L., who has written football stories nearly
twenty years, told, at this late date, that he doesn’t under-
stand football very well! Of course, it was that reader’s

honest opinion, and he had a perfect right to éxpress it,

but we, who know better, can enjoy the mistake. When

it comes to football stories, baseball stories, and, in fact,

any kind of stories, Burt L. Standish has them all walk-

_ ing the plank at a ninety-mile clip. That’s saying a whole

lot, too, because Street & Smith have a staff of writers
that are unequaled anywhere.

 

I think the last,

 

I have a few back numbers of Tip Top, and the other
day, as I looked over them, I came across the following
poem, which was arranged by B. Winslow Thompson, of

Michigan. It was in No. 613 of Tip Top, an issue pub-
lished in 1908, I’m not very much “gone” on poetry, but
Pll admit that this certainly took my eye. Those readers
who think and hope Dick Merriwell and June Arlington
will be married some day, will be glad to read it:

When the woods were full invested
With their million leaves;

When the wrens again had nested
Underneath the eaves;

When the breezes, brooks, and grasses
Were in rapt attune,

Came the fairest lass of lassies,
And her name was June,

How the thrushes sang to greet her,
With their’ loudest song;

How the roses rushed to meet her,
As she tripped along;

How the bee, to mark her ‘coming,
Mellowed his bassoon,

This the burden of her humming
Dick and June, Sweet June.

Mid the happy, sunny clover
Passed her footsteps free;

Thronged around the lovely rover,
Blossom, bird, and bee.

And adown the golden gleaming
Summer’s soft forenoon,

All the world went drifting, dréaffiing,
Dick hand in hand with June.

It happens to be my good fortune to number among
my friends a lot ‘of old farmers, “homestead folks,” one
might say, and from those old people I have heard many
a true story of the old days—stories handed down to
them by their ancestors.

Below I have written out one of the stories, and I.am
sure Tip Toppers will be glad to read it. Yes, I quite
agree with you. It is rather long, but what is a fellow
going to do for relaxation during the summer months,
wher vacation time is here? Cycling, ball playing, swim-
ming, et cetera, cannot be indulged in all the time, and,
when employment is scarce, something must be done to
pass the time. I like to write—I always did; but whether
my writing is of any value or not, I am not in a position
to say. Nevertheless, I am glad to write out this story, and

   
 

 

28

I sincerely hope it will meet with the approval of all Tip
Toppers.

I am, yours sincerely,

Berwick, Pa. ;

You write well, “Jinx,” and perhaps, later, when space
permits, we will print your story and give the readers a
chance to say what they think about it. If you are going
to do much writing for the public prints, you must
clothe yourself, or, rather, your feeling in a suit of armor ;
for, even if they can’t turn the trick themselves, the read-
ing public are quicker to cty “stung” if they don’t like a
story, or if it does not just happen to suit their fancy,
than if they get “stuck” with a plugged nickel.

THE Jinx.

What “Tip Top” Did for Him.

Dear Eprror: I read my first Tre Top not quite two
years ago. Since then I have managed to get hold of
several hundred of the back numbers, besides getting the
new ofies as’they came out. I have also read many of
the books in the Medal Library.

Before I read Tie Top, I never played any athletic
games éxcept baseball, and very little of that. Since I
first read Tre Top Weexty, I have been interested, espe-
cially, in the physical-culture department, edited by Pro-
fessor Fourmen, I think it would add greatly to the
interest of the weekly if a physical-culture department,
aside from the Compass, was established.

Of the characters, my favorites are: Frank, Dick, Bart,
Brad, Bruce, Hal Darrell, Bob Singleton, Chet Arlington,
Captain Wiley, Tommy Tucker, Ted Smart, old Joe,
Sparkfair, Ralph Sand, Arthur Mortem, Mulloy, Ready,
Diamond, Elsie, June, Inza, Doris, and Felicia,

Since reading of the doings of the Merriwells, I have
taken up athletics quite extensively. I now play baseball,
football, basketball, tennis, volley ball, run, row, skate,
swim, wrestle, box, jump, swing Indian clubs, ride a
bicycle, and punch the bag.

In baseball, I catch; in football, I play fullback; and
in basketball, center. I go to the Y. M. C. A. gym three
times a week, and exercise at home.

My measurements are: Height, 5 feet 814 inches; weight,
130 pounds; neck, 15 inches; shoulders, across, 201% inches;
shoulders, around, 44 inches; chest, normal, 37 inches;
chest, expanded, 40% inches; biceps, normal, 1014 inches;
biceps, flexed, 12 inches; forearm, 10% inches; wrist,
71% inches; waist, 2814 inches; hips, 37 inches; thighs, 20
inches; calves, 1334 inches; ankles, 1014 inches; age, six-
teen year’s, exactly.

How is my build? Am I well developed for my age?
Am I not light? Do you think I am built for the
positions I play in football, baseball, and basket. ball?

I hope my letter is not too long,. This is my first at-
tempt. I thank you in advance if you see fit to criticize

my measurements, and publish this in the Compass. I_

am, sincerly yours, KENNETH COLVIN,

200% West Main Street, Springfield, Ohio. ,

You are about twenty pounds too light. You are light
to stand the pounding a catcher gets, though there have
been some great lightweight catchers. Harvard had a
famous one, years ago, who caught the great Harry Bates.

But a light catcher can’t last long, unless he is an “iron .

man.” He has to stand on his toes, bending a little for-
ward, almost overbalancing himself, to withstand the
‘shock of receiving the ball, Then, a light man must
change his position and bring his arm way back in order

NEW. TIP TOP WEEKLY.

to get the ball down
down the way a heavy man can, and save much time.

I think you could be better placed on the basket-ball
team, too. :

On the whole, your measurements are good, particularly
those of your chest. Don’t worry about your weight; it
will come, for you have a good build. But I don’t like
to see a light man behind the bat, though he is a good
catcher; it’s like making a hoisting horse out of a
trotter.

Try to Act Like the Merriwells.

Dear Eprror: I am the leader of a Tre Tor club, formed
by a bunch of admirers of Dick and Frank Merriwell and
the stories written by Burt Standish. We have got teams,
such as baseball, basket ball, and football. We have uni-
forms, and we-call our teams the Merriwell Tip Tops.

We are trying to act as the boys in the stories of the
Merriwells do. '

Would be glad to see this letter escape the wastebasket,
and in print. Your pleased reader,

Grorce Keen, alias George (Joe Crowfoot). Keen.

New York.

Sixteen Tip Toppers.

Dear Eprtor: Am a member of a Tir Tor club formed
by a bunch of Merriwell readers, and am sending for a
packet of Tip Top post cards and a catalogue,

We have sixteen members, and we all buy and read Tip
Tor. This being the first letter I have written to Tir

Tor, would be glad to see it in print.
New York. FRANK (MERRIWwELL) GoLDENBAUM.

Get After that Chest.

Proressor FourMEN: Being a constant reader of Tip
Tor, I take the liberty of sending you my measurements.

Age, 16 years; height, 5 feet 714 inches; chest, 33 inches;
expanded, 3514 inches; neck, 1334 inches; calves, 1714
inches; waist, 28 inches.

What are my weak points, if any, and please tell me
how I can develop them. Tom VENTURA.

New York.

Get another two inches on your expanded chest, Tom.
Take breathing exercises.
Frank’s?

About the Y. M. C. A.

Dear Eprtor: I have read Tre Tor for a number of
years, and like it very much. I am glad the applause de-
partment has returned. B. L. Standish is a fine writer.
I have also read other S. & S. publications.

Standish’s magazine, Top-Notch, is great. Can you tell
me if the Y. M. C. A,, of Grand Rapids, Mich., has a
night school in connection with it? Can you tell me the
requirements a boy must have to join the Y. M. C. A, and
what the dues are? Are all Y. M. C, A’s equipped with
a gym? bi

My measurements are: Weight, 135 pounds; height, 5
feet 814 inches; chest, normal, 32 inches; expanded, 35%

inches. .

Please tell me what my proper measurements should be.

Please patdon this long letter.

Do you think that weight lifting is all right for a
boy of my age? Jno. West. °

R. R. 19, Sparto, Mich.

Weight lifting is bad business. Keep away from it.

  

to second, and cannot “snap” it

Have you got my book or ©

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NEW, TIP, TOP WEEKLY. 20

You are the same height as Kenneth Colvin, whose letter
you will find in this issue. Perhaps I had better give
you both the measurements you should have. They are:
Weight, 150 pounds; neck, 14.6 inches; chest, contracted,
35.5 inches; chest, expanded, 39 inches; waist, 31 inches;
forearms, 11 inches; upper arms, down, 11.4 inches; upper
arms up, 12.2 inches; thighs, 21.2 inches; calves, 14.5
inches.

Write to the Y. M, C. A. at Grand Rapids. (They will
gladly give you all the information you want. The Y. M.
C. A. welcomes any boy of good moral character into its
ranks. ,

The Mote He Reads the Better He Likes It,

Dear Eprtor: I have been a Tir Top reader for four
years, and the longer I read it, the better I like it. I am
glad that Frank, Dick, and Chip Merriwell are back again.
Yours sincerely, ArtHuR TEVELIET.

Seymour, Conn.

Likes Chip Best.

Dear Eprror: I have been reading Tir Tor for a good
while, but have never written you. I think I would. like
Chip the best in the paper, as he is my favorite. Yours
truly, Wruie NICHOLAS.

Greenville, Miss.

Likes it Fine.

Proressor FourMEN: As [ have been a reader of Tip
Tor since I was nine years old, I will write and tell you
that I like it fine. I like the Merriwell Company fine
because it brings in all of the Merriwells. I liked the
Clancy stories fine, but they don’t compare with the
Merriwells’.

I would like to have some postal cards sent to me.

I am fourteen years of age; 5 feet 7 inches tall; weight,
138 pounds; chest, contracted, 34 inches; chest, expanded,
36.8 inches ; waist, 29 inches; forearm, 10.3 inches; thighs,
21.5 inches; calves, 13.3 inches.

What is wrong about my measurements, and what
athletics would I be best fitted for?

I do every thing in the athletic line.

Hoping to see this in Trp Top, I am, yours truly,

Lindsay, Okla. B'S,

Your measurements are fine. Just get that chest a frac-
tion of an inch larger.

Play the games you like best.

Wants More About Tommy Tucker.
Dear Enprtor: I have been a constant reader of your

” excellent Weekly for the last six years, and have been

able to get some back numbers. I was pleased to hear
of Dick and June coming back, and would like to hear fur-
ther of Tommy Tucker, and hope all will agree with me. I
remain, yours truly, Gro. Ocan.
Philadelphia, Pa.
From “Chas.”

Dear Eprror: Hoop-a-la! The readers of Tie Tor won
Showing:

Now, I hope to see more about Chester and June

Arlington, Jack Diamond, Felicia Delores, Rattleton, old
and young Joe Crowfoot, and all the old favorites.

“Frank, Junior’s, Pick-up Nine” was a fitting story for
the return of the Merriwells. It was a “humdinger.” Of

course, all Tip Toppers were pleased with it.

      

  

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Now, as you have returned to the Merriwells, don’t
forget the T-bar Ranch. A great many of the crackajack
stories of old were laid at Frank’s ranch.

By returning to the Merriwells, it makes the old reader
reminiscent. Frank’s Fardale and Yale days, his struggles
and triumphs; Dick’s college career, the Arlingtons,

. Frank’s mining ventures, his “New Idea, or Farnam Hall”

—a grand feature—“The Blue Hill’s League,” et cetera,
et cetera.

How many readers have read “Dick Merriwell’s Regret,”
No. 568? It alone shows the reader that a master mind
held the pen that wrote that story.

I have read every number of Tie Tor from 4098
to date, and several New Medal’s; therefore, covering
nearly all the adventures and exploits of the Merriwells
up to the present time. ;

A: person could write several pages with only a mention
here and there of some piece of Merriwell’s work, and
not begin to mention hundreds and hundreds of things
Burt L. has pictured the Merriwells as doing, that made a
hit with ye reader right off the reel. Yours very truly,

“Cras.”

Praise from a New Friend,

Dear Epitor: I have been reading Tie Tor Werxty
for four months, and have the pleasure of saying that
it is the most interesting book I ever read. The Owen
Clancy series were fine; also the stories about, Frank,
junior. Ep. BarkKeEy.

Worcester, Mass.

Patcel Post Tires Cartierts.

Scores of star-route carriers in the Pacific Northwest
are refusing to renew mail contracts with the post-office
department. Carriers heretofore receiving $300 to $500
annually, are retiring in disgust or insisting on $5,000,
$10,000, or $15,000 yearly. As a result of the parcel-post
law, they have been delivering sugar, flour, lumber, and
other freight throughout counties distant from railroads
and steamers,

Hen Lives a Year Inside Haystack.

Men baling hay near Fox Lake, Wis., opened a stack
put up last August, and were surprised to find a hen im-
prisoned in the center. She was alive, and three eggs were
found near by.

The hen had worked a hole in the hay, about two feet
square, and evidently had lived on the seed in the hay,
but had been without water for nearly a year.

Find Skeleton but No Clothes.’ }

Two little girls, daughters of Wiley Taylor, while
picking flowers in a grove near their home, at Cynthiana,
Ky., discovered the skeleton of a man, identified later as
David Morrison, but the finding of the old man’s remains
did not clear up the mystery of his disappearance. He
had not been seen\since May 2. His bones were scattered
over a wide area, hogs having torn the body and clothing
to fragments.

e

- His Laughing Gorilla Likes to be Tickled.

After a three-year search in the jungles of East Africa,
R. L. Garner, of Philadelphia, has succeeded in capturitig..
two gorillas, one a rare and jolly female and the other
Garner, who headed an expedi- |
 

 

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SSE ic a

30 NEW. TIP TOP WEEKLY.

tion into the French Congo for the New York Zodlogical
Park, has written an interesting letter to his son here.

“T have two fine gorillas, and one of them is the finest
that I have ever seen in captivity,” he says. “She is now
nearly three years old, about thirty-two inches high, and
weighs about fifty pounds.

“T let her out of her cage on the veranda, and we have
some real romps. She is the only gorilla I have ever
known to attempt a laugh or a smile, and she does both.
‘When tickled under the arms, or on the bottom of the
feet, she chuckles audibly, in a manner closely verging
on a real laugh, and she seems to enjoy being tickled.”

.

Ait Craft Plunges into Sea.

E. K. Jaquith, of Chicago, and O. W. Hiatt, of Kansas
City, Mo., had a narrow escape from death at Atlantic
City, N. J., when a hydroaéroplane in which they were
riding dropped into the ocean. They were rescued when
they were about exhausted. The machine struck a huge
wave as it arose from the water, and shipped so much
water that it was weighted down after soaring many
feet in the air.

Takes Aff of Husband’s Jobs.

Mrs, John C. Mayo, of Lexington, Ky., said to be
the richest woman in the South, since the death of her
husband in a New York hospital recently, has announced
that she would take her late husband’s place on the

directorates of all the business enterprises of which he

was a director.

His estate in cash is estimated at $2,000,000, in addition
to vast holdings of coal and timber lands, making a total
value of $20,000,000.

Mrs. Mayo also announced that benefactions planned
by her husband will be carried out by her. Mrs. Mayo
was made the executrix of the estate without bond. She
is about forty-five years old and handsome.

Hotse Sometsaults Over Boy.

After endangering the lives of many persons in the
busiest section of Flint, Mich., a horse belonging to a
farmet ended a gallop with an exceptionally well-executed
Somersault directly over the head of six-year-old Brush
Nash. The horse hit the rear of the buckboard in which
the lad was seated, and executed the flip without touch-
ing the buggy, and landing on “all fours” in front of the
rig. Prior to this the horse had trampled upon and in-
jured Lawrence Bishop, aged fourteen.

Ctows Make Nest on His Bed.

While Elihu Baldwin, of Lone Rock, Ark., and family
were on a visit with relatives in Colorado, a flock of
crows took possession of their home.

On the return, after an absence of six weeks, Baldwin
found a nest containing six eggs, made on his bed. When
the family undertook to drive the birds from the room,
they showed fight, and scratched Mrs. Baldwin severely
before they were chased out. They entered the house
through the chimney. —

Refuses Liberty After Long Term in Prison.
Peter Pelinski, aged seventy, who has served out his
term in the Michigan penitentiary, is puzzling the prison
officials, for he refuses to leave the confines of the walls

-almost immediately,

behind which he has spent the last fourteen years. He
even refuses to leave the prison with the squad detailed to:
go outside to pick rhubarb and gather vegetables.

The aged man has confided to his fellow workers the
belief that the officials have a man waiting outside to pick
him up and lock him outside the penitentiary.

Pelinski was sent to the prison in 1900 to serve a twenty-
year term for second-degree murder. Good behavior re-
duced the term, and he has been free to leave since March
14th. Since then he has been urged repeatedly to take up
life outside the prison, but he declines to depart, and has
become a kitchen assistant. When relatives called for
him, he even declined to accompany them.

Victim of Dead Mule’s Kick in Trouble Again.

Edward Gardner, who was kicked by a dead mule about
a year ago, is becoming known as the “accident man” as
the result of another freak mishap of which he was the
victim recently.

While, repairing an old bridge near his place, at Big
Laurel, Va., Gardner missed his footing and slipped
through a hole in the flooring. His overall suspenders
caught on a nail in the bridge, and the bib of the overalls
was pulled up far enough to cover his face and muffle
his cries for help.

He could not reach the planks above nor the water be-
low, and consequently hung there until a passing neigh-
bor heard him struggling and came to the rescue. He
was almost suffocated when released.

Killed After He Finds Gold,

“Boys, I’ve struck it rich.” ,

That was the message Champ M. Smith brought to his
friends at Eldora, Col. He had gained the thing he had
been working for for a lifetime. But that which was
most precious to him than gold—his life—was lost a few
hours later. After he exhibited his samples of ore and
purchased some groceries he returned to his mine. He
was murdered that night.» After killing him, his slayer
placed a stick of dynamite under the dead man’s head
and exploded it.

One Lost in Steamet Crash,

Of the forty-nine persons aboard the excursion steamer
Majestic, of Quincy, Ill, which sunk in the Mississippi
River north of St. Louis, only one, William Cuthbert, of
Peoria, Ill., a watchman, is missing. The big boat struck
the intake tower ‘of a water crib in the river, and sunk
Most of those aboard swam ashore
or were picked up. One thousand excursionists, many
of them telephone operators, were landed a few moments
before the accident.

Auto Runs Away With Child of Six in Seat.

John Maguire, six years old, son of Thomas F. Maguire,

a city marshal, living at Flushing, N. Y., is suffering from
a broken collar bone, the front door of a barber shop is
wrecked, and an automobile is out of commission as the
result of a wild ride engineered by the youngster.

The automobile, belonging to a cleaning company, was
standing in front of the Maguire homie. John and his
playmates busied themselyes examining it. Having com-
pleted his outside inspection, John climbed inside and con-
tinued his explorations. He placed his foot on the brake

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NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY. 31

lever and the automobile began to move slowly at first,
but with increasing speed as the automobile tolled down
hill.

John, the sole occupant of the automobile, began to
shout when he realized that something was wrong. The
automobile, however, continued, with ever-increasing speed,
until it struck a rut in the roadway. The vehicle then
swerved and ran upon the sidewalk, plunging into the
front door of a crowded barber shop. John was tumbled
into the street, and there was a wild scramble by those
occupying the barber’s chairs for places of safety.

Snow Falls With Temperature 100.

With a temperature at Muncie, Ind., hovering around
the hundred mark, snow fell steadily for half an hour,
accompanied by a driving rain, recently.

The flakes were plainly visible in the higher stories of
office buildings, where the snow blew in open windows.
The flakes melted before the ground was reached.

Town to Own Soap Factory.

Tulsa, Okla., is to have a municipal soap plant. In-
stead of burning the tons of garbage that are collected
daily, the city commission is considering a proposition for
an expert/manufacturer to devote this refuse to the mak-
ing of soap. The factory planned will cost about $30,000.
In addition to soap, fertilizers will be made.

Man Afraid of Engine No. 13, Walks Twenty-five Mies.

Because he was superstitious about the number “13,”
and was afraid to ride in’a coach pulled by an engine of
that number, J. C. Hetz, a farmer living twenty-five miles
from Gulfport, Miss., walked all the way here.

Hetz appeared at the station, and was about to buy a
ticket, when he observed the number of the engine of
the train he would have to take was “thirteen.” He dis-
played a roll of bills and asked the train crew to change
engines, but they had no authority to do’ so. Hetz told
them he was afraid to ride on the train, and began -his
long walk. ,

Will Die in Chair He Built.

Robert Collier, a negro, sentenced to death at Evans-
ville, Ind. for the murder of Patrolman John Cain, will
go" to his: death Friday, October 16, in the electric chair
he- helped build at Michigan City.

Collier was released from the Michigan City prison last
February, when he was serving a sentence for assault
and battery with intent to kill. He was suffering from
tirberculosis and was sent home to die, One of his last
acts at the penitentiary was helping to construct the death
chair: Collier shows no sign of fear.

  

° Inventor Held as Madman.

A remarkable story of how a fortune has been spent
to keep a man in a madhouse-will be unfolded at Gran-

‘ville, N. Y. when F. B. Wickes, appointed referee by

Supreme Justice Borst, will hear the case of Frederick

__W. Savage, now confined in a hospital for the insane at
_ Ogdensburgy

Savage is an inventor, well known prior to the time he
disappeared from the world. He charges that an inven-
tion of his made immense ‘profits for a rubber company
. The story, as told by Savage and his attor-

 

 

 

_Neys, and which, they say they will prove in court, is that

 

he was seized four years ago, while having troubles with
the rubber company, and thrown into the Boston State
Hospital for the Insane. Later he was transferred to the
Ogdensburg institution.

“The rubber company has spent $50,000 to keep Savage
in the asylum, although he is perfectly sane,” declared C.
Bertram Rice, an Albany attorney.

Edgar T. Brackett, of Saratoga, former State Senator,
has come to the aid of Savage. He was brought into
the strange case by Rice, a boyhood friend of the in-
ventor. Both lawyers are working without compensation,
to see, they say, that justice is done.

Rice declares that the records show that the company
has spent thousands of dollars for legal talent and the
service of noted “mental experts,” to prevent Savage's
discharge from custody.

At the time when Savage had trouble with the com-
pany he was about to transfer the control of his invention
to others. The company’s desire to keep the invention
was the motive for his kidnaping, he charges. The com-
pany. officials. say that~he made insane threats against
them.

Six “Peglegs” in Courtroom.

Six men with wooden legs were sworn in superior
court at Springfield, Mass., as witnesses in the case of
Collins vs. The Holyoke Street Railway Company. The
plaintiff, a twelve-year-old boy, asks $40,000 for the loss,
of a leg in an accident. The street railway company ad-
mits its liability, but maintains that excessive damages are
asked and that aside from participating in athletic sports,
there has been no interference with the boy’s activities.

The array of wooden-legged witnesses produced by the
street railway company included salesmen and others, who
testified concerning their earning capacity before and after
the loss of a limb.

Nuggets of Information.

It costs the farmers of the United States $15,000,000 a
year to fight insect pests.

The United States’ bill for diamonds in the last ten
years has been. just about enough to buy and build the
Panama Canal.

In these days of domestic science and manual training
it is interesting to know that sewing and knitting were
taught in the first frame schoolhouse erected in Farming-
ton, ‘Maine, more than a century and a quarter ago.

It has been computed that at the time of the arrival
of Columbus there were 25,000,000 Indians in North ano
South America.

Wooden spoons are almost the only kind used by the
peasant class of Russia, which forms seventy-seven per
cent of the entire population.

A count of the annual rings of a California redwood
tree indicated that it began its career in 550 A, D.

Elopement Shattered by Cow Tied to Fence.

The elopement plans of James Wallace, aged twenty,
and Miss Florence Griswold, eighteen years old, of Put-
nam Valley, N. Y., were foiled and the young people were
laid up by serious injuries when a cow spilled them from _
a motor cycle on which they were fleecing from the girl’s
parents, who objected to the wedding, declaring she ‘was
too young.

,She packed her suit case and, escaping out of the bed-—

 

 
 

   

 

32

room window, got astride the rear seat of the motor cycle
operated by Wallace, who awaited her down the road.

A cow, tethered to a fence by a long chain, crossed the
road in front of the motor cycle, and Wallace failed to see
the chain. Asa result he and Miss Griswold were sprawled
on the road. He suffered a broken collar bone and the
girl a broken ankle, The latter, removed home, is being
watched so she cannot elope again.

Frogs Ovettun Their Lawn.

Frogs, driven from their old haunt in a mill race at
the southeastern edge of Connersville, Ind., have over-
tun lawns and invaded homes. The drought has left the
stagnant pond, in which they have held their councils for
years, as dry as powder. Of evenings, when citizens
sprinkle, the frogs swarm to the water.
man thought to capture frogs for market. He caught a
few, but found them useless for food by reason of their
unhealthful condition,

Farmers ate Buying Autos,

Wichita, Kansas, motor-car dealers have sold 987 motor
cars since April 15, according to a computation made by
the companies at that city. Most of the cars were sold
to farmers who gave their notes for payment after the
wheat harvest. The values of these sales approximates
$1,110,000,

Mine of Loose Iron Under Watets of Lake,

An open pit iron mine of much richness lies off the
shore of Keweenaw Point, the richest coppéer-mining region
in the world, which juts out into Lake Superior from
the southern shore a distance of fifty miles,

Sawtooth Reef, off Eagle River, Keweenaw Point, a
mile, and throwing its cruel points up from a hundred
fathoms of water to within twenty feet of the surface,
_ has caught, and held and destroyed many an ore ship,
and boats that have lost their course in thick fogs or on
dark nights.

It is. estimated that lying loose in the waters of Su-
perior, about the shores of Keweenaw, is from 100,000 to
150,000 tons of good iron ore, all to be had for the
asking.

Gas Engine Aid tn Plowing,

N. C. Nissly, Wentworth, Wis., is demonstrating that
improved power machinery is the thing in upper, Wiscon-
sin. He has purchased a gasoline engine and is breaking
land on his large farm at about half the cost of doing
the same work with horses. |

In addition to the cheaper cost of plowing the new land,
Nissly finds that he does not have to clear the land so
closely as when breaking with horses. He finds, also, that
this power is good’! for working his developed land and
for making roads, sawing wood, and much other work on
the farm.

Pigs Travel in Style; Get Shower Baths Now.

Henceforth all hogs whose fortune or misfortune it
may be to be routed over the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad
are to have barber and shower-bath service, just as the
passengers on the best trains nowadays are getting.
Hitherto, as is generally known, hogs, no matter whether
the aristocratic Poland-China or the Berkshire, have trav-
eled with less comfort than tramps. But the railroad

NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY.

 

One enterprising /

men have decided that it is time to do something for
the porcine travelers. Horses, cattle, and sheep are also
to enjoy the advantages of the modern luxuries in stock
cars.

However, the Baltimore & Ohio is partly selfish about
it, for, according to its announcement, the first object
is to make travel more pleasant for the human cargo. It
has been noticed that passing stock trains frequently scat-
tered a concentrated stockyards odor in the passenger cars,
and that to stand at stations beside a cattle train was any-
thing but pleasant for people. Other railroads are expected
to take up the reform. The shower bath will be ad-
ministered at terminals and at resting stations at which
the live stock is watered and fed,

Once Sentenced to Die; May be Freed Soon.

John Edward Schuyler, who sat in the death chamber
of Hunterdon County Jail at Flemington, N. J., one June
day seven years ago and heard the ominous pounding of
hammers that were shaping his gallows in the yard out«
side, stands a chance of walking out of his prison cage,
vindicated.

Frank Burd, scarcely twenty-three years old, who be-
gan a life of crime with a jail sentence when he was only
seven years old, and who has passed the greater part of
the sixteen years intervening behind prison bars, is said
to have confessed to the murder of Manning Riley at
Califon, N. J., the night of January 19, 1907, a crime for
which Schuyler was convicted, sentenced to be hanged,
and later sent to prison, here, for life.

The people of Hunterdon County never were so excited
over a crime as they were when Riley’s body was found
along upper Parker Road. Riley, a young farmer, was
extremely popular in the community,

Schuyler, who lived at Venoy, a near-by town, was
arrested the following day, accused of the crime,

Queet Bird Attacks Woman.
Residents of Petersburg, Ind. are puzzled over. the

queer actions of a mysterious bird, which attacks Mrs.

Mary.Ann Goodrich every time she leaves the house after
dusk. It never molests other persons, Every attempt to
kill or capture it has failed. The bird is quite small,

its body resembles a blackbird, and jts head seems to _

be covered with fur.

Many Playets Get “Beaned.”

Oné of the features’ of life in the Western League is |

getting “beaned.” Already this season 138 batters have

been picked off by the sharpshooters who occupy the i

mound. The records show that going to bat in the
Western is a good deal like taking part in a Mexican
battle, the chance of getting hit depending entirely on
the wildness of the pitcher. So far Lakaff, of Des Moines,
holds the record, having ten big notches on his trusty

gun, each representing an aspiring batter mowed down

by the flight of one of his uncertain benders. Doyle,
of Sioux City, comes next, with eight,’and his teammate,
Gasper, is not far behind, with six to his credit, /

 

 

OLD COINS WANTED

$4.25 each paid for U. 8. Eagle Cents dated i856. We
pay a CASH premium on hundreds of old coins. Send
10 cents at once for New Illustrated Coin Value Book,
4x7. It may mean YOUR fortune.

LARK &

CO., Coin Dealers, Box 67, LeRoy, N. Y.

    
      

 

 

 

  

 
 

 

 

 
 

SOME OF THE
BACK

NUMBERS OF

W TIP TOP
WEEKLY

THAT CAN

BE

SUPPLIED

 

 

730-—F rank Merriwell’s Six-in-hand.

Frank Merriwell’s Duplicate.

Frank Merriwell on Rattlesnake
Ranch.

733—Frank Merriwell’s Sure Hand.

734—Frank Merriwell's Treasure Map.

735—Frank Merriwell, Prince of the Rope.

aan Merriwell, Captain of the Var-
sity.

737—Dick Merriwell’s Control.

38—Dick Merriwell’s Back Stop.

9—Dick Merriwell’s Masked Enemy.

0—Dick Merriwell’s Motor Car.

1—Dick Merriwell’s Hot Pursuit.
—Dick Merriwell at Forest Lake.

—Dick Merriwell in Court.

—Dick Merriwell’s Silence.

—Dick Merriwell’s Dog.

j—Dick Merriwell’s Subterfuge.

—Dick Merriwell’s Enigma.

8—Dick Merriwell Defeated.

9—Dick Merriwell's “‘Wing.’”’

50—Dick Merriwell's Sky Chase.

51—Dick Merriwell’s P ick-ups.

52

ET EL

3
4
4
4:
4s
4
4:
4
47
4
4

—Dick Merriwell on the Rocking R.
—Dick Merriwell’s Penetration.
—Dick Merriwell’s Intuition.
5—Dick Merriwell’s Vantage.
i—Dick Merriwell’s Advice. b
—Dick Merriwell’s Rescue.
<—Dick Merriwell, American.
59—Dick Merriwell’s U nderstanding. .<
30—Dick Merriwell, Tutor.
31—Dick Merriwell’s Qu: ee
32—Dick Merriwell on the Boards,
33—Dick Merriwell, Peacemaker. bo 4k
—Frank Merriwell’s Sway. ys
—Frank Merriwell’s C Oe nian hy
aa rank Merriwell’s Young Acroba Lier
—Frank Merriwell’s Tact.

—F vant Merriwell’s Unknown. ._

-Frank Merriwell's Acuteness.

_F rank Merriwell’s Young Canadian.

—Frank Merriwell’s Coward. ~ -
—Frank Merriwell’s Perplexity.

—Frank Merriwell's Intervention.

—~Frank Merriwell’s Daring Deed.

—F rank Merriwell’s Succor.
—Frank Merriwell’s Wit.
—Frank Merriwell’s Loyalty.

8—Frank Merriwell’s Bold P ‘lay.

79—F rank Merriwell’s Insight.
—Frank Merriwell’s Guile.
$1—Frank Merriwell’s Campaign.

39 Prank Merriwell in the

Forest.
83—Frank Merriwell’s Tenacity.
—Dick Merriwell's Self-sacrifice,

—Dick Merriwell’s Close Shave.
—Dick Merriwell’s Perception.

87_Dic k 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.

793—Dick Merriwell's Good Fellowship.

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.

800—Dick Merriwell Caught Napping.

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.
806—Dick Merriwell’s Young Pitcher.
807—Dick Merriwell’s Prodding.
808—Frank Merriwell's Boy.
809—F rank Merriwell's Interference,
810—Frank Merriwell's Young Warriors.
811—F rank Merriwell’s Appraisal.

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PRICE, FIVE CENTS PER COPY.

your news dealer, they can be obtained direct from this office.

812—F rank Merriwell’s Forgiveness.
818—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.
8i8—Dick Merriwell’s Perseverance.
819—Dick Merriwell Triumphant.
820—Dick Merriwell's Betrayal.
821—Dick Merriwell, Revolutionist.
822—Dick Merriwell’s Fortitude.
8283—Dick Merriwell’s Undoing.
824- —Dic k 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.
830—Dick Merriwell’s Warning.
831—Dick Merriwell's Counsel.
832—Dick Merriwell’s Champions.
833—Dick Merriwell’s Marksmen.
834—Dick Merriwell's Enthusiasm.
835—Dick Merriwell's Solution.
836—Dick Merriwell’s Foreign Foe.
838—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 B ac k.
845—Dick Merriwell’s Heroic Crew.
846—Dick Merriwell Looks Ahead.

Oppo-

- NEW SERIES.
$
“Ss” New Tip Top Weekly
1-—Frank Merriwell, Jr.
29—J"rank Merriwell, Jr., in the Box.
$—TF rank Merriwell, Jr.'s, Struggle.
4—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Skill.
5—Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Idaho.
6—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Close Shave.
7—F rank Merriwell, Jr., on Waiting
ders.
8—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’
9—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s,
thon.
0—Frank Merriwell, Jr., at the
Ranch.
—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Golden Trail.
i , Jr.’s, Competitor.
3—Frank Merriwell, Jr.'s, Guidance.
—lFrank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Scrimmage.
—Frank Merriwell, Jr., Misjudged.
i—F rank Merriwell, Jr.'s, Star Play.
Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Blind Chase,
<—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Discretion.
Frank Merriwell, Jr.'s, Substitute,
rank Merriwell, Jr., Justified.
Frank Merriwell, Jr., Incog.
Frank Merriwell, Jr., Meets the Issue.
Frank Merriwell, Jr.'s, Xmas Eve,
—IFrank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Fearless Risk.
Frank Merriwell, Jr., on Skis.
—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ice-boat Chase.
27—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ambushed
Foes.
28—F rank Merriwell, Jr., and the Totem.
29—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Hockey Game.
80—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Clew.
381—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Adversary.
3 —Frank Merriwell, Jr.'s, Timely Aid.
383—Frank Merriwell, Jr., in the Desert.
—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Grueling Test.
—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Special Mission
—Frank Merriwell, q a Red Bowman.
87—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Task.
38—F ee Merriwell, ee Cross-Country
face,
89—F rank Merriwell, ay s, Four Miles,
40—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Umpire.
41—F rank Merriwell, Jr. Ge Sidetracked.

Or-

Ss, ora

Relay Mara-

Bar Z

2—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Teamwork.
3—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’ s, i Biter- Over.
4—F rank Merriwell, Jr., in Monterey.
45—F rank Merriwell, Jr.'s, Athletes.
aa rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Outfielder.
47—F rank Merriwell, Jr. See et
48—F rank Merriwell, Jr. ” Hobo Twirler.
49—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Canceled Game.
00a Merriwell, irs Weird Adven-
ure.
51—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Double Header.
raga Merriwell, Jr.’s, Peck of Trou-
yle.
53—Frank Merriwell, Jr.,
Doctor.
54—F rank Merriwell,
55—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’
56—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’
57—I rank Merriwell, Jr., on the Wing.
58—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Cross-Fire.”
59—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Lost Team-
mate.
60—F rank Merriwell,
61—F rank Merriwell, Jr., at Fardale:
62—F rank Merriwell, Jr., Plebe,
63—Frank Merriwell, J r.’S, Quarter-Back.
64—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Touc aaa
65—Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Night Off
66—Frank Merriwell, Jr., and the “Little
Black Box.
67—Irank Merriwell,
68—Frank Merriwell,
emy.
69—Frank Merriwell, Jr.,
70—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s,
Honors.
1—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Winning Run.
2—Trank Merriwell, Jr.'s, Jujutsu.
3—F paiak Merriwell, Jr.’s, Christmas Va-
cation.
4—Frank Merriwell, Jr.,
Wolves.
—Frank Me rriwell, JP. +, On the Border.
—fFrank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Desert Race.
Owen Clancy's Run of Luck.
Owen Clancy's Square, Deal.
Owen Clancy’s Hardest Fight.
Owen Clancy’s Ride for Fortune.
Owen Clancy’s Makeshift.
—Owen Clancy and the Black Pearls,
Owen C lancy and the Sky Pilot.
Owen Cl: y and the Air Pirates,
Owen Clk s Peril.
Owen Clane y *s Partner.
Owen Clancy’s Happy Trail.
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 C laney’ s Cle an- U P.
95—Frank 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 First Commission.
100—F rank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Cryptogram.
101—Dick Merriwell and June Arlington.
102—Dick Merriwell’s Turquoise Tussle.
108—Dick Merriwell Tricked.
104—Frank Merriwell, Jr., in
Fire,
Dated August 1st,
105—Frank Merriwell, Jr., in the Cattle
Stampede,
Dated August 8th, 1914.
106 —Merriwell vs. Merriwell.
P ublished about August 15th, 1914.
107—Dick Merriwell and the Burglar.
Published about August 22d, 1914.
108—Dick Merriwell Mystified.
P ublishe ‘d about August 29th, 1914.
109—Dick Merriwell’s Hazard.
1914.
the Cow-

and the Spook
ats, 8, Sportsmanship.

, Ten-Innings.
s, Ordeal.

Jr.’s, Daring Flight.

Jr.’s, Classmates.
Jr.’s, Repentant En-

and the “Spell.”
Gridiron

and the Nine

the Gulf of
1914.

Published about September 5th,
110—F rank Merriwell, Jr., at
boy Carnival.

If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from

Postage stamps taken the same as money.

Street & Smith, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Ave., New York City