Tip loP WEEKLY “An ideal publication forthe American Youth. Issued weekly By Subscription, $2.50 per year. Entered as Second Crass Matier at the N. Y. Post Office by STREET & SMITH No. 147. ~ Price, Five Cents, FRANK THREW THE FELLOW HEADLONG OVER THE FOOTLIGHTS. i “AN IDEAL PUBLICATION FOR THE AMERICAN YOUTH.” , i Be. bother with him.” “Wait a minute,” urged Merry. ae “Wait,” said Frank. “He seems to have “Dis ain’t no game!” cried the boy, resent } lost something.” fully. “Dis is on der level. I lost dat m ney By 2 “Dat’s right, mister!’ sobbed the boy, turn- right here. It flewed outer me hand, an t ‘ing a tear-wet and dirt-begrimed face toward _heerd it go chin-ling-ching, but dat was al Tire Tor WEEKLY. * gamed Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year, Entered as Second Class }'atter at the N, ¥. Post Ofice. Srrunr & SmirrH, 81 Fulion St., N. Y. Entered Aceording to Act of Congress, in the Year 1899 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. No. 147. NEW YORK, Pobrnee. 4, 1899. Price Five Cents. Contents of This Number. ' Page. FRANK MERRIWELL’S FAILURE; or, High Hopesand Hard Luck - = = = = J, APPLAUSE -~— - Pa oi oo Ss ee ee eee ge ee ee CORRESPONDENCE II ier Ee Sn kG my PT ee Ee $1. ia OR, | i rwamergs 4 ee By BURT L. STANDISH : | = I CHAPTER I. Not at all impressed, Hodge thrust his 1 LOST MONEY. hands into his trousers pockets and regarded | | “Hello, my lad, what’s the matter?” asked the Seiaow unsympathetically. ) Frank Merriwell, pausing and looking down What is it you have lost?” asked Frank. 4 at the ragged, weeping urchin, who seemed to ‘‘A five-dollar gold piece!’’ was the } be looking for something in the street in front #7°W*T- , of the Hotel Metropole, Denver. Hodge laughed derisively. ; “Come along!” exclaimed Bart Hodge, who “There, Frank,” he said, “I think you are accompanied Frank. “We haven’t time to onto the kid’s little game now. Come on.” Frank. “If I don’t find it, I'll never dast go I never seed where it went ter, an’ now I back home to me mudder. Oh, boo-hoo! I find it. «Oh, boo-hoo!” wisht I was dead!” E 3 gold piece?” asked Bart, derisively. “Why, he never saw one in his life!” “Dat’s a lie!” shouted the boy, straighten- ing up and glaring at Bart with his red and swollen eyes. “I hed dat money here a little whiler go, an’ I don’t care wot youse say. You don’t know ev’rything, if yer do wear good clothes.” “Oh, come on!” Hodge urged Merry, flush- _ ying slightly over the manner in which he was “Tf he had a five-dollar gold piece, he must have stolen it, and it addressed by the boy. served him right to lose it.” “Dat’s another lie!” shrilly piped the boy. “T never stole nutting in me life, an’ [’ll fight der snoozer wot says I did, if he’s Jim Cor- bett! Put up yer fins!” _ He squared away at Bart in a truly comical manner, being so angry over Hodge’s words that he had forgotten to cry. Frank caught him by the collar, laughing a bit. Fold on, young man,” he said ; “that’s my friend, and I don’t want to see you whip a friend.” “Dat feller your friend?” cried the boy, -scornfully. “Why, youse a gent, an’ he’s a stiff! I wouldn’t call no such duffer as dat my friend if I was in your place.” “Saucy little rascal!’ muttered Hodge, his face still redder. “Don’t forget that you provoked him by what you said,” came from Frank. _ “But you’ve seen that game he’s playing. eats old.” “Tt ain’t no game,” asserted the urchin. “I losted dat money right here.” “FHe’s trying to win your sympathy, Merry,” said Bart, “so you will give him something. But when he talks of losing five dollars—that’s too thin! He might fool some- dy if he put it down to a quarter!” “Say, youse is der kind of feller wot, knows all!” cried the boy, looking his hatred at TIP TOP WEEKLY. Bart. See! was ter offer me five dollars, I wouldn’t take it!” ' “Pd hate to offer you five cents if I needed ie “You give me pains! If you “Yes, I reckon dat’s right. Ye’re so blamed mean ye wouldn’t give nobody five cents! I don’t want nutting of you.” “Don’t worry; you won’t get anything.” “Tt does seem rather strange that you , should have a five-dollar gold piece,” said Frank. “Dad’s sick. He’s bin sick a week now, an’ “How did it happen?” marm she don’t leave him at all, so she give me der money ter go ter der drug store ter git some med’cin’. Here’s der perscripshun wot der doctor left.” The boy-displayed a crumpled and soiled bit of paper. Frank saw it really was a physi- cian’s prescription, “This seems to be genuine,” he observed, glancing at Bart. “Oh, yes, I haven’t a doubt!’”. sneered Hodge.. “The kid is shrewd, and he has everything well arranged.” “Well, if he is playing a game,” smiled Frank, “he is pretty slick about it, and he de- serves some reward for his ingenuity.” “And that reward will serve to encourage him to crime. You do have queer ideas about some things, Merry.” “Tf I was as big as him, I’d smash him!’ @ " palpitated the urchin, shaking a soiled fist at Bart. “Don’t you believe him, sir,” appealing to Frank. workin’ no game. here, but I can’t find it. “T losted dat money, an’ I ain't I’ve hunted an’ hunted It’s der last five dad had, an’ dere.ain’t no tellin’ w’en he'll be well | enough ter 0 ter work ag’in.” Frank stopped to help the boy search. “Tt’s too bad,” said Merry; “but it seems that you should be able to find it here.” “You're making a fool of yourself, Frank!” \ » Me fea en a pT — a - aes Ee TIP TOP exclaimed Bart, impatiently.. “Folks in the hotel are laughing at you.” “Let them laugh. I do not regard it as a disgrace to help this boy search for the money he has lost. Let them laugh! Some of them in there could lose five thousand dollars, with- out doubt, and not feel it nearly as much as this boy would five dollars. Still they would sit there and laugh while he cried his eyes out as he searched for the money he dropped.” Bart muttered something about being fooled into sentiment, and moved away a bit. Merry continued to search for some min- utes, but he found nothing of the money the boy claimed he had lost. « “I’m coming back this way pretty soon,” he said. “I'll have more time then, and [ll try again to see if I can help you find the money, my lad.” “T’ank yer, sir,” said the boy. “Ye’re a real gent; but dat feller wot you calls a friend, he’s mighty poor comp’ny fer you.” “He’s not in a good humor to-day, that’s what ails him,” declared Frank. “He’s too mean ter breathe, dat’s wot’s der matter wid him!” exclaimed the boy. Frank joined Bart, and they started along the street. “We won't get far before he'll overtake us,” said Hodge. “What for?” “To get some money. You didn’t give . him anything, did you?” 7No.” “T thought not. He won't let you get away. When he finds you really mean to go, he'll chase you up.” “We'll see,” said Frank. “I think you have made a mistake in your estimate of the boy. Of course, I have heard of such games as you thought he was playing, but I believe that youngster was honest. There was some- thing honest about his face and his manner.” WEEKLY. 4 “You beat! You are a fellow who always seems to want to think people honest.” “T do. honest than otherwise. tidn.”’ I had much rather think a man It is a great satisfac- “Tt may be a great satisfaction at the start, but, in nine cases out of ten, there will be disgust when you find you have made a fool of yourself.” “According to that, you estimate that nine men out of ten are dishonest ?” “Well, I think they will average up about that way. Anyhow, I believe a person is bet- ter off to regard a man as dishonest till that He isn’t half as liable to be fooled and hate himself afterwards.” man is proven honest. 99 , “And I have found,” said Frank, “that a person who may be somewhat inclined to dis- honesty is often led to honesty by finding that others think him so. A person who knows he is constantly suspected of dishon- esty, is likely to become so in despair.” “Oh, well, that may be right; but I’m no 39 reformer, and “And you must confess that it is not pleas- ant to be constantly suspected of crooked- ness.” % “That’s right,” said Bart, reluctantly. “I think I ought to know, for I suppose I have © heen suspected as much as any living person ever was without real cause for suspicion.” “And that very thing has led you to sus- pect others. Where is he? “That’s so,” acknowledged Bart, in sur- Have you forgotten that boy? He hasn’t followed me.” 5 prise, turning about. = Frank stopped and turned also. In front of the Hotel Metropole the urchi was on his hands and knees searching in the gutter. He seemed to have forgotten both Frank and Bart. “What do you say about it now?” laughed Merry. : s “He’s either honest, or he’s pretty slic | said Bart; “and it’s more than even that he’s You were not the only one who He selected the best place he could to work his little game, the latter. saw him, and he knew it. and that’s in front of Denver’s finest hotel, the Metropole. Rich people stop there, and he hopes to catch some sucker. He refuses to strike low. He means to have a ‘V.’ He knew he would not get more than a quarter ‘out of you, if he followed you up, and so he ' sticks there.” “Well, Bart,” said Merry, as they walked onward again, “I should hate to be as cynical and suspicious as you are. I had much rather regard people generally as honest, even though I am fooled occasionally.” “All right. You go on thinking everybody honest, and I’ll go on holding everybody dis- honest till they are proven otherwise, and you'll be beaten out of dollars where I’m beaten out of cents.” They walked onward, chatting and argu- ing as they went. It was nearly an hour later when they re- turned that way. As they came in sight of the Metropole, Frank exclaimed: “Well, the boy is there now! searching !” “Yes,” nodded Bart. “He hasn’t found either his five dollars or his sucker yet.” A man wearing a silk hat halted near the boy and spoke to him. The man carried a cane, with which he poked about in the gut- ter. All at once, he stooped and picked some- He’s still thing up. _ Frank and Bart were near enough to hear the boy give a cry of joy, as he sprang to his : feet. ; : “Dat’s it, mister—dat’s der five dollars I losted! Give it ter me!” “Get out!” exclaimed the man, pushing the boy away. “You never saw five dollars efore, you ragged little dog. I'll keep this.” a TIP TOP WEEKLY. CHAPTER IT. A BAFFLED RASCAL. + “Hello!” exclaimed Frank, quickening his steps somewhat. “I know that gentleman.” “Don’t call him that,’ protested Hodge. “He’s anything but a gentleman.” “Tt’s Leslie Lawrence.” “Sure thing.” “He has found the five-dollar gold piece the boy lost.” “He has found something.” “Honest I hope ter die if dat ain’t mine!” “T losted it right here, an’ was huntin’ fer it w’en youse come cried the boy, excitedly. along. I told yer so—you knows I told yer so!” He caught Lawrence by the elbow in his anxiety, but the man shook him off, snarling: “Don’t touch me with your dirty hands, you little brat! If you do, Pll give you a good caning!” “It isn’t best for him to hit the boy with that cane while I am around!” growled Hodge. “If he does, I'll knock the block off him!’ “Ts it possible your sympathy for the dis- honest little rascal has been aroused?” asked Frank, mockingly. 3 “It begins to look as if the boy’s honesty has been proven,” confessed Hodge, “and that puts another aspect on affairs. Law- rence must not get away with that money.” “All right; we won’t let him get away.” “Hit me wid yer cane if yer wants to!” the boy cried, desperately; “but ye’ve gotter gimme dat money, fer it b’longs ter me !” “Get out!” snapped Lawrence, trying to hurry away. He came face to face with Hodge and Merriwell, the former blocking his path squarely, and saying: “Hold on, you! Don’t be in such a hurry.” “Get out of my way!” commanded the ac- tor. . “When you have given the boy his money,” said Bart, without moving. “What are you talking about?” “That money you have in your hand.” “You fool! How could a ragged kid like that have so much money? Get out of the way, or I'll cane you!” “Tf you will strike me once with your cane, I’ll be very much pleased,” declared Bart, fiercely. “Please hit me! I want some ex- cuse for punching you!” Frank was standing back now, watching “Hodge, with something like a faint smile of appreciation~and satisfaction on his hand- some face. The ragged urchin was astonished. Plain- ly Hodge was the last person from whom he would have expected assistance, and he was wondering if he was dreaming. Lawrence was very angry, but he refrained from hitting Hodge. . “You talk pretty big!” he sneered; “but it is because you know Merriwell is at hand to stand in with you. You are two to my one, and that gives you great courage.” “T’ll guarantee that Frank Merriwell will not interfere,’ said Bart, swiftly. “It won’t be necessary. I’ve wanted to mix up with you for some time, and this is a great oppor- tunity. Just crack me with your stick, Law- rence!” “T shall call a policeman !” “Do. We'll see that you are turned over to him for robbing this boy.” “Bah! Any policeman will know that the boy would not have a five-dollar gold piece.” _ “You know he had it,” said Frank, quietly. “He told you so when he came along. You can’t deny that.” “I do deny it!” said Lawrence, desperately. “Then you lie! Why did you stop here 9 TIP TOP WEEKLY. 6 fiantl y. and go to poking in the gutter with your cane?” “None of your business!” “T did tell him I’d losted der money!” cried the urchin. “He knows I did. He found it der first t’ing.”’ “We happen to know that the money be- longs to the boy,” said Frank. “How do you know so much?” asked 4 Lawrence, sneeringly. “Because we came along here some time ago, and he told us about losing it. We stopped to help him look for it, but went on without finding it. We were in sight when you stopped. We saw you poke in the gut- ter with your cane and saw you pick the money up.” “And we'll see you give it back to the boy,” finished Hodge. “Not to-day!’ declared Lawrence, de- “Well, you have fallen pretty low when you take to robbing boys!” cried Frank. “T declare I didn’t think that—not even of you!” “You want to be careful what you say to me!” grated the actor. “Yes, be careful, Frank!” cried Bart. “He'll get excited and chew his tongue off. _ He won’t dare do anything else.” : “T’ll dare do something to you when the ~ right time comes!” scowled Lawrece. “I have hated you from the time you joined Merriwell’s company, and this little affair: i is : not lessening that hatred a bit.” “I’d rather you’d hate me than not!” flung — back Bart. you is to be chosen in preference to their “The hatred of such chaps as friendship. The man with whom you are friendly is sure to be a scoundrel, and pretty sure to be a coward—like yourself!” Bart could not have said anything t would have cut Lawrence deeper. The man’s face became livid, and he shook with the depth of his fury. For some moments he was unable to say a single word in retort. The boy edged up to Frank, saying: “Jimminy! dat feller wot 1 took fer a stiff is a corker! Why, he’d ruther fight dan eat, I bet! Golly! he’s all right!” Frank smiled. “You have found out in a short time what others who have known him for years have not yet discovered,” he said. “Don’t let money!” implored the boy. dat bloke git erway wid me “You won’t lose anything if he gets away “But Bart will fight before he’ll let him get away.” “My! but I reckon it’s a good t’ing fer me with it,” assured Frank. dat youse chaps come along jest as yer did!” “T’d a losted dat five fer keeps dis time if yer hadn’t.” “I believe you would,” nodded Frank. exclaimed the lad. Lawrence glared at Bart. “You crow loud!” he said; “but you'll sing a different tune some day.” Frank stepped forward. “See here, Lawrence,” he said, decisively, “we know that money belongs to the boy, and we'll have you arrested if you do not give it up, so there is no use trying to keep aS “T won’t be bulldozed!’ “But, begobs, ye’ll be arristed av ye don’t give th’ b’y his money at wance!” cried a _voice behind Lawrence. With an exclamation of alarm, the actor jumped aside and whirled ‘round. . No one was near him. 7 _ He had been thrown off his guard by a -_ventriloquical trick worked by Merry. A hand fell on his wrist, another hand wrenched open his fingers, and the gold piece was taken from him before he could recover. _ “Here i is your money, my boy,” * said Frank, handing the shining piece to the lad, who grasped it and scudded away as fast as his feet would carry him. 6 TIP TOP WEEKLY. CHAPTER III. LAWRENCE HAS HIS TURN. Almost frothing at the mouth, Lawrence whirled back and aimed a savage blow at Frank’s head with his cane. Hodge was on the watch. He caught the cane, snatched it from the man’s grasp, broke it over his knee, and flung the pieces aside. “Two to one—two to one!” panted Law- rence. “No, one to one!” blazed Hodge, squaring “Now I will thump you!” Frank caught hold of him. “Not here! tention. away at Leslie. Look—we have attracted at- You do not want to be arrested for engaging in a street fight e “Wouldn’t care a rap if I could say I licked this cur!” palpitated Bart, who was thor- oughly aroused. “Well, I'd care. man.’ See, here comes a police- The officer came up quickly. “What’s the matter here?” he asked, sharply. “These fellows have assaulted and robbed me right here on the street,” declared Law- rence, pointing to Frank and Bart. “I want them arrested, Mr. Officer.” “What’s this?” exclaimed the policeman, regarding Frank and Bart. “They do not look like footpads.” “T make a charge against them, and it’s They took five They can’t deny it. I at- your duty to arrest them. dollars from me. tempted to defend myself with my cane, but they broke the cane and flung it out there into , the street.” “This is a serious charge,” gravely. “Are you prepared to stand behind it?” | “Of course I am prepared to stand behind -” ae said the officer, it,” cried Lawrence, with eager triumph. “I'll go right along with you to the station and make a charge against them. I am stopping at the Oxford, and my name is Lawrence.” “We do not deny it,” smiled Merry; “but a9 we can explain “You can make your explanations to the judge,” said the policeman, Then he asked Lawrence if there were any witnesses. A man-.advanced from the crowd that had gathered, saying: “Yes, sir; I saw it all. [ am stopping here at the Metropole. You may have heard of me. I am Kent Carson.” “The cattleman ?” Seg: : “T know you,” nodded the officer, with a show of respect. “Your evidence will be very valuable, sir. You saw these young men take the money from this gentleman?” “T did,” answered Kent Carson, quietly. “T think your evidence will be quite enough to convict them,” said the policeman, grimly. “Come along, my bold footpads. There has been quite enough of this sort of work around this place nights; but I must say you chaps are the boldest yet to try it in the day time and right in front of this hotel!” “Mr. Officer,” said Frank, quietly, “there ” has been a mistake. If you will “But I won’t!” cut short the policeman. “I told you you could explain to the judge. He'll settle your case.” Then, taking Merry and Hodge by the arm, he started for the station, directing Law- rence and Carson to come along. A crowd followed. = “Well, Bart,” said Frank, laughing, “what do you think of this?” “T think it’s a thundering outrage!” ex- ploded Hodge; “and somebody shal! pay for it!” Lawrence laughed. TIP TOP WEEKLY. 4 “Oh, you think it an outrage to be arrested for robbing a man in broad daylight!’ he sneered, triumphantly. “You had your turn a while ago; it’s my turn now.” “Steady, Bart!” warned Frank, as he saw Hodge was on the verge of breaking away and going for the taunting rascal. “You'll make matters worse if you try it.” “But I can’t stand it!” grated Bart. “To think of being arrested for robbery on the charge of such a whelp sets my blood boil- ing.” “Your blood will have a chance to cool down in jail,” said Lawrence. “Oh, you are in for it now!” He was enjoying his unexpected triumph to the full extent. “Keep quiet all of you till we get to the sta- tion house,” ordered the officer. “You'll have a chance to do some talking there.” “This is the worst blunder you ever made!” came from Hodge, who found it impossible to _ suppress his indignation. “You will find it | out, too!” - Again he was ordered to keep still, this time in no very mild manner, and thus they tramped along till te police\station was reached. They were soon before the sergeant, and the policeman explainea that he had made the arrest on complaint of Lawrence. The ser- geant asked Lawrence to make his charge, and the fellow did so, claiming that he had — been held up and robbed by Frank and Bart — directly in front of the Hotel Metropole. “When did this occur?” asked the sergeant. “A. short time ago,” was the bold answer. “The officer arrested the wretches immedi- ately after the robbery.” me “What?” cried the sergeant at the desk. “You don’t mean that they held you up in broad daylight ?” ee “T:mean just that, sir,” asserted Lawrence. “It was a bold and daring affair.” ee “T should say so! Why, I can hardly credit it! I presume you have witnesses?’ “Yes, sir.” “Do you know the culprits ?” ens “You do? This is interesting!” “They are two cheap actors, or would-be actors,” the triumphant rascal explained. “That one there,” been playing the leading part in a stolen play till lately. The rightful owner of the play pointing to Frank, “has stopped him from performing in Cripple Creek, and, in order to keep out of jail, he ; pledged himself not to appear in the piece any more. He then took this fellow with him and ran away, deserting his entire company, who were left penniless and destitute in Cripple Creek.” “Well, of all the liars I ever heard!” ex- ploded Bart, in amazed indignation. Bs “Silence!” commanded the sergeant, rap- _ ping the desk. “You will be given a chance to speak.” Then, turning to Lawrence again: — “You seem to know all about the affair. How does that happen?” “J was one of the company,” answered Les- lie. | | “Then you are an actor?” “Yes, sir; I ama professional actor. Those - fellows are fakes.” _ “You managed to reach Denver, after being left penniless in Cripple Creek?” “Oh, you see—that is—I—had saved some money. I was expecting just what happened, and so I came out of it better than the others.” _“T see,” nodded the sergeant. Then he turned to Frank, asking: — “What is your name, young man?” “Frank Merriwell, sir.” “Your occupation ?” -“T am staging a play just at present.” TIP TOP WEEKLY. “Do you know this gentleman,” motioning toward Lawrence. “T know that man,” answered Frank. “Don’t call him a man!” hissed Hodge, un- der his breath. “You have heard his accusation against “Tt’s an insult to real men!” you. What have you to say to it?” “That it is wholly and entirely false!’ rang out Frank’s clear voice. Lawrence laughed sneeringly. “What happened in front of the Hotel Met- ropole?’ ’asked the sergeant. “This fellow,” ward Lawrence, said Frank, motioning to- “picked up a five dollar gold piece from the gutter, where it had been lost by a boy who was searching for it at the time. He was attracted by the sight of the boy, who was crying as he s-arched, and he paused to ask the little fellow what ailed him. The boy told him, and this man found the money im- mediately afterward. He then attempted to pocket it, refusing to give it to the boy. I caught hold of his wrist, took the money from That is the whole story, and it is perfectly straight, sir.” him, and returned it to the boy. “Where is this boy?” demanded the ser- geant. “Right here, mister!” piped a shrill voice, the press forward. der money, an’ ev'ry word dis here gent has told yer”—with a wave of his hand toward and ragged, dirt-stained youngster “T’m der feller wot losted Frank—“is der dead level trute.” CHAPTER IV. THE TABLES TURNED. For a moment it seemed that the tables had been turned on Lawrence, but the brazen ras- cal was not feazed in the least. He laughed scornfully, derisively. “How is that for nerve, sergeant?” ie asked. “Take a look at, the kid and see what you think about such a ragamuffin having five dollar gold pieces to lose. The boy was stand- ing near and saw me pick the money up. You know what such street urchins are. He claimed it in a minute. Not five minutes be- fore, the same boy asked me for a nickel, teil- ing a pitiful tale about a sick father at home and starving brothers and sisters. You know the kind of games they work. Of course, I didn’t give him the money.” The sergeant looked the boy over, shaking his head doubtfully. “Don’t yer believe dat stiff!” cried the ur- chin. “Why, he’s der biggest liar on two legs! I never asked him fer a cent in all me life. It’s true dat me fadder is sick to home. Marm send me out wid dat money ter buy med’cin fer him.” “Now, isn’t that a likely story !” sneered Lawrence. “Look at the boy. Anyone can see that he is lying.” “Anyone can see dat you’re a big guff!” cried the lad. “If ’tadn’t bin fer-dese fellers, you’d swiped dat shiner. You’re der feller wot der judge behind der desk dere wants ter put in jail.” “How does it happen that you came here, boy ?” asked the sergeant. “T saw der cop marchin’ me friends off, an’ I jest follered ter find out wot was der mat- ter. I alwus sticks by me friends, sure’s me name’s Tim Tuttle.” “Well, you may tell just what happened in front of the Metropole. The boy did so, beginning with the loss of the money, and relating how Frank and Bart came along and Merry stopped to talk with him and try to help him find the lost coin, al- though Bart ridiculed his friend for taking any stock in the boy’s story! Then he ex- plained how Frank had promised to come back and help him search, but Lawrence came along before Merry returned. ~ “He asked me wot I was snufflin’ about,” TIP TOP WEEKLY. 9 continued the lad, “an’ I told him I’d losted five dollars right dere. Heelaughed kinder doubtin’ like, but poked round wid his cane. Den, all to oncet, he stooped over, an’ I seen him pick up der shiner. I jumped up an’ tole him it was der one wot I losted, but he told me ter git out of dat. Den I ketched holt of his arm, an’ he give me a push and said he’d t’ump me wid his cane if I touched him wid me han’s agin. He was jest goin’ ter git w’en dese friends of mine came erlong ag’in an’ stopped him. Dey told him der money b'longed ter me, an’ dat he’d better cough it up ter me. He allowed he wouldn’t do no coughin’, an’ dat made dis feller wot t’ought I was a fake in der first place so mad dat he wanted ter fight, but der odder feller, wot tought I was all right all der time, he wouldn’t let him fight. Den somethin’ funny happened. Somebody seemed ter holler right behind der feller wot had my shiner dat der money b’longed ter me an’ he’d better give it up if he didn’t want ter git arrested, but I didn’t see nobody near ter do der hollerin’, an’ w’en der bloke jumped an’ turned round he didn’t see nobody needer. Right den dis gent wot took stock in me all along he grabs der cove by der wrist an’ takes der money 3 outer his hand quick as a wink an’ gives it ter 3 me. Den I legs it in . hurry, an’ der next I sees der cop was marchin’ me friends off here. Dat’s der whole story, judge, an’ it’s on der dead level.” The boy rattled this off in a hurry, and there was something about his manner that seemed to proclaim that he was telling nothing but the truth. ’ ; Again Lawrence laughed. . “Pretty clever for such a dirty little rascal, but they become shrewd after they have made money a while by their wits,” he said. : The sergeant gave him a sharp look. “Where are your witnesses, sir?” he asked. “Here is the only witness I have,” was th answer, as Lawrence indicated Kent Carson. The cattleman stepped forward, and the of- ficial at the desk asked his name. Immedi- ately on hearing it, the sergeant showed a large amount of respect for the rancher. “Mr. Kent,” he said, “you happen to know something about this affair ?”’ “T do,” bowed the man. ‘““You saw these young men take the money from Mr. Lawrence?” “T did.” ‘““‘Where were you at the time?” “I was at a window of the Metropole. I had been watching the boy for an hour at least. At first I thought he was up to some- i thing crooked, and I was interested to know what success he had at his game. I heard him tell this young gentleman, Mr. Frank Merri- well, about losing the gold piece. I saw this man”—indicating Lawrence by a gesture— “come along and pick up the money. I[ thought he would give it to the boy, as he looks respectable, but he would have carried it away had not the ones he has accused of robbing him stopped him. They did take the “money away from him and return it to the boy, which they were justified in doing.. The money did not belong to him, and he knew it belonged to the boy.” _ This was a thunderbolt for Lawrence. The fellow turned pale and seemed stricken dumb. Bart Hodge turned and looked: at him. _ Hodge seldom laughed aloud, and he did not doso now, but the contemptuous smile on his _ face was cutting indeed. Tim Tuttle gave a whoop of delight. “Dat’s der stuff!” he squealed, - dancing about. “Now you has it straight, Mr. Judge! _ Wot d’yer t’ink about it now?” Lawrénce tried to force a laugh, but it was a failure: He started to say something, but stopped, realizing that the sergeant was look- ing straight at him in a grim and forbidding “manner, 10 TIP TOP WEEKLY. Of course there was a stir among the spec- The officer who had made the arrest muttered : “Well, I'll be hanged !” “Mr. Lawrence,” said the official at the tators and listeners. desk, ‘““don’t you think you’d better withdraw your complaint ?”’ Lawrence stiffened up. “Of course not!” he blustered. should I?” “Because it may be better for you. Every- “Why thing will go against you. There may be a charge preferred against you. You may be placed under arrest.” Now Lawrence showed alarm, but he at- tempted to make a bluff. “Oh, well, it’s plain you’ve all been fooled by this ragged little runt!” he cried. “Tl withdraw the charge. I can’t do any differ- ent. But the whole thing is an outrage.” “That will do!” said the sergeant, sternly. “You may consider yourself fortunate if you get off without trouble, for it is plain you tried to confiscate the boy’s money. Mr. Mer- riwell was warranted in taking it from you and restoring it to the little fellow, and I compliment him on his action. You may go, and I advise you to get out of here at once.” Lawrence made haste to do so, not even turning back to cast a revengeful look at Frank or Bart. “You are at liberty to go, young gentle- men,” said the sergeant, nodding toward Mer- ry and Hodge. Frank turned to Kent Carson. “Mr. Carson,” he said, “we owe you many thanks. It was very fortunate for us that you could corroborate our statement, for your word bore weight.” “You owe ‘me nothing, young man,” re- turned the cattleman. “I saw you were in trouble; and I resolved to help you out. I thought it best to do so here at the station rather than tell the whole story to the officer. SSA 2s yn AW ANN oe ‘ bo teak Witgion. ere EN patois, ns ie eae pi hak he mee Rote Ree ae es Sass That’s all. I wish to compliment you for the manner in which you took the money from that rascal and restored it to the boy.” He held out his hand, which Frank grasped. Then he shook hands with Hodge. “Whoop!” cried Tim Tuttle, turning a handspring. “Dis is great! And der villain got it were der chicken got der ax!” CHAPTER -V. “BORN AN ACTOR.” Frank, Bart and Mr. Carson left the police station together. * “} don’t suppose,” said the rancher, as they walked along, “that you can be a relative of a fellow by the name of Merriwell who is in Yale?” He looked at Frank as he asked the ques- tion. “I do not think there is anybody by that name in Yale college now,” said Frank. “How is that. I have a boy there. He’sa sophomore now. He wrote me a lot of stuff about a chap named Merriwell when he first entered college. Seemed to have Merriwell on the brain. Said this Merriwell was a great baseball player, and the greatest half-back, quarter-back or three-quarters back on the football team. He seemed to be thinking a great deal more about Merriwell than he was about his studies. I didn’t know but you were some relation to the fellow.” Frank laughed pleasantly. ‘ “T think I am the only Merriwell who has attended Yale for a number of years.” “You?” “Yes.” “Were you at Yale?” “T was last year.” 7 “Did you play baseball ?” “T pitched on the regular Yale nine.” “And football ?” “T was full-back on the eleven.” TIP TOP WEEKLY. af “Why, then you must be the very chap my boy raved over so much! This is rather re- markable. Have you graduated ?” “No; through misfortune [ was forced to leave college before I finished my course.” “And you are in the show business ?” “Yes, sir.” “Well, I’m glad to have met you, young man, and I am pleased to know I could be of service to you. If you ever come my way, call on me at the Twin Star Ranch, and be sure you'll be welcome.” “Thank you, sir. It is very kind of you to give me the invitation. I doubt if I shall be able to accept it, but I assure you it is ap- preciated just the same.” They parted from the rancher, who wished them good luck.. Not till they had walked on some distance did Frank notice that a person was following them closely. Looking round, he saw it was Tim Tuttle, the ragged urchin whom he had befriended. “Hello, my boy!” exclaimed Merry, cHeer- fully. “Anything more I can do for you?” “No, sir, “answered the urchin, “but I jest wanted ter say somethin’ ter dat friend of yourn.” “To me?” asked Bart, in surprise. 5 “Yes, sir.” $ “What do you want to say to me?” : “T wants ter beg yer pardon, sir.” “For what?” “Fer makin’ der talk erbout ye dat I did when you fust came along where I was huntin’ fer der money.” “What was that?” ; “T reckon I called yer stiff, ur somethin’ — like dat, because you t’ought I was tryin’ ter play a skin game. I "lows it‘may hev seemed dat way ter you den, an’ now I know dat you ~ ain’t no stiff, fer you did talk straight ter dat bloke wot tried ter swipe der shiner. olly! I did like ter hear ye talk ter him, an’ I reckons. you kin back up all ye say. If you ain’t a fighter from der word go, I ain’t no judge. I bet you could lick dat feller in less dan a min- ute.” Something like a smile crept over Bart’s usually stern face. “Tt is very agreeable to know that you have such a good opinion of me,” he said; “and, now that you have been so ready to take back what you said, it’s only fair that I should re- tract.” “Wot’s dat?’ “Take back what I said.” “Aw, fergit it!” “No. I believe I called you a rascal, and things like that. You are not a young rascal, and I apologize. Is that all right?” “T guess yes!” cried the boy, with great sat- isfaction. “Dis has put us on der even. If I kin ever do anyt’ing fer you fellers, you bet Tl do it.” “All right, Tim,” smiled Frank. “Have you got that medicine fer your father?” “Sure t’ing. Here it is—see! An’ here’s der change wot I got back outer der five.” “T suppose you are taking that home to your mother ?”’ : “You bet! Ain’t no tellin’ w’en dad’ll git ter work ag’in, an’ I rather reckon we'll need der coin afore he does.” “Well, here is a dollar for you,” and Frank snapped a silver dollar toward the lad, who skillfully caught it on the fly. “And here is another,” said Bart, with un- usual generosity, following Merry’s example. “Take that as a balm for the wounds I in- -flicted.” “Golly!” shouted the urchin, his eyes bulg- ing. “Ain’t I in luck! Well, I reckon! I’ll take der whole business home ter mother, an’ : den she won’t raise no row ’cause I was so long erway gittin’ der med’cine. Thank yer, gents! : May ye alwus have money ter t’row round. Good by.” ; Away he‘went on a run, laughing as he 12 TIP TOP WEEKLY. sped along, the happiest boy in Denver at that minute. “There,” said Frank, “I’m glad I was able to give him that, but I wish 1. had been more.” “Me, too,” said Bart, to Merry’s surprise. ‘“T didn’t know it made a fellow feel so good to give away money.” “The pleasure of giving is one of the great- est pleasures of life,” declared Merry. “If we can be sure we are giving in a good cause, we are almost certain to feel great satisfaction :n being generous. There may be pleasure in avarice and meanness, but it canrot compare > os with the pleasure of bestowing something that is needed on the deserving. Such gifts are not extravagance, either.” “T don’t know that I ever tried it before to see how it felt,” admitted Bart; “but I am pretty sure I shall try it again. It was a new sensation for me.” Thus had Frank, by example, taught Hodge one of the greatest pleasures. Bart’s hard face had grown soft and pleasant to look upon, the satisfaction he felt in his heart over doing a good deed showing in his coun- tenance. 7 Avarice, selfishness and greed leave their marks on the human face just as surely as~ does the lapse of time. Who ever saw a mean and selfish man wearing on his face a pleas- ant, agreeable look, as if his heart were open wide to the sunshine of the world? The mean: man may laugh, but there is something chill- ing and icy about the sound, try as much as he may to make it seem hearty and whole- souled. Traits, habits, vices and deeds, they — paint their records on the human face. And more than all these do thoughts affect the ex- pression of the countenance. Think good thoughts, and you will have a “good face ;” think bad thoughts, and just so surely will your face be “bad.” Be careful of your thoughts. r f 5% REN Sg hag 0 ii rae ha OS tae “Well, this has been quite an adventure,” laughed Frank. “Lawrence thought he had the best of us, but he got it in the neck at the end.” “What did such a fellow care for that!’ exclaimed Hodge, his face hardening again. “He did not get what he deserved. He should have been arrested «nd judged.” “I should think he’d get tired and give up _ trying to do me a dirty turn,” said Frank. “He never comes out well.” “But he means to stick to it till he does, and, when a fellow is so persistent, he is lia- ble to accomplish someth:ng in time. I have despised Lawrence ever since the night I had the trouble with him in the dressing-room. I- sized him up then and there.. He was with - the company you joined originally, and he was leading man. It has made him sour and bitter to see you advance so swiftly while he He has tried to keep his bitterness down, because he wanted nas not made any progress. the money he was receiving; but all along he has thought he could play your part in your piece far better than you did it. He is just that conceited.” “Well, you must acknowledge that Law- cance is a pretty good actor?” “He is good in an artificial way. He is stagey. He stalks, and he has set gestures. He presses his hand to his forehead and passes it backward. over his hair when he wants to be ‘intense.’ He poses at every op- - portunity, it makes no difference whether the I do not think he ever feels an atom of the emotions he ‘situation’ admits of a pose or not. tries to depict on the stage.” “Phat is making it rather broad, Bart.” “None too broad. You, Frank, are a nat- ural actor. Your gestures are perfectly nat- ural; and your poses, although always grace- ful, are almost always unconscious. You feel the emotions the character is supposed to feel, and you make it seem like real life. That is TIP TOP WEEKLY. 12 The audience forgets that you are acting and feels the secret of your success on the stage. those emotions with you.” “You must have been making a study and comparison of Lawrence and myself,” laughed Merry. “No. Anyone with any discernment could not help seeing what I have said is true. [If it were not true, how could you have succeeded as a star? You have never taken a course at any dramatic school, and yott have not had sufficient experience on the stage to stand where you do now. You were born an actor, Frank.” “Born an actor!” exclaimed Frank. ‘That would be a good title for a story.” “Great Scott!” crea Hodge. “I hope you are not thinking of going to writing stories?” “Hardly—just at present, anyway.” “T didn’t know. ‘There is no telling what you will do next.” CHAPTER VI. A WOMAN HATER. _.. Ina little hall in Denver where there was a working stage Frank Merriwell’s new com- pany had gathered for rehearsal. Frank and Bart entered, after climbing three flights of © stairs, and found Havener, the stage man- ager, drilling several of the people on a cer- ‘tain situation. “Look here, Fowler,” Havener was saying, “T want you to do it just as I tell you, and you must do it the same way each time. You seem to like to vary the way you jump on that — “chair. Variety may be the spice of life, but — don’t get too much spice into that little piece - cf business. Your ideas may be a great deal e better than mine, but while I am stage man- ager, my ideas go. Do you tumble?”, Lloyd Fowler, a young and rather “fresh” actor, admitted that he did. eae “Al right then,” nodded the stage man- ~~ 14 And then he proceeded to put the young actor ager. “Now we'll go over it again.” through his paces. Others of the company were gathered » about, one or two being on the stage, as they were required in the scene Havener was re- hearsing. In a corner Billy Wynne—“Props’—was whispering eagerly to Stella Stanley, who played the heavy lead. Billy was a little fel- low, but he seemed to have formed a violent admiration for Stella, who was tall and state- ly. She was listening to him with an indul- gent smile of superiority, as if she regarded him as an amusing boy, nothing more. Hodge noticed them the moment he en- tered the hall, and he scowled, muttering to Frank: That little I believe “Now, wouldn’t that jar you! pinch hangs round her all the time. he thinks he’s made an impression there!” Frank smiled a bit. “What ails you?” he said. care?” “What do you . “Oh, I don’t care,” declared Bart, with a dismissing gesture. “You say you don’t, but oe “Why should I?” "Stella Stanley is rather fascinating.” “But I don’t take any stock in women. I’m sore on them all.” “You were not once. I can remember the time when you took an interest in pretty - girls.” “Oh, I was a young fool then. They never took any interest in me, and I’m glad of it! When a fellow gets to thinking of girls, he becomes a good soft thing. He’ll make a fool of himself on every occasion possible, and when he does not make a fool of himself, the = girls he thinks so much of will make a fool of him. Girls delight in making fellows appear foolish. No matter how much a fellow may do for a girl, if he happens to make a bad TIP TOP WEEKLY. break, she’ll go straight and tell her girl chum of it, and they’ll laugh over it in the most heartless manner. He’ll be dead lucky if they don’t turn round and spread the yarn as far and as fast as they can, making him an ob- ject of ridicule everywhere he is known. I tell you, a girl has no sense of gratitude or of decency in the way she treats a fellow.” All the time he was. saying this, Bart was. Icoking aslant at Stella Stanley, a scowl on his face, at the same time snapping his fingers nevously and softly. Frank was studying him. For two days he had observed a change in Bart’s manner. Two days before Stella Stanley had come to the first regular rehearsal and Bart had seen her. Frank did not know -that they had ever spoken to each other, except in their regular business on the stage. Merry was surprised to hear Bart express himself in such a long speech. In the past Hodge had seemed given to few words. Of late he talked more of certain things. He did not seem to care to discuss a pleasant sub- ject, but he often gave vent to skyrocket opin- -ions on subects that seemed to thoroughly an- noy and anger him. In the old days at Fardale Bart had sought favor in the eyes of the pretty girls he met— had sought it, but had not found it. There was something about him that the girls did not seem to like, and he was not popular with them, no matter how much he tried to be. In those days he was reckless enough to win the admiration of almost any girl, and it 4 ‘ : -is often the case that recklessness and a spice of wickedness will win admiration from a girl who is perfectly good and respectable herself, but who does not seem to care for the “best fellow alive” in case he never does anything “shocking.” / > It is not -the openly reckless and wicked | who wins the admiration of the girls, but it is the one about whom wicked things are whis- Se ee te Ni SB ba pered and hinted—who, it is said, has done such.terrible things, but who has never been caught at it. There must be no proof; only suspicion in general. But let the lad who seeks to win feminine admiration in such a manner beware, for he is much more likely to win a pair of iron bracelets. And the moment he has won those, let him bid farewell to all hope of ever becom- ing a girl’s hero. The stigma will remain upon him; no matter how much he may try to shake it off, it will cling. Note well that it is not the fellow who tries to win the admiration of the girl by reckless- ness and spicy wickedness who succeeds. It is the one who does not care a rap whether he is admired or not. The fellow who seeks to win admiration in such a manner is a fake; he knows it himself, and somehow it is dis- covered by the girls whom he hopes to at- tract. It must be intuition or instinct that tells them, and then they regard the fakir with contempt. In his boyhood days Bart Hodge had been no fakir; he had not been wicked and reck- less for the purpose of winning feminine ad- But there had been about him which repulsed girls. He so sel- miration. something dom laughed, and he was so sombre and cyn- ical. If a girl has anything to do with a rascal, she likes one who laughs. He must be a rol- licking rascal. . But not even the rollicking rascal can hold his own with the honest, square, manly, lion- hearted fellow who meets temptation, but is not tempted, who is never swerved from the straight course, who can always hold his head erect and look every man straight in the eye, and who does not court danger for no- toriety, but never quakes or hesitates when the time comes that he must face peril. The rascal may seem to have the best of it for a time, but he is treading a perilous path, TIP TOP WEEKLY. 15 and his feet may slip at any moment. The slightest slip is likely to bring odium upon him, and then he sees his glory gone. Ofa sudden he finds himself contrasted unfavor- / ably with the honest and upright youth, and then friends he fancied were his have turned from him to the other. Even if he makes no slip, time counts against him. For a while he may be popular, but his popularity burns out like a rosin fire and is gone. His seeming friends have tired of him. He must go elsewhere to make new friends, for, once they have deserted him, he cannot win them back. It is the honest, unswerving fellow who makes friends worthy to be called friends— triends who never desert him. Such friends Frank Merriwell had made. “Oh, you are a trifle hard on the girls, old fellow,” laughed Merry, in response to Bart’s cynical and bitter arraignment of the opposite sex. “Now, don’t you think you are?” “Not a bit,” returned Hodge, stiffly. “You must confess that all girls are not de- void of a sense of gratitude.” “Won't confess anything of the sort.” 33 “T have known girls “Name them.” 33 “Tnza “Well, she’s the last one I thought you’d — name! Why, she made a_ nice display of gratitude, didn’t she! She’s engaged to be married to a Harvard fop——” 3 “Which same Harvard fop, you must con— fess, has the qualities of a man about him.” “Well, he proved more of a man than at thought possible, but that doesn’t make her case any different. I think she called you a coward because you didn’t prevent the Har. vard chap from getting a whipping after he engaged in a fight with Big Pete. Now, wasn’t that gratitude! You risked your Ii | at Fardale to save her from the jaws of a ma dog. You saved her from being crushed 1 16 TIP TOP WEEKLY. death beneath the wheels of an express en- gine, after I, like a cur, had leaped out of the catriage and abandoned her to her fate.* And now she had the nerve to call you a coward! Oh, yes, that was gratitude! For heaven’s sake don’t speak of her again!” “You don’t quite understand the situation,” said Frank, soberly. “You do not under- stand Inza.” “Admitted. man being who could be so ungrateful.” I do not ufderstand any hu- “But Inza had resolved to give Elsie a clear field, and she was trying to make Elsie be- lieve that she had tired of me.” “Bah! Rot! She told that story to clear herself, after she realized that she had put herself in a mighty bad light. Take my word for it, Frank, she is like all other girls, ut- terly mean and ungrateful.” “All other girls girls! Well, you are going it pretty broad, even for you. There’s El- sie——” “Thought you’d name her. What about lier? You do not hold her up as a model, do you?” “Why shouldn’t 1?” “T don’t see how you can. you? You did everything in your power for her. You found her in hard lines in St. Louis, after the death of her father. chorus of some theatre, living on a pittance and bound the same way all chorus girls go— downward. You reached out your hand to Hasn’t she quit She was in the _ her; you made her a star in your own play, “almost. She had a part that fitted her per- fectly, and she divided the honors with you night after night.” _ “Much to my satisfaction.” “T don’t doubt it!” exclaimed Bart. “You *See Tip Top Weekly No. 1, “Frank Mer- riwell; or, First Days at Fardale,” and No. 2, ‘Frank Merriwell’s Foe; or, ‘Plebe’ Life in would have been satisfied if she had won all the glory! That’s what makes me tired! You would take a back seat for anybody you like: I’ll confess that I-was jealous of Elsie when, night after night, I heard the audience ap- plauding her as much as they did you. It made me mad because they had not discern- ment enough to see that they should have given the bulk of their applause to you.” “Bart, Bart! You may have been jealous of Elsie, and that causes you to feel resent- ment against her now.” : “No, it’s not that. She has abandoned you.” , “Gone back to her friends in Pittsburgh to rest.” “She didn’t need rest. You put her on her feet, and you paid her good money. She saved what you gave her, so she had money when the company went to the wall. She When she found that Inza cared for you no more, she suddenly grew tired of you. was tired of you. You wrote a part for her in She She is like this new play, but she refused to take it. showed no sense of gratitude. them all!” “Now, that will do, Bart!” said Frank, in a low, stern tone. “I won’t have you talking about her that way! She was ill, and she needed the rest. Her terrible experience in When I really understood her condition, I was willing Ace High unstrung her nerves. she should go.” “Cassie Lee can’t fill the part the way she could.” “No; it was written for Elsie, and Elsie could have filled it perfectly. Cassie Lee will do it well, but she lacks a certain something She can dance, and EI- But when it comes to singing, although Cassie that Elsie possesses. sie could not touch her in that line. can sing, she has not half the voice Elsie pos- sessed. There was something irresistibly sweet and magnetic about Elsie’s singing. When she. sang her ‘Wildflower Song’ in ‘John Smith,’ she won the hearts of all who heard her.” “And she would have been a great card for you in this play. She knew it, yet she left you in the jurch. | Oh, don’t talk to me about the gratitude of women! I don’t want to hear it! They are treacherous all of them! I am done with them!” “Then you may become a woman Later?” “T am now.” “Then take your eyes off Stella Stanley,” laughed Frank. “It doesn’t make any dif-* ference to you whether she chats with Props or not.” “Not:a bit,” declared Bart. But somehow Frank felt that he knew bet- ter. CHAPTER VII. ACTOR’S SUPERSTITIONS. Having drilled Fowler to his satisfaction in ‘certain bits of business, Havener glanced ‘round and saw Frank. “Been waiting for you, Mr. Merriwell,” he said, coming up. “All ready for a full re- ‘‘hearsal. We'll put in the specialties to-day. Pianist ishere. How are things going?” “The pho- ‘tographer is printing the pictures as fast as “All right,” answered Merry. he can, and the boards for them will be ready _ to-morrow morning by ten o’clock, without fail.” “This scheme of yours of advertising main- “ly by means of photographs, small bills and ‘newspapers will enable us to get the company “on the road a week earlier than we could if we were forced to wait for lithos. The printed stand and posters have arrived, so we'll be all right.” “How does the printing look ?” “The posters are well gotten up, and I . should say the stand is all right.” TIP TOP WEEKLY. 17 “Then I suppose our paper will be going up along the route to-day ?” “Yes, it must have arrived in several of the places. Everything is going finely, Mer- riwell. To judge by appearances, ‘For Old Eli’ is bound to be a winner.” “How do you like that name for the piece, Havener ?” “Oh, so-so.” “You seem doubtful about it.” “Well, you see it is hard to tell how a name will take with the public.” ““What’s in a name?’ ” quoted Frank. “Well, there’s a heap in a name, especially when it’s attached to a play. I have known a poor name to ruin a mighty good play, and a good name to make a very ordinary piece go—for a while, at least.” “What do you consider a good name for a play—I mean, what sort of a name?” “Tt’s hard to tell just what kind of a name will strike the public fancy, as I said before. A title that might be a fine thing for a story is likely to ruin a play. For instance, I went out with a play once on a time that was called ‘The Black Door.’ have been all right for a story of mystery; it It killed the play, although the piece was fairly good. Peo- ple got to calling it “The Back Door,’ and they Now that name would would have attracted attention. derided it on account of its name. The man-_ ¢. ager saw that something was the matter, but he couldn’t tell just what it was. The news- papers gave the piece good notices, and peo- ple wherever it was played seemed to like it, but it was hoodooed. After - necessary for the company to go back to New while, it was York—to ‘reorganize.’ Didn’t any of us ever expect to go out again with that piece. Whe we got back to New York, the manager hele us a week, and then we started out again the same piece, but the second time we c it ‘Millions in Money.’ Well, I’ll be if we didn’t hit good business with the ught and kept it up right through the season. There was something about the name that drew.” : “IT suppose people wanted to see ‘Millions in Money,’ even if they could not have it,’ laughed Frank. Cassie Lee came up and listened. Others gathered around. “Well, we went out with the piece that we had thought a complete failure,” said Ha- vener. “It was all in the name, too. ‘For Old Eli’ sounds all right, Merriwell, but I do not think people generally will understand it. They'll think ‘Old Eli’ the piece. Still the name may not do any harm.” “I wanted to give it a name that would take,” said Frank. “That name seemed all right to me.” “Well, everything has gone so well that I rather think we’re going to win,” nodded Ha- vener. - “I have my doubts,” put in Agnes Kirk, who played light comedy. “I have a reason for thinking we'll have hard luck.” “What?” cried all the others, turning to her. She looked a bit startled, but repeated her assertion. “Why should you think anything like that ?” asked Frank. “Well, for two reasons.” “Name them.” “Tn the first place, the play has a cast of thirteen characters. That’s unlucky.” “Oh, I don’t know!” laughed Frank. “Thirteen has been my lucky number in some respects. What's the other reason ?”’ “You speak the ‘tag’ of the piece at rehear- sals. I noticed that first rehearsal. Never knew a play to prosper when the ‘tag’ of the piece was spoken at rehearsals.” “You are evidently decidedly superstitious, _ Miss Kirk,” smiled Merry. “I do not think thirteen characters in nS: iam, or speaking the ‘tag’ will kill the piece.” 7 But the actress shook her head ominously. ikea ‘ “What was that?” “Sounded like a cat.” TIP TOP WEEKLY, is some character in- “Oh, give me a gun!” shouted Billy Wynne. “Give me a brick, and see me smash : - that cat!” Ses “man that makes him long to kick a cat or a ‘iw, “Don’t let her come in here!’ Kirk. “If she does “Me-e-eow !” “There ‘“She’s on the stage!’’ A wretched, scrawny, coal black cat walked out from the wings to the center’ of the stage. There she stopped and looked around, giving vent to a wail, as if she were in great agony. cried Agnes she is!” “That settles it!’’ exclaimed Agnes Kirk ‘You had better give up trying to put this play on the road, Mr. Merriwell. Sik. Se naaghicnipald Pati neh e a 4 4 i; | j j j she howls. She is a castaway, a thing of the 1¢s streets, a homeless wanderer, See, she limps. It is probable that everybody she encounters ; kicks her out of the way or throws something at her. She has been abused all her life, and she must look on human beings as her natural enemies. I don’t understand what it is in a s * fellow being who seems in hard luck. It is something I cannot understand. It seems to - be the rule of the world. If a creature is on_ paamapeegeet ED th tic th m Mm hom PFA we ed hd as ‘ tod ge . Mads i 2 erank. a TIP TOP WEEKLY. 19 the downward road, kick it along to destruc- tion as fast,as you can. You shall not touch the cat, but you shall go out and buy her some milk.”’ “Wha-a-at?”’ gasped Props, in astonish- ment. Frank went to the front of the stage and called the cat. The creature seemed inclined to run away in terror, and it howled again. The actors laughed. “She doesn’t seem to take to you much, Mr. Merriwell,” said Garland. Frank paid no attention to this, but called and coaxed the cat. After a little, the creature stcpped howling and came nearer. In a few moments Merry was rubbing and patting it. “Well, I’m hanged if I’d put my hands on a tramp cat!” muttered Lloyd Fowler, shrug- ging his shoulders, with an expression of dis- gust. “Well, I wouldn’t like to do it,” said Gar- land. “See, Merriwell has picked the creature up!’ It.was true; Frank haa taken the cat in his arms, and was talking to her. After a few moments the creature began to realize that it was not to be harmed, and it did not try to get away. “This cat shall be our mascot, instead of our hoodoo,” declared Merry. “What are you going to do?” asked Agnes Kirk, in apprehension. “T am going to see that the creature is fed. Herg, Wynne, take this money, go to the nearest store where you. can find cream, and buy the cat a pint—understand, a pint of cream.” “Cream?” eae “Why, milk ‘ “T said cream. Tabby’s going to have one square feed now, if never again.”’ “Oh, Lord!” gasped Props. “Think of buying cream for a cat! What shall I get it in, Mr. Merriwell ?” “There’s money enough to buy a dish, and bring something for the cat ‘o eat it from. Hurry, too, for Tabby is hungry!” “Who ever heard of such a thing!” mut- tered Granville Garland. ‘“Merriwell must be “It’s like him,” said Bart Hodge, in an aside. “Always gentle and tender-hearted toward every living creature on the face of the earth, and yet he has the courage of a lion. It makes no difference, man or cat, the lower down it is, the more sympathy it seems to awaken in Frank Merriwell’s breast.” “IT don’t understand such a fellow,” ad- mitted Garland. “It would be strange if you did,” said Hodge. “I have known him for years, and [do not understand him yet. There is but one thing about him that I do understand, and that is that he is a man every inch of him, with a soul in his body, and I wish I were like him.” Garland grinned a bit derisively “You must be something of a worshipper of him,” he said. “I worship nobody!” said Hodge, sharply ; “but I have the sense to know and admire a real man when I see one. Some others haven’t. And real men are so scarce.” Wynne departed for the cream. Frank brought the cat along, the creature clinging to him. “I have an idea that this is an unusually knowing cat,” he said. “It has been abused and_ beaten about till it presents a wretched appearance; but give it plenty to eat and a good home, and it would be a beautiful crea- ture in a short time.” “Don’t bring it near me!” cried Agnes Kirk. “I hate cats, anyway.” “Aw! I wouldn’t touch the beast for the world!” declared Granville Garland, backing a away. “It’s dirty!” “And you might be if you endured the hard luck this poor cat has seen,’”’ smiled Frank, pleasantly. Garland did not like that. “No, sir!” he said. “Before I came to that, I’d shoot myself!” | Frank put the cat down, seeing that the — door was closed so it could not slip*out of the — hall. Then the rehearsal began. As Props played a part, he was not needed just then. The first act was nearly played through when Wynne returned with the cream. mod The cat had been following Frank ‘about and now, without delay, he proceeded to turn some of the cream into a tin dish, which Wynne had brought, and give it to her. The manner in which the creature began to lick up that cream gave Frank a feeling of satis- faction. The dish was emptied in short or- der, filled and emptied again. And the cat did not stop till she had eaten nearly all of the cream bought. Having satisfied her hunger, the cat sat down on one end of the stage proscenium and straightway began to lick herself to clean herself up. Now that her stomach was filled, she began to take pride in her personal ap- pearance. The rehearsal continued. Specialties were 10 be introduced in the second act. Props could dance, and he was to “do a turn” with Cassie Lee. Havener drilled them at it for some time, the pianist rattling off the music at a signal from the stage manager, and stop- ping instantly when he gave another signal. Cassie, Fowler and Merry sang separately, and then there was a quartette, made up of _ Merriwell, Hodge, Dunton and Fowler. Frank was sorry that Ephraim Gallup was ~ not on hand to rehearse. Gallup had been called East by the illness of his father, and, actor by the name of Lester Vance had been engaged to fill his part, with the understand- ing that the engagement was conditional, de- pending entirely on the return of the Ver- monter. Vance was regarded as a good Yankee comedian, but Frank did not believe he could touch Gallup in that particular part. Eph- -raim’s acting was perfectly natural, and, - therefore, he made a great success of it. — Vance could sing, but he had nothing like Gallup’s quaint Rube song on his list. Where- ever “John Smith” had been played, Eph- raim’s song had “caught on,” being whistled and hummed afterwards on the streets. - The second act was nearly finished when ‘there came, a sudden cry from outside, fol- ‘lowed by a scuffle and smothered sounds. “What’s that?” exclaimed several. “Sounds like a scrap down stairs,” said as it was uncertain when he could return, an- 20 TIP TOP WEEKLY, What he saw on the landing below gave him a shock. CHAPTER IX. OUT OF THE BURNING BUILDING, In a corner on the landing below something was burning. In the flare of light two per- sons were struggling on the landing. One was a man; the other a boy. The man was Leslie Lawrence! The boy was Tim Tuttle! The man had the boy grasped by the throat with such a grip that the little fellow could make nothing but gurgling sounds, but Tim was fighting with all his puny strength. “Curse you!” grated the man. “You fol- lowed me here, did you! You would give Merriwell the alarm, would you! Well, you can scorch with Merriwell!” — Then he tried to fling the urchin into the flames, which were rising and spreading swiftly, running along the woodwork of the staircase. Frank understood in a moment. Lawrence had tracked him there, had found the com- pany was rehearsing above, and hhad started the fire in the hall. “Drop that boy!” Merry uttered the shout. Lawrence looked up and saw him. The firelight shone full on the face of the man, showing an.expression of mingled hatred and terror. C At that moment Leslie Lawrence realized * what it meant if he were captured, and, re- leasing his hold on Tim, he sought to run away. But Tim did not let go of him. On the contrary, he held fast to the villain, thickly gurgling: “No yer don’t! I reckon you'll pay fer dis piece of work! I'll hold yer till Lifting his fist, the brute smashed the boy in the face. Down dropped Tim. Lawrence whirled and made one leap that took him clean to the bottom of the second . flight. He was barely in time to escape Frank — Me abc niet Ti the da th a geen Ve fe Pees ae Merriwell, who came bounding down from above. Merry would have pursued the rascal, but Tim lay there on the floor unconscious, and the fire was spreading with horrible rapidity, so the little fellow could not be abandoned. Merry caught him up, whirled square about, and went bounding up the stairs to the door of the hall. The rest of the company came hurrying to the door. “ “What is it?” “A fight?” “No, a fire!” “T smell smoke!” “Fire! fire!” : “Ves, fire!” said Frank. “You must get out in a hurry, or you will not get out at all.” “We can’t get out this way now!” cried Garland, as a burst of smoke and flame came rolling up the stairs. “It has cut us off!” Frank looked back, and saw that the en- tire stairway seemed in flames. Into the hall he sprang, closing the door be- hind him, still bearing the unconscious lad. “The open door made a draught,’ he ex- plained. “We'll have to get out some other way.” 3 -“There is no other way!” cried Billy Wynne. “We are caught like rats in a trap!” The girls screamed and ran to the win- dows, which they flung open, shrieking fire as loudly as they could. _ Bart Hodge was the only one who seemed cool. “How did it happen, Merry?” he asked. “Did the boy set it?” “No, Lawrence. Boy tried to stop him. Lawrence knocked him stiff.” That was all. Frank did not have time for further words. He realized that they must move in a hurry if they. expected to get out of the burning building alive. Smoke was curling under the door. The open windows _ made a draught through the cracks. ‘ Hodge grated out something savage about Lawrence, but Frank did not listen. He rushed to the one back window, which he threw open, eee out, having placed Tim ‘Tuttle on a bench. At a distance of about twelve feet was a TIP TOP WEEKLY. 2 ‘luctance, but they tore it up at last. eager to help that they got in each other’ roof, slightly lower than the window. If the roof could be reached, they might get away and escape. “But how are the girls to reach that roof?” thought Merry. He turned back. __ “Hodge,” he said, “come with me.” “What are you going to do?” . “Come with me!” Bart did not ask another question, but he followed Frank. The men of the company seemed scarcely less excited than the girls. Several of them rushed to the window Frank had opened, and then drew back, shouting: “We can’t get out! we can’t get out!” Then the girls shrieked all together. Frank would have said something to quiet them, but he saw they were in no condition to listen just then, and so he spared his breath. Outside on the street there were cries of fire. The alarm was striking. The engines would be coming pretty soon. But at the door of the hall the fire was crackling. Under the door a red tongue shot. It would not -do to depend on the firemen. Ferhaps they would not be able to rescue all the company when they arrived. Behind the scenes Frank plunged. He had seen an ax there, and he found it. He also ~ found an iron bar. 2 At the very back of the stage was a plank — in the flooring that Merry had observed was somewhat loose. “Take that bar, Hodge,” he said. “We must get up that plank. It’s the only thing ~ that will save us.” They attacked the plank. Frank swung the ax and cut away till Bart could thrust the ~ bar down and use it for a fever. Then they — pried up the plank. It came with some re- 3 Dropping ax and bar, they caught up the plank and managed to swing it round so they | could take it off the stage. With it they ran across the hall floor. — “Come on, you chaps,” Merry called to the men. “Help us swing this plank across to the roof, and we'll get out of this all right.” They understood at last, and they were way. Havener ordered some of them back, and the others run the plank out of the win- dow. “It’s too short!” cried Billy Wynne, who was looking on. “It won’t reach! We are done for!” Then ‘he turned to Stella Stanley, saying: “If we must perish, let us perish together !”’ “Get out!’ exclaimed the actress, unsenti- mentally. “We won't perish, though we would for all you could do. Mr. Merriwell will get us out of this. He had brains enough te devise a way.” “T believe you are stuck on him, too!” erated Props, forgetting for a moment the peril they were in. “Everybody seems smashed on that fellow. It beats?” Frank gave directions for putting the plank out. At last it seemed they could get it no further without dropping it, and still it did not reach the roof. Merry took a look to make sure it was long enough. Smoke was filling the hall now and relling out at the open window. The girls were coughing. “Tt will go,” said Frank. “Steady—all to- gether. We must give it a quick thrust and catch it onto the roof, without letting this end go off the sill here. Now—let her go!” They did, and the plank reached the roof. _ The bridge to safety was made at last. _ Lester Vance tried to crowd the others aside so that he would be the first to cross the plank. F rank grasped him by the collar and _ pulled him back, saying sternly: “Wait, sir! There is plenty of time. We must look after the girls first.” ~ \ Vance was pale with fear, but he muttered an angry exclamation, giving Frank a look of ‘rage. . “Hodge,” said Merry, “you run back be- hind the Stage and bring me that rope lying en the floor. You saw it.” _ “Without a word, Bart darted away. “Now, Havener,” Merry directed, “if your ead is steady, you cross the plank and pre- re to hold a guide rope for the girls.” - Havener crept out of the window and ossed the chasm on the plank. By the time the stage manager reached the oof, Hodge came hurrying up with the rope. 22 TIP TOP WEEKLY. Frank took it, coiled it swiftly ,and shouted to Havener: “Catch !” The man on the roof caught the end. “Now, ladies,” said Frank, swiftly, “here is the bridge, and the rope will serve to steady you when you go over. Come on lively, but keep cool while you are crossing.” Agnes Kirk went first, Stella Stanl y fol- lowed, and the came Cassie Lee. All crossed in safety. The moment Cassie was over, Lester Vance made another plunge for the plank, scrambled out of the window, and nearly went plunging down between the buildings. Frank caught hold of him, held him till he could get safely onto the board, and then said: “Steady, now. If you were not in such a hurry, you’d stand a better show of getting over all right.” Vance managed to get across, although it was plain that he was giddy from excitement and fear. Then, directed by Frank, the others took their turns, and all crossed safely. Frank was left alone in the hall, which now was suffocating with smoke. No, not alone, for on the bench still lay little Tim, who had been so brutally beaten down by the fist of the villain who had set the fire. 7 Frank picked the boy up in his arms and crept out of the window, Just as he straight- ened up, something struck on his shoulders. It was the black cat. - With the boy in his arms and the cat on his shoulders, Merriwell stood erect, unaided ‘ by the rope, and walked along the plank to the roof. From the roof the whole company readily escaped by means of a skylight which led down into the building and to safety. CHAPTER X. A WARNING. Frank swore out a warrant that very day for the arrest of Leslie Lawrence. He vis- ited police headquarters and told them all about the man, taking Tim Tuttle,with him. Tim recovered from the blow he had re- aiteherrcene reine ETT grea ae = re ceived after a time, but he complained that his head felt wrong. He told how he had followed Lawrence to the building in which Merriwell’s company was rehezrsing, had watched the man go upstairs, had crept up afterward, and had seen him setting the fire. When he sought to give the alarm, Lawrence caught him. High and low the police searched for Law- rence, but he had disappeared completely, and ne was not again seen in Denver. The company lost very little in the fire ex- cept properties, and-those were readily re- placed. Two days later, Parker Folansbee, who was backing the company, came on from St. Louis, and the new piece was ready for the road. Then, unexpectedly, Ephraim Gallup ap- peared. “I’m glad you have come, Ephraim,” said Frank ; “but you’ll have to take time to learn your part, so it will be necessary to keep Vance a while. He understands, however, that you were to take his place 1f you could return.” ‘ “Dad’s better,” said “phraim, “an’ so I didn’t stay to hum but jest one day. When I. told him haow much I was makin’ in the show business, he said fer me to cum right back. Gosh! didn’t the fellers daown hum stare at me! Dad had tole all raound that I was travel- in’ with yeour show, an’ they jest thought I was the luckiest critter on two laigs. They’ve all heerd abaout yeou araound my _ hum, Frank, It beats all natur haow menny folks hey heern tell of yeou ev’rywhere. I guess, b’gosh! yeou are abaout the best known feller in the hull United States.” “Oh, I hardly think I’m quite as famous as that,” laughed Merry. “Yes yeou be,” insisted the Vermonter. “Yeou don’t never go nowhere that somebody don’t know abaout ye. But haow is the new play, anyhaow ?” “T believe it will be a winner,” said Frank. “See here; there are some notices in the Den- ver papers. I took the reporters in yesterday to see a dress rehearsal, and they have given me some splendid notices.” a This was true. The Denver papers had TIP TOP WEEKLY, 23 done well by Merry. They pronounced his play a well-constructed and highly interesting piece,.and the company of actors thoroughly capable. Merriwell they spoke of in the high- est terms as a play writer and actor. After looking the notices over, Ephraim nodded his satisfaction. ‘“That’s good enough,” he said. “Yeou’ll make another big hit with ‘For Old Eli,’ and that will establish yeou as a writer of plays, by thutter! Yeou’ll go back to Yale all right, Frank. I knowed yeou would. When yeou set aout to do a thing yeou alwus git there. Then there’s that fortune that’s comin’ to yeou mS “To me and the ones who were with me when I made my trip across the Continent on a wheel.” “Then yeou’re goin’ ter divide’ it with them ?”’ “Of course I am. It is as much theirs as mine. But there may be no end of delays be- fore we receive that. There is any amount of red tape to the business, and it is barely possible that a relative of Professor Millard Fillmore may yet be found, in which case the fortune will not come to us at all.” ‘I don’t b’lieve there’s any danger of that. If there was any relatives livin’, they'd faound um before this. Yeou'll git it all right, | Frank.” a “But I am not depending on it. If it comes, © it will be welcome, but I shall feel all the bet- ter if I am able to go back to college through my own efforts.” When Lester Vance learned that Gallup had arrived, he was angry. “Now that is what I call downright mean : he exclaimed. “I suppose the fellow wants — my place in the company?” . “You know I told you how it might be,” said Frank. “I am sorry, but I'll do what — is right by paying you two week’s salary ex- tra. That should fix it.” Z But it did not fix it with Vance. He went round to each member of the company relat- ing his tale of woe, and coloring the story to suit himself. As he was not very well liked, he received little sympathy, When he started in to tell Hodge about it he was snubbed, and — Bart expressed his mind very freely. \? lone <2 Vance went to Frank and asked for his sal- ary in advance. Merry laughed and paid him, In doing so, he made a mistake. When the company started for the town where they were to open with the new play, Vance did not show up. He had skipped. Till the last moment Merry looked for Vance, but he was disappointed. The actor had played a shabby trick on him. “Well, Ephraim,” said Frank, “after the train had started, “you'll have to play that part to-morrow night. Dig into it. Here is the manuscript. Vance kept the typewritten part.” “Darned ef I won’t do my best,” promised the Vermonter; “but it’s a heap for me to learn in such short time. If yeou’d made the part shorter, Frank, it’d bin better.” “All I expect of you is to do your best,” de- clared Merry. The place was reached in due time. For certain reasons, I will not give it by its real name, but will call it Puleob. Frank found his printing was up all right on the bill boards, and the boards of photo- graphs were displayed in the most prominent small billed in good shape. Investigation at the box office revealed the fact that there had been a most satisfactory advance sale thus far. “The people here have heard of you, Mr. Merriwell,” said the man in the box office. “A large number of them have asked ques- tions about you. Some boys came round and wanted to know if you were the real Frank Merriwell. Somehow they seemed to think you might be a. fake.” Frank laughed. “JT am the only Frank Merriwell I ever _ knew anything about,” he said. “Are you a Yale college man?” “T was.” “Was?” ~ “Yes: I am not now. I am an actor.” m3 “Oh, I see. Then I can tell them that there is no doubt but you are the real Frank Mer- riwell?” ness.” TIP TOP WLEdt., windows of the city, while the place had been, © You may tell them so with absolute truth-| “That will satisfy a great many of them.” Frank went away, wondering how it hap- pened that the people of Puleob should fancy that he was not the genuine Merriwell. Noth- ing of the kind had happened in other places. He had been accepted everywhere as just what he represented himself to be. The following morning Hodge came burst- ing into Merriwell’s room at an early ees greatly excited. Frank was dressing. “Hello! hello!” he exclaimed. “What is crawling over you? You seem excited.” “Well, I should say I might be!”. panted Bart. “What’s the matter?” “Just take a look at this, and then ask me what’s the matter!” Bart thrust a sma’l bill, or flyer, into Frank’s hand. On the bill was printed the following: “WARNING! “The citizens of Puleob should not be de- — ceived by the advertisements of a certain fakir calling himself ‘Frank Merriwell.’ The orig- inal and only Frank Merriwell is a student at Yale college, and has no thought or intention of going into the theatrical business. The one traveling around over the coui.try under that name is a fraud and a rascal. He has made a record as a beat wherever he has appeared, and all persons dealing with him should be careful, His play is a pirated piece, and his company a collection of outcasts from the regular stage. Don’t throw away your money by going to see an impostor.” CHAPTER XI. THE HOODOO {S FELT. “Now what do you think of that?’ shouted “Tsn’t that enough to give Bart, savagely. you cramps!” “Where did you get this?’ asked Ff rank, calmly. “Down in the office. writing table.” “Ts this the only one you found ?” “Yes, but I found out something.” “What?” » ‘‘Duplicates-of this were liberally scattered if over this city last night.” “Who scattered them?” ery eee It was iying on the ors * ae ee SI tT hee see that he is punished.” “Nobody seems to know.” “Well, I will admit this is interesting,” said Frank, as he calmly continued dressing. Bart sprang up. “How can you be so cool about it?” he snarled. “T don’t see the good of getting excited.” “There may not be any good in getting excited,” exploded Hodge; “but I don’t know what a man is made of who will not get up on his hind legs and howl at such a thing as that! Why, it says you are a fraud, a cheat, an impostor !” es _“T see it does,” nodded Merry, combing his hair. “Well, what are you going to do?” “T haven’t decided yet. It is probable that I shall try to find out who circulated these things, and, if I can catch the rascal, I shall “He ought to be hanged! You must know who did it.” “T presume it is an enemy of mine.” “Tt isn’t likely a friend did it!” shouted the angry Hodge. “Of course it was an enemy! And that enemy was Leslie Lawrence.” ‘.“Tt is very likely.” “Now are you going to let that*fellow take a turn at chasing you up and doing his best to knock you out?” “Not if I can help it,” answered Frank, carefully adjusting his necktie. “If I can get hold of Mr. Lawrence, I shall see that he is turned over to the authorities at Denver, and he will receive his just deserts for setting that fire.” “Now you are talking! He is going to do his best to hoodoo you. You know the mem- bers of the company have a notion that the play is hoodooed anyway. It has thirteen characters in the cast, and you spoke the ‘tag’ at rehearsals. Besides that, the cat a “The cat is to be our mascot. Here she is.’ ' Out from beneath the bed walked the same black cat that had appeared on the stage where they were rehearsing in Denver. “Well, I'll be hanged!” gasped Hodge. Where’d she come from?” “I brought her along,” explained Frank. “I have a grip arranged for her, with holes in the sides to admit air. I am going to take TIP TOP WEEKLY. 26 her everywhere we go. I call her Mascotte.” “Well, that beats!” said Hodge, weakly. “I didn’t know you were superstitious.” “Tam not. Anyway, I say Iam not. But I want to show that Miss Kirk is wrong about a black cat coming into a theatre. It means luck, if it means anything.” “But it doesn’t mean luck for you to be ad- vertised in this way,” said Hodge, referring to the flyer. “T don’t know. It may arouse the curiosity of people more than anything else could and serve to bring them out. I shall not let it wor- ry me.” “Do you ever let anything worry you?” “Not if I can help it. What is the use to worry?” “Tt may not be any use, but some people can’t help it. I am going to do my best to get track of the author of this libel.” Hodge departed, somewhat cooller than when he came in. As Frank had expected, it seemed that the “warnings” served to arouse curiosity more than anything else, and tickets sold fast that day, so that the members of the company were in high spirits as evening approached. That afternon they rehearsed on the stage, and the black cat stalked about the place as if she felt quite at home there, much to the hor- ror of Agnes Kirk and the amusement of oth- ers. Already the cat was looking sleek and clean and very little like the disreputable looking creature that had appeared at the re- hearsal in Denver. When the hour arrived for the curtain to rise that evening the house was well filled. But there was anxiety behind the scenes. Cassie Lee had suddenly been taken ill, but she insisted on playing, even thongh she could not keep on her feet without difficulty. Frank believed he knew what ailed her. She had taken an overdose of morphine, and the re- action had set in. Havener gave Lloyd Fowler a call down for drinking, for Fowler had appeared in a state closely bordering on intoxication. Gallup was 1n a terrible state because he © had not been able to commit all his lines. . Agnes Kirk was prophesying all sorts of dismal things because of the cat, and the spirits of the entire company had taken a strange and sudden slump. Frank found this out and went round talk- ing to them and trying to cheer them up. He succeeded in inspiring some of them with fresh confidence, but still the shadow of ap- prehension hovered over them. The orchestra played the overture, and then the curtain went up. The new piece was on at last. Although Frank had concealed his real feelings, he was the most anxious one of the party. The play started off badly, the first speaker twisting his lines, although he had considered himself letter-perfect. Strangely enough, when a piece starts poorly, it seems difficult to get it to running smoothly. If one per- son makes a blunder, others seem to catch it from him, and matters go from bad to worse. Frank had worked a good enter for him- self, and, seeing how matters were drifting, he resolved to do his best to go through his part without a break or a skip, hoping that would brace the others up. When Frank entered, however, he was not given a single “hand,” and, to his surprise and dismay, a titter started somewhere in the au- dience and ran over the entire house. It grew louder till it became an open laugh. As there was nothing to laugh at in his lines nor his make-up, Merry began to feel uncomfortable. He wondered what the mat- ter could be, and began looking around. He soon discovered the cause of the laugh- ter. When he had entered, the cat, Mascotte, had solemnly walked onto the stage at his heels. Instantly Frank recovered his composure. ‘Almost a cat-astrophe,” he murmured, and then, after a bit, some of the audience ap- plauded. straighten things out. The actors were mixed in their lines several times, and it was a relief when the curtain descended on the first act. _ There was an ominous silence in the audi- But not all Merry could do seemed to 2B TIP TOP WEEKLY. “Cheer up,” said Frank. true.” “It’s a frost,” declared Havener, bitterly. “It’s not so much your fault, Merriwell. I believe I have failed.” “You ?2. ee “How ?” “The people are not doing their parts well. Something ails them. I am going to give them a going over, but I’m afraid it won’t do them any good. If Kirk don’t keep still about thir- teen characters, cats and all that stuff, I'll choke her! I’ve stood all I can of it. She’s been the hoodoo. What the company needs is three or four days more of hard work on the piece,” “It may not be “Well, you'll be able to whip them into shape ina short time, and I reckon Folansbee will’ be able to stand the pressure if business is bad at the start.” “Tt is better to start off right, for that gives everybody confidence. There is something the matter with that audience out there. I reckon they’ve been eating icicles. Never saw such a cold crowd. Nothing seems to start ‘em.” Folansbee came in from the front of the house, and his face showed his disappoint- ment. : “There’s something wrong, Merriwell,” he said. “The audience is not satisfied. People out there are waiting to see the next act, but they'll be disgusted if it isn’t better than the first. This doesn’t seem much like ‘John Smith,’ ” Havener tried to explain that it wasn’t so mitich the play as it was some other things which were going wrong, but it was not easy to convince the man of this. When the curtain rose on the second act the people on the stage were feeling rather desperate. They went at the piece in a des- perate endeavor to play it with vim and snap, but their very desperation served to defeat them. The second act went worse than the first, and, as the curtain came down, there were several hisses from the auditorium. Those hisses cut Frank like stabs. He realized that his play was being hissed, My Meera RA ThA HE Fe : a: and he was cut to the quick. His jaws hard- ened, and a stern look came into his eyes. “Tl play this piece in this city some day,” ke mentally vowed, “and the audience shall call the entire company before the curtain !”’ He had little to say as he went to his dress- ing room to change his clothes for the third act. : In this act Frank and Hodge appeared in Yale baseball suits, as they were supposed to be two members of the Yale ball team. Hodge was dressed first, and he came to Frank’s dressing room. He entered without a word and sat down on Merry’s trunk, staring hard at the floor. “Well,” asked Frank, “what have you to say?” “Tt’s a rotten shame!” declared Bart. “The play has been murdered! That’s what’s the matter. I don’t believe the fault is with the piece.”’ “T am not so sure there is no fault with the piece,” confessed Merry, greatly to Bart’s as- tenishment. “Why, what do you mean?” “Tt have been thinking of one or two _ changes that I could make to improve it. If the third act does not catch on, I shall make them, too.” “I don’t know but’ the piece is hoodooed,” said Bart. “And there’s that infernal cat!” The cat came walking into the dressing room. “That cat will yet prove the mascot of this piece,” stiffly asserted Merriwell. “There is luck in her, if there’s anything. Don’t lay it to the cat.” They were called for the third act, and soon the curtain was raised again. The third act was not an improvement on the others. Midway in it, while Frank, Bart and Gallup were on the stage, the Vermonter was attacked by a case of stage fright, and he “went to pieces.” In vain he was given cues and lines. He could not pull himself together. Ephraim made a pitiful spectacle in his 9 “Rube” clothes as he stood there staring and . shaking. Some of the audience laughed, some hissed. A few got up and left. Then somebody cried: “Fake !” TIP TOP WEEKLY. 87 “Fake! Fraud!’ was the cry that went round. A rough-looking man in the second rew sprang up. “We've been fooled out of our money!” he cried. “That chap ain’t the real Frank Mer- riwell. Come on, fellers, and we’ll clean out the crowd!” He sprang over the first row, dashed through the orchestra, and, almost before Merriwell realized what he was doing, climbed over the footlights onto the stage! CHAPTER XII. FLAT FAILURE. Then Frank awoke. With one long stride he was on the man, whom he caught by the collar and a conven- ient portion of his trowsers and flung him clean and fair over the footlights into the er- _chestra. The man was somewhat stunned, and, as he was picking himself up, Frank seized the opportunity to address the audience. - “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his voice clear and steady, “I am very sorry that we have not given you satisfaction to-night, but I want to assure you that there are no frauds cr fakes on this stage. We are just what we represent ourselves to be. Things have gone wrong with the piece, but I want to tell you now that I have not lost confidence in the play, and within a year I will play it here on this stage to an appreciative audience. I will do that if I have to hire the house outright — for a night and distribute tickets gratuitous- | ly. As proof that we are not here to defraud — anybody, I will say that all who are dissatis- fied when the performance is over can call for their money at the box office, and every one who calls will receive it back. We are here to play this piece, and we are going through | with it.” Se This little speech awakened some admira- tion and applause, and the play was resumed. From that time it seemed to go somewhat better, and there was a faint burst of applause when the curtain descended on the thira act. 28 TIP TOP WEEKLY. Follansbee came behind again, and this time he looked utterly downcast. “I’m afraid you went too far in offering to refund the money, Merriwell,” he said. “The manager of the house is on his ear. He says we can refund what we choose, but we'll have to pay him the regular percentage on what was taken in.” “That’s all right,” nodded Merry, grimly. “We'll pay him. It is better to do this than to go out of this city with the reputation of frauds hitched onto us.” But when the play was over, very few per- sons called for their money. The audience filed out in grim silence, and Frank knew that “For Old Eli” was a dismal failure. “But U’ll keep my word,” he declared to himself. “I'll play it here, and it shall be ap- preciated.” Failure was a new experience for Frank, but it did not crush him. He was not fool- ishly cheerful, nor was he wretchedly mis- erable. Looking at him, it was plain to see that he would survive the crash and would come out a winner in the end. And his confidence in the black cat as a mascot had not been disturbed in the least. “But I shall re-write the play and change the number of characters,” he said. “Not that I think thirteen makes any difference, but because I do not want any member of the cast to get a notion that the piece is hoo- dooed by having that number of parts.” SS ee OE a In the morning Havener was anxious to go on with the piece, for he believed it could be whipped into shape while they were on the road ; but, at an early hour, Parker Folansbee received a telegram from the manager of the theatre in which they were to play that night -announcing that he had received a report from Puleob and had determined to cancel their engagement. “That settles it,” said Frank, when he was shown the telegram. “We'll have to throw it up for the time, till we can get matters ar- ranged again. I’ll go at the play without de- i “T think I’ll go out of the theatrical busi- ness for good,” said Folansbee. “Somehow it seems to me that I’ve had enough of it.” For a moment Frank was a bit upset, and then he quietly said: “All right, Mr. Folansbee; you are at lib- erty to do as you choose. Are we to sever our partnership?” “T think we had better.” And they did so that day. _ Frank had met failure, and he was left without a backer; but he was not disheart- ened, and he was determined to put “For Old Eli” on the road again in revised form. — Would he be able to do so? (THE END.) The next number (148) of the Tip Top Weekly will contain “Frank Merriwell’s | Pluck; or, Never Say Die,’’ by Burt L. Standish. pos kc erate eee TIP TOP WEEKLY. 23 IP OPWEEKLY- “AN IDEAL PUBLICATION FOR THE AMERICAN YOUTH ”” NEW YORK, FEBUARY 4, 1899. Terms to Tip Top Weekly Mail Subscribers. (POsTAGE FREE.) 3 months - - - - - - = 65¢c.| Oneyear - - - - - = ~ $2.50 4 months - - - - - - - 85c.|2copiesone year - - - - 4.00 6 months - - - + - - - $1.25] 1 copy twoyears - - - - 4.00 Flow ro SEND MonrEy.—By post.office or express money order, registered letter, bank check or draft, at your risk. At yourown risk if sent by postal note, currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary fetter. FP’ Recxiprs.— Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper change of nwnber on your label. If not correct you have not been properly credited, and should let us know at once, To CLUR RaIsKks.—Upon request we will send sample copies to aid you in obtaining subscribers. All letters should be addressed to STREET & SMITH’S TIP TOP WEEKLY, 81 Fulton St., New York City. PPP PPPPP PPA AAP lA PR PP lel a el ll et NOTICE TO READERS. All letters intended for this publication should al- ways be addressed Street & Smith, 81 Fulton St., New York City, and in the lower left hand corner of the envelope the name of the department for ‘which they are intended, such as Tip Top Applause Dept., Tip Top. Correspondence Dept., Tip Top League Dept., Tip Top Subscription Dept. Where you wish to address more than one department or more than one publication in one letter, a separate sheet of paper should be used for each, written only on one side. It is always better to use ink than pencil, as the latter is easily obliterated. If our readers will keep these points in mind they will re- ceive more prompt and satisfactory attention than otherwise. If you have not already seen notice about the badge don’t fail to look for it on last page of this issue. Every reader should have one and wear it conspicuously in honor of Frank Merriwell. —_—_——_++6++<______—_ TIP TOP LEAGUE. Our readers will see upon the last page of this issue announcement that the badge is now ready. There has been some delay on the part of the manufac- turers, but now that the badges are made we can find no other fault with them, and we believe our readers will echo this sentiment when they see the badge, for it is a beauty. Read the announcement carefully, ard you will find that for the small sum of ten cents in cash and two coupons from Tip Top, accepted as ten cents cash, you can secure one of these badges, in the pendant of which will be found the embossed photograph of Frank Merriwell and the password of the league. This password ‘‘True as Steel,”” appears in small letters under the photograph somewhat as does the lettering on a large coin, and should furnish an introduction to all readers and in- sure a hearty welcome which will serve to strengthen the tie that already binds them one to the other. We are prepared to supply the badges promptly, for though our first order to the manufacturers was only fifty thousand, now that the expensive dies are made others can be supplied by them at short notice if we find that all our readers want one, of which we are confident. We don’t supply them for profit, but would like to have them worn by at least one hun- dred thousand readers. APPLAUSE. Gentlemen—Through the Applause Column I wish to thank. the Tip Top readers for their hearty ap- proval of my proposition in No. 182, and I hope we may be as “true as steel’ to the Tip Top and to each other. Fellows, let’s show our colors and try our best to uphold and keep our badge from falling into bad hands. Let’s each one of us try and be worthy of such an emblem of purity and manliness; let’s fight against liquor and tobacco and try and make sure that the coming generation will be MEN. If any of you are ever in Castile or vicinity I would be pleased to have you call on me. Nearly everyone knows me, and I will try and make your stay pleasant. Can I hear from a reader in Springfield or Carth- age, Missouri? Now fellows, I beg of you, don’t think me piggish in wanting my second letter printed, for I do want to thank you and entreat you to try and keep the badge in good hands. I am yours, ‘‘True as steel,’’ Castile, N. Y. Our readers will all be glad to hear again from Lynn Hartley and to take this opportunity to join us in thanking him for the suggestion that has met with such hearty approval and remarkable support. We are receiving thousands of orders daily for the badge of the Tip Top League, which was made as a result of Mr. Hartley’s suggestion, and the readers’ uni- versal support of it, which proves the value of the idea. It has made many friends already and will doubtless bring all the Tip Top readers closer to- gether. In this, Mr. Hartley’s last letter, he gives good advice to his fellow members of the League, which we believe will be as heartily endorsed as was his suggestion in the first place. Such unselfish in- terest can never fail to arouse a warm interest, and Mr. Hartley will always remember and feel the tie that has bound him to the Tip Top readers. His cor- dial invitation is sure to be much appreciated. LYNN HARTLEY. I thought I would write you a letter telling how much I like your Frank Merriwell stories. T think they are the nicest stories written. I would like Frank to meet his father in the near future and meet Jack: also, Bart Bruce, Harry and all the rest of his friends while they are on a vacation tour. I heartily approve of Mr. Hartley’s plan of the badge and password. I wish to_ask you these questions: Will Frank meet Barney Mulloy soon? Will Cassie Lee get cured of her dreadful habit? J. A. C., Lyons, Ia. What may happen to Frank in the future cannot be told now, but he will without doubt meet many of his old friends again. Thank you for your in- terest. I have been reading your Tip Top Weekly for about a year, and I think it is very interesting. I am in favor of a badge and pass word for Tip Top readers: T wish to ask the following questions; 1, When Frank is married will the Tip Top continue? 2. Will Frank receive that letter from Tilda Dugan? CURTIS M. HANNA. The badge is now ready. We cannot forecast fu- ture events in Frank’s life. Time only will decide what he will do and where he will be. Thanks for your good opinion. The boys of our club have many weeklies, but they all agree with me in saying that the Tip Top is the best of them all. We would like Frank to marry Inza. Elsie is too childish. We also hope that Frank will meet all his old college chums—big, lazy Bruce Browning especially. CHARLES KRAUSE, GEORGE BELL, WALTER M’FALL, FRANK CROOKSHANK. Your hopes will doubtless be realized; all the old friends will appear again. I am, and ‘one among many,” a stanch admirer of your Tip Top Weekly. It is the only one of its kind containing any essence of truth. All of its stories are easily possible, while in most stories of its kind the stories are so highly imaginative that they loose their attraction for educated persons. I am not like most of its readers; I am content to leave the selection of Merriwell’s wife and future to Mr. Standish. He can pick out the future and other things to suit his characters better than someone who becomes infatuated with some one of them. I agree with some in regard to the ‘‘receiving that letter from Hilda Dugan, and also the hearing from his old friends. I would also like to have Frank hear from Fannie Darling, and also from the girl he rescued from Armenia. But let Mr. Standish ‘‘choose his own course,’’ I would be proud to wear a “symbol of manhood,’’ and think Mr. Hartley’s suggestion a good one. Large and increasing success to the ‘“‘best boys’ weekly.” HOCH MASON, Indianola, Ia. Thank you for your very pleasant letter. Your advice is good. Mr. Stanish holds Frank’s destiny in his hands. The badge is a beautiful work of art. See notice on last page. I have been reading your Tip Top Weekly from No. 89, and think them just splendid. I think Frank Merriwell is just O K, and I must say I wish there were more boys like him. But, oh! they are scarce! I would like very mtich to hear from May Blossom and Bart Hodge; also from Paula and Jack Diamond, SYLBIL ANDHERSON, Chicago, Ill. We are always very glad to have praise from the young ladies, and we thank you heartily for your kind words. The old friends will, no doubt, be seen again. We have read the Tip Top Weekly from the first number till the latest out, and would like to tell you what we think of it. It is the best weekly that is published. , We say, ‘‘Long live Merry.” ELMER T. ANDY A. NORMAN R. Many thanks for your kind words. We, the undersigned, wish to congratulate you on your Tip Top Weekly. We think it the grandest book published. We were more interested in the bi- cycle trip and college sports, hoping he returns to Yale, and are aiso in favor of the badges. Sw We have read the Tip Top from the first to the * present number. The Charlesbank Gymnasium is ; just opposite our rooms, and it would be our own fault if we were not up in athletics. | In Winter they flood it, and there is fine skating. ‘In the Summer there are any number of field days, and in this way we are always on the go. ; ; The bicycle riders of the club think that your bi- eycle series was fine, and wish, when Mr. Standish gets a chance, he will have another trip, or even match races. : “What's happened to Barney Mulloy? We hope_he will turn up soon. We are of the opinion that. Mr. Standish knows something about athletics, and hope he will continue to keep informed. THE BRIGHTON FLYERS A. A. John Dunn, secretary; David: Miller, George Mur- phy, John. Howard, Jos. Harkins, Andrew Loftus, William Cain, William Buckley, D. McGinness, Al- bert Sullivan, Julius Cohen, Ed. Barrett, William Mc- Carson, Patrick Coleman, Thomas Sullivan. We are glad that the Tip Top is so warmly appre- ciated’ by the members of your club, as they are especially fitted to judge the ‘‘athletic’’ stories. No doubt Frank will continue to distinguish himself in all branches of sport. The badges are now ready. Good wishes for your club. I am a reader of the Tip Top Weekly from No. 1 up to the present one, and I like them very well. I would like to have you get up a badge for about 25 eents each. I am sure the readers will approve of this, : A. C. SMACK, 162 South Fourth street, Brooklyn, N. Ys Information about the badge is furnished on last - page. one. 4 ee Il wish to add my mite to the volume of apprecia- tion and congratulation that I notice in the ‘‘Ap- _plause’’ column of your Tip Top Weekly. It is truly a ‘‘tip top weekly,’’ and one that shows to an advantage the characteristics that an Ameri- can boy should attain. It is a clean, wholesome book, and one that every one can read. TI congratulate you and the author upon the man- ner in which it emulates the best and most manly traits, and encourages the boys to follow the ex- ample that Frank sets. 5; ; oi readers of the Tip Top Weekly in this city like to have’ Frank and his company pass this place on his travels, and would read It is to be a beauty, and you will surely want 30 TIP TOP WEEKLY. with redoubled zest an account of his passing through here. Can you not have him do so? I as- sure vou Huntington boys would be greatly pleased. We hope to read also of Frank meeting his old chums again. CHARLES C, BELLWOOD, (No relative to Elsie, bless her heart.) Your kind letter gives us much gratification. Such intelligent praise as yours is valuable indeed. We cannot tell whither Frank’s wanderings may lead him, but we are glad that a hearty welcome would greet him in West Virginia. 4 As secretary of the “South Sioux City Tip Top League’’I was ordered, at our last Thursday night weekly meeting, by an unanimous vote, to write you informing you that the above league (organized about twelve months ago), is still loyal to the char- tered name given it, and that the thanks of the league are due and are hereby tendered to you for affording us so much genuine, clean and wholesome amusement, and also to express the wish that you may long continue to give us such stories each week, that we can read with the full approval of all our parents. In fact, most of our fathers and mothers read and enjoy Mr. Standish’s thrilling chapters of Frank’s adventures, sympathizing with his misfortunes and applauding his triumphs. We assure you of our support of ‘“‘dear old Frank” as long as he lives. HARRY JANDT, Secretary. Garland Shreve, president; Willie Steele, vice- president; Charlie Dutton, treasurer; Frank Eb- erly, and other members. : Thank you for your very pleasing letter. Your Club certainly shows itself to be in a flourishing condition. Your parents’ approval and enjoyment of the Tip Top are much appreciated. May good for- tune continue with the “South Sioux City Tip Top League.’’ It seems to be a special privilege of the Tip Top readers to suggest a wife for Frank. I have care- fully read all your stories and consider that Miss Hilda Dugan, of Dugan’s Island, would make him an admirable wife. If the Tip Top readers will re- read No. 112 they will find that Miss Dugan is not only a fearless and beautiful girl, but also that she has the power to love Frank as the wife of such a noble young man should, for she risked her life to save him, a thing which neither Hlsie nor Inza have done. A SUBSCRIBER TO THE END. We must let Frank choose for himself, as ne doubt he will do in good time. After all, he is the one to be consulted. The rest of us must wait; but we like an expression of opinion from all our readers on all points that particularly interest them. I have read nearly all the Tip Top Weekly stories, and am very much pleased with all of them. The special departments, such as ‘‘Applause,’’ “Corre- spondence,” etc., are especially interesting. Most boys have some correspondents, but many would like more. It seems to me that it would be a good plan to form a club of correspondents of Frank Merriwell readers. It could be arranged so that a certain number of boys could write a certain number of letters each month. If any one interested in this matter will communicate with me on the subject I think we can succeed in forming such a club. FRANKLYN WEDGE, 263 Main St., Torrington, Ct. Your letter being published here will doubtless at- tract the attention of some Tip Top readers. We are glad that you appreciate the Tip Top. : I have read every number from 66 up to the present and I think they are the best publication for boys ever printed. Hurrah for Frank Merriwell and the Tip Top Weekly! @ KING SMITH. : BULLDOG DAVIS. Many thanks. We are glad to number you among Frank's list of admirers. t Hurrah for the Tip Top Weekly! It is with pleas- ure that I say I am more than pleased with it. Nos. 28, 24, and 25 are the only numbers I have missed since I have taken it. I think the best stories were those when Frank was at Yale. Of the boys, I like Harry Rattleton the best after Frank; and of the girls, Elsie. Many who read the Tip Top think Frank should marry Inza. I think he should marry Elsie. The persons at Morristown, Tenn., whe were afraid to sign their whole name when they wrete so disparagingly about Elsie must have been dreaming when they wrote it, or are a little weak themselves. I take a number of weeklies, but think the Tip Top is the best. Mr. Standish is an excellent writer. TIP TOP WEEKLY, Since Frank is on the stage with his own play, I hope he will succeed. I can hardly wait until he gets back to Yale. I would like to ask a few ques- tions, which I wish you would please answer. 1. Are quarterlies 1 and 2 going to be published again? 2. Is Frank going to meet his Yale chums and Bar- ney soon’? Lynn Hartley said, ‘‘Let us have a badge and a password.’”’ Let us have one, one that all will be able to get. Most parenuts do not let their boys read stories in this form, but after I had read a number of them I let my mother read them, and now she don’t care how many Ii read. ARTHUR MELCHER. Your opinions show a great deal of careful study of the characters, but different tastes will make dif- fering judgments. All numbers of the Tip Top are in print and can be had at this office. The badges are now made (see notice on last page). They are beautiful examples of art. Your suggestion will be considered. We are glad of your mother’s good opinion. _ We have been constant readers of the Tip Top Weekly from number sixty-nine, and we think it the best weekly that we have ever read. We would like to ask a few questions concerning your Tip Top / Weekly: Was there ever a Frank Merriwell? What has become of little Nell? We approve of Mr. Hart- ley’s propositions concerning the badges and pass- words. We hope Mr. Merriwell will marry Elsie, as “we admire her aS much as we do him. IKE ARONSON, ALBERT LEVY, MAX EH. ARONSON, Marlin, Tex. Future events will decide what Frank will do after his present experiences are over. All the old char- acters will doubtless be heard from again. The badges—and they are beauties—are now ready. The character of Frank Merriwell is drawn from life. I, as secretary of the Tip Top Weekly Club of Sayre, Pa., have written to you. We hope Frank will marry Nelly, who was blind. WESTLAY BURROWS. JAMES LYNES. GEORGE BURROWS. JOHN PRICHARD. GEORGE LYMN. EDWIN BROWN. ROY DIXEN. JOHN JONES. GEORGE MOON. JAMES JONES. ANDRED LINWOOD. GEORGE CONE. CHARLEY ENDERCOTT. Frank is not thinking of marriage at Thanks for your interest. present. We, the undersigned, officers of the Garden Social Club, do hereby send our congratulations for the reading matter of which the Tip Top is composed. We greatly approve of Mr. Lynn Hartley’s idea. All the members of our club would be sure to get one of the badges. As there are eighteen members we have eighteen different kinds of books. But we find Frank Merri- well’s stories are always in demand. We would also like to hear from Bob, Jack and Nell. W. TAYLOR, President. P. MULLANEY, Vice-President. M. LOPEZ, Secretary. W. PRICE, Treasurer. C. BUNCE, §ergeant-at-Arms. Hearty thanks for your congratulations. You will be even more eager when you have seen the badge, a is announced on last page.’ Long life to your club! We, the members of the X, T. U. Club of Barry, have voted to extend to the publishers of the Tip Tops our hearty appreciation of their publication. We take all of the current libraries, but all agree that the Tip Tops are far ahead of all the rest. Will you please answer the following questions: (1) Does Frank meet with his father? (2) Will Frank’s company ever come through this part of the State? (3) Does Frank get married very soon? Our parents think that your weekly is very instructive, and after we finish reading them we give them to the girls, who enjoy them hugely. We wish long life and pros- perity to your publication. CASEY DORAN, President. Cc. A. JOHNSON, Vice-President. A. T: GARRETT, Secretary. MOLLIE STEWART, Treasurer: A. J. HAMILTON, N. G. ABE HOLTON, ¢.:S. SHORTY DORAN. R. H. SMITH. Pp. H. HENDRICKS. SHERAD H. OSBORNE. It is impossible to decide in advance just what Frank will do in the future, or when or whom he will marry. Circumstances must determine ail. We are grateful for your commendation. + ‘Academy, Correspondence, A. G, C.,. Peoria, Ill.—‘‘Buffalo Bill’ (Hon. Will- iam F. Cody), was born in Scott County, Iowa, in 1845. EK, F. H., Milwaukee, Wis.—The shortest post coe between San Francisco and New York is 3,250 miles. Cc. J., Jackson, Mont.—The play you speak of has never been published. A letter to Mr. Standish will be forwarded to him. J. J. H., Naval This Everest, Kan.—Write to the ( } Annapolis, Md., for a catalogue. will give you full information. Tennessee Chap.—You can obtain the book you desire on painting by writing to the American News Company, Chambers stret, New York City. A. A. W., New York City.—The three cent sliver piece of 1867 is worth about thirty cents. The paper money you mention is worth only its face value. H. S. M., Boston, Mass.—We cannot answer medi- cal questions in this column, but, from what yeu say, we strongly advise you to consult a physician without delay. R. C. W., Mound Valley, Kan.—All the back numbers of the Tip Top and also the quarterlies are now in print. You can obtain any of them by writ- ing to the publishers, D. K., Davenport, Ia.—Frank’s father was not really killed. You will find the rest of your ques- tions answered, as you continue to read the TipTop. We cannot predict here what Frank’s future will be. WwW. G. MeM., Cleveland, Ohio.—To remove warts, get a piece of sal-ammoniac, about the size of a walnut; moisten the warts, and rub the sal-ammo- niac on them night and morning, and in about a fort- night they will probably disappear. W. B. H., Los Angeles, Cal.—‘‘Tumbleronicon,” or ‘‘musical glasses’? are played by rubbing the fin- gers moistened with water around the edges of tum- blers. It is not absolutely necessary to have French cut glasses. Ordinary table glasses will do. There is no rule to follow in the selection of glasses. A. E. M., Elwood, Ind.—If you are six feet high at sixteen years of age, you are enormously beyond the average. You will undoubtedly broaden and grow heavier in the next three or four years. There is no need to worry. Follow the same course you are pursuing, and everything will come right in the end. Mrs. A. J. C., Defiance, Ohio.—Genuine erasive soap that will remove grease and stains from cloth- ing is made as follows: Two pounds of good castile soap, half a pound of carbonate of potash, dissolved in half a pint of hot water. Cut the soap in thin slices and boil with potash until it is thick ¢nough to mold in cakes. Add alcoho! half an ounce, cam- phor half an ounce, hartshorn half an ounce. Color with an ounce of pulverized charcoal. H. N. J., St. Albans, Vt.—Horned toads, which are in reality a species of lizard, can be kept in cap- tivity by placing them in a box half filled with dry _ earth, fastening a wire screen on top and exposing the cage to the sun. In winter substitute a glass top for the screen and keep in the house in a warm room. Feed twicea week, and at long intervals sprinkle a very small quantity of water in the box, these queer reptiles requiring little if'any liquid. R. R., Portsmouth, N. H.—Aluminium is a white metal resembling silver in appearance. It is very malleable and ductile and may be beaten and rolled into thin sheets or drawn into fine wire. By ham- mering in the cold it becomes as hard as soft iron, but may be softened again by melting. It forms al- loys with most metals, and is largely used for ar- ticles of jewelry, for making balance beams, astro- nomical instruments, and _ bells. Ray F., Stillwater, Minn.—To make charcoal make a foundation of earth with a slightly convex surface. slightly raised. above the natural _ surface, drive a long, stout stake down in the middle, and round this pile the wood cut into lengths of three feet or so. When the heap is finished cover the pile with two inches of dry earth, covered with sod, grass side in. The stake may then be drawn out, and the cavity filled with shavings and chips. The hole in the top must be closed as soon as the fire is fairly started. Ventilating spaces must be left at the base till the fire is well established. ; 3 The Tip Top League “Member’s Badge HALF PRICE TO OUR READERS ONLY. In response to the urgent request of a host of Tip Top readers, the publishers have carefully considered a number of designs as badge of membership in the TIP TOP LEAGUE, finally adopting one which is an artistic gem of excellence. This organization is composed exclusively of-and open only to Tip Top readers as members. The picture shows the design chosen, but it does not give you an adequate idea of the exquisite beauty of this elegant ornament. Solidl) and substantially made, finished in gilt and beautifully embossed. Such. badge in lots of 1,000 or les wonld cost at least $1.00 each. ‘The widespread desire for this badge gives us s0 much faith in the enterprise that we have ordered 60,000, to secure the lowest possible rate, and are therefore enabled to offer it to our readers at a very low figure, viz.: Twenty Cents (TEN CENTS in cash or stamps and Ten Cents in Coupons). This barely covers the cost to us. ——i_CONDITIONS Each coupon is worth five cents when accompanied by five cents in stamps or coin. TWO COUPONS AND TEN CENTS SECURES YOU THE BADGE, You can get as many badges as you desire at the same rate by use of the extra coupons. Badges without coupons will cost fifty cents each. The coupons are free t Tip ae readers, and we adopt this method to prevent others from gettin, the badge a the special rate given to our patrons. IF YOU ARE A READER OF THE TIP TOP ¥OU ARE A MEMBER OF THE LEAGUE, AND ENTITLED TO WEAR THE EMBLEM OF THE ORDER—and our word for it, you will be more than pleased when you receive it. TIP TOP LEAGUE TIP TOP LEAGUE MEMBER’S COUPON AN Exact PICTURE MEMBER’S COUPON This Coupon and FIVE CENTS This Coupon and FIVE CENTS will be accepted for ten cents will be accepted for ten cents towards the purchase’ of the OF THE towards the purchase of the League Badge. League Badge. STREET & SMITH. | FAGUE yee STREET & SMITH. TIP TOP LEAGUE TIP TOP LEAGUE MEMBER’S COUPON YEMEN MEMBER’S COUPON This Coupon and FIVE CENTS This Coupon and FIVE CENTS will be accepted for ten cents will be accepted for ten cents towards the purchase of the towards the purchase of the League Badge. League Badge. STREET & SMITH. e STREET & SMITH. TIP TOP LEAGUE MEMBER’S COUPON This Coupon and FIVE CENTS will be accepted for ten cents towards the purchase of the League Badge. STREET & SMITH. TIP TOP_ LEAGUE MEMBER’S COUPON This Coupon and FIVE CENTS will be accepted for ten cents towards the purchase of the League Badge. STREET & SMITH. TIP TOP LEAGUE MEMBER’S COUPON This Coupon and FIVE CENTS will be accepted for ten cents towards the purchase of the League Badge. STREET & SMITH. TIP TOP LEAGUE MEMBER’S COUPON This Coupon and FIVE CENTS will be accepted for ten cents towards the purchase of the League Badge. STREET & SMITH. TIP TOP LEAGUE TIP TOP LEAGUE MEMBER’S COUPON MENMBER’S COUPON This Coupon and FIVE CENTS This Coupon and FIVE CENTS will be accepted for ten cents will be accepted for ten cents towards the purchase of the ; towards the purchase of the League Badge. League Badge. STREET & SMITH. STREET & SMITH. To secure the promptest attention, address all letters on this subject to «se THE TIP TOP. LEAGUE.... (Care STREET & SMITH) 81 Fulton Street, New York. The offer formerly occupying this page (College Badges) is omitted for lack of space, but one of the above League coupons Will be accepted in connection with tne offer as formerly published. Senet Dal Kay ete oS Sic $1 82 83 For Sale bv all Newsdealers, or will be sent, Postpaid, on receipt of Price, by CATALOGUE OF FRANK MERRIWELL STORIES IN TIP TOP WEEKLY Frank Merriwell; or, First Days at Fardale. Frank Merriwell's Foe; or, *Plebe” Life in Barracks Frank Merriwell’s Medal; or, **Plebe’”’ Life in Camp. Frank Merriwell’s Rival; or, By Fair Play or Foul, Frank Merriwell’s Fault, Frank Merriwell’s Frolies; or, Fun at Fardale. Frank Merriwell’s Mysterious Ring. Frank Merriwell’s Fag; or, Fighting for the Weak. Frank Merriwell’s Furlough. Frank Merriwell on His Metrie, Frank Merriwell's Fate; or, The Old Sailor’s Legacy. Frank Merriwell’s Motto; or, The Young Life Savers. Frank Merriwell in New York; or, an Unknown Foe, Frank Merriwell in Chicago; or, Meshed by Mysteries. Frank Merriwell in Colorado. Krank Merriwell in Arizona; or, Mysteries of the Mine, Frank Merriwell in Mexico, Frank Merriweil in New Orleans. Frank Merriwell’s Merey. Frank Merriwell’s Friend; or, Muriel the Moonshiner. Frank Merriwell’s Double; or, Fighting for Life. Frank Merriwell Meshed; or, The Last of the Danites. Frank Merriwell’s Fairy. Frank Merriwell’s Money, Frank Merriwell'’s Mission Frank Merriwell’s Mysterious Foe. Frank Merriwell a Monarch, Frank Merriwell in Gorilla Land. Frank Merriwell’s Magic; or, The Pearl of Tanyier. Frank Merriwell in France. Frank Merriwell’s Feat; or, The Queen of the Bull Fighters. Frank Merriwell in London; or, The Grip of Doom, Frank Merriwell’s Venture; or, Driven from Armenia, Frank Merriwell in India; or, Hunting Human Leop- ards. Frank Merriwell’s Vow; or, After Big Game in Ceylon, Frank Merriwell in Japan; or, The Sign of Avenger. Frank Merriwell’s Dead Shot; or, Roughing it in Australia. Frank Merriwell in the Sonth Sea; or, Cast for Life. Frank Merriwell at Home Again; or, The Mystery of Ethel Driscoll. Frank Merriwell Freshinan., Frank Merriwell’s mores. Frank Merriwell’s Frank Merriwell’s at Yale; or, Freshman Against Match; or, The King of the Sopho- Victory; or, The Winning Oar. Finish; or, Blue Against Crimson. Frank Merriwell’s Game; or, Snaring the Sharper, Frank Merriwell's Run; or, Trouneing the Tigers. Frank Merriwell’s-Even Up; or, Squaring the Score. Frank Merriwell’s Queen; or, Blow for Blow. Frank Merriwell’s Find; or, The Waif of the Train. Frank Merriwell’s Racer; or, Birds of a Feather. Frank Merriwell’s Nerve; or, Game to the End. Frank Merriwell’s Shadow; or, The Mysterieus Stran- Dash: or, Yale Avainst the Field. Bicycle Boys; or, The Start Across Merriwell's Merriwell's Continent. Frank Merriwell’s Frank Merriwell’s Horse. Frank Merriwell to the Resene; or, Water. Frank Merriwell’s Close Call; or, The Tramp's Token. Frank Merriwell’s Unknown Friend; or, Old Friends in New Places. Frank Merriwell Among the Rustlers; or, The Cattle King’s Daughter. Frank Merriwell’s Desperate Drop; tures in the Rockies. Frank Merriwell in the Mines; or, The Blind Singer, Frank Merriwell Among the Mormons. Frank Merriwell on the Desert; or, The Mystery of the Skeleton. Frank Merriwell’s Underground Search. Frank Merriwell in California; or, The End of the Great Tour. Prize Plot Story; Frank Merriwell as the Star. Frank Merriwell’s Yacht: or, Chase Down the Coast. Frank Merriwell’s Combination; or, The All Arouud Athletes. Frank Merriwell's Red Rival. Frank Merriwell’s Texas Tournament; Among the Cowboys. Frank Merriwell’s Nine; League, Frank Merriwell’s Shot; or, Out With the Gun Club, Frank Merriwell’s Flyer; or, The Winning Wheel. Frank Merriwell’s Thoroughbred; or, Honesty Against Crookedness. Frank Merriwell’s Enemy; or, Rivals of Blue Ridge. Frank Merriwell’s Crew; or, The Champions of the Potomac. Frank Merriwell’s Hunt; or, In at the Death. Frank Merriwell’s Blow; or, Unmasking a Rascal. Frank Merriwell’s Return to Yale; or, The Mystery of the Examination Papers. Frank Merriwell as “Anchor;”’ or, The Winning Pull. Frank Merriwell’s Initiation: or, The Secret Order. Frank Merriwell’s Sign; or, The Secret of the Silent Student. Frank Merriwell as Full Back; or. True to His Colors, Ride for Life. Great Capture; or, Bicycle Against Through Fire and or, Wild Adven- or, Sport or, Surprising the Southern Futton St., New York. ” | 129 130 131 132 133 134 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 Frank Merriwell’s Frank Merriwell’s Duel; or, A Point of Honor. Frank Merriwell’s Mark; or, Subduing a Bully, Frank Merriwell’s Secret; or, A Friend in Need. Frank Merriwell’s Revenge; or, Aroused at ast. Frank Merriwell’s Capture; or, The Black Schooner. Frank Merriwell’s Chum; or, The Hand of a Friend. Frank Merriwell’s Double Shoot; or, Winning in the Box, Krank Merriwell’s Danger; or, Shadow of Diszrace, Frank Merriwell’s Waver; or, Bound to Win, Frank Merriwellin ‘Training; or, The Mystery of the Midnight Prowler. Frank Merriwell’s Courage; or, Loyal to the Last. Frank Merriwell at Fardale Again; or, Yale Lads at the Military Academy. Frank Merriwell in Camp; or, Frolics with the Far- dale Boys. Frank Merriwell’s Fardale Friends; or, Old Foes. Frank Merriwell’s Yale Chums; or, The Jolly Dogs of Fardale. ; Merriwell’s Choice; or. Fair Rivals of Fardale Merriwell’s Fardale Racket. Frank Merriwell’s Courage; or, Nerve Against Bluff. Frank Merriwell’s Faith; or, The Shadow of a Crime Frank Merriwell’s Celebration; or, Last Days at Fardale. Frank Merriwell Afloat; or, The Cruise of the White Wings. Frank Merriwell Under Megunticook; or, Knox County League. Frank Merriwell’s Mystery; or, The Monster of Devi) Island, Frank Merriwell's Disappearance; or, The Secret of the Island. Frank Merriwell Belfast. Frank Merriwell’s Stolen Yacht. Frank Merriwell’s Catch; or, The Canoe Boys of Lake Sebasticook. Frank Merriwell's Guide; or, Head Lake. Frank Merriwell’s Peril; Border. Frank Merriwell’s Drift; or, With the River Drivers Frank Merriwell’s Daring; or, Elsie’s Sacrifice. Frank Merriwell’s Fist; or, Bound to Know the Truth Frank Merriwell’s Masquerade; or, The Belle of Hur- ricane Island. Frank Merriwell’s Misfortune: or, The Start of a New Cureer. Frank Merriwell, Engine Wiper; or, At the Foot of the Ladder. Frank Merriwell. Fireman; or, First Step Upward, Frank Merriwell’s Opportunity; or, The Ghost Black Gorge. Frank Merriwell’s First Frank Merriwell Engineer; Frank Merriwell’s Hard Luck; Ladder. Frank Merriwell’s Advancement; or, Engineer of the Mountain xpress Frank Merriwell Held Up; Mountain Express. Frank Merriwell’s Protege; Hand. Frank Merriwell on Strike; Property. Frank Merriwell as a Ferret; or, Tracking the Train Wreckers, Frank Merriwell Accused; or, Reaping the Harvest. Frank Merriwell on the Road; or, The All-Star Combi- nation, Frank Merriwell'’s First Part; or, The Start as an Aetor, Frank Merriwell) in Advance; or, Adventures Ahead of the Show, Frank Merriwell Magician; Fortune, Frank Frank With the Aroused; or, The Biey"‘e Boys of Pursuit; or, The Chnae of the Sport Around Moose or, The Smuyglers of the of Run; or, Chance of His Life or, The Turn of Fortune or, A Slip on The or, The Robbery of the or, Lending » Helping or, Saving the Eneniy’s or, For Fun, Fame, ana Own Company; or, Barnstorming In the Middle West. ’ Frank Merriwell Stranded; or, The Fate of the First Venture. Frank Merriwell’s New Venture; Elsie. Frank Merriwell'’s Play; Piece. Frank Merriwell’s Fame; or, The Road to Suceess, Frank Merriwell 8s Father; or, The Man With Money to Burn. Frank Merriwell’s College Chums; or, Bart Wonderful Shot. Frank Merriwell’s Understudy; Friend. Frank Merriwell Puzzled, or, the Mystery of Inza. Frank Merriwell’s Problem; or, Vhe Vanishing of Elsie Frank Merriwell Missing; or, On the Brink of Disaster Frank Merriwell’s Disaster; or, The Hand of the Law. Frank Merriwell’s Fortune; or, The Legacy of the Skeleton. Frank Merriwell’s Failure; or, High Hopes and Hard Luek. Frank Merriwell’s Pluck; or, Never Say Die. Frank Merriwell’s Choice; or, To Make or Break. STREET & SMITH, Pustisuers, 81 or, The Finding of or, Putting on His Own Hodge's or, Helping an Old