Issued weekly- By Subscription, $2.50 per year. os. Price, Five Cents. % g eet a JOHN SWIFTWING WITH DRAWN BOW AIMED FOR A DEAD-CENTRE SHOT AT THE TARGET. RO ET Ee ‘yn’ trouble. TID TOD WEEKLY AN IDEAL P PUBLICATION FOR THE AMERICAN YOUTH Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second Class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by StREET & SMITH, 238 William St., N. Y. Entered According to Act of Congress, in the year 1900 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. No, 231. NEW YORK, September 15, 1900, Price Five Cents, Frank Merriwell’s Archer; r. OR, BEATING THE RED BOWMEN. By. BURT L. STANDISH. CHAPTER I. COMRADES THREE. “Oh, jiminy thutter! we’re.alwus hav- I wish I wus to hum on the farm !”’ A short, fat youth, a tall, lean youth, and a youth with an Irish cast of counte- nance, were seated by the side of a dim mountain trail. The cloud-piercing® crest of Pike’s Peak was visible not far away, and nearer at hand rose the rugged heights of Cheyenne Mountain. ‘“You haf made der troublesomeness mine ownselluf!’’ squawked the short fat youth. ““Shet up, yer thunderin’ Dutchman! Yer wus the craziest critter of all to come aout. Yer wanted to go to Pike’s Peak er bu’st, and anow we’re bu’sted!”’ ‘*Oi’m so lame in me toes frum walkin’ thot Oi dr’amed last noight thot Oi was a rich landlord, and had the gout frum atin’ av too many good things. Begorra! Oi can shmell the taste av thim yit!”” The Irish lad, who was none other than Barney Mulloy, tried to laugh, but the effort was a deal failure. ‘*You vos a liar!’’ shouted Hans ‘Dus nerwust, the fat youth, shaking his fist under the nose of the first. speaker. ‘‘I nefer said a vord apout der Bike’s Beak > oa iP vot vos pu’sted: I vos lookin’ vor der Crippled Greeks. You vos der pu’sted Bike’s Beak! You haf read vrom dot cir- cularation baper dose mine achents gafe you in Chicago dot der streeds: uf der Crip- pled Greeks vos paved mit golt.”’ ‘“Ef I hed the scaoundrels by the throat I’d choke some uv the lies out of ’em, by gum! Them wus the gold dingedest stories ever wus built.”’ ‘‘Loike the houses in Chicago—shtories roight an tap-av shtories, till Oi got a crick in me neck frum luckin’ up at the b’astely things, It wor a crippled crick, too! f’r, be the powers! it wor 4 wake be- foor O1ec’u’d turn me neck more than wan Oi t’ought me neck wor crippled f’r loife!’’ way at a toime! Begobs! Barney Mulloy was evidently trying to get the thoughts of his companions away from their disagreeable circumstances. He failed, however. ‘‘Gold bricked us!’’ groaned) Ephraim, thinking of the lying Chicago mine pro- moters, rather than of the high Chicago buildings. : ‘‘Vale, you vos deadt easier as me! You vos belief me der whole story in, und I vos nod belief anydings apout nobody !”’ ‘‘Oh, no, yeou didn’t believe northen! When yeou struck Cripple Creek you jumped at the fust stun yeou saw when you dropt frum the train, thinkin’ ’twus a gold brick. And every dinged rock with micar glitterin’ in it an’ shinin’ in the sun you wanted to put into your gol- darned pockits! Har! har! don’t you re- member the time yeou faound the micar dornick and took it into the saloon to buy beer, and the man kicked yeou fer insult- in’ his intelligence? By thutter! that was the funniest thing I ever see. The way yeou gut aout o’ there was acaution to cats!” ‘‘Oh, you vasn’t any greenness, neider!”’ stammered Hans. ‘‘You vas der foolishest dot I efer seen! You vos so green dot der horses try do ead me in der streed vor hay. TOP WEEKLY. Ven der man ask me vy I pring him der rock indo der saloon py, I tolt him dot I couldn’t trink it, bud I coult trink peer. Vere vos de funniness you seen in dot???’ “Oh, shet up!’? commanded Ephraim. “Shut ub, mine ownselluf! You peen avraid dot you expose my greenness! Yaw! Ven I see Vrankie I vill dell him somet’ings apout me! I vill dell him uf der money you gif to der locader, und uf der hole in der grount on der moundain site vot you dig und drop all our money Yaw! He vill t’ink dot you vas grass as greener! Und uf der liddle tree sthump mit legs stickin’ out vot dose mans make you belief vos a_ betrified chickens! You vos der betrified chickens ven you bay a tollar to seen dot! Und uf der time dot you try to drink oudt uf der hose spoud on der sdreet corner und der vater come und knock you der store vin- Vale, ef Vrankie tond din’k dot you vos a sucker-vishes mit a tenderfoot indo id. der in! you vill miss my. guess!’’ ‘*Shet up!’ ‘‘Und uf der time dot you gone into der resdaurand vot say, ‘A Dinner Like Your Mudder Used Der Cook!’ und you didded a sguash bie und a liddle dirty vater mit a coffee grount vloadin’ rount on der top vor zwei tollars! Oh, you vos der veller dot der confidential mans bull der eye ofer his vool efery tay in der veek !”? ‘“Shet up!’ Ephraim howled; and rising to his feet he lifted the fat lad. by the collar and kicked him half way across the trail. ; Hans came up, digging the grass and sand out of his mouth and vowing venge- anice. ‘You vos anodder! Und you couldt lick me mit my hands tied behint your packs quicker as I coult say Rop Jackinson !”’ “*Shet up! or by thutteration, I’ll kick you again! Yeou never could say Jack Robinson decent in yeour life!’’ ‘*Sp’akin’ av the dinner thot yer moth- senile Sagat BN aT igs eas ee ayes p PY 2 SES 7’ r RRR ae penance Sree : TEE: er used to cook makes me hungrier than iver!’ sighed Barney Mulloy. ‘‘Oi belave Oi c’u’d ate thot pitrified chicken av Oi e’u’d lay me two hands on it this min- ute!”’ “If you hadn’t gone so gol-durned crazy over the micar rocks we could have got aout o’ the Cripple Creek country ‘fore all our boodle wus gone, and had suthin’ to git hum on!’’ droned Ephraim to Hans. Hans turned siowly about and cast a comprehensive glance over the surround- ing country. The narrow trail played out on the ledge a little further down, and ap- parently came to an untimely end. **Uf der roat didn’d lose us!’’ he grunt- ed. ‘‘Vich vay vos der Crippled Greeks, eenyhow ?”’ Barney nodded in what he supposed to be the right direction. ‘Und der Bike’s Beak vot vas p’usted vos on der site mit his vhite head sdickin’ ub, und der. Cholera-aydo Sprinklings vos ofer dere. Yaw! Bud uf ve ton?d valk der rocks ofer how vos you to gid heem to me??? ‘‘By chaowder, we’ve got to git to it somehow !”’ ‘How vos you going to dooded id ?”’ ‘‘We moight roll down,’’ suggested the Irish lad. ‘‘Und smash yoursellufs indo meat minces! Oxcoose me!’’ His eyes: were still roving over the mountain side Suddenly he ducked down with a squawk of fear. Ephraim gave him a glance of con- tein pt. “Wut in thutter do yeou see naow?’’ **Tt vor Vrankie comin’ f’r us.’? “Oi dunno!’ laughingly suggested Barney. t’ see thot b’y. Wurra! Oi dunno av we’ll iver have that luck ag’in!”’ “Tt would be good f’r sore oyes **I’'d give all the money thet we drop- ped into thet hole aout in Cripple Creek to be able to set these peepers onto him!”’ TOP WEEKLY. Hans was peeping excitedly over a rock. “Inchuns!’’ he shrieked, dropping back with a gurgling cry. ‘Injuns yer gran’mother!’’ Gallup snorted. ‘‘By gum, yeou’re crazier’n you uster be! There ain’t been a redskin in this hull durn country fer ’steen years. Come daown an’ cool off, er by chaowder I'll hev to kick yeou ag’in!”’ ‘Inchuns!’’ Hans gurgled, rolling over and over to get away from the rock. “‘Hellup! murter! Inchuns!’’ Hans flung himself against Ephraim and seemed about to put his arms round the Yankee lad’s neck for protection. ‘‘Inchuns!’? he continued to gasp. ‘‘In- chuns vor sure! He seen id ?”’ ‘“Who seen whut? Leggo of me! Your upset stummick has upset yer head!’’ ‘‘T seen heem—an Inchuns!’’ A sound of approaching footsteps was heard. Ephraim drew back, after pushing Hans violently away. ‘*By thutter! there’s somethin’ aout there !’? ‘‘Whativer it is, b’gob! Oi’ll ate it, av it’s a bear or a cattymount, Oi’m thot hungry !’’ Barney declared, springing to his feet. Ephraim also got up; but Hans rolled farther away, and stowed himself behind a big rock, from which he ventured to peep at intervals, The footsteps apparently changed their direction and came toward that rock. Hans gave another squawk of .fear and again dived for Ephraim. At that moment a head appeared. {t was unmistakably the head of an In- dian. Then John Swiftwing came in sight, carrying his hat in his hand and scram- bling over the bouldered slope. Behind Swiftwing was Jack Ready, whose red-apple cheeks were redder than ever from the effects of the climb. ‘‘Whoob!?’ Hans shouted, changing suddenly from fear to joy and jumping TORS sre 4 TIP TOP WEEKLY. 2 safed, Efy!”’ . Barney Mulloy stared. up and down in his delight. ‘‘You vos ‘‘Av Oi ain’t crazy er dr’amin’, Oi’d loike to hov somebody gev th’ cr-rank av the movin’ pictures another turn and pro- jooce Merriwell—so Oi would, begobs! Wurra! this is great! Now we'll hov somethin’ to ate, if we hov to ate the vis- itors !”’ CHAPTER II. PHOTOGRAPHING A MIRAGE. Jack Ready stopped and put up his camera. ‘‘Magnificent!’? he whispered, loudly. **Just maintain that pose, will you, for half a second? If I can get a good shot at you we’ll be immortalized.’’ He pushed the button. John Swiftwing had come straight on, bare-headed, looking like a god of the wild nountains. Something in the strength of the high mountain air seemed to lift him above himself. Perhaps his thoughts were of the Pueblo of Taos and the New Mexican valleys, where the blue horizon is always mountain-notched and saw- toothed by mottled and peaked ranges. “Shake!’’ cried Ready, pushing his hand out to Gallup. ‘‘Shake! and we'll have the explanations afterward. If they are excessively long, we’ll divide them into installments and have them ‘con- tinued in our next!’ What are you doing here? How did you get here? And hav- ing got here, what do you intend to do?”’ He was pumping Ephraim’s hand up ‘and down, and the lank New Englander, with something suspiciously damp in the corners‘of his homely eyes, was gripping Ready as if he wanted never to let him go. **Begorra! we can ixplain how we kem to be here, but how we’re to git away would puzzle all the lawyers av Philly- delphy to eloocidate.. Av yez can’t en- loighten us, we’re in the divil’s own fix!”’ Barney had pushed forward and now took his turn at the serious business of handshaking, Hans Dunnerwust waddled up to John Swiftwing. ‘‘Py shimminy, I belief dot you vosa vildt Inchuns alretty yet. Yaw! dot vos a goot shoke on you, ain’d id? You vos a tamed Inchun vot vear shoes und a neck die und vos civilizationed.’”’ Swiftwing turned away, leaving Hans standing with hand extended and mouth open. ‘‘Vale! uf I ton’d vant do shake hants mit minesellufs ven I findt you und safe you vrom staryationing, id peen all right mit me, you pet! I nefer spent my moneys buyin’ a man to shake hants mit heemselluf!’’ Swiftwing sat down on a rock and looked at Ephraim. “Do I look so much like a wild In- dian ?’’ he was bitterly thinking. ‘‘Well, I felt like one a while ago, as I walked across the boulders with the piny wind blowing in my face. I suppose I looked like one. But I have been trying to think that my education. made me seem more white than red. She is more white than red—for she is half white by blood and all white by education !’’ Then the mountains faded and the con- versation seemed to drone into silence. Just for a moment. But that moment took him from the Colorado Mountains to Badger’s ranch in Western Kansas and to Ruby Henderson, the Cheyenne half-blood, who had there given him her love. When he came back, Jack Ready was shaking hands with Hans Dunnerwust, and the Dutch youtlr was hopping about on his fat, stumpy legs, wildly and ex- citedly giving speech to his joy. ‘‘We’ve been lost, b’gosh! an’ hain’t hed a ’tarnal thing to eat fer nigh about a day!’ he heard Ephraim explaining. sap ies : Le sab a Bg tt i P r i ; ; ‘ F iP: 4 7 i i . ‘PE ‘‘Hope you’ve gut haversacks some’eres with something gol-ding good in ’em! But where is Frankie ?’’ **Beoorra! We wor follyin’ a thrail to Colorado Sphrings and it rtin into thot hole in the rocks jist beyant!’’ came in the voice of Barney Mulloy. **And we couldn’t.dig it aout, no way we could fix it! The gol-dinged trai] stopped right there. Must ’v’ been a bear’s trail.’’ ‘‘Merriwell is in Coiorado Springs,’’ was Ready’s answer. ‘‘T‘hat is, he was there this morning. ”’ Dunnerwust gave a whoop of delight, Mulloy gave a step or two of an Irish jig, and the lank New Englander could hardly keep from shouting. ‘We haven’t anything to eat, but we can show you the way to Colorado Springs. That is, SQwiftwing can—I wouldn’t want to make rash promises for myself. _We’re on our way there. now. I’ve just had Swiftwing showing me over the mountains, hoping I’d get a camera snapshot at something worth while. The only thing worth while was you fellows as we came in sight of you. That was sim- ply great.”’ Gallup bent over Ready’s ear. ‘“That Injun looks like: a stat-yeou on a monument. Snap him, if yeou want somethin’ wu’th puttin’ intew a picture gallery.”’ ‘‘Oh, I wouldn’t dare to!’’ Ready whis- pered back. ‘‘If he should stab the camera with one of his scalping knife looks it would shatter the lens. ”’ Swiftwing fished into one of his pockets and drew out some strips of jerked beef, carefully wrapped in paper. ‘‘Hat it!’’ he said, extending the meat to Mulloy and indicating Hans and Eph- raim by a comprehensive nod. It was more a declaration of good will and friendship’ than mere words could have been. Swiftwing, accustomed to the fatigues TOP WEEKLY. 5 of the mountains and knowing the delays of tangled and bewildering trails, had, with the forethought of his race for such things, provided the meat for an emerg- ency and tucked it away, unobserved even by Ready. The beef was enough for a hearty lunch for two men, but it began to disappear with incredible quickness before the on- slaught of the hungry trio. **Look!”? The call came from John Swiftwing, who, seated on the rock, had been per- mitting his gaze to rove over the land- scape, though his thoughts were again with Ruby Henderson. Ready uttered an exclamation of sur- prise and delight. ‘‘Must be a mirage!’’ he said. ‘‘I never saw one before, but I’]] wager my next year’s allowance of spending money on the correctness of my diagnosis. ”’ The friends stopped in their attack on the jerked beef and turned about. When they looked in the direction indicated by Ready and Swiftwing they beheld a won- derful sight. The valley that stretched away almost at their feet, grassy, and with trees and little hills breaking the evenness of its surface, had disappeared in what looked to be a haze of bluish smoke. Some of the tree tops were visible, and they re- sembled a forest fringe on the further shore of a great smoky lake, that now filled half of the valley’s area. Near these forest trees stood two men—one mounted and the other on foot. They were of more than average size in appearance, and at first they were not clearly seen. But as the margins of the hazy blue lake drew more clearly defined, the forms and even the features of the men came out, not with great distinctness, but sufficiently so ‘ to mak *t possible to determine who the men were. ‘‘Sheridan Badger!’’ Ready exclaimed. The man on foot was an Indian of the 6 TIP blanket type, with feathers in his hair and bearing a bow and arrows. The man on horseback was a white man, and there could be no doubt that Jack Readv’s guess was correct. The man was Sheridan Badger, the wealthy ranchman and father of Buck Badger. Ready threw up his camera and pressed the button twice. ‘‘T never heard of a mirage -being pho- tographed! But is that a mirage ?”’ He turned to Swiftwing. The Pueblo nodded. ‘*Ves, that 1s a mirage! I have seen some like it, but not many. It is common to see blue lakes and rivers and such things out here; ‘but not often a thing like that!’ All were staring at the strange picture, which seemed to be uplifted from the ground. It appeared to be rising higher, and the figures wavered in the smoky atinosphere like paper figures blown on by a breeze. Stranger than all to Ready and the others who were unfamiliar with such Western plenomena, the horse was seen to move about and the man to bend forward as if talking to the Indian. ‘““But how can a murrage move, Oi dunno ?’’ queried Barney. ‘It’s merely a reproduction of soime scene that is actually taking place,”’ Ready explained. ‘‘Sheridan Badger is somewhere round here talking to that In- dian. Isn’t that right, Swiftwing?”’ The Pueblo nodded. ‘“T thought mirages were upside down in their scenery,’’ said, Ready. ‘‘Not often out here,’’ was Swiftwing’s answer. ‘‘Very seldom out here.”’ ‘‘A mirage is merely a mirroring of something that exists. The blue lake isa reflection in the mirage stratum of air of the blue sky up there; and you can see that the tops of the trees are the tops of real trees. On the sea, when a ship is shown by a mirage iu the sky, it, is al- ways the picture of a real ship. The’ship TOP WEEKLY. must exist somewhere to be seen in the mirage. ”?’ The figures were being elongated, and when Badger bent forward as if talking, and lifted his hand to slash his horse or his boot, the hand, as it went up, became strangely exaggerated and uncanny in ap- pearance. ‘‘He’s going!’’ Ready gasped, again clicking the button of his caimera to get a picture of the horseinan moving away through the blue, smoke-like air. The blue lake appeared to be extending its borders, and some of the tree clumps were becoming islands. The haze seemed to be thicker or more opaque, or some- thing of the kind, at the point into which the ranchman was riding, and it now swallowed him from sight, leaving the Indian standing on the lake-rimmed island alone. Ready ‘‘snapped’’ the Indian, who ap- peared to be looking after the ranchman, now invisible to the excited and interested watchers. ‘*Shimminy Ghristmas!’’ Hans guregled. ‘Took at dot!’ He reached out a fat and wobbly hand. Another form had appeared, rising, or rather walking, as it seemed, out of the rim of the blue lake, and approaching the Indian. < Jack Ready put down the camera and stared. John Swiftwing also showed some traces of excitement in his black eyes. “Herbert Hammersweil !”’ The words sounded as if mechanically forced from the lips of Ready. He caught his breath and turned toward Swiftwing, ‘Refuse me, gentle sir! But will you kindly tell me if I am dreaming dreams or seeing visions? Are we lotus eaters on the banks of the romantic Blue Nile? Or is that really Hammerswell ?’’ : He did not need an -answer. He saw that Swiftwing was as much excited as he. ‘‘He may not be far away,’’ said the Rn ane AS anil EAE - - - = TG ne Pree apo TIP Pueblo. spot we are looking at—right there out in ‘*He may even be in the very the,valley, near enough for us to see his face and figure. I think that isit. Be- cause, you see, the tree tops are there, without doubt. A common rifle would shoot to them, or that Apache could prob- ably shoot an arrow across to us!’’ ‘*Then it’s an Apache ?’’ **Yes.- A Jicarilla, I think.’’ He pronounced it Hickareea. ‘CA Inchuns?’’ squawked Hans, lifting a strip of the jerked beef unconsciously to his mouth and pushing it against his ear as he quickly turned his head. **Not so very wild!’’ said the Pueblo. ‘‘Half civilized, perhaps; but. you can never trust an Apache!’’ » His Pueblo heart made him hate the Apaches, who for generations had harried and murdered ‘his people, the peaceful village dwellers of the New Mexican val- leys of the Rio Grande. “T thought Hammerswell had left the country,’’ said Ready. ‘‘He cut out, right after the ball game which we played against the. Rocky Mountain Giants at Badger’s ranch, and I hoped he had gone for good. Merry’s aching to lay hands on him, and he’ll have him under arrest if he shows up. That’s what made me think he had left the country.”’ Hammerswell seemed to have begun talking to the Indian on the lake-rimmed island, | “I'd give something handsome to be able to hear what he is saying,’’ Ready whispered. Then he remembered that he was an amateur photographer out on a search for novelties for his lens, and, picking up his camera, he leveled it at the figures and began to take snapshots at them. “T don’t know that I can get anything he confessed. ‘‘That’s a queer light and too far away, even though out of these,’’ this camera is prepared for distances. But TOP WEEKLY. 7 I can make a try, and see later what de- velops.’’ : The borders of the lake were constant- ly extending, the water line was becom- ing hazy and ill-defined, the tree tops were submerging and the island was be- ing encroached upon. The men on the little contracting island appeared to grow taller and to take on grotesque shapes. Suddenly the grotesque Indian stepped back a few paces, lifted his bow and ap- peared to be aiming an invisible arrow at Hammerswell. Then Hammerswell was seen to pitch up his hands and fall. But he was up instantly, and going up to the Indian shook the bowman by the hand. It seemed as unreal as a scene out of Humpty Dumpty. Jack Ready had forgot to ‘‘snap’’ the camera. ‘‘Dot peats you!’’ said Dunnerwust, his eyes staring, and his jaws moving me- chanically as he chewed away on a strip of jerked beef. ‘*Is that some sort of a fantastic stage business out there?’’ Ready gasped. ‘‘I think I must be hpynotized.”’ The figures of Hammerswell and the Indian were drawn still higher by the mirage. They were slender as trees and half as tall as houses. ‘“This fellys kem West to grow up with the counthry!’’ the Irish lad humorously remarked. ‘‘By chaowder! I’ve seen queer things in circus side shows, but I never seen notthen like thet!’ Ephraim declared, showing amazement. ‘‘We won’t da’st to tell Merriwell ’baout this er he’ll think we’ve been soakin’ aour in- sides in Cripple Creek whiskey.”’ Then the island became covered by the encroaching blue lake, and the figures melted away in the haze. The watchers seemed to awake as from a dream. ‘“‘Gol-darndest thing I ever heard of!"! ‘“Poys, you veel sick at my sdomach |” his voice i 8 TIP TOP Hans gurgled. ‘‘Vos der somedings der matter mit dis mead dot make a veller’s eyes go dose vays?”’’ ‘‘T forgot to get a picture of that!’’ Ready confessed, drawing a long breath. There was a strange look in Barney’s face. ‘*Oi niver believed in ghosts!” he wlfis- pered. ‘‘Niver before to-day. Av thot wasn’t a ghost show, will some av yez be good enough to inloighten me as to phat it wor?’ . ‘It was a mirage,’’ said Swiftwing.. ‘‘I wonder where those fellows were and what that meant? Didit mean anything ?”’ CHAPTER III. SOMETHING ABOUT THE RED BOWMEN. ‘*Could that have been one of the Red Bowmen ?’’ Jack Ready asked. ‘*Who air thim ?’’ Barney demanded. ‘Dot vos a pow redman vor sure!’? ejaculated Hans. “Tain’t so dinged sure thet it wus a man at all!’’ Ephraim declared. ‘‘I’ve heerd o? fellers havin’ their legs pulled, but by gum! I never heerd of any havin’ their heads pulled till they stretched-aout as tall as a haouse!’’ ‘‘Who vos der mans mit der ret pows?”’ Hans queried. “*T don’t understand that. they have red bows—simply Indians with bows,’’ said Ready. ‘‘Indian archers. It is a sort of Wild West exhibition down in Colorado Springs. They’ve been there for a week, and Sheridan Badger has been trying to get up an archery contest between them and certain members of Merriwell’s Ath- letic ‘Team. ‘‘Merry and Sheridan Badger visited the show, and. when they came away Merry said he was sure, from some bow shooting he had seen, Swiftwing do, that Swiftwing could beat the best archer in the lot. ‘Then some bows were obtained, and Swiftwing, Merry and the rest of us WEEKLY. showed our wonderul ‘ability in the arch- ery line of business, with the fesult that Sheridan Badger has been shaking a fist- ful of money under the nose of the pro- prietor of the Red Bowmen, bantering him for a contest.”’ He grew silent, as if pondering the question. Swiftwing stared at the chang- ing mirage. ‘‘By thutter! Dll bet thet the feller 3adger wus talkin’ tew wus one of them chaps!’ Gallup declared. ‘“Ves,’’ said Ready. ‘‘The same idea.is slowly taking possssion of the gray mat- ter of my head-piece. Perhaps that was the leader of the Red Bowmen! The pro- prietor of the exhibition is a white man, though, I think. Merry was talking yes- terday with a white man in front of the hotel, and when he rolled in he said that Badger was still trying to make arrange- ments to stack us up against the red archers. prietor. We'll find out all about it when we get to the Springs. ”’ 3ut maybe that wasn’t the pro- ‘‘Bud der shoodings?’’ gnestioned Hans. ‘‘Der bow redman shooded der od- der vellers; und der odder yvellers shump ub shust like a deat mans and shake heem der hants by. How vos dot?’’ ‘fA. loive man, ye mane, ye Dutch chase!’’ growled Barney. ‘‘Shud ub, you vlannel-moud Irish! Who vos dooding this dalking pusiness alretty now ?”’ ‘*T don’t stand-under it!’’ said Ready. ‘‘Refuse me! My cerebrum isin sucha whirl now that I don’t know which one of the Athletic Team Iam. ‘That looked funny!’ ‘‘Durnation queer!’’ grunted Gallup. Swiftwing was still staring at the mir- age. The haze was clearing away and the tops of the trees were rising out of the blue. ‘‘Oi wonder if there’s annything to eat in thot hotel down be the Springs?’ said ee iN i gg Og site accesses tata le tices ot iceetiniernteaa in isaac laa TRE RR | } I a snveiarnt rified chikens vot I spend a tollar on—— _— ic aesat cbesal OR bie. nticls tapiaoligarreamesceneieane 245 TOP Barney. ‘‘Oi’m still hunrgy to the tips av me aching toes!’’ ‘Vere Vrankie vos dere vos alvays somedings to ead me, you pet!’’ Hans confidently chirped. ‘‘Danged good thing, tew,’’ Gallup re- marked. ‘‘Mebbe we kin borry enough money of him tew take us back Kast. I ain’t so hungry as I wus, but this hull confaounded business makes me wish I wus to hum on the farm. We lost every red cent aout there in Cripple Creek !’’ ‘“Yaw! Efy blew eferydings indo dose holes in der grount!’’ Hans sputtered. ‘Puet-iip!’ ‘‘Und der confidential mans skin heem oudt uf——’? ‘Will yeou shet up, er hey I gutter choke ye!’’ Gallup howled. ‘‘Yeou Dutch sour krout, ef yeou tell any of your tarnal lies abaout me I’ll break your back into sixteen pieces! I will, by gum! 1 won’t stand any slanderin’ frum anybody!”’ ‘“Who vos der slanderationer!’? Hans “Uf you tolt apout dose bet- ’) squawked. ‘‘Shet up!’ Swiftwing arose from the rock and glanced at the sun. “It’s a good distance to Colorado Springs,’’ he remarked. ‘‘We’d better be going.’’ Then all got up,.and, following their Pueblo guide, began to make the descent of the mountain slope, their minds busied with the strange things they had beheld in the mirage. When they had descended some dis- tance, they came out from behind a rocky spur and again looked over the valley. The mirage had disappeared entirely. The valley was freed of its lake-like illusions. But its further boundary was indistinct and hazy, and just above the grass there was a smoky shimmer, Jike heat rising, which made Hans believe that the grass. must be on fire. Then the trail which Swiftwing had WEEKLY. found took them again out of sight of the scene of the mirage. An hour later they were close under the shadow of Cheyenne Mountain, and some- time afterward they entered the streets of Colorado Springs. CHAPTER IV. MERRY’S ROOM. In his room at The Antlers, one of the leading hotels of Colorado Springs, Frank Merriwell heard the strange story of the mirage, and it disturbed him. He had fancied that Herbert Hammerswell had disappeared from that section of the coun- try. ‘*If I could see Sheridan Badger I could ascertain if that was one of the Red Bow- men,’ he said. ‘‘It may have been an In- dian who has no connection with the show, but there are no Indians now living in these mountains. ’’ ‘*Vou’ve challenged the Red Bowmen ?”’ said Hodge. ‘‘Ves; the challenge was sent and ac- cepted early this morning. We are to have an archery match, and I feel sure that Swiftwing can do up the best of that outfit. We have four days to practice in, and we must see what we can do in that time.’’ ‘‘Oh, I can hit a fly on a wall a hun- dred yards away in that time!’’ Ready airily declared. ‘‘You’ll find that I’m the modern Robin Hood!’’ Hans stared at him in amazement. ‘‘Oxcuse me!’’ he said, drawing back. ‘But I tidn’t knowed dot you vos a tvief |"? ‘“A thief?” Merriwell laughed. ‘“That’s a good joke, Hans! I didn’t suppose you could make such a pun.”’ ‘‘A bun! a choke! Py Chorge, I ton’d seen der meanness uf dot! Uf a mans say dot he has peen roppin’ anodder mans py SS 10 LP (PO der name uf Hoot, vere vas der funniness dot you seen ?”’ ‘“Hans has joined the Ancient and Hon- orable Body of Joke-Smiths!’’ squealed Danny, thumping himself on the chest. **Let’s sue him for trespass, Binky!’’ Bink glared at him. ‘Why is a joke-smith like a dweller of the Tennessee mountains?’? Danny de- manded. No one answered. ‘*Because both are gatherers of chest- nuts! Come at me with something, some- body. ’’ Hans was angry. ““Uf der pow redmans had shooded you und kilt you deat I voult gif heem a golt metal mit your name on id, saying, ‘Shodded py Der Vool-Killer!’ ”’ “Hit him again!’ squealed Bink. ‘‘Hit him again, and we’ll give you the medal.”’ ‘‘No matter who beats in that contest, we are going to have a fine time!’’ -Merri- well declared. ‘‘Buck and Winnie are here now—arrived from the ranch this morning; and Inza and Elsie came yester- day! With Hans, Barney and Gallup we’ve got together as jolly a company as could be scared up between the two oceans, ’’ “‘And they wiil all scatter again next week!’ said Hodge. ‘‘That’s the: only unpleasant thing about it!” ‘Tf we had Jack Diamond with us, and Juliet and Dolph Reynolds!’’ suggested Ready. ‘““‘We may strike them somewhere on the home trip. I had a letter from Dia- mond to-day.’’ Ready winked and glanced at Rattleton, who was looking out of the window and seemed not to have heard the comment about Diamond and Juliet Reynolds. ‘“That fellow’s in love—Diamond, I mean! Another case of Romeo and— Juliet !”’ ‘‘And that Indian is in love!’’ said Greg Carker. ‘‘Never fall in love, fellows! 4 WEEKLY. It makesa fool ofaman. Swiftwing hasn’t been the same Pueblo since he met Ruby Henderson !”’ ‘‘T was in love once!’’ sighed Danny. ‘“The love microbe is in the atmosphere! Even ships get it!”’ Bink glared at him. But Danny was not to be put down. After ‘4 moment of silence, he mildly and meekly inquired: ‘‘Can anybody tell me when the love microbe has ‘attacked a ship? In other words, what would be the indications that a ship is in love??? ‘It’s when she seeks a consort,’’ an- swered Merriwell, who now and then liked to joke as well as any member of the jolly Athletic Team. ‘“Excellent!’? Danny squealed. ‘‘You just missed it.’’ Greg Carker woke up and the bored look went out of his face. For a few min- utes he was ready to forget his schemes forthe redemption of society, and did not care to chant his dirges about the down- trodden of the earth, or picture the world transformed by the acceptance of his theories. ‘‘It’s when she wants a inate!”’ he said. “JT should say that ought to be a good in- dication that a ship is in love.”’ ““Whoop!’’ squealed Danny. ‘‘I didn’t know we were so ‘stocked with little jokers. This pack of cards doesn’t seem to hold anything else. ‘That is good— great! But it isn’t the answer that I coined out of my little brain as the proper 33 one. ‘“You never coined a joke out of your own brain in your life!’’ Bink snapped. ‘Do you want to call me a falsifier? Do you mean to insinuate that I can’t tell the truth? Why, you——”’ ‘‘T don’t mean to say that you can’t tell the truth. I don’t know about that; you 1) might if you should ever try! Danny fell over into Gallup’s arms. x slab ase cesta ees isha lone sino senegal — degen ses iP ‘‘A ship is in love when she’s tender to a man-of-war!’’ guessed Browning. “Wow! I don’t know but that’s the best of all!’’ cried the little joker who had started the guessing. ‘‘T’ender—do you notice that?—tender to a man-of- war! But my answer is still different.’ “It’s when she’s str-str-str-struck by a heavy sw-swell!’? Joe Gamp stuttered. Bink Stubbs could not keep up his anger. He had to come into the game. ‘‘T should say it’s when she hugs the wind !’’ ‘“Wow! that’s the worst yet. Throw him out of the window!”’ ; Merriwell again put in an oar. “‘Tt’s when she runs down after a smack.”’ ‘It’s when she makes much of a fast sailor,*’ There was a lull in the storm of an- grunted Browning. swers. ‘*’The answer I had stored in my little think tank is this,’’ Danny squealed. ‘fA ship may be said to be in love when she is attached to a buoy!”’ ‘Oh, the Liner she’s a lady an’ the Man-o’-War’s ’er husband!’ chanted Ready. Carker went back instantly into the land of socialism. ‘There is truth in that poem of Kip- ling’s. The ‘little carzo boats that sail the wet seas roun’—the great working classes, you knqw! for that’s the mean- ing—they’ve got to work or die! ‘The Liner she’s a lady, an’ her route is cut and dried; The Man-o’-War’s ’er ’usband, an’ ’e al- ways keeps beside; The Man-o’-War’s ’er ’usband, an’ always ’andy by; But, oh, the little cargo boats! they’ve got to load or die.’’ ’e’s There was a rap on the door. “Come in!’ Merriwell- cheerily called. The door was pushed open, and Sheri- dan Badger walked into the room. TOP WEEKLY. 11 ‘‘T met that young villain, Hammers- well, on the mountains this afternoon. If was on foot or I would have captured the scoundrel. I called to him, but he would but he got away from me. Some way or oth- not stop. Then I chased after him, er, the sight of him made me feel un- easy !”’ Merry gave Badger an earnest look. ‘‘Were you talking to one of the Red 30wmen out in the mountains this morn- ing??? Badger was surprised. **Yes,’’ he answered, ‘‘I was. Dut how did you know?’’ CHAPTER V. A SHOT IN THE SNOW. Smack! plunk! crack! ‘‘Oh, this is great!’ gurgled Jack Ready. ‘‘This is better than seeing the scenery! Now, I hit you again!’’ Whack! A wad of wet snow collided with his shoulder, and he went over with’ a howl. “‘Uf you dooded it ag’in——”’ Plunk! Another wad of wet snow, hurled by the hand of Joe Gamp, plugged up the open mouth of Hans Dunnerwust and sent him rolling on, the rocks. The snow ball was not liard—it could not properly be called. a snowball—and Hans came up, clawing the slushy stuff out of his mouth and vowing vengeance. ‘‘Uf you dooded it ag’n——’’ An armful descended on his neck in a ° chilling flood, and his threatening words ended in a squawk. The Athletic Team and their friends were snowballing on the top of Pike’s Peak. They had made the ascent in the queer cars of the cog railway, which runs from a point near the Ute Iron Spring in Man- itou to the top of the famous mountain, and they had expected to enjoy wonder- satellite 0m wanes SE 12 TIP ful and far-reaching views—for from the top of Pike’s Peak the great main range of the Rockies to the westward lies open like the page of a book, and to the east- ward the illimitable plains stretch away as far as eye can reach. But they had been granted no more than one good look, when one of the sudden, suinmer snow storms, which generate so unexpectedly on the hoary, rocky summit, whirled across the great bouldered ledges and en- veloped them. In less than five minutes the Summit view, and a snowy pall hid the surround- House was shut out from ing mountain world. But the summer snow balling that fol- lowed was ‘‘more fun than seeing the scenery,’’ as Jack Ready put it. Gamp made another rush at the fat youth with a small armful of snow which he had scraped up, but Hans tripped him, and he tumbled down, burying his nose in the snow with which he had expected to deluge Dunnerwust. Dunnerwust threw himself astride of the stuttering New Englander and began to rub snow into Gamp’s hair. ‘‘Whoob!’’ he squawked. ‘‘You vos a proncho riting mit a cowpoy on my pack! Whoob! How you like heem, eh ?”’ Gamp gave a flounce and Dunnerwust went off like a bag of meal. . Ready was snowballing Frank Merri- Swiftwing came to his aid, and to Merriwell’s well. Bruce Browning leaned side to assist him. Soon the party was divided into two sections, each battling the other with the snow. On Frank’s side, in addition to srowning, were Bart Hodge, Dunnerwust, rallup, Rattleton and Bink Stubbs; while Jack Ready had for his fighting force Swiftwing, Carker, Gamp, Mulloy, Buck Badger and Danny Griswold—seven on a side. The ground was already well covered, and the snow continued to descend in such quantities that the opposing parties TOP WEEKLY. seemed like white monsters struggling in the storm. ““Take that, you rat!’’ squealed Bink, as he sent a ball at Danny. Danny dodged cleverly and sent back a that with a thud Bink’s jaw. ‘‘You long-legged Yankee, I’ll sus-sus- ball landed against sus-soak you one naow!’’ shrieked Joe Gamp, as he threw furiously at Gallup. The soft bali came so suddenly that Gallup had only time to lower his head and catch it on the top of his hat. “Take thet fer your sarse, yeou slab- New Gallup howled, and the back woodsinan !”’ spat’’ of the ball told-that his aim was true. sided England c¢ Then there was a-rush, and the oppos- ing forces came together in a wild scram- ble, which mixed arms and legs, bodies and masses of snow, in a seemingly inex- tricable mass. Ready was drawing his party back for breath and to get ready for another as- sault. His side seemed to have got the worst of it in the collision, and he was general enough to perceive that, tempor- arily at least, discretion was the_ better part of valor. Then the soft snowballs flew again, as the battle at long range recominenced. Suddenly Merriwell perceived that on Ready’s side there were eight snow-cov- ered figures, where there should The snow was falling thickly, yet he was able to perceive which was the newcomer. The latter stood at a little distance -back’ of Ready’s fighting line, and he did not stop to scoop up snow and mold it into soft, quickly-made balls. He seemed to have astick in his hands. Then the stick went up. Frank saw that it was a gun, and it seemed to be aimed straight at him. Bang! A rifle cracked; but Merriwell, perceiv- ing that the weapon was: aimed at him, have been only seven. had thrown himself quickly forward on nets: OM noes SeenON AUTEN I OS ge en n ee Seetiveetene ete } i i } t ee eee TIP TOP WEEKLY. 13 his face, and the hastily-fired. bullet had sped harmlessly over his head. ‘‘Hammerswell!’’ he gasped, and dashed from the snow balling line in the direc- tion of the miscreant. He had not seen Hammerswell’s face. It had been indistinct—either veiled by the falling snow or covered by a handker- stuck. Yet the form, and the peculiar motion made chief to which the snow had when the miscreant pitched the gun up to fire, convinced Merriwell that Hammers- well was the fiend who had sought his life. Without an across the snow-covered rocks of. the sum- explanation, he sprang mit, resolved to capture the rascal. The two parties were thrown into the wildest excitement by the report .of the rifle, the dashing away of the rifleman, and Merriwell’s mad leap across the rocks after him. The snow balling came to an instant end. ‘‘Who was it? What did it mean?”’ These and a dozen other questions filled the air. Every one turned in the direction taken by Merriwell and the youth ‘he was pur- suing. Ready plunged after the two, and others streamed excitedly at Ready’s heels. ‘Vos dose a Ret Powman ?’’ squawked Hans, dropping down on the rocks and trying to hide himself behind the big form of Browning; for Bruce, not knowing what to do, had so far done nothing. “Guyg-gug-gug-goshfry ? Gamp stuttering. | “Git up, you dinged wooden-headed Dutchman!’ Ephraim loudly command- ed. ‘‘Wouldn’t nobuddy take the trouble to shute yeou!”’ “T thought I heard Frank say Ham- merswell!’’? said Bruce. ‘‘I hope he’ll catch the rascal! I’d follow if I knew which way to go, or if I didn’t feel sure that I’d break my confounded neck over these rocks!’ was Merriwell and the youth he -was chas- ing, together with Ready, Bart Hodge, and others who had streamed after them, were already out of sight, hidden by the falling snow. The whistle of the engine of the cog railway was heard. ‘*That tells us the way to the train, anyhow !’’ grunted Bruce, wliose head had been made to feel dizzy by the battling rush of the snowball contest and the ex- citing incident that had broken so sharply into the sport. ‘“But we don’t train any want—want any train until Merry and the others come hat back !’’ sputtered Rattleton. “If he brings thet air feller, durned if we don’t hang him!’’ growled Gallup. ‘“*You mean Hammerswell ?’’ him up into blood- “We'll cuc-cuc-cuc-cut gug-gug-giblets!’’ was hirsty declaration. Ganip’s ‘“He von’t shooded at anodder mans like me!’ said Hans, getting up and try- ing to look through the thick blanket of snow over Bruce’s shoulder. ‘‘Vos dose a Red Powman mit a guns?”’ Ready came hurrying into view. Hodge came up the slope from another direction. ‘‘T thought I’d lost you!’ he gasped, while his face looked troubled. ‘“‘Where is Merry?’’? Browning de- manded. The snow is so thick you can’t see anything. I’m afraid he’ll get lost, chasing that fellow. It was Ham- merswell, I think.’ ‘Yes,’ said Bruce, ‘‘Merry said Ham- merswell !’’ *‘T don’t know. CHAPTER VI. HAMMERSWELL’S FLIGHT. Since his disappearance from Green Valley Ranch after the defeat by Merri- well’s men of the baseball team known as the ‘‘Broncho Busters,’? or Rocky Moun- j “1 of | i ltl als tain Giants, Herbert Hammerswell had been making his home at Manitou, the at the base of Pike’s Pcak, a short distance from mountain-walled summer resort Colorado Springs. He had not been liv- ing there openly, for he feared arrest at the hands of Merriwell on one of the many charges which he knew Frank could bring against him. Hence he passed his days and nights in stealthy living, spending much of his time out on the mountain slopes or in wandering through the can- yons and up the old Ute Trail, while he planned and schemed for some means of wreaking vengeance on Merriwell. He had wildly wagered ten thousand dollars that the Broncho Busters could beat Merriwell’s Athletic ‘T'eam—the wager having been made with the young English plunger, Dolph Reynolds, anc Hammerswell had lost. * Hammerswell had been on the down- ward path for a long time, but his descent He had estranged Delancy Livingston, tlie one had never been so swift as now. friend he had inade this summer, by his drinking habits, and he had lost nearly all of the great fortune accumulated so labotiously and in so mean a manner by his father, the late Artemus Hammers- well. ‘The loss of the ten thousand made him realize that he was on the borderland of poverty. But, having taken the downward plunge, he could not stop. Liquor seemed to have become a necessity to him. He drank to keep from thinking of his pres- ent condition, he drank to keep up his spirits, he drank to enable him to plan out something that might bring about Merriwell’s downfall, and he drank be- cause he had lost the power to quit drink- ing. The more he drank the more he hated Merriwell. * See Tip Top Weekly, No. 230, ‘‘Frank Merri- well’s Battery; or, Taming the Broncho Busters, ’’ 14 TIP TOP WEEKLY. That morning he had taken a carriage and had been driven up the winding car- riage road to the summit of Pike’s Peak, his mind filled with plans for Merriwell’s He carried a rifle with him, not for the purpose of hunting, but be- little Winchester made him look like a Western destruction, cause he vainly fancied that the mountaineer. He did not expect to see Merriwell on the top of Pike’s Peak. If he had expect- ed such a meeting he would have avoided it, for he had developed other plans against Frank which he was now trying to work out. But Pike’s Peak is so noted a resort and is so frequently visited by people summering in or visiting Colorado Springs that a little thought would have told him the top of the famous mountain was a good place to anticipate such a meeting. The carriage was in waiting for him, and he was strolling about near the house on the summit when the cog railway train puffed up, and he saw Merriwell and the Athletic Team descend from the cars with their friends. Instantly Hammerswell hurried away, without being observed by them. He did not know what to do. He could not reach the carriage without showing himself to Frank, and that he feared meant arrest. So he kept out of sight, now and then, venturing to take a look from behind some great boulder. Then the snow squall struck the top of the mountain. The snow storm brought an idea to Hammerswell, and’ he moved nearer. The snowballing began. His hate burn- ed as he heard the shouts of the young fellows engaged in the sport. He moved nearer, clutching his rifle. His brain was crazed by the liquor he had been almost constantly pouring down his throat since morning. ‘The desire of the murderer had taken possession of his brain, He felt that he was a ruined man; and the thought made him reckless and ict tig fe aetihigas a cannon cept aici : 7a ar Re ee eee eee y | See ee His almost gone; his character was gone; he desperate for the time. money was was a mental, moral and physical wreck. He realized it, and he insanely believed that Merriwell was the cause of it all. He determined to kill Merriwell, even if he had ta hang for it. Yet he believed that under the shelter of the falling snow he could shoot Frank down and escape, and no one would know who fired the fatal shot He could claim that he became lost in the storm, and in that way explain why he had not returned to the carriage, and he could make his way down the mountain in some manner after the storm had ceased. He rather felt these things than rea- soned them out. He drew closer and closer to the shout- ing snowballers, and, almost before he knew it, he saw the two lines arrayed against each other, filling the air with fly- ing snowballs. Seized by a wild impulse, he stepped quickly behind Ready’s line, threw up the rifle and took a shot at Merirwell, feeling sure he could not miss him; and then, turning blindly about, he plunged away through the snow over the rocks. He heard cries and calls, and the voices of those in pursuit. Fear lent speed to his feet as he flew along, swinging the rifle and not knowing the direction he was taking. Yet he believed he had killed Merriwell. Then, wheeling about to ascertain who his pursuers were, he saw Merriwell him- self, looking large and unnatural through the white falling curtain, and with a wild shriek, fled on, chattering that he had seen Frank’s spirit and that it was pursu- ing him. ‘ Merriwell plunged after Hammersell, hoping that he could lay hands on the miscreant. ‘He runs like an Indian sprinter!”’ was Frank’s thought, as he tore along after the frightened youth, leaping and and boulders he could not WEEKLY. 15 scrambling over the great rocks that fill the top of the mountain, falling often, but springing up each time, and continu- ing the chase. That sight of strength and fleetness to the limbs of Her- Merriwell gave new bert Hammerswell. As he leaped on, he seeined almost to fly. He took no thought of direction. How he got over the stones told. in front of him he went blindly at it, like a hunter have Whenever he saw a big g rock taking a fence. If he fell in getting over it, he sprang up again, oblivious of his bruises. The rifle dropped from his hand, but he did not stop to recover it. "He sawa chasm before him, and went across it like He stumbled and fell in the snow; then jumped up and fled a bounding chamois. on again in terror. When he stopped, he realized that he had distanced his pursuer. The snow was falling about him and upon him white veil.” He could not see ten yards No sound broke the stillness of a soft away. the solitudes of the great mountain. His eyes fell on a large white shape, and he shivered. He though it was the form of a man—perhaps of Merriwell. Then he caught his breath in a gasp of relief. The snowy shape was but an up- thrust spur of rock. CHAPTER VII. LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN. When Merriwell realized that he had Hammerswell and sought to retrace his way to the top of the been distanced by mountain, he found that he was lost. Without thoroughly considering the matter, one would be led to think that nothing would be easier for one on the side of a mountain than to make his way to the top. He might do so, if the moun- tain were only a hill, by merely continu- ing to ascend. But in the case of a great 16 TIP TOP mountain like Pike’s Peak, covering miles of territory, the thing is quite different. Merriwell started to retrace his way, taking what seemed to him to be the right direction. -He knew he was ascend- ing; but soon the slope up which he was going reached its highest point and de- scended abruptly. He followed this down, scrambling and falling, for the snow made the rocks slip- pery, and again climbed up a slope. In a little-while he became sure that he In fact, the suspicion came to him that he was really was not getting any higher. going down the side of the mountain. Which side, however, he did not know. ‘‘T may be going toward Cripple Creek, instead of toward Mantiou or Colorado Springs!’ was his thought. The snow was not falling so thickly now, yet it still prevented him from see- ing any great distance. Not satisfied to sit down on the rocks, for he realized that night was coming on, he continued to climb up and down slopes and leap fissures; now and then stopping to funnel his hands into a sort of megaphone and send out a call. There was no answer to the calls. He was still above timber line, and the wetting he had received from the snow- We balling and from the snow that had stuck ie - to his clothing was unpleasant. Worse than this, a strong wind began to rise, Hi and he was soon chilled through and through. **T was a fool for chasing after that fel- low!’’ was his reflection. ‘‘Yet I thought it possible to catch him by a quick burst ‘of speed. I wonder what has become of him? He also must be lost somewhere on the mountain, for no one could make his way with any certainty in this snow storm. ”’ By and by the snow ceased to fall. Its character seemed to be somewhat different here. Perhaps that was because the air was so much colder. At any rate, the WEEKLY. snow was more like. icy sand, with frozen lumps init. These lumps and sandy par- ticles had gathered in beds in the hollows, and Frank plowed through them with a crunching sound. The wind grew fiercer and colder. It searched through his clothing in a dis- agreeable, cutting way. He shivered and felt his teeth chatter. He continued his hard tramp forward, seeking to go downward instead of up- ward, for he had discovered that he could not return to the summit; and he knew that if forced to camp for the night, it would be much warmer on the lower slopes than. on the higher. This was not a winter snow storm, and he knew, consequently, that it had not extended to the foot of the mountain. He hoped to reach the lower. limit of the snow area soon—at least before dark. Anyway, he felt that he must descend as far as tim- ber line, for he would need a fire and plenty of fuel, if the night should prove to be very cold. Merriwell was always self-reliant and self-helpful. He did not fear a night on Pike’s Peak, though he would much have preferred his pleasant room at The Ant- lers. His chief fear was that some mem- ber or members of the Athletic Team— perhaps Hodge—had- chased down the mountain after him when he was in pur- suit of Hammerswell, and would find himself also lost in the storm with night coming on. 7 As for himself, he felt that he could camp when night came, and make his way down thé mountain and to Manitou the next day. The air grew marvelously clear after the storm passed. Just below him Frank saw timber and picked his way down to it. All round were small, undulating ridges and peaks, some of them rocky and bare, others timbered, yet all part of the great mountain mass. Then he reached timber line. In spite \ of his exertions, he was chilled. . His clothing was wet and his condition un- coffifortable. . Therefore, having come to the conclu- sion that he could not get down the mountain that evening, he hunted for a place under the lee of a cliff; and, having found it, he tore to pieces a dead aspen and collected enough other wood from fallen pine trees to last him through the night. Having done this, he built a rous- ing fire, warmed and dried himself and his clothing as well as he could, and curled up by his camp-fire for a night’s rest and sleep. So night came, with the wind scream- ing through the pines and aspens, some of which had begun to take on the tints of autumn. Afar off a wolf howled, and nearer at hand a mountain lion sent out its woman-like scream. Metriwell heaped more fuel on the fire; then, feeling drowsy and comfortable, he burrowed close against the rocky wall and fell asleep. When he awoke the sun was shining genially in his face. Above him was’ the summit of Pike’s Peak, wrapped in its blanket of snow, while below and about him were the undulating ridges of the lower mountain slopes, with here and there the early tints of autumn making the green of the pines and the gold of the aspens flaunting Hibernian banners. As he roused up he heard the yelping and snarling of a coyote. .He had more than once heard these beasts when in the West, but there was now something in the sound that made him shiver. He sprang out of his bed by the cliff and hurried along, seeking a view of the creature. It is not usual fora single coyote to attack any animal, unless it is sure it-can easily overcome the animal, for the coyote is a - cowardly brute. But the sounds told Frank that this coyote was leaping at something. Then he heard a sound which resem- bled a human cry-of fear; and, to his in- TIP TOP WEEKLY. ae tense astonishment, as he turned a rocky point he saw that the coyote was leaping at Herbert Hammerswell. Hammerswell had seen the thin column of blue smoke that still rose from Merri- well’s fire and had been coming toward it, thinking it the camp of a hunter. : He, too, had been lost on the mountain side, and he had passed a terrible night, shiv- ering at the call of the wild animals and chilled to the bone, for he had not been able to make a fire. As he pushed on, a coyote had risen up suddenly beside a rock and leaped at him with such a snarl and such a tleaming of white teeth that he was driven half insane by the attack. He was now retreating, and trying to beat the beast back with a club. Strange- ly enough, the coyote pursued him, leap- More than once he knocked it down, but it rose and ing at him again and again. flew at him with a snapping snarl that made his blood run cold. Merriwell had picked up a heavy club as he climbed over the rocks, and he saw that he would probably have abund- ant use for it. The coyote’s jaws were dripping with foam—a thick, stringy foam —and its eyes were beady and filled with a strange fire. Its snarl was more like the quick yelping bark of a dog than like that of coyote. ‘“The beast is mad !’’ That was the thought that fairly stilled the pulsations of Frank’s heart. The Colorado Springs papers of the past week had held accounts of a rabid coyote that had been seen in the moun- .tains a short time before, and Merriwell knew that this was the brute referred to. The beast was suffering from hydro- phobia, and its bite meant sure death to the one bitten. He stopped as if paralzyed, and his cheeks whitened. Not for fear of what might befall himself, but because of the fate he in that moment fancied would be TEE eT oo ae aOR eee a a TE REIN pe eee 18 TIP TOP WEEKLY. Hammerswell’s. He disliked Hammer- swell: The fellow had tried to kill him, the last*of a series of as cowardly assaults as were ever made against a man’s life and character. He wanted to bring about Hammerswell’s arrest. Yet Herbert Hammerswell was a hu- man being, even though a villainous imis- creant, and the fate that threatened him was too horrible for thought. Merriwell would have sougitt with all his powers to save the vilest creature in the world from such a fate. **Don’t let it bite you!’’ he called; and, leaping forward, swinging the heavy club, he hastened to Herbert’s assistance. CHAPTER VIII. THE BATTLE WITH A MAD COYOTE. Merriwell’s experience, gained in his fight with a rabid dog in the school days at Fardale, made him cautious in his ad- vance on the mad coyote. Herbert was retreating step by step, swinging the club. He had heard Frank’s call and knew that the one coming to his assistance was Mer- riwell. Yet, in that moment of peril, he welcomed the thought that one like Frank. Merriwell was at hand to render him help, He sent up shout after shout, which were both calls for assistance and yells hurled at the head of the fierce beast. Frank stopped when still some distance from the scene of the strange combat, and, stripping off his coat, wound it.in a thick mat round his left arm fora shield. He had not time todo more than this, then hastened on again. ‘Help!’ Hammerswell bellowed. The coyote flew at him, with the froth foaming over its jaws. Herbert stepped backward, whirling the club, and, strik- ing his heel against a rock, tumbled down. Frank felt his heart in his throat, as he saw the rabid beast fly at the prostrate youth. But Herbert gave a quick flounce, and, swinging the club with a backward lunge, managed tosend it against the bruge’s head and beat it ‘off again, just when it seemed about to bury its teeth in his flesh. The club fell out of Hammerswell’s hand and slipped clatteringly along the rocks. Herbert uttered a yell of despaw. With a bound, Merriwell was at his side. One blow knocked the beast a yard away. Herbert scrambled up and turried to tun. “Stay and help me fight the brute! He’s coming again!’ But Hammerswell only screeched out in fear and scampered on as fast as his legs would carry him. Merriwell had no more than time to turn when the fierce beast flew at him, making a wild rush that it seemed noth- ing ‘ould resist. The blow he had given it appeared to have no more effect on it It seemed Its eyes than the fall of a snowflake. insensible to injuries or pain. were burning wickedly; short, sharp yelps were coming from its frothing throat; and its sliuny teeth gleamed like the white tusks of a wild boar. Frank swung at it with the heavy club, but -it leaped aside, avoiding ‘the blow. It came again at him instantly, and again he struck. The blow was a glancing one, in which the club appeared to slip from the brute’s skull as from a slippery stone. Then the brute flung itself on the youth with a vindictiveness that cannot be im- agined. All the time those quick sharp yelps, like a dog’s, yet so unlike, were issuing from its frothing mouth, and its white teeth were snapping together in fury. It sprang at. Merriwell’s throat. He stepped backward and tripped, and fora moment it seemed that the brute was real- ly hanging to his.neck; but Frank threw up the arm covered with the coat and hurled the coyote backward. ' vw i k ~~ + : SEP POP It sunk its teeth deeply into the coat. It could not hang on there, however, and fell sprawling. But its fury remained unsubdued. It had the venomous hate of a blind rattle- snake, with more than the snake’s fury. It came again, yelping in that awful way. Again Merriwell hurled it back. He dropped his club and stooped to get it, and the brute threw itself at him again. But a leap backward took him beyond its snapping teeth. It jumped again, leaping this time at short range, and the poised club came down on its head with stunning force. It seemed dazed and wobbly; but be- fore Frank could repeat the blow it was on its feet again charging. Once more the club descended. This time the blow was even heavier and more fairly delivered. It sprawled the brute out on the rocks. But the coyote was not killed—not even subdued. It rose to meet him as he dashed upon it, and tried to catch the club.in its snapping teeth. The rabid creature got upon its feet, staggering from the effects of the Jast blow, and: made another rush. But it had not the strength to spring. Frank beat it down again, This time it did not rise so quickly. Again the club hammered its head. Frank felt that he was fighting for his tife. The teeth of the brute had not yet touched him; but it might by a flounce at any time plant its dripping fangs in his fles—and one scratch of those rabid fangs might mean death. Therefore, he was mercfless. ‘The club descended. Again and again it fell. Swift and terrible were the blows. They ham- mered like rain. The brute ceased to combat, ceased to yelp and writhe, ceased to move. It was dead ! Merriwell was dripping with perspira- tion, but now his nerves were steady as WEEKLY. 19 iron. Great sweaty beads stood on his forehead. He had slain the mad coyote, whose bite meant death! Yes, at the risk of his own life, he had saved Herbert Hammerswell from the horrors of a death by hydrophobia. He did not regret: it. He would have made the fight. again, if @) 1g oat necessary, even for Hammerswe ll. But where was Hammerswell? He was not in sight. His cowardly legs had taken him tosome point of safety down the side of the mountain. Frank put on his coat and sat down. He had eaten nothing for many hours. ‘“‘Vet perhaps my chase after Herbert hasn’t been a failure!’’ was his thought. *‘T wish I could have detained him and taken him with me to Colorado Springs, but it’s worth something to be able to save even Herbert Hammerswell from such a death as that!’’ He regarded the dead coyote with a feeling of repulsion. Blood was mingling with the foam that covered its mouth. “‘T. have met Herbert twice on this mountain; perhaps I can ineet him again,’’ Frank reflected. ‘‘Perhaps I can follow his trail. I wonder what became of the rifle with which he shot at me. The scoundrel! He shall pay dearly for that. He will fall into the hands of the officers by and by, and then he will find that the way of such as he is truly hard.”’ At length he rose; and, going to the point where Hammerswell had seemed to vanish, he carefully looked over the ground, Just beyond was a high ledge. The marks on the ground appeared to indicate that Hammerswell had rushed toward the ledge. ‘‘He may have killed himself if he went over that!’ Frank followed the trail to the ledge and looked down. Hammerswell was not in sight. Then he carefully made his way round a Vee ET 20 TIP TOP the ledge and descended to the foot of the bluff, The gravelly soil was torn up at that point, and a bush had been snapped short off as if by a swiftly-descending body. Moreover, there was blood on the ground. The trail There could be no Merriwell looked all about. appeared to end there. doubt that Hammerswell had blindly tak- en the terrific leap, and that he had been injured. How severely Merriwell could not guess. Only one thing was sure. Whether the injury was severe or slight, Herbert Hamimerswell had been able to go on, and was now out of sight. ‘Let him go! I must try to get down the mountain. We’ll run against each other again, sooner or later, and then I shall strike, and strike hard !”’ With this, Frank gave up the search and pursuit and began a descent of the mountain. CHAPTER IX. IN THE GARDEN OF THE GODS, Though Frank’s exciting battle with the coyote on the mountain occurred only the day before the Merriwells were to meet the Red Bowmen in the archery by Sheridan Frank declared that he was in good con- dition when the time for the contest drew near. contest arranged Jadger, The Merriwells were also ready, they asserted, though they had scarcely recov- ered from the effects of the fatigue and anxiety of the search made for Frank. The contest took place on a level stretch of grassy plain in the Garden of thé Gods, that wonderful aggregation of colossal rock-forms lying somewhat between Col- orado Springs and Manitou, near the vil- lage of Colorado City, where the winds and cutting sand blasts of unnumbered centuries have chiseled the great rocks into all sorts of fanciful and grotesque shapes. Manitou was not far away, and WEEKLY. through the great natural archway known as the Gateway to the Garden of the Gods, the white crown of the mountain giant, Pike’s Peak, was plainly visible, lifting itself grandly above the ‘heads of its fel- lows. Mark manager of Whittlesby, the proprietor and the Wild known as the Red West exhibition Bowmen, had sought to drive a hard bargain with Sheridan Badger, when he discovered that Badger was bent on having the Indian archers meet Merriwell and some others in an archery contest. There were eleven of Merriwell’s party, including Buck Badger, and Whittlesby insisted that these eleven should be pitted in a ‘‘shoot’’ for points against eleven of the members of the Red Bowmen exhibition. But inasmucli as many of Merriwell’s friends were not bow shooters in any sense, and had never han- dled weapons to which the red men had long been trained, Sheridan Badger re- fused to accede to this, and the contest as finally agreed on was narrowed down toa battle between six on a side. But that the great crowd which visited the Garden of the Gods might feel that it ‘‘had its money’s worth,’’ the contest was to open with a sort of go-as-you-please battle. Those who were to take part, either in the go-as-you-please exhibition shoot or in the ‘‘contest for blood,’’ were: On the side of the Athletic Team— Frank Merriweli, Bart Hodge, Bruce srowning, Harry Rattleton, Buck Badger, John Swiftwing, Gregory Carker, Jack Ready, Hans Dunnerwust, Ephraim Gal- lup, Joe Gamp, Danny Griswold, Bink Stubbs and Barney Mulloy—fourteen in all. : On the side of the Red Bowmen were Mark Whittlesby, the proprietor and man- ager, and his assistant, Ike Stanfield, the latter a cowboy. ‘Then there were Grass- face and Red Panther, who were Brule Sioux; Black Selkirk, who was a North- , i Monie Athi natatiincctienertiites cai so Anata 4 ; i a a ne nt a non A ne. TIP TOP WEEELY. 21 ern Cheyenne; Taitar Bill, a Blackfoot; Crazy Head and Billy Buttons, Jicarilla Apaches; Mouse-foot, a San Carlos Apache; John White, a Pottawatamie In- dian farmer from Eastern Kansas; Horse Tail and Running Deer, Comanches; Brass Nose, a Mescalero Apache, and lastly Man-Who-Strikes, who was a Teton Sioux. “That is the man I was talking to when seen in the mirage,’’ said Sheridan Badger, pointing to Crazy Head, the Ji- carilla, and. speaking to Merriwell. ‘‘He may be all right, but I shall watch him. He is, as you know, one of the finest shots in the whole lot.” Crazy Head was a dark-faced, sullen- looking Indian from the reservation of the Jicarilla Apaches near the New Mexi- can line. All the Apaches were darker and less pleasant appearing than the Sioux and Cheyennes, who were really fine- looking Indians, with the single excep- tion of Black Selkirk. Indeed, the Sioux, the old. ‘Buffalo Eaters,’’? as the name implies, are perhaps the finest Aborigenes to-day on the American continent. The crowd of spectators gathered about the bowmen in the Garden of the Gods constantly grew in numbers. The Denver & Rio Grande and the Colorado Midland Railroad brought crowds on top of crowds. The street car line running through Col- orado City from Colorado Springs to Man- itou put on extra cars, and they all came loaded to the limit, and with-men and women hanging on ‘‘by their eyebrows.’ Scores came by carriages and in buggies and wagons, and hundreds trudged out to the world-famous spot on foot through the heat and dust. But amid all that crowd neither Merri- well nor his friends could catch a glimpse of the face of Herbert Hammerswell. Merriwell had insisted that the contest should have no base element in it. He was tired of the betting which, against his wish, had characterized so many of the events the Athletic Team had engaged in on their Westward trip. Sheridan Badger had wanted to bet unlimited sums with Whittlesby that the picked company of Merriwells could beat a picked coim- pany of the Red Bowmen, but he had re- frained from making a wager in deference to Merriwell's wishes. There was no high fence.or wall to keep back the spectators or to exclude them. Every one who wished could come out and witness the archery shoot, if he could get near enough to the archers to see it. That was the one trouble; but hundreds overcame this by scaling the rock formations and peeping down on the archers from these high places, using field glasses, if they found themselves too far away. Nothing but a rope fence enclosed the big quadrangle where the red men and the white were to struggle for supremacy in the form of shooting which is as old as the world and as romantic as romance it- self. History up to the time of the uni- versal introduction of gunpowder is in- wrought with the use of the bow from the earliest ages. The bow was the hunting and war weapon of primeval man. It is found painted on the ruins of Ninevah, is mentioned in the first book of the Bible, and was the weapon of the American In- dian long centuries before Columbus set foot on these shores, as is proved by the arrow heads of flint and obsidian, of bears’ teeth and elkhorn, found scattered all over the continent. Inza and Elsie, together with Winnie Badger, were in a large covered carriage near the shooting line, at the beginning of thecontest. They could see and hear every- thing, and their smiles of approval were an inspiration to Merriwell and his friends. The officials and dignitaries of Colorado City, Manitou and Colorado Springs, to- gether with many of the chief men, lent their presence and approval; while the summer colonists sent hundreds of tkeir S42 Viet eRe eee coniaies 22 TIP TOP WEEKLY. best representatives. The Antlers poured out its guests by scores. It was a cosino- politan crowd, but the average of intelli- gence was as great as could be gathered together anywhere, East or West. At the farther end of the green quad- rangle was the archery target, a flat, ‘cir- cular pad of twisted straw, four feet in diameter, and faced with cloth, upon which was a yellow, central disk- called the ‘‘gold.’? Round this disk was a band of red, followed by one of blue, then one of black, and lastly by one of white. These circular bands were to enable the count of points to be made, for in archery the points are counted as follows: A hit in the gold counts nine; in the red seven; in the blue five; in the black three, and in the white one. The target was mounted on a tripod, with the ‘ ground. ‘The distance to be shot over was sixty measured yards. Adelbert Sharon, of Denver, was the referee. He was big, breezy and jolly—a type of a certain class of Western men who, with immense strength, indomitable will and untiring industry, have helped to build up and develop the great West. ‘Play ball!’ he said, planting his big hands on his big hips, and smiling his ap- proval, when everything was ready. ‘This is going to be a fair, square game. If it’s otherwise, and there is any kicking by any shootist, I’ll kick the kicker and shoot the shooter. If you’re all ready, gentlemen, get your weapons and play ball!’’ And the archery contest began. gold’’ center four feet from the as CHAPTER X. GO-AS-YOU-PLEASE. The six who were to take part in the ‘*contest for blood,’’ as Sheridan Badger put it, were kept out of the opening shoot. They were Mertiwell, Swiftwing, t if L106 lye is 7 srowning;, Buck Badger and Ephraim Gallup, representing the Ath- letic Team, and Whittlesby, Grassface, Black Selkirk, John White, Crazy Head and Man-Who-Strikes, representing the Red Bowmen. | Merriwell sent Ready up to open the Sahat. 2? ‘‘Gentlemen,’’ Ready airily chirped, as he bunglingly placed the notch of his ar- row on the bowstring, ‘‘I’ve heard that this is a silver country, but I notice that when you put up something to shoot at it is ‘gold!’ Here goes to tear the yellow dollar out of the target !’’ The bowstring twanged, and to his sur- prise and the astonishment of every one else he put the arrow almost in the heart of the target. 3ink Stubbs fell over into the arms of Danny. ‘‘T see I’ve made a mistake, Ready!’ was Merriwell’s smiling declaration. ‘‘We ought to have held you back for the real thing. Nobody could have done better.’’ ‘*’"m Robin Hood,’’ laughed Ready. *‘Oh, I knew I could do it!”’ Rattleton followed, and, although he had once done some good shooting with a bow, he now missed the target clean. ‘Dit you dry to shooded me?’’ squawked Hans, as he saw the arrow plow up the ground. Then he took the bow from the hands of Rattleton, carefully picked out an ar- row, felt of its point to make sure it was sharp, and waddled into place. ‘*Kferydody standt avay off und vatch der target shood me,”’ he cried. The crowd that had been pressing against the ropes fell back, for Hans was handling the bow and arrow in a way to make it seem unsafe in that locality. Having fitted the arrow to the string, he lifted the bow, slowly closed one eye and sighted along the top of the arrow. ‘‘Ven I closes vun eye to seen dose gelt, I can’t seen him!’’ he declared, putting i ll Sh cil agp i aa ee an alte i la RASPES yr se ee aaa IO Ps PNT LEP -TOeP down the. bow and glancing anxiously round. ‘‘Misder Manachers, uf dose dar- geds coult move me dis vay a inch or dwo he coult hid me petter. Vot you t’ink?”’ ‘‘Go ahead!’’ Frank urged. There was an instant squall from Joe Gamp. Hans had turned again to lift his bow —the arrow having been all the time on the string—and a premature shot had punctured the top of Gamp’s hat. ‘‘Bub-bub-by chaowder! Pll kuk-kill you fer that, you bub-bub-blunderin’ Dutchman!’ the lank New Englander howled. ‘‘If that had hit me in the eye!”’ ‘“You tolt me to standt avay off,’’ Hans indignantly asserted. ‘‘Uf you vos hitted der eye indo——”’ ‘*You have had your shot!’’ said Adel- bert Sharon, for Hans was stooping to select another arrow. Hans glared at him, then straightened up. ‘‘T vos shust bickin’ dis oudt vor mine frient who vos der next shooder on der enlisted. He vos Misder Mulloy, uf der emeralt green Irelant, who can shooded der gelt to peat der Inchuns!’’ Hans gravely extended the arrow to Mulloy. ‘Three of the Red Bowmen’are to have a: try now,’’ Sharon interrupted. ‘‘The first up is Mr. Ike Stanfield. Stand out of the way, Fatty!’ : ‘‘Vou vos Vattiness yourselluf!’’ Hans But he’ stepped aside, and Ike Stanfield, the cowboy, wearing quilled moccasins and a jaunty air, took the arrow Hans had selected and sent it whistling into the red. Red Panther and Tarter Bill followed, the first slamming his arrow into the black and the second into the blue. Then Mulloy’s name was called, and the Irish lad marched into position, tak- ing a. bow and arrow which -Merriwell handed him. e Sanaa: RE oT a 3 : WEEKLY. 23 ‘“‘Ayv it wor a shillalah an’ thot thing out there wor a felly’s head, Oi think Oi c’u’d crack it. But anny way, here goes f’r the grane av ould Oireland. Oh, yez Then, be the pow- x into the rid!’’ shtick the thing haven’t anny grane! ers! Qi’l] To the surprise of every one, Mulloy’s arrow went into the red. ‘““Tf you had picked out the gold!’’ said Frank. ‘‘Oi wor shootin’ at the rid av England, Whurroo!’’ ‘‘Now cast your eagle optics on me!’ and, begobs! Oi hit it! ’ said Bink as he pranced out. ‘You couldn’t hit a barn!’ Danny, and Bink seemed to try to prove it by sending his arrow high over the target. ‘“You couldn’t hit the earth!’’ squealed Bink, as Danny advanced to shoot. ’ growled Danny’s arrow fell short and stuck quiveringly in the ground: ‘“‘Tf it wasn’t for the downward pull of gravitation! Puta cake of ice on your head; Griswold, and cool off!’’ Greg Carker followed, and almost missed the target ; and was followed by Joe Gamp, ‘*cuc-cuc- cuc-could shoot the eye aout of the bim- med old thing!’ And Joe missed—his arrow flying out to one side and striking a rock. who came up boasting that he ‘*You see where we would have been if I’d let Whittlesby drive me into accepting his offer!’? Sheridan Badger remarked. Then Mousefoot, Billy Buttons, Horse Tail, Running Deer and Brass Nose shot in turn, and succeeded in making points, though they were accounted the poorest of the Red Bowmen. After that the shooting and the fun was rapid and lively. Ready did reasonabiy good work for one who had_ handled the bow so little, and Rattleton, in spite of his inauspicious beginning, drove his ar- rows into the target nearly every time, once striking the gold. Carker was almost as poor a shot as either Danny or Bink, 24 TIP TOP and as for Gamp, his shooting was so erratic and uncertain that he was likened to ‘‘lightning,’’? because no one can ever tell where lightning is going to strike. Whienever Dunnerwust came waddling into position, the recollection of the shot into the crown of Gamp’s hat caused a general scattering of the spectators. At all other times the spectators crowd- ed the ropes so closely that more than once it seemed the ropes would be broken down. * ‘*Better have Hans stand there all the time with an arrow on the string,’’ Mer- riwell suggested to Sheridan Badger. ‘‘It will keep the people from riding right over us!’? Mulloy’s work was about equal to that of Carker. Sometimes he would make a good hit, and at other times he would miss clean. In this he was something like Gam p. Danny and Bink were the ‘‘little clowns of the circus,’? as a cowboy laughingly dubbed them. ‘“‘They couldn’t shoot worth shucks,’’ as another said, but they made lots of fun and kept the crowd ina good-natured, roaring mood. If the shooting had ended with the work of those who thus first took up the bow there could be no doubt that the crowd would even then have agreed that it ‘‘had its money’s worth.’’ There was fun and laughing, joking and guying, chatting and merriment in an unstinted degree. The work of the Indians was more uni- form, and now and then a fine shot drew cries of approval; while the jaunty, cow- boy air and apparel of Stanfield made him a great favorite. ‘‘Now, gents, we’ve had the fun,’’ said Sharon at last, lifting his hat and politely addressing the ‘‘ladies and gentlemen’’ from a stool, ‘‘and now there will be some shooting that will mean business. The shooting you’ve witnessed has been for fun and frivolity; the shooting that’s to come will be for honor and points, We'll WEEKLY. - keep tab on this; and I know that you’re feeling just like me, hoping that the worthiest crowd will win! Let-’er go!’’ CHAPTER XI. BATTLING THE RED BOWMEN. John Swiftwing, the handsome Pueblo, whom the Athletes called ‘‘Frank Merri- well’s Archer,’’ led off, using a long bow and a cleverly-feathered arrow. In his light athletic suit, with the bow poised and the arrow drawn to the head, he pre- sented a beautiful picture. His poise was so graceful and his form so statuesque that he looked more like a bronze image of a bowman than a living, breathing youth. Amid a fluttering shout of approval, he let the arrow fly, and the marker at the target held up a red flag, to indicate that he had struck in the red and that he had scored seven. He was followed by Whittlesby, of thie Red Bowmen, who also sent his arrow into the red. Whittlesby was a tall, lank fellow, with tremendous arm strength, and he handled a bow with’ much grace. Then Merriwell came up, amid shouts of. applause. But, to the disappointment of his friends, Merriwell got no nearer the center than the blue, and scored only five. Grassface, the Brule Sioux, walked into position, and then stopped to string his bow. It was atypical Sioux bow, about four feet long, an inch and a half wide, and an inch thick at the middle. Grassface set an end of his bow on the ground, bent down the other end, and caught the string over this end in a notch and made it fast with a loop. Then he took a beautifully grooved and feathered arrow from the elk-skin quiver at his back, fitted it to the string, and let the arrow fly with scarcely an apparent aim. A yellow flag went up and was greeted with grunts of approval by the other In- yr a pe — ett oi Mini? 5 pence. 3 a i phn Sin ala a aaa, nf na Shea tsar esto $ dians. Grassface had hit ine gold and made the highest score that could be made at one shot—nine. Bart Hodge followed Grassface, and to the delight of his friends, scored seven. Black Selkirk, the Cheyeane, came up, stringing his bow by bending the two ends together as he walked and so slip- ¥ ping the loop of the bow-string over one end. He was a heavily-built Indian, with ‘ a face that looked negroid. Yet it wasa different dark from that of the Apaches. No doubt there was regro blood in his i” veins. But Black Selkirk did not make so good a shot as Grassface. He struck in the blue and scored no more than five. 3ruce Browning, with bow already strung and arrow swinging in his fingers, joafed lazily up. : Bruce had borrowed a short and very strong bow, with which he had been as- siduously practicing. He presented a fine picture as he stood with uplifted bow, ready to shoot. But he made a poor shot for the first one, and scored three. Bruce was followed by John White, the Pottawatamie from Kansas. White was an educated Indian—educated at the Ins dian school at Lawrence, Kansas. He made a fine shot and put the arrow in the gold, and again there was a chorus of ap- proving grunts from the Red Bowmen. Buck Badger scored seven, and seemed disappointed. Crazy Head, the Apache, scored only five. :3 Then Ephraim Gallup, looking green and awkward, sauntered slowly into place, amid a chorus of questions and ex- : clamations. . 2 But Frank Merriwell knew that Gallup ic could shoot the bow. ‘By chaowder!’’ Eph grinned, as he fumbled awkwardly with the bow, which was as long and shot as long an arrow as the famous English longbows. ‘‘I useter _ @keep daown the sparrers on the farm to TIP TOP WEHEKLY. 25 hum, and if I can’t hit thet targit I'll fall aout of the percession !’’ Gallup’s bow was of his own manufac- ture , as was also the arrows hé intended to shoot. He had carefully whittled them out with a pocket knife, having obtained a piece of hickory for the purpose from John White; for no hickory grows west of the Missouri. River, and there was not a purchasable piece anywhere else in Col- orado Springs. Then Gallup put up his bow holding it in a queer manner, with his shoulders humped up and head craned forward, and sent his arrow into the gold. The friends of the Merriwells sent up a shout of approval. ‘‘Never jedge a man by the way he looks!’’ shouted one who had been in- clined to sneer at Gallup. Before the shouts ceased, Man-Who- Strikes walked into position and twanged his bow-string. He merely duplicated the performance of Black Selkirk by striking the ring of blue. The first round had been shot, and the score by points stood: The Merriwells thirty-eight; the Red Bowmen forty. The shooting began again, and Swift- wing this time struck ‘‘gold’’ and scored nine for a starter. He was followed by Whittlesby, who appeared this time with one of the famous bows of the Crow Indians, made of elk- horn, which he often used in his show in exhibition shoots. These bows are very expensive and usually are highly orna- mented. Four or five thin slices of elk- horn glued and bound together make a bow, and it requires the labor of three or four months to make one. The elkhorn bow is very stiff and much practice and immense strength is required to bend it; but in the hands of a man who can use it this bow will send an arrow four hundred yards. Whittlesby’s bow was a beauty, the white bone having been carved and curi- ously ornamented by its Indian maker. ‘Now you see me!’’ he. said, as he put himself into position. He bent the stiff bow with apparent ease, and when his arrow stryck, the yel- low flag went up. ‘The elkhorn bow had driven the arrow into the gold center, and Swiftwing’s performance was duplicated. Merriwell followed, using a Sioux bow, made strong on the back bya laver of sinew glued to the wood, as is the fashion of Sioux and Cheyenne bows. This sinew had been taken from the back of a buffalo. ‘*Bring down the golden eagle again!’’ chirped Jack Ready. Merriwell fired, and again the yellow flag went up, showing that he, too, had struck in the gold center of the target. Grassface failed to duplicate his previous performance, and this time scored only seven. Bart Hodge then planted an arrow in the red and counted seven. But Black Selkirk brought the record up for the Red Bowmen by this time scoring nine. The Merriwells and the Red Bowmen were beginning to do some pretty work with their bows. Bruce Browning followed with five; and John White with seven. Then Buck Badger struck the yellow and scored nine, and Crazy Head, whose face was almost as black. as the negroid face of Black Sel- kirk, also struck nine in the gold. - But Gallup fell down this time and scored only five in the blue, and Man- Who-Strikes, the handsomest Indian in the lot, drove only three. In this round the Merriwells had scored forty-four and the Red Bowmen forty- four, making the total score. eighty-two for the Athletic Team and eighty-four for the Indians. The spectators were growing interested toa marked degree. Not many of them had believed that the ‘‘college boys’’ had any show with the Red Bowmen, but they / were beginning to change their minds. ‘The fact that in the two first rounds the Merriwells had dropped but two behind in the scores was sufficient proof that the Merriwells could handle the bow. So the third round opened with the in- terest climbing up to fever heat. The Merriwells lost in this round, and 7 yp Tor WEEKLY. in the next, while the Red Bowmen did soine wonderfully clever work. In the next two rounds the Merriwells out-shot their opponents, and again the scores came near together. 3ut in the three that followed, the Mer- tiwells dropped so far behind that Sheri- dan Badger began to be seriously alarmed. However, the Indians did poor shooting in these rounds, and when the next round began Badger was able to get afull breath. The crowd was growing wilder and more excited all the time. The girls in the carriage had never seen anything just like this bow shooting, and it was intense- ly interesting to them. ‘They were elated when the Merriwell team seemed to be forging ahead or catching up, and were depressed when the team appeared to be dropping behind. The tenth round was shot, with the Merriwells behind, but when the fifteenth round came the Merriwells were twenty ahead. Whittlesby and Crazy Head, who had not been doing extra work, though they had tried their hardest, now began to shoot better. For three rounds Crazy Head put his arrow each time in the heart of the gold. Once the Indians scored ‘the highest possible number in a single round, every man planting his arrow in the gold. ~ The yells of approval with which this was greeted seemed to shake the very rock forms of the Garden of the Gods. So the twentieth and the twenty-first rounds came. The Metriwells were three ahead. They lost this in the twenty-first round. When the twenty-second round had been shot out they were five behind. Swiftwing, Merriwell and Joe Gamp - were doing the best work; Browning was doing fair, and so were the other two, but they so often scored low figures that the score was kept down in spite of all that the best archers of the party could do. In the twenty-third round the Merri- wells dropped two more, and were seven behind. There were to be only twenty-five rounds altogether. The excitement. was now feverish. Sheridan Badger, unable to sit still, was walking. round with “his pac ree 5 re neat mveracnayniser re teenie Seca et hah ne banal eo so ab rT eet oka > deities wim iat wee . . me a ‘ 3 | 8 ; a ’ | i | | . } 7 3 j ~ 4 Le a ; 4 TIP hands in his pockets. The adherents of the Red Bowmen were screeching. 3ut the friends of the Merriwells were not silent. There was still a fighting chance for the Athletic ‘eam, and the Merriwell admirers appeared to be deter- mined to help their friends to win by their yelling and screeching. But the Babel of sound had no percep- tible effect on the Indians. They shot away like so many dark automatons, send- ing their arrows with so true an aim that it was disconcerting to the Merriwell rooters. The twenty-fourth round began with the Athletic Team seven belind, and it ended with the Merriwells ten behind. Sheridan Badger’s bronze face was pale, and his fingers twitched nervously. He had kept careful tab of the scores on a sheet of paper. Others had kept count of the scores; and before the beginning of the exciting last round, Sharon, the referee, read out the number of the scores. ‘*Merriwells, 962; One more round !”’ In spite of Frank’s wish in the matter, bets had been made and were being made on the cotitest, for it is impossible to con- trol this gambling propensity. The men betting on the Red Bowmen were now sure they could not lose. os 2 7 , ~ Red Bowmen, 972. ‘“You see the shape of things, Merri- well!’’ said Sheridan Badger, stepping to Frank’s side. ‘‘I guess you fellows will have it put over you in spite of all.’ ‘‘But nothing is ended until it is end- ed!’’ Frank insisted. ‘“‘No; but they have ten ahead of you. I don’t see how you are to gain it.”’ “We'll try to do the best we can.’ Metriwell drew his archers aside and conferred with them. Rattleton pushed up. ‘¢Vou can hold thein down, Merry! Hold them down, if you don’t do anything else! I know you can, fellows. Hold them down! You can do it!”’ Rattleton’s confidence was grateful at this time, when every one, as it seemed, believed that the Merriwells must lose. Elsie was pale, and so was Winnie Badger. Buck had done good work, but not what Winnie wanted him to do, for TOP WEEKLY. 27 she wanted him to strike the gold every time. Inza alone remained confident and se- rene, and smiled that confidence and serenity, to the great encouragement of the Merriwells at this time. And so the twenty-fifth and last round of the shoot began. John Swiftwing stepped into position, looking more than ever like a bronze god, and sent his arrow into the gold, amid a shout of approval from the friends of the Merriwells. He was followed by Whittlesby, and again the yellow flag went up, and there was a very storm of howls from the root- ers of the Red Bowmen. Merriwell followed with his arrow in the gold, and again there was a wild out- burst. Grassface followed with seven. Hodge came up,and sent his arrow whirring and whistling; and again the yellow flag: bobbed up. ‘‘Hurrah for Hodge!’’ Danny squealed, almost beside himself with joy. ‘‘Just keep it up, fellows!’’ “Yes, just feepit up, kellows!”’ screaim- ed Rattleton. Black Selkirk sent lis arrow.into the red and scored seven. 3ruce loafed up. Nothing seemed able to stir him. But when he put up his bow and let his arrow. slip, it was seen that he had hit the gold. Rattleton ran to him and throwing his arms round the neck of the big fellow actually hugged him. : John White, the Pottawatamie, followed srowning, and scored in the blue, Winnie looked appealingly at Buck as he stepped into position. Buck saw the look. His face grew al- most fierce in its expression, and his thick shoulders bunched. Then his bow went up, his bowstring twanged, and the yellow flag came into view. Crazy Head followed, and there was a wild roar when the yellow flag again rose into view. ‘‘Keep up the record, Gallup!’’ Hodge grated. ‘“Gallup.s all right!’ said Frank, se- renely. 7 preps 23 ils ears smc yA oo oo te 28 is ok “*T}l hit thet ol’ thing, Gallup declared. His bow went up and his arrow flew, and once more the yellow flag bobbed in sight. The Merriwells had made six straight. Man-Who-Strikes stepped into place. There was almost a groan of suspense. Men everywhere were making calculations on slips of paper. The arrow flew and the red flag rose. The Sioux had scored in the red. **A tie!’ was the howl. ‘‘A tie! a tie!”’ The figures- stood: Merriwells, 1,016; Red Bowmen, 1,016. ef I die fer it!”’ nines CHAPTER XII. “One WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR ”’ ‘The tie will be shot off by Frank Merriwell and Crazy Head. ‘Twenty-five shots each, fired consecutively.’’ This was Adelbert Sharon’s announce- ment. ‘He tossed up a half dollar, and Crazy Head won the opening, or the first twenty-five shots. He started out as if determined to win, and made nine. He made nine again, and then again. His dark face was sullen and fierce in its expression. He appeared to be determined to win, for he picked his atrows with great care, observing closely the feathering, the shape and the point. One after another he cast away. The oth- er Indians helped him in the selections, offering him the best out of their own quivers. Again and again his bow went up, and again and again the yellow flag was lifted to show that the arrow had found the gold. Ten arrows were fired, of which six were in the gold, three in the red and two in the blue. Then he ran out five more shots, strik- ing twice in the yellow. ‘“Heis going to be a hard Indian to beat !’’ said Sheridan Badger, anxiously. “T know it!’’ was Frank’s quiet answer. ‘‘But youcan beat him! You must beat him !’’ ‘‘T shall do the best I can!”’ The crowd had grown still and anxious. There was now and then a shout of ap- proval, with constant grunts from the In- WEEKLY. dians as the arrows found tle golden tar- get. But there was no furious Babel of noise. Five more shots were sent against the target, some of them in the yellow; but one dropped down into the black and one into the blue. The Red Bowmen’s strong arm was growing tired and his nerves less like steel. The last five arrows were sent from the twanging string, and it was seen that Crazy .Head had made a great score— nearly up to the best record for arrow shooting. When footedup it was found that he had scored 182 points. Then Merriwell stepped into place, with a full sense of the character of the work which had been cut out for him by the Jicarilla, but with a determination to beat it if it lay in his power. “It can’t be done!’?? Mark Whittlesby was boasting. ‘‘At least, Merriwell can’t do it!”’ ‘‘Wait till the shooting is over before you crow!’’? Hodge remarked. ‘‘You will see some shooting now!’’ Merriwell’s bowstring was sounding, sending out pleasant music to bow lovers, and his shots were good. He did not lead off with nine, however, as Crazy Head had done. sut as his shooting continued, it got better and still better. He began to strike his arrows into the gold with surprising frequency and regularity. Ten shots, fif- teen shots, twenty shots, Again and again the yellow flag went up, with the red showing often, the blue little, and the other colors seldom displayed—the white never. As he began on the last five shots, his friends began to cheer him, not because they were dead sure that he could or would win, but in the belief that this would encourage him, not realizing that in such work Merriwell was deaf to such things and gave his attention only to the task before him. Once, twice, three times, the yellow flag lifted. At the fourth shot the red flag appeared. “Hit the yellow again!’’ his friends were screeching. Twang! whir-r-r! The sound was not made by Merriwell’s bow and arrow! a+ ries seen, at ees Red ieee eke om Sa fo eee iat + . it Por Merriwell threw up his hands and fell backward with.a leap. Crazy Head, at a distance of not more than twenty yards, had fired at Frank Merriwell’s breast. Merriwell fell heavily, and Crazy Head leaped away, evading the hands reached out to detain him. **Merriwell is shot—killed!’’ that was the wild announcement. ?verything was in confusion. A dozen men rushed to lift Merriwell. Hodge gained his side first. ‘*Are you hurt, Merry !’’ he asked. ‘It struck here!’’ Frank gasped, indi- cating his breast, over the heart. Hodge pulled—tliterally tore—the cloth- ing aside. There was an abrasion, which was swelling, and a few drops of blood. Merriwell saw the mark. “Tt had the bow swung across my chest!’’ he gasped. ‘‘Iam not hurt. I felt, though, as if I had been shot through and through. ‘The arrow knocked me off my feet as if it had been a bullet!’’ “Why shouldn’t it!’ cried Sheridan Badger. ‘‘At that distance an Indian could send an arrow through the body of a buffalo! It’s a miracle you were not killed. I hope they’ll catch the scoundrel ! That explains the meaning of what your friends saw in the mirage. Hammerswell is back of this thing—Hammierswell and Crazy Head’s hate—for, do you know, even if you don’t shoot again you have him defeated!’ Frank got on his feet, took up his bow and arrow, and requesting that the shoot- ing lane between the ropes should be re- opened, he fitted’his arrow, put up the bow, and sent the arrow into the target’s gold. . A wild cheer greeted the performance. Adelbert Sharon cooled down enough to figure out and announce the score: ‘‘Crazy Head 182 points, Frank Merri- well 195.”’ : Then he added: ‘‘Gentlemen, this almost equals the best archery record ever made in Aimerica, so far as my knowledge of the subject goes, ”’ ‘Three cheers for Merriwell!’’ Buck WEEKLY. 29 Badger was bellowing, alimost before the words were out of Sharon’s mouth. And the cheers were given with a will. . . ° Crazy Head, the dastardly Apache, was chased into the broken country between Cheyenne Mountain and Pike’s Peak, and then on and on up the slopes of the fa- mous Peak, almost half way to the sum- mit above Manitou. He was evidently trying to gain the wilderness beyond and south of the moun- tain, where he might hide and then, as chance offered, push on and leave all suc- cessful pursuit behind. But the whole country was aroused. Telegraims were sent to Cripple Creek, to Green Mountain Falls, to Canon City and Salida, and to all the mining camps and towns within a radius of scores of miles. Swiftwing, Frank Merriwell’s Archer, led one of these parties in person, devoting himself assiduously and untiringly to the work of running the miscreant down. Near the close of the day two parties came back with prisoners. One party was that.of Swiftwing, bringing the murder- ous Jicarilla. ‘The other party, led by one, of Sheridan Badger’s cowboys, brought in Herbert Hammerswell, who had _ been found with a broken ankle in a pitiable and starving condition out in the moun- tains. Hammerswell, when confronted and ac- cused by Merriwell, broke down and con- fessed that he had hired Crazy Head .to try to kill Merriwell- at the conclusion of the archery shoot; and that he himself had sought to kill Frank on the top of Pike’s Peak with the rifle. Hammerswell had sunk to the lowest dépths, and to-day, looking out over the walls of the penitentiary situated on the hillside at Canon City, he, as well as Crazy Head, who is also incarcerated there, is able to realize that ‘‘the way of the transgressor is hard !’’ THE END. The next number of the Tir Top WEEKLY will contain ‘‘ Franke Merriwell’s Find; or, The Hoosier Hercules.’’ wit Ch hinichlate te bation: tage tle en TIP TOP P loOPWEEKLY. “AN IDEAL PUBLICATION FOR THE AMERICAN YOUTH 7 NEW YORK, SEPTEMBER 15, 1900, Terms to Tip Top Weekly Mail Subscribers. (PosTaGk FREE.) Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each. Smonths - - - «+ - = - 65c.|] One year - = + - = « + $2.50 4 months - - - « + + + §85c.]/2 copiesone year - « + - 4.00 @ mouths - -« « + « = « $1.25) 1 copy two years - - = - 4,00 How ro Senp Monwy.—By post-oflice or express money order, registered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At yourown risk if psent by curreney, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. . RecHIPTs.—Receipl of your renittance is acknowledged by proper change of nwnber on your label. If notcorrect you have not been properly credited,and should let us know at once. STREET & SMITH’S TIP TOP WEEKLY, 238 William St., New York Oity. APPLAUSE. [I have written once to you in praise of your pub- lication, and I thought I would write again. It seems as if Mr. Standish is growing younger and more vigorous as he progresses in his work, for the Tip Tops are certainly better in every way, although they could never be much improved upon. I noticed in certain letters from readers that they are a little harsh toward me for my criticism of Bart Hodge. But I will not swerve one inch from my first words. Although I admire Hodge for his devotion to Frank, [I cannot uphold him in his temper. As Diamond once said, Hodge may be all right in his way, but he certainly has a mighty poor way. Frank himself told Hodge on one occasion that he had a poor way sl = his friendship aoe pitmn. Then again, when Hodge, after leaving New aven, joined Frank on the road, Frank paid his ing debts; he came near ruining all Merry’s chances of returning to Yale by getting into a senseless row with the stage man- ager and taking the French leave, causing Merry to lose time hunting him up. Last summer at Maple- wood he came near disrupting the ball team by sulk- ing and refusing to catch a pitcher Frank had signed, notwithstanding the fact that Merry did not have another man to take his place. Then, after persuading on the part of Frank, he caught the game and helped in losing it. So you see that I am not without grounds to stand on against Bart. I don’t blame Diamond Aes not accompanying Merriwell on this trip whe: ‘ank tolerates so much of Hodge’s foolishness, which “eB would not from any other, as he owned up. Last winter in college he was Badger’s enemy and instantly told Frank that he forfeited his friendship when he accepted Badger’s.. As I have said before, Hodge may be all right in his way, but he has a poor way. You see that [ have had dealings with just such a chap as Hodge. [I think Mr. Stand- ish must have known him, for Hodge is his double, and I’can understand Hodge better. I will enter Harvard this fall and I hope to meet just such a fel. low as Buck Badger, dear old Buck. How I admire him. It seemed as if he was near. me &ll the time, like a friend. A minister, after reading the whole of the college series, said that Badger was the best drawn character in fiction he had ever read, and he is a great reader. [I want that voune lady who de- sires to shake me to see my reasons for. not being in love with Baftley Hodge. A much abused reader, DONALD E. CAREY, Springfield, Mass. We are glad to publish your letter and so give the many readers who disagree with you about Bart an opportunity to see your exact reasons for your opinion. For our own part, we admit that Bart has his deplorable failings. But which one of us has not? And may it not be that you have conceived a deep prejudice against Bartley which causes you to aggre- gate and exaggerate his shortcomings, where in other cases you would look upon such failings as an expected part of human nature? Nor do we think that you shouid feel ill-treated or abused because so many Tip Top, readers have come forward with loyal defense for their friend, Bart Hodge. Indeed, this is no more than you would do for any friend of your own. See Correspondence Colunin. WEEKLY. Having seen no communication in your Applause from this city, I beg to submit in a measure the high esteem in which the Tip Top Weekly is held in this place. The weekly has a large circle of admirers here, and every issue is most eagerly looked for. As for myself, I have read it from the very first issue and hope to be able to read it until Frank has closed his career of usefulness and entered the myste ries of the Great Beyond. I have noted the Inza-Elsie con- troversy with interest. I take interest in the argu- ments which are put forth. But I think it best to let the author work out Frank’s destiny. Of all Frank’s chums I most admire Bart Hodge. I can fully appre- ciate Bart’s many failings, being myself, in many respects, the counterpart of Bart I dislike to see him criticized so much. I am Diamond and Bruce. Also Buck Badg I wish Buck could happen along as did Jack and Ralph and Julia, in the latest issue. I consider the Tip Top Weekly the best paper of its kind ia” circulation. [I would like very much to see Frank’s father appear upon the scene once more. I hope Tip Top will con- tinue to grow and Frank continue to set a good ex- ample to young Americans for an indefinite period. Long live Tip Top and its most admirable characters, “May there be just enough clouds in their lives to make a beautiful sunset.’’ With best wishes to author and publishers for future success, HARRY L. KERR, Gallatin,, Mo. Your letter is thoughtful and well expressed. Though we cannot know- what future lies before Frank Merriwell, we can tell from the past that he will long continue to be the ideal of the many thous- ands who read his remarkable history. Old acquain- tance will never be forgotten, we assure you, and old friends will greet us and-be with us again from time to time. Their careers, of course, will not be without peculiar trials and _ difficulties, but these clouds will only serve to make their triumph more glorious and their lives worthier of emulation. very fora of Jack T am a constant reader of Tip Top. I have noticed that some narrow-minded people would like to see Bart ostracized and Buck Badger put in his place. Bart is Frank’s best friend. About the Inza-Elsie question, Elsie is the girl for Frank. I think Mr, Standish will fix it to suit alk the readers. I would like to hear more about Hans, Ephraim and Barney Mulloy. Wishing the Tip Top Weekly, its publishers and its author a long and nrosperous career, ° KF, L. McKER, Ironton, O. Thank you. As you will see, our old friends have been with us again. Not having seen any letter from this place, and as secretary of the Tip Top Reading Club, I have been requested to write you a testimonial in behalf of all the members. We have read every number from the first to No. 225, and think them the best stories we have ever read. We earnestly hope that Frank will visit ‘‘Little Rhody’”’ pomorelnae in the near future, but will leave it to the better j udgme nt of Mr. Stand- ish: We are all Elsie Ss with one exception, and hope before long him change his mind. Next to Frank we like Bart, Jack, Bruce and Harry. Would like to hear from Gallup and Hans. Inza is the girl for Bart, because they are more evenly matched. We want Frank to marry Elsie. Best wishes for Tip Top. Bi do: Press; GriCoaTreas.; i G-C,. “Sec yn5 Re EL, F., Librarian; Lee Shiplee, Janitor; Chas. Turner, William E. Parker, J. H. Brant, Jas. White, H. C. King, Arthus Hasking, T. H. Morrison. La Fayette, R. I. Thank you. We are always glad to hear from the Tip Top clubs. May yours meet with all success. I write to you in behalf of the A. O. P. O. society, and wish to tell you that all the members of this society have read your weekly from No. 1 up to the present number and wé have passed a resolution that the Tip Top is the best paper published. The cast of characters for our play is as follows: Frank Merriwell, J. Costella; Bart Hodge, T. T. Mulady; Bruce Browning, S. Purdy; Harrv Rattle- ton. H, Riker; Binks Stubbs, P. Lynch; Danny Gris- wold, F. Sexton; Jack Diamond, H. Baxter; Ephraim jallup, L. Jones; Barney Mulloy, B. Malloy; Hans Dunnerwurst, T, Costello; Sport Harris, Gene Plant; Herbert Hammerswell, G. Wood; Elsie Beliwood, Lew Snyder; Inza Burrage, W. Mortimore; Winnie Lee, W. Shaunesee. The A. O, P. O, Society_extend their hearty con- gratulations to Mr. Burt L, Standish. Signed Ba Oye? oO. SOCTH LS . Utica, N. Your resolution is highly appreciated. We hope your play will meet with the fullest success, — emia > aaa Sea ota it sas Tlie. ~ aie aeRO oY a COE ate oa 2 - hited ad ethereal aE * és eke Ane Re ded * ¥ ts 4 ideas. If you don’t think it eae what we think of the It is simply grand. Here is a song, written, expressing our worth publishing, give 7 r ‘ - rl - spare place in the. waste basket. The song “Marching Through Georgia.”’ We now write to tell you Tip Top Weekly. one of the members has it a good, is sung to the tune of In the Tip Top Weekly, ple 1ins, He has seen-the forked lightning, felt the wind and snow and rains, He has killed the sneaking cayote, the lion bear Shouting the thrilling cry of victory. Frank has lived upon the and the Chorus. our flag is flying too, our motto is “True Blue; order ‘‘Brave,’’ The Tip Top Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrakt! We're members of the League, Shouting a thrilling cry of vict’ry. ” Hurrah, then for our girls to-day, We mean to stir the world around; to stay. We're How a monster army, believing all we say, Shouting a thrilling cry of victory. (Chorus.) League, so full of boys and we're organized Come boys town, And join the Tip Top League, an order of renown. We want recruits, and every day, they’re coming from around, Shouting a thrilling cry of vict’ry. Cc. McCloskey, R se from every station, from city and from (Chorus.) BH Philadelphia, Pa. It might well prove inspiring onward moving army. Joe Lily, C. E. Darr, G. B. M., We like your song. to Tip Top’s vast, I have read every Tip Top since No. 150, ane think it is fine. Frank Merriwell is about the best fellow I ever heard of. ARTHUR M. POST, Greenville, Md. We are glad to find you so warm an admirer of Frank, I have just read a letter in the Applause Column which has led me to make this reply. I am an iIn- terested reader of all letters pertaining to the Inza- Elsie question, and am not impartial myself toward the girls. Now, the letter in question was in No. 225, from Mr. Tom Terrell. ‘‘He hopes the ones who prefer Inza will see their errors and reconsider them.’’ I think that remark is uncalled for. I think he is prejudiced against Inza. I really don’t see why the idea of Frank marrying Inza -should be so ‘preposterous. Why not Inza as well as Elsie? Hasn’t Inza as sterling qualities as Elsie? If Frank did declare his preference for Elsie while on the stage and in the Florida Everglades, did he not also declare his sentiments for Inza in Fardale? Elsie is a noble girl and she appeals to some natures; but Inza is my ideal, but I hope I won’t be offensive to the Pilsie admirers because I don’t agree with them. To my mind Elsie’s bravery is born of fright, while Inza is naturally cool and brave. I hope Frank will please himself when he does marry and I’m sure I'll be satisfied. Please put this in print. I know it’s rather long; but I would like Mr. Terrel to see it. I have often written my admiration of Tip .Top before. Best regards to Mr. Standish and Messrs. Street, & Smith. CONSUELO CASTRO, W ashington, by °G. Your reply cannot but appeal to the readers of Tip Top sincé the position you take in the Elsie- Inza question is honest, decided and generous. A preference for Inza is no more an error of judg- ment than a like preference for Elsie. Indeed one would be fortunate to like them both, and have the close friéndship of two such splendid girls. I have been a reader of Tip Top Weekly for a long time and I think it is the most interesting book I ever had the pleasure of reading. Good luck to Frank, Bart, Barney and all the rest of Frank's friends, for IT think a man is lucky to hold the friend- ship of such a boy as Frank Merriwell. Frank is a star for all young men to be guided by. JESSIMW QUANTRELL, Manila, Philippine Islands. We are advised to ‘‘seek the stars,’’ but your advice that every young man should make Frank guiding star of his life is even better. Merriwell the is” : and within the reach His example is near at hand, of all. TOP WEEKLY. 31 I have read most all of the Tip Top Weeklies, and think they are the best novels of the age. Wishing you success and continued prosperity, BENNIE ZALINGER, Chicago, Ill Thank you. I have read the Tip Tops from 162 to present date and think them fine. Among Frank’s friends I like Jack Diamond best, and think he ought to marry Juliet Reynolds. I also think that others will agree with me on this subject. I wish Frank and his friends would make Buck Badger a visit on his ranch. I- also think Elsie is the girl for Frank With many best wishes for the welfare of Mr. Standish and the Tip Top, CARL SMITH, Ashtabula, Ohio. Thank you. As you have already seen, Frank and his friends have visited Buck’s ranch, In looking over the Applause, I see the readers are arguing about Frank’s best friend. I think every close reader will say without a doubt that Harry tattleton is Frank’s best and truest friend. He gets twisted in his talk, but never in his faith in Frank. Harry is next to Frank true as steel. I think the sharpest of Merry’s flock is Jack Ready; he is al- ways- ready. In regard to the Elsie and Inza ques- tion, I think Elsie the girl for Frank.-. The “Inza admirers will please read No. 142 very carefully and see what they think of the way Inza treated Frank and Elsie. Wishing the Tip Top Weekly, its publishers and its author a long and _ prosperous career, Re ASS, Winston Salen, N. C. dificult to say which one of the flock is Frank’s truest and best friend. They are all true to him. They all love him and their friend- ship has been tested many times in many ways It would be The Tip Top is one of the finest books I have ever read. And as far as Inza and Blsie are con- cerned, I think Elsie the best for Merry, while Inza would make a fine match for Jack Ready or Harry Rattleton. My ideas are approved by: Philip Levi, Jr., Leo Hysan, Frank Miller, Harvey Supplee, Joe Sweney, Homer Gibson, Fred Miller, Charles Truitt, Clyde Long, Bob Harris, ris, James Higginson, Ned Har- George Tryan and Ned Ryan. New York City. e are glad to receive your ideas. No doubt there are’ ae who will agree with you. Please excuse me for writing, but would let yeu know that I read pleasant books and I can say have read the Bip Tops from to do so till they end. I have two cousins at Goshen and Washingtonville, who read Tip Top and they think them just all right. I would like to have Frank wane a visit to this city with all of his friends. Best wishes to Frank, and. many thanks to Mr. Standish and Street & Smith. SADIE GREEN, Middletown, N. Y¥ I thought I your true and they are fine. I the first and hope Thank you. I have been a reader of the Tip Top for three years and find it a very interesting paper. I am thir- teen years old, and have read a good many other books, but none comes up to the Tip Top. — ; ALBERT P. GIFFORD, Harbour Creek, Pa. Thank you. We trust that Tip Top will always continue to be dear to you. your Tip I have read Top Weeklies for a long time, and would like to know what has become of Frank Merriwell’s father. To my knowledge Frank has seen him only three times since he has been out in the world for himself. I would also like to say a few words in favor of Elsie, for she has been my favorite all the time, ever since she was with Frank in his play of “John Smith of Montana.”’ Closing with hopes that the paper will always thrive and flourish. H. &. B Mogrhead, Minn. It is difficult to say just when Frank’s father will appear on the scene. “You certainly will see him again, however. Your favorite has many admirers. I have read the Tip Top for the past twelve months, and think the weekly highly instructive. As an ideal American youth, Frank Merriwell has no equal, while his life and example should be followed by every young man. Mr. Standish deserves high praise for the commendable stories he writes. JOHN RUN NBA. St. Joseph, ue Thank you. Correspondence. B. B. B., Corry, Pa.—No premium. Wilton W., Lima, O.—No premium, H. Y. L., Fort Wayne, Ind.—No premiums. Dolly and Ben, Lowell, Mass.—No premium. Edward J. Kelly, New York City—No premium, Garnet Peterson, Barneside, Minn.—No premium, Jas. T. Mansfield, St. Paul, Minn.—There is such a publication. Slim, Corinth, N. Y.—Take plenty of outdoor ex- ercise and use dumb-bells. EK. B. Patterson, Atlanta, Ga.—Your proportions are good for a boy of your age. E. H. P., Slatington, Pa.—Address American News Company, Chambers street, New York City. _ Robert F. Brown, Ellwood City, Pa.—You will find just what you want in the World Almanac of 1900. W. H. Miner, Providence, R. I.—Address American News Company, Chambers street, New York City. _W. R. Dunham, “Nantucket, Mass.—Address the Scott Stamp Company, Twenty-third street, New York City. Tip Top Reader, Milwaukee, Wis.—The dollars of 1798 and 1800 are worth $1.15 apiece. No premiums on any of the other coins. J. H. Peters, Laurel, Md.—l. Frank Hinkey was one of the greatest college ends. 2. Carter is con- sidered the greatest pitcher Yale ever produced, 3%. It is probable that no other college pitcher ever ex- celled him. : é Donald EB. Carey, Springfield, Mass.—An academic course at college docs not give a fit for any spe- cific branch of science or mercantile engagement, On the other hand, it lays the foundation which will most efficiently uphold the specific training of any specialty or departmental work in life. The degree of Bachelor of Arts implies @2 more generous knowl- edge of the arts and sciences than any of the other so-called elementary degrees. . TIP TOP LEAGUE MEMBER'S BADGE. Lie ce WEEKLY. LATEST ISSUES. 232—F'rank Merriwell’s Double Play; or, Winning His Own Game. 231—Frank Merriwell’s Archer; or, Beating the Red Bowman. 230—Frank Merriwell’s Battery; or, Taming the ‘““Broncho Busters.’’ : 229—Frank Merriwell’s Rough Riders; or, The Ath- letic Team at Badger’s Ranch, 228—Frank Merriwell’s Speed; or, Breaking the Chi- cago Colts. 227—Frank Merriwell’s Vault; or, The Blades of Toledo, 226—Frank Merriwell’s Wonders; or, Hitting the Eastern League. 225—F rank Merriwell’s Throw; or, Yale Athletes at Niagara. , 224—Frank Merriwell’s Wrist; or, The Nerve of Iron. 223—Frank Merriwell’s Camp; or, Yale Athletics in the Great North Woods. ’ 222—Frank Merriwell’s Athletic Team; or, Sport in the Adirondacks. ‘ 221—F rank Merriwell’s Discovery; or, The New Lon- don Boat Race. ; 220—Frank Merriwell’s Curves; or, Clipping the + Tiger’s Claws, vi9—Frank orcs Compact; or, The Triumph 5 of Badger. 218—Frank Merriwell’s ‘‘Liner;’’ or, Elsie, the Mas- ; cot of the Nine. 217—Frank Merriwell’s ‘‘Pull’’; or, True and Tried. 216—-Frank Merriwell’s Phantom; or, The Ghost of " Barney Mulloy, 215—Frank Merriwell’s Favor; or, True as Steel. 214—Frank Merriwell’s Stroke; or, The Test of Friend- ~ ghip. 213—Frank Merriwell’s Handicap; or, The Heroism of Elsie. 212—Frank Merriwell’s Football; or, The Disappear- ance of Jack Ready. 211—Frank Merriwell’s Reward; or, Buck Badger’s Humiliation. . ; 210—Frank Merriwell’s Honor; or, The Nobility of 3adger. Back numbers always on hand. If you cannot get our publications from your newsdealer, five cents a copy Will briug them to you-by mail, postpaid. Me ; HALE PRICE TO OUR READERS ONLY. In response to the urgent request of a host of TIP Tor readers the publishers after carefully considering a number of designs for a badge of membership in the TIP TOP LEAGUE, finally adopted one which isan artistic gem of excellence. The picture shows the design, butit docs not give you an adequate idea of the exquisite beauty of thiselegant ornament. It is solidly and substantially made, finished in gilt and beautifully embossed. ‘The widespread desire for this badgo gave us so much faith in the enterprise that our firs! order was enormous, but we have been obliged to give a second order. We still offer it at the very low figure of TWENTY CEN'IS (‘Ten Cents in Cash or Stamps and Ten Cents in Coupons. AN EXACT PICTURE OF THE LEAGUE BADGE FOR MEMBERS ONLY sceeraatit tmnt OTN AE NN Each coupon is worth five cents when accompanied by five cents in stamps or coin, T'WO COUPONS AND TEN CENTS SECURE YOU THE BADGE. You can get as many badges as you desire at the same rate by use of thé extra coupons. Badges without coupons will cost fifty cents each. “Lhe coupons are free to Tir Top readers, and we adopt this method to prevent others from getting the badge at the special rate given to our patrons. IF YOU ARE A READER OF THE TIP TOP YOU ARE A MEMBER OF ‘THE LEAGUE, AND EN'ITITLED TO WEAR THE EM- BLEM OF THE ORDER—and our word for it, you will be more than pleased after you receive it. 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. To secure the promptest attention, address all letters on the subject to «ee LIP. TOP LEAGUE ... STREET & SMITH, 238 William St., N. ¥. a es » 7 meow ener ptm = een - Lennart ner et ea Ae AS CIEE Se ican neni tenia all Se er ™ sae ot 4 ioe. oe eellac ative ma Atle Site en PS ai tt ey lll —— = nae Sig x “| aa’ = i . 2 gt a atime t Pst ° es . = | : P ik eee a . = bee goo vw PEE are? sey: — 7 pyeitin ge — 3 3 ee oe . — ij 9 ” YR eee See eo eee marere era ee reed ssa MORE LIBRARIES TO SUIT ‘‘ TIP TOP’? READERS. The Do and Dare Weekly PHIL RUSHINGTON, THE ACTOR-MANAGER. HE “Do and Dare Weekly” tells of the exploits and adventures of one PHIL RUSHINGTON,, a lively, hustling, bright and brave American boy—a first-class all-round athlete, and a thorough gentleman in all the phases of his eventful career. The author of these stories is MR. STANLEY NORRIS, an able writer, and one thoroughly in sympathy with the wants of our boys and girls in the line ot reading. His work is bound to pleas. 2% w% % % e He & The following are the latest issues: 16—Phil Rushington’s Clown; or, The Secret of | 2/—Phil Rushington’s Enemies; or, Saving His the Star Rider. Reputation. 17—Phil Rushington’s Temptation; or, An Act 22—Phil Rushington’s Smash-Up; or, A New Not Down on the Bills. Recruit for the Sawdust Ring. 18—Phil Rushington’s Race; or, The Pursuit of | 23—Phil Rushington’s Trust; or, The Child the Rival Circus. Trapeze Wonder. 19—Phil Rushington’s Prize; or, The Show for | 24—Phil Rushington’s Tackle; or, Cleaning Out Tent Number Two. the Swindlers. 20—Phil Rushington’s Search; or, The Unknown | 25—Phil Rushington’s Specialty; or, “Bear and Rider of the Ring. ’ Forbear ” in the Main Tent. The Do and Dare Weekly appears every Tuesday. 32 pages, illuminated cover, uniform in size and style with ‘‘Tip Top.’” “Comrades” The Best M WRIGHT, the hero of “Comrades,” is a bright boy who has decided ‘ to devote his life to the service of “King Steam” in one of the great Railroad railroads of our land. Rest assuted he will reach fame and fortune on the lightning express. The life of an ambitious railroad man is full of St ° exciting incident, and Tom has his full share of adventures. Through ores ever all of these, he will be found Wright by name, right in word, right in deed, and é always right. The many adventures of Tom and his friends will be followed written. with the deepest interest by all who are fortunate enough to read this new series of splendid stories. ‘Tom is surrounded by several “comrades,” who join hands with him and stand by him in his various enterprises. MR. ROBERT STEEL We is an author of wide experience in the field covered by these stories, and his work will please all who admire the well-known “Tip Top Weekly” and “Do and Dare Weekly,” to which “Comrades” is a companion. 1Ji—Tom Wright’s Substitute; or, The Dumb | 16—Tom Wright’s Triumph; or, Railroad Com- Flagman of Dead Man’s Curve. rades to the Rescue. i. {2—Tom Wright in Demand; or, A Mile a Min- | 17—Tom Wright’s Honor; or, The Girl Who ute in a Private Car. | Saved the Gold Train. 13—Tom Wright’s Right-of-Way; or, Stealing a | 18—Tom Wright’s Queer Freight; or, An Unwel- March on the Enemy. come Passenger. 14—Tom Wright Misjudged; or, Called Down by | 19—Tom Wright’s Long Run; or, Chased the Company. Through Fourteen States. 15—Tom Wright Switched Off; or, A New Start | 20—Tom Wright’s Enemies; or, Squaring a New on a New Railroad. Superintendent. Remember, “‘Gomrades”’ appears every Wednesday-—Read it—Price 5c. 32 pages, illuminated cover, uniform in size and style with ‘‘Tip Top.’”