ey WERT EVERYONE KNOWS THAT TIP TOP WEEKLY LEADS ANY PUBLICATION OF ITS CLASS IN AMERICA. Issued Weekly. By Subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second Class Matter at the N. V. Post Office by STREET & SMITH, 23798 William St., N. Y. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year rqor, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D.C. No. 266. NEW YORK, May 18, 1901. Price Five Cents. FRANK MERRIWEL&’S EVES; OR. SAV ily By BURT L. STANDISH. CHAP ian i THE FIFTEENTH MAN, The hour had come. > It was five o’clock in the afternoon of the third Thurs- day in May. In front of the fence the juniors had con- --gregated in a body, and there they waited in solemn and expectant. silence. It was the day of the elections to the senior sotiaties. and, without doubt, every man in that throng by the fence hoped deep in his heart that it would be his fate to e make “Bones.” : Some there were who felt confident, and their confi- toe showed in their faces; but others were doubtful and nervous, while still others, knowing that their chances were not worth reckoning upon, seemed resigned, as if nothing more than curiosity to watch the rest had brought them there. | Still all hoped. man had heen chosevi to accept the high honor of enter- Often in the past some unexpected ing one of the three senior societies, and what had hap- pened might happen again. Of course there were men whose election seemed cer- — tain. Their society career had begun in Kappa Omicron — Alpha, when they were at Andover, and had continued of triumphantly through Hé Boulé or Eta Phi, the Yale sophomore societies, into Delta Kappa Epsilon, Psi Up- a 3 TIP TOP silon, or ‘Alpha Delta Phi, thie great junior societies of the college. It would be against all precedent to leave such men out of all three of the senior societies, and of course they felt certain that the hand of some searching senior society man would fall smartly on their backs that day. , But out of that throng of students but forty-five men The though, could be the favored ones, fifteen to each society. confident ones wereall looking to make “Bones,” to tell the truth, there was some inward trepidation among them. For Skull and Bones is the great senior society at Yale, being the oldest and richest of them all. He is not a Yale man who would prefer scholarship, honors or prizes to membership in this society, and it is supposed that the honor falls each year to the fifteen men who stand highest as scholars, athletes, or have made brilliant rec- ords in a literary and social way. Sometimes the selec- tions do not meet the approval of the great mass of men who fail to reach this goal of college glory, and it has been claimed that heredity had considerable to do with the selections, close relatives of former members This, being pre- ferred to more capable candidates. however, is always stoutly denied. Next to “Bones” comes Scroll and Key, generally known as “Keys,” and after “Bones” it gets the cream of the picking. If a man does not make “Bones” he may feel solaced and satisfied that his great ambitions have not been entirely fruitless in case he is taken into “Keys.” Indeed, the men who make the latter society seem to convince themselves that it is the one they always pre- ferred, and they bear themselves with the air and dignity of conquerors. ; Wolf’s Head is less highly rated than the other two societies, and instances have been known where men who J failed in making “Bones” or “Keys” declined to accept an election to Wolf’s Head. It is only to him who ex- pects little or nothing that the election to the latter so- ciety comes as a great shock of joy, Has he been looking | longingly and hopefully toward “Bones, ” he may, as ae WEEKLY. last resort, seeing his hope vanish of reaching the higher goal, accept the offering of a shelter in Wolf’s Head, And so on this third Thursday in May all the probable and possible candidates were gathered at the fence. and looke for Freshmen and sophomores stood off d on, in this ceremony they had no part. In less than one minute after the clock struck five a solemn senior was seen threading his way through the 23” man was in search of All eyes fol- lowed him, and an anxious hush fell on the great throng. ake was seen looking sharply at a man. crowd, and all knew a “Bones” the candidate he had been sent to notify. Gunnison!” whispered somebody, as the searcher “No, Rice!” fluttered another, “See, he's turned away from Gunnison.” But he passed Rice. “Who can it be?” In a moment they Of a sudden the searcher dealt a student a sharp slap on the back, sternly saying : “Go to your room!” would know. “Tt’s Gildea!’ said a voice that was drowned in a great dS shout that goes up from the spectators. ' The fitst ‘““Bones” man had been chosen, Then came another grave senior weaving in and out through the throng, and soon another shout went up as another man was tapped sharply on the back and ordered to go to his room. re The watchers were keeping count with untold excite- ment and anxiety, for thus they could tell where each ‘man went and how their own chances were growing less in case they were juniors. _ Bertrand Defarge was smiling and serene, for he had made a sophomore and a junior society, and he was , CON fident of being taken into the field of “Bones.” ‘At one time he had feared, but since that time he had made his peace with Merriwell. It had been a terrible humiliation for him to go to Frank and humble himself, but the French youth, feeling that his ambition was hope- * less unless he did, had forced’himself to do so. It was - _ He loves to forgive. ‘ stood ready to do anything for him. friends now. TP “TOP the manner in which Merriwell had met him that re- stored ‘hope and confidence to the heart of Defarge, for Frank had seemed glad that he came, and had appeared to accept in good faith his repentance. Defarge left Merriwell that night with the firm conviction that Frank’s one great ami And he told himself that he had deceived tion in life was to make friends of his enemies. Merry finely with his tearful protestations of sorrow, re- pentance, admiration and pledges of future friendship. He had seen Merriwell do much in the past for enemies who had become his friends, and Bertrand worked to de- ceive Frank into giving him a lift toward the goal of his ambitions, “Bones.” In this he was crafty, knowing that open speech would not do, but yet he fancied he had managed to convey his meaning and desires in a most delicate manner. The fellow had even been so confident that he boasted of his cleverness to one or two intimate and confidential friends. | _ “Merriwell is the easiest fellow in the world to fool if you know how to go about it,” he had said. “Do you think that?” “IT know it. D’ve been playing my cards wrong with him. I’ve just found out the trick.” 4) “What‘is it?” “Make him think you love nim. Make him believe you're awfully sorry for any harm you may have tried to do him. Be a repentant sinner and seek forgiveness. He has a magnanimous way: of saying, ‘Oh, that’s all right, old man; don’t mention it.’ Then he’ll turn to and do more for the enemy he believes has become his friend than for any one else.” oh “What makes you think that r “His record. Diamond was his enemy; see what he did for Diamond. Browning was his enemy, and he has Hodge was one of : the bitterest enenties he ever had, yet they are bosom Badger, who hated him, finally turned c friend, and Merriwell helped Badger win and carry off Winnie Lee for his wife. ihat is ae enough, I’ve WEEKLY. 3 given him the hint, and I know he'll throw his influence for me. Not a word, old man, but I’m sure of making ‘Bones’ now.” So Defarge stood by the fence and smflea as ne saw man after man tapped and ordered away. He had little interest in a chap he knew was looking for a “Keys” can- didate, and none whatever in the Wolf’s Head searcher. Hock Mason happened to be standing close to Defarge. Bertrand had sought to be friendly toward all of Merri- well’s friends after his professed “change of heart,” and now he was conversing with the youth from South Caro- lina. in @ low “Twelve men gone to ‘Bones,’” he said, tone. “That leaves only three more.” “And I know twenty good fellows who ought to ‘go said Hock. “Oh, yes; that’s all right; but you see it can’t be, as only there,” fifteen men can make it.” “You're not tapped yet.” “Oh, there’s time enough,” declared Bertrand, but the confident smile was fading from his face and giving place to a look of anxiety. What i! after making every other so- What if he should not be chosen after all? he should be thrown down ciety in order? He felt that the disgrace would kill him. But that could not be. Merriwell had not yet appeared in search of a candidate. He would come soon, and something told Defarge that it would be the hand of Frank Merriwell that would tap him on the back. Ha! what a satisfaction it would be to use Merriwell at last as a tool in this ‘manner’ Defarge felt that there was something in making use of a hated foe in such a way that was even more satisfactory than in maiming or kill- ing him. Of course they would be bound together as brothers in the society, and Defarge knew he would © never again lift a hand against Merriwell; but the fact that Frank must leave college in a few short weeks to re- , turn no more was a great comfort to Bertrand. Another ieee ee from the ee throng, telling 2 that yet another candidate had been chosen. The happy B-4 4. trian was seen walking swiftly foward his room, followed by the grave-faced senior who had slapped him on the back. “ ‘Boneés,’”’ said the watchers. “Thirteen!” counted Defarge, ina husky whisper. “Only twe more,” muttered Mason. ’ said Bertrand, with “Just enough to take us both in,’ pretended lightness, though his heart was sinking. “Not enough to take me in,’ declared the youth from South Carolina, rather sadly. “Thete was never a ghost of a show for me. I only came here to see the other fel- lows made happy. You know my record when I first ; came here hurt me, and when a man gets started wrong at Yale he has hard work to change his course and get on the right track. I’ve been sidetracked right along.” “Tt’s too bad!’ nodded Defarge. “Hello! there goes another ‘Keys’ man, You might make Wolf’s Head, Ma- son, you know.” “My chance of making Heaven is better. But surely a 9 society man like you “‘Bones’ or nothing!” muttered Defarge,, grimly. “There are two more to go, and I’m waiting.” “Hooray! Codwell! Hoopee! Hooray!’ ““Bones!’” said Defarge, hoarsely, his face growing white. “Fourteen!” counted Mason. “That leaves but one . more,” = “I’m the man!” the French youth inwardly declared. c “T must be the man! My God! what if they did not take me in! What if I failed after making the other so- cieties !” ‘It could not. be! Fortune had simply held him back for the fifteenth man. Such a thing was unprecedented. His mouth and lips were dry and he trembled a little. Was it possible, after all, that he had failed: to deceive Merriwell? But it had been claimed by all of Merriwell’s . friends that he would not use personal feelings to retard any man from advancement. _ “Be will not,” Befarge told himself. “Tt would be _ more like him to ge against any feeling of dislike he may TTP TOP WEHERKTY. have for me and seek to uplift me for that very reason. i’m all right! I am to be the fifteenth man.” He heard nothing of the roar.from the crowd as a “Keys” man was slapped, ot the fainter shout as a candi- Jate wetit to Wolf’s Head. He was waiting for Frank Merriwell to appear; he was looking in all directions for Frank. These in the crowd who were disappointed were doing their best to hide it away under a'mask of happiness over the good forttne of others. Many were there who felt a eteat pain in their hearts and longed to crawl away and hide themselves, but they laughed in a strained fashion and talked of the luck of others. Those who had been to their rooms, followed .by tappers, were back receiving congratulations from friends, their hands being shaken till their arms were tired. This was the acme of college glory. Truly it did seem that some of those happy-faced chaps were not nearly as deserving as some others who were congratulating them. But it is the case all through life. Not always the men we regard as the most deserving win the high prizes. We may, however, be wrong in our estimates of men. Only one more man to go to “Bones.”’ Who wotld it ke? The crowd were speculating, “Harrison is the man.” “Don’t believe yourself. He can’t get there. It’s Fair- bush.” “All wrong. It’s Defarge, of course.” “Phat’s right; Defarge must be the man. Look how cool he is. He knows he will be chosen, even though there is only one more choice. He'll get it.” / “Sure thing. Who’s the man he’s talking to?” “Ohh, that’s Mason.” | “So it-is!) What a chump I am not to know him! He can play ball.” “Merriwell brougnt nim out. Nobody ever suspected ‘there was much in him till Merriwell took hold of him. He never did cut any ice.” All at once Defarge stiffened up. Moving througil aN ee OR OR Se Be eet Li Lee US PRR io mg SA ae eS a aS Tie efor the crowd, looking right and left, he had seen a well- known senior. _ It was Merriwell! Frank was thé last of the “Bones” men to come forth in search of a candidate. His was the fifteenth man. All eyes were turned on Merriwell, and a great hush fell on the watching throng. In and out, here and there, Frank moved. As he came near, the heart of many a man rose into his throat: as he turned away those swelling, fluttering hearts seemed to drop back like lead The mouth of Defarge was dry as a chip now, and he He al- felt cold shivers running up and down his spine. most feared to watch Merriwell’s movements. What if he should be left out? It seemed that he could never bear the disgrace of it. Mason was speaking to him. At first he did not seem to hear, but soon he understood these words: “Teverywhere for you. He's passed Fairbush and Har- rison. They are both looking ill. Too bad! I’m sorry for them. It must be tough on a man who has counted on being chosen. He sees you, Defarge! He is coming this way!” Yes, it seemed that Frank had seen Bertrand at last. He turned in that direction and came forward slowly, as became the dignity of a senior on such a grave mission. ¢ Bertrand’s heart leaped for joy. Now there could no longer be a doubt; he was the man, and to Merriwell had fallen the lot of notifying him. | Defarge came near laughing aloud. He did smile. He saw how everybody was watching Merriwell. Many pres- ent knew Frank had found in the French youth a persis- tent foe, but of late it seemed that Merry had discovered a way to hold Bertrand in subjection and submission. But the great mass of students didnot dream of the many .. villainous attempts Defarge had made to injure Frank. i{ In that moment Bertrand Defarge saw visions of being made a member of Merriwell’s flock. He even vowed _that.he would do his level best to gain such distinction, § WEEKLY. as it would give him standing after Merriwell tiad left college. Not that he loved Merriwell at all. Not that his treach- erous nature had been changed in the least. But “Bones” would bring about the eternal burial of the hatchet, and never could anything cause them to betray a symptom of enmity. Frank came nearer, yp? “It’s a sure thing, Defarge!” said Mason, in a whisper. “Congratulations.” “Yes, it’s a sure thing,’ thought Bertrand. “I knew it. How could I ever doubt it for a minute? They could not skip me. I was a fool to think such a thing!” Frank came nearer. Bertrand even turned his body so that Merry’ might have less trouble in reaching his back and giving it a slap. Then he waited again. Smack! Frank’s hand had fallen. “Go to your room!” The fifteenth man had been chosen. It was not Defarge! CHAPTER IL. THE MAN WHO WAS NOT CHOSEN. a Defarge heard the smack of Frank’s hand, but he was astounded beyond measure when he failed to feel it upon his back. Scarcely could he believe Merriwell had given the slap. One moment before he had felt perfectly con- 8 fident that he was the one who had been chosen for the honors. Like a flash he turned. What he saw astonished him beyond measure. ; Hoek Mason, the youth from South Carolina, was look- ing at Frank Merriwell in a most bewildered way, as if he doubted the evidencé of his own senses. Merriwell had slapped Mason. In all that gathering of students no man had less ex- pected such an honor. To Mason it seemed that the heavens had opened with a golden shower. eG TIP TOP To Defarge it was like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. Plainly Mason could not yet believe he had been se- lected for “Bones.” Why, he was on the verge of telling Frank that he must have made a mistake. Defarge, also, felt like crying out to Merry: “You're wrong, you chump! Here J am!’ Plainly the selection of the fifteenth man had been a surprise to many, for there was a protracted hush. Then it broke, and there was a great cheer for Mason. The blood rushed back to the face of the Southerner. It came so fast that he grew dizzy and everything seemed to swim round him. He put out his hands as if to grasp something. Was he dreaming? Had this greatest honor that a Yale man can receive really come to him? There was no mistake. The crowd had greeted the selection with a cheer, and he had heard his name at the end of it. He, who had expected nothing, had received the exceeding great reward. With faltering steps he started to go to his room, but he was so bewildered that he started in the wrong direc- tion. Somebody put an arm round him and turned him the right way, whispering in his ear: “I'm gug-gosh darn gug-glad for ye!” It was Joe Gamp—poor, dear old Joe, who had never “cut any ice’’ in society life at Yale. Joe Gamp, the lad from New Hampshire, who would have given up any hope of inheriting his father’s farm for the glory of en- tering “Bones,” had seen in the face of the Southerner the unspeakable joy of the moment, and he whispered that he was glad. Mason remembered it afterward, for he was not a fel- lew to forget. Mason, who had come to Yale with a feeling of prejudice for “Yanks,” would have fought to the death for one “Yank” after that. For more than one, as Merriwell was a Northerner, and he had long felt that he would do anything in his power for Frank. The: bitden of disappointment had fallen heavily on i: many men that day, but to none had come greater joy 5 WEEKLY. His heart was threatening to tear oS than to Hock Mason. a hole in his bosom as he walked through that crowd, which parted for him to pass, knowing that rank Mor- riwell was gravely following in his footsteps. Frank's face was unreadable as that of a stone image as he brushed past Defarge and followed Mason. And so they proceeded across the campus and disa>- peared into one of the arches. Behind them they. left a youth who felt that he must die of disappointment and shame. Defarge knew that it had been supposed he was sure to make ‘Bones’ or “Keys,” and he had told himself that nothing less than the greater society would satisfy him. Now, however, he was weak and crumbling with the bitterness of it cll upon him. - $9 It must be that he had been chosen by “Keys.” That was the last hope, and the last “Keys” man was passing through the throng in search of the final candidate. “THe must be after me!” Defarge inwardly cried. ‘But the searcher had found his man. and fell. vr Carson!” “It's Carson! Hooray! Carson! Berlin Carson was the man. Defarge started to go somewhere. He did not know where he wanted to go, but he had a desire to get away. This was the day he had lived for during the past year; * and this was what it had brought him! ge “Merriwell is to blame for it all!’ he cried, mentally. “Oh, curse him! But for him this shame would not have fallen on me!” He was wrong. He alone was to blame. His own treacherous nature, which he had so skillfully concealed at first, had led him on to his downfall. He had been very slick in his early days at Yale. It was only when he > became ambitious to overthrow Frank Merriwell. that his downfall began. With each failure he had dropped lower, but he did not realize how fast he was falling: Merriwell had shielded him by silence, but nothing could keep his rascality secret. He had plotted, and his plots, all of them failures, had reacted upon himself. - ‘ His hand rose. - - -benéath his heel. Tae Or 'As he was staggering away, he bethought himself of one last possibility, and paused. _. Perhaps he had been chosen for Wolf’s Head. A few minutes ago he would have scorned the thought ; he would have asserted with disdain that nothing could induce him to enter that order. Now he stopped and looked round in hope that the lowest of the three societies might prove a shelter for him in this hour of distress. How giadly he would accept it now! But even as he paused with this faint hope, the final man was chosen for Wolf’s Head, and he knew at last that he had no chance. This, in truth, was the worst punishment Defarge had Physical punishment He did not ever received for his wrongdoing. had been as nothing in comparison to it. mind a few bruises; he did not care if he happened to be confined to his room for a day or two. But this struck Straight to his heart, and he felt ready to die. In this moment came the thought that he had brought it all on himself when he sought to harm Merriwell. He felt that somehow. Merriwell was responsible, and the hatred he had known for Frank in the past became a thousand times more intense. i “I could kill him!” he muttered, hoarsely. You have tried, Defarge, and you made a sorry mess of it, my fine fellow. Do you remember the night you hid in the ridge by the roadside and hurled the rock down at him? You thought you had killed or maimed him then, but fortune sheltered! him from your treacherous hand. ‘lt was Bart Hodge who found the proof against you. And even then, when he felt that a certain power he possessed would keep you from lifting your. hand against him again, Frank Merriwell did not crush you But you aré crushed now, Defarge; ~and the blow has been severe enough. He saw the chosen candidates receiving congratula- tions on all sides, and the spectacle maddened him. He t s é ’ % ¢ ot } was muttering to himself as he found his way out onto the green, where he wandered round and round for half WEEKLY. | 7 an hour before realizing that fie was acting like a daffy person, There was a little place where Bertrand had often dropped in to have a quiet drink, and toward it he now turned his steps, for he felt that nothing but drink could give him relief, He found his favorite seat by the corner screen, drop- ping down heavily and sitting there staring blankly at the table when the waiter came up. Not until the waiter had asked him twice for his order did he arouse himself. Then he ordered absinthe. After a little it was placed before him, the devil’s drink that lifts men to the seventh heaven of bliss, only to hurl them at last to.the lowest depths of hell. He knew when he took the stuff that it robs men of manhood and makes. them its slaves, yet he drank it. He knew the awful ef- fect of that decoction on the human being, for absinthe drinkers soon find their way to madhouses, yet he. drank it. He knew he was taking into his system a poison that must work on every part of him, yet he drank it. It soothed him after a little, and that was what he sought. He leaned back in his chair and lighted a cigar- ette, which he puffed leisurely. In the blue smoke he saw strange pictures of himself overthrowing and destroying one whom he hated with all his heart, and that one was Merriwell. How strong he felt!) Why, it seemed that he could crush Merriwell to the earth without an effort. What did he care, after all, if he had failed to be chosen to.enter the ivy-wreathed door of “Bones!” That was a passing jcy, but absinthe he could have always—till death! “Waiter, bring another of the same.” With the second glass everything passed from him save his determination to get even with Merriwell, Of late. he had feared Merriwell, but now he did not fear him. Merriwell had seemed to possess a strange power over him, but now he felt that the power was broken. He knew he was in every way superior to Merriwell, and it seemed strange that all others did not know it as well. In his heart something was making soft music, like chiming bells, and he listened to it with quiet delight. 8 TIP TOP WEEKLY. How easy it was to start that music to going! “Waiter, another absinthe.” But the waiter was not near, and it was too much ef- fort to call him. He smiled to think he had cared if he He knew the fel- lows who had been chosen, and he was better than the failed to get into-‘Bones.”. Foolish! best of them. He would prove it, too, some day. He knew he could prove it easily, for he had the power to do anything he desired. Tinkle! tinkle! tinkle!—he seemed to hear the fall of water in a fountain, which sparkled and glowed before his eyes, as his imagination conjured it there. He saw it in the moonlight of a soft Italian night, and the odor of a thousand flowers was brought to him with a pass- ing breeze. He looked into the fountain and a face smiled ‘up at him. He saw it was the face of the man he . hated, and he put out his strong hands to grasp it by the throat: There was no struggle. He was so strong ‘that his enemy could not struggle. So he forced him down and held him beneath the surface of the water, watching him drown. It was a great delight to watch him drown. ‘ The end came, and he relinquished his hold on that throat. Down, down to the bottom of the fountain sank the head, and there it-lay looking up at him with wide- open, staring eyes. He nodded and smiled at it, saying: “I have conquered at last!” But it simply stared straight into his soul. Those eyes made him shiver a little, they were so cold and glassy. Those eyes had cast upon him a fearful spell when their owner lived, but they were powerless now. Were they powerless? Dead though he knew they were, they seemed to take hold of him and possess him. He could not tear his gaze from them. Slowly round the fountain he moved, trying to escape from those eyes. He did not see the head move, but it must have moved, for always those eyes were fixed upon him. A great horror crept over him. What did it mean? Was he not the victor? He was seized by a fear that even in death, Frank Merriwell remained his master. Then he longed to shrick aloud, to run away, to do something. He could feel those dead eyes getting a stronger hold upon him. He knew he was becoming their victim. He had not conquered; Merriwell was still his master. 4 “Yes,” he said aloud, “I am coming; I am coming.” } Then, with a singular look on his drawn face, he rose, He walked like on¢ in a trance, staring straight ahead, minding hat in hand, and started from the place. nothing around him. “T am coming,” he murmured. “That’s the last drink of that stuff he gets in this place!” muttered the waiter, shaking his head and. star- ing after Defarge. “He's been up against it hard. Never saw a fellow take to that dope so suddenly as he has, and he’s gone down like a rock in less than a week. Next time I’ll refuse to serve him.” CHAPTER III. HOW SKELDING QUIT. “Tt’th a thame!” declared Lew Veazie, standing before Chickering’s fireplace, his feet as far apaxt as his short legs would comfortably permit, while he inhaled the smoke of a cigarette with the air of one long accus- tomed to the things. a athe SO, chummie,” agreed Ollie Lord, regarding Lew with a look of admiratibn. “It’s a howling shame!” “They say his mind is affected,” said Rupert, who had gently seated himself in a position that would bring the least possible strain on the knees of his handsomely creased trousers. “Oh, no doubt of it!” nodded Julian Ives from the op-— posite side of the table, pressing a hand against his beau- | tiful bang as he move his head, as if he feared the air might disturb its symmetry or it might fall off, “It must have been an awful disappointment to him,” solemnly. croaked Tilton Hull, whose collar threatened to : if a mt x oe tataets nei Aig or ae Peo Pe Ee ors eS ait ce RAS aul: Sd a Sy toe a ass hate ere Ea x atte = Se oe gine ake BSS ml OT TR sai Te REE ss ts stag ee tized by those dead eyes he raved about.” Tit: FOP ciit his throat in time, and was, therefore, delightfully uncomfortable and satisfactory to its wearer. “Poor fellow!” sighed Chickering. “The whole col- lege is talking about it. He was a ‘Deke’ man, and yet he failed even to get into Wolf’s Head.” “It’s perfectly dreadful, fellows!” said Ollie Lord. 9 “Thimply awful!” said Lew. “And evwybody knowth who ith to blame faw it.” “That’s so, chummie,” agreed Ollie. “The man whose word is law at Yale brought it about, of course,” croaked Hull, like a parson droning a sermon with uplifted eyes. “Let’s not be too harsh on any one,” put in Rupert, hastily, with a warning gesture of his hand. “Oh, come off !’’ exclaimed Ives. “The man had little feeling for poor Defarge, and, without doubt, it was his influence that kept Defarge down.” | Gene Skelding was sitting square in a chair, his hands clasped, his eyes roving from one speaker. to another, a strange, grim expression on his face. Thus far he had taken little part in the conversation, but now he broke in. “T think Defarge has only himself to blame,” he said. “What?” exclaimed the others, staring at him in startled surprise. ©e “Let's be honest with ourselves for once,” said Gene. “T was the one who found Defarge, hatless, coatless, his shirt torn open at the neck, wandering about in the old cemetery on the evening of tap day. I took him to. his room and watched him all night long.” “And you've told us how he raved about Merriwell’s dead eyes,” came hoarsely from Hull. “The fellow had been drinking dope of some sort,” as- serted Gene. “I’ve told you that.” -“Dwiven to dwink by the injuthice he had endured,” put in Lew, with an effort to ‘be dramatic. “Just so, chummie,’”’ nodded Ollie. - “He had taken to drink all right, all right,” nodded Gene. “But he acted exactly as if he had been hypno- “try. WEEKLY. 9 “What do you suppose made him talk about Merri- well having dead eyes?” asked Chickering. : “I was with him long enough to know that he seemed to see some sort of vision. He talked about a fountain in the blackness of a dark night, and a face down in the fountain—a face that seemed luminous, so he could see it for all ‘of the darkness. It seemed te me that he thought he had drowned Merriwell in that fountain, but he fancied it was far off in Italy, or some foreign coun- “And all those wild fancies were brought about by his terrible disappointment,” said Julian Ives. “They were brought about by the stuff He had been drinking,” asserted Skelding. “I took some pains to in- vestigate a little, and I have found that he’s been drink- ing absinthe. That explains it. He’s in a bad way.” “Driven there by a certain man,” said Chickering, sol- emnly. “Driven there by his own blank foolishness,” said Gene, positively. “No man can be in the condition De- farge was in and drink absinthe without quickly paying the penalty.” “Tempwance lecture by Mithter Thkelding!” cried Veazie, and Ollie snickered. Gene gave the two little fellows a look that seemed full of positive disgust and contempt, but he held his temper, going on: “Defarge, like some of the rest of us, has been buck- ing up against the wrong man, and he did not know enough to throw up the sponge when he was beaten. That is the whole of it in a nutshell.” 7 “J don’t understand you, Gene,” said Julian Ives, staring at Skelding. “Do you mean that we have bucked against the wrong man when we bucked against Merri- well?” “That’s what mean. Doesn’t it look that'way? Now, be honest in answering.” There was consternation in that room at once. Always Skelding had been the fiercest and bitterest against Mer- | riwell. 10 “Good Lord!” croaked Hull, standing on his tiptoes in “What’s this I hear? One of our number talking tea a Merri- order to glare down over his collar at Gene. well saphead? I must be dreaming! I know I am!” _ “Oh, Gene is joking!” said Ives. “Gwathuth!. What a queer joke!” murmured Lew. “I want to tell you fellows what I did with Defarge before I left him the next morning,” said Gene; who had risen to his feet and stood on the centerpiece of a beau- tiful rug, “All night I listened to his ravings.. Now, you all know. I’m not squeamish, but I confess that some. of the things I heard gave me cold chills. He had some of the most horrible fancies, and through them all he was hunted by Merriwell’s eyes. Those eyes seemed to fol- low him, everywhere. He fought them, he threw the furniture at them, he covered his own eyes to shut out the sight of them, but he could not get away from them. I pitied the poor fellow. His face was ghastly and ‘drawn, and great beads of perspiration started out on it at times. His lips would be drawn back from his teeth, and he looked like a grinning death-head. Of course, I knew that the most of the things he raved about were fancies, but with those he mixed lots of facts. I found that more than once he had thought of murdering Merri- well. He had even tried it. Now, I’m no saint, and I | have fancied that I could kill Merriwell; but never. have I been ready to carry it to that extent when the time came to lift my hand. In listening to the mutterings of Defarge I found that Merriwell had caught and baffled him. Still, for some reason, Merriwell had not crushed him. He had seen at last that he must make his peace with Merriwell if he was to get into ‘Bones,’ and so he went and played a part. He tried to fool Merriwell into thinking him repentant, and he: thought he had suc- ceeded : but I do not think it so easy to fool that man, even though he may Jet one fancy he is being fooled. Merriwell saw through Defarge all the time. In fact, I think Merriwell must have hypnotic power over Defarge, and so he could read Bertrand’s secrets. That is why those eyes seemed to haunt Defarge so. The eyes were hefore his fancy, just as he had seen them boring into his soul more than once. Now, it’s likely ‘that somehow there was an understanding that Defarge was to go to ‘Bones.’ Whether Merriwell found a way ta stop him or not I cannot say, but it was just punishment for the in- juries Defarge has tried to do Merriwell, and so I told TIP TOP WEEKLY. the fellow before | left him that morning. ‘He was pretty “sober when I talked to him, and I told him we were both thundering scoundrels and pitiful fools. Had e been decent fellows we might have belonged to Mer- Seattle crowd, and that would have helped carry us anywhere. But our greed and our hatred had made us outcasts. We were getting our dues. He had to listen to me, for I held him while I talked. That night with him was just what I needed to open my eyes at last, and now I’m fully aware that I have made a howling idiot of myself.” : They stared at him in wonder. Was this Skélding? He had been the worst of the lot. | “I believe staying with Defarge that night affected his head some, fellows,’ whispered Chickering. Gene gave Rupert a look of contempt. “It did affect my head,” he acknowledged. “Tt gave me, I believe, a little more sense than I have had for a long, dong time. I came to see. myself and a few of my particular friends, as well as the men I have reckoned as my enemies, in the true light. Chickering, I’ve never held you in much respect, for you are a hypocrite,-and [ have known it right along.” “Would you insult, your friend in his own rooms?” cried Ives, also starting up. “Hush!” said Rupert, with a gentle gesture of re- “Do not revile him, Julian, ‘Even though he may unjustly turn upon me, I have no re- straint and sorrow. vengeful feeling in my heart, and I canpot forget that he has often taken tea from my hand.” “Go on!” exclaimed. Gene... “I’ve borrowed money of If it hadn’t been for that I’d not You knew how to make me one of your set. You lent me money, but I’ve paid it back, every, dirty cent! Haven’t I? Answer me! Haven’t ss you, too. I know it: be here now. Rupert shuddered a little at this fierceness, “T—I believe you have,” he said. “You believe! You know! Say you know it!” “Oh, very well; I know it,” agreed the alarmed fellow. “That has been one of your holds on all your friends. Your friends! Well, here they are! Look at them! Compare them with Frank Merriwell’s friends !. Ha! hat ha! That night I spent with Defarge I came to look the’ whole matter over, and I saw just how it was that I be+- longed to, our gang? Do you know what we are? Well, we’re outcasts, every one io us, ‘Weare compelled - * AY 4 t ¥ ot a, aur | SE i 4 a, : 4 . SSS lg Ey DO ae a Rd to Pi ee See ALE Serer as i 5 q a Pi set elise Me EY ek seed. aT Rant _ : eee SPOILS ES RODE eer CSRs AEST Nie a MS red Ae ERLE PRR acted. Bag tok di Weta eRe <5 ape ey a al peer sh hid ae FF FF a a ae ty ee >. ae DEP 207 to flock by ourselves for company, as other men want nothing to do with us. Merriwell to-day, the man we hate with all our hearts, is better known and more pop- He is They regard him We are looked on as snobs, and cads, and sappies. It’s just ular than any other man who ever entered Yale. the idol of the youth of our country. as the typical young American.. But what are we? what is coming to us, and we can’t kick.” “He must have turned crazy with Defarge!” exclaimed Ives. ‘: “He must!” croaked Hull. . “I turned crazy enough to get some sense into my head. It’s too late for me td ever make anything of my- self here in college, but I have resolved to turn over a new leaf, just the same. Even Defarge was given a show on the eleven last fall. Though he had been Mer- riwell’s open foe, Merriwell did not keep him off the leven. That man is square as a brick, and that’s the He does hold Did you ever know one of his friends to go back on him? Never. way he gets his friends and holds them. them, too. You know it, every one of you. It’s a wonder how he grapples them to him with hooks of steel,” “The trouble with him,” said Ives, in an aside to Chickering, “is that he found more than he could handle in Hodge that night. You know when I mean.” Rupert nodded. -Skelding flushed. “I fought Hodge squarely,” he said, “and he whipped 9? ! me, just as he can any man here—or any two of you “He’s done for!” said Chickering, with a gesture of sorrowful regret. ‘He'll be bowing down and licking the dust off Merriwell’s. feet now.” “That's a lie!’ said Gene.’ “Merriwell won’t have me, even if I want to. But I am done with this crowd.” “You won't have. many friends,’ croaked Hull, with an expression of satisfaction. “That’s tho!” cried Veazie. “Tust so, chummie !” agreed Lord. “T know you are right about that. [Pll have to go it alone, unless I can convert Defarge, and I’m afraid he’s ‘too far gone, poor devil! I think his selfishness and his hatred for Merriwell have brought about his ruin.” — “Metriwell tias ruined him!” cried Ives, savagely. “You would have said so a week ago! I don’t know ' WEEKLY. 11 what you’re going to try to do, but I don’t believe you'll get taken into Merriwell’s flock.” “T don’t expect to be; but I’ll take myself out of this flock, and that will give me a chance to regard mysclf as something more of a‘man. What are you, one and all? Chickering is a pitiful creature, with just enough brains to be a hypocrite. Hull never had a real thought in his wooden head in all his life. You, Ives, are a poor imita- tion of a real man, and, -though you sometimes bluster and brag, you are always the first to dodge behind shelter when there is danger. Veazie is a poor, simple little thing, who never can become a man, and Lord is his: counterpart. Nature made a mistake in giving them a chance to wear trousers.” “Be careful, thir!’ screamed Veazie, shaking his fist at Gene. “I won't thand it, thir |’ “Poor Gene!” said Rupert, with increasing sadness. “After all I have done for him!” “He’s an insulting scamp!” croaked Hull, his face very red. “He’s a ——” began Ives, but Skelding cut him short, advising : I'd be ashamed to put my hands on any of the others, but I “Don’t you say much, unless you want to fight. may be tempted to thrash you before leaving, so you'd better keep your mouth closed.” | Ives gasped and gurgled, but Skelding really seemed to find it difficult to keep off, so Julian closed up. Skelding took up his hat and light overcoat, tossing the latter over his arm. “I’m going,” he said, “and I’ll never come back to this place any more, I’m happy to say.. I feel as if there may be a chance for me to become a man, And I want He’s pretty low now, and you'll only send him lower.” to warn you to let Defarge alone. Skelding walked to the door, where he paused, turned and surveyed them all with a look of contempt. “When you meet me hereafter,” he said, “kindly re- frain from speaking to me. It will be best for you to do so, for I promise you that I shall take it as a deadly insult if you speak. I may not be able to whip Bart Hodge, but I’ll bet my shirt that I can whip any one of you, or the whole bunch together. Good-night.” Then he went out. “Go to'the dévil!” hissed Julian\Ives. 12 TIP TOP WEEKLY. “Poor, misguided fellow!” sighed Chickering, “I must have some tea to steady my nerves.” Li CHAPTER IV. THE MAD STUDENT, Tt was with a feeling of unadulterated satisfaction that Gene Skelding left the perfumed rooms of Rupert Chick- ering, after having expressed his opinion of the Chicker- ing set, separately and collectively. It had always seemed a little strange to any one who knew Gene that he had been one of the members of that namby-pamby crew of worthless cigarette-smokers. For Skelding was a fighter, and he was the only genuine fighter in the collection. The others were cowards of the most abject sort. Skelding had a way of closing his mouth firmly, and keeping it closed, which was a most difficult thing for _ any, other member of the set todo. Indeed, Tilton Hull found it possible to keep his mouth clesed only when it was held thus by his collar propping his lower jaw up. Take away his collar, and his jaw -drooped at ence. Lew Veazie always carried his mouth open, breathing through it from habit. discomfort, not to say agony, had he been compelled to close his mouth and keep it thus for three minutes with- out a break. Of course, Ollie Lord imitated Veazie in everything, and he fancied that the insipid, brainless expression of a It would have caused him great cigarette smoker with open mouth in repose was proper. Jutian Ives breathed through his mouth from habit, but Chickering had a way of pressing his lips together, turning up his eyes, clasping his pale hands and looking like a holy saint. This was the expression he wore as ‘Skelding retired from the room, and he hoped it would be so impressed on Gene’s mind that the “rude fellow” would come to believe in time that he had done Rupert a great wrong. ' Skelding afterward spoke of that look as reminding him of a-dying calf. Gene descended the stairs, stopped on the steps and drew several deep breaths, as if he would clear his lungs of the atmosphere that had defiled them while he was in _ that room. pom He was satisfied with himself and what he had done. For some time he had been growing more and more disgusted with the Chickering crowd. Of late he had appeared in public with them as seldom as possible. For Skelding was not a fool, and he saw at last that his folly in taking up with such fellows had given him his standing at Yale, and that standing was not pleasant to contemplate. At last he had been taught the old, old lesson that a man is judged by the company he keeps. Most boys are told this early in life, but somehow it seems to have little impression on them until their eyes are opened by ex- perience. Shun bad company; better have no friends than to be friendly with the wrong sort of fellows. — - Skelding had never smoked cigarettes until he fell.in with the Chickering crowd. Then it was nothing more than natural that he should take to them, for they were forever near him, being smoked by his companions and offered to him. He had not found them agreeable at first, but surely he, big and strong, could endure as much as that little whippersnapper Veazie, and so he had persisted in using them until the habit was set upon him. A dozen times he had vowed that he would smoke no more, but always he had found the things at hand in Chickering’s room, and the cloud of smoke hanging there almost constantly led him to break his pledge. The man who does not smoke is annoyed to extremes by the smoke of others; but he soon ceases to notice it if he fires up and joins them. Now, however, Skelding paused on the step and shook his light overcoat with the idea of getting. the smoke smell out of it. Never before had the fresh air seemed He drew it into his lungs with satis- faction and relief. f so good to him. Then he reached into a pocket of that overcoat and took out a partly smoked package of cigarettes. “There!” he exclaimed; “by the eternal hills, I am done with you forever! You are the badge of de- generacy, and any man who publicly smokes one of you publicly proclaims his shame.” He threw the package away. 3 It seemed to him that at that moment he had severed the last strand that had bound him to. the effeminate Chickering set. 3 \ 4 There was untold satisfaction in the feeling of relief _ and freedom which came to him. He looked back on eee hati AER oe EN a pn in ha SE NT IS oo rR NNR RT cM ci Eig. aE 8 a cy 7a 4 | i ; 4 og: Rung ES tate RR ES eS pox ee TIP TOP what he had been, and wondered at his folly. He con- templated his association with Rupert Chickering and his pals, wondering that he could have found any satis- faction in such company. No matter what happened, he was done with them. It is hard to understand how great a thing this was for him to do. Skelding was a man who liked com- panionship. He was not given to the habit of solitude, and. he desired friends. But he knew that, without doubt, he was cutting him- self off from the only men who would be friendly toward him while he remained in college. Tie had been stamped with the odious brand of.Chick- ering, and other men would not care to associate with him. Nevertheless, he felt better. “lll go it alone,” he said, grimly, “It’s the best thing I can do now.” Then he thought of Defarge, and a sudden sympathy assailed him. They were both outcasts. Perhaps they might strike up a friendship. A few seconds later he was on the way to the room of ‘Bertrand. Skelding did not pause to knock. Turning the knob -quietly, he entered the room, Defarge; thin, haggard, wild-looking, was standing by a table, loading a revolver. He muttered to himself: “It’s my only way to escape! leased me from the spell, so that J am my own master now; but he may put it in me the next time we meet, and I shall be the slave of his eerie ope He must die!” “Defarge.” _Skelding spoke, and, with a little ery, Bertrand whirled The hand I feel that he has re- round, pointing the revolver at the newcomer. that held the weapon shook violently. “My dear fellow,” said Gene, stepping forward, “you could not hit a house that was ten feet away. Your nerves are in terrible shape, my boy.” Defarge lowered the refolver. “TJ thought it was he!” he said, hoarsely. “Whom do you mean?” _“Merriwell.” “Did you: eg he had come here?” “Yes,” is “Why should he do that?” “He has done it before now. He came here once and WEEKLY. 13 T don’t remember looked at me with those eyes of his. much after that, but I know I talked and toid him things I did not mean to tell. I thought he had come again,” “What did you mean to do in case he had?” “Shoot him!” “You could not have hit him at a distance of ten feet. You were shaking like a leaf.” “T know—I know! You see what I’ve come to. He is to blame for it all.” The eyes of Defarge were glaring and bloodshot. Do you remember what I told you the other morning, after fight- “You may be somewhat to blame yourself. ing with you here all night to keep you still and prevent you from doing something that would ruin you forever?” “Oh, I don’t remember much about it. 1 know you were here, but that’s all: I was rather nutty that night, wasn't 1?” “Rather,” said Skelding, dryly. “You thought you had choked and drowned Merriwell in Italy or some- where. You were haunted by his eyes.” “Curse those eyes! They haunt me all the time! Skelding, you don’t suppose the fellow has the power of second sight?” “What do you mean?” “Why, it seems to me as if he is watching me all the while, and that is why I can’t get away from those eyes. I have tried to get away from them in the dark, but in the dark I seem to see them and they seem to see me all the plainer.” “Absinthe is what ails you, Defarge. quit it—or go up the spout.” “TI don’t believe I can quit it,” confessed Bertrand, “It’s the only, You've get to” with a. pitiful expression of rere thing that soothes my nerves.’ “Tt may seem to quiet them for the time, but it tears you all to pieces afterward and you know it. And every time you take the stuff you are becoming more and more its victim. It has a fearful hold on you already.” Defarge trembled. “Oh, if I could do one thing I would be all right!” he cried. “What's that eS “Get away from those eyes! I'll do it, too! ing to get away from them! I know a way ag Skelding thought of the revolver, which Bertrand had — I’m go- TIP TOP 14« beety loading. boxes of cartridges. It was lying on the table now, beside two “How do you mean?” he asked. “You're not think- ing of shooting yourself?” “Oh, no!” “Then “Of shooting him!” “Merriwell ?” “That’s it! that’s it! Don’t talk to me! I’ve figured it all out. » eyés are closed they will trouble me no more. It’s the only way, I tell you! When his I’m going to close them forever !” “He’s been drinking again to-night!” thought Gene. “He is full of the stuff, and it’s impossible to reason with I must find a way to him now. How can I handle him? do so without letting him know it.” * “That is a desperate remedy, don’t you think?’ he said aloud. I can’t sleep nights, Skelding. The minute I put out my light and “Perhaps so, but it’s a desperate case. lie down I see those eyes watching me. Even though I close my own eyes tightly I see them just the same. Skelding, the only thing that can save me from the mad- house is the death of Merriwell! I’ve thought it all out, and I-have arrived at that conviction.” : “And you boughtia revolver for that purpose?” “Oh, no! \ ; tion last fall. Bought a box of blanks to go with it, but _ I did not fire them all. There are some of them in that box there. I bought the other box to-day.” “The others are not blanks.” “T guess not. Told the man I bought them of that I wanted to use them to shoot a dog. That was right, too! I am going to shoot a dog with them!” “You have loaded the revolver with the new cart- ridges?” et “Sure thing. It’s all aay now.’ “Well, let’s talk this over a little. Sit down, Defarge.” ad, Skelding had taken a seat by the table. ie : “Wait,” said Bertrand. He took a bottle from a little ite closet and looked at it. It was empty. “I must have a _ drink,” he declared, his hand shaking. “Wait a minute ~ till I come =m, I know a fellow who has something in I bought that to use at the political celebra- 4 his room.’ . . ‘ He slipped out of the room, leaving ne there. . a WEEKLY. In less than five minutes he was back, his face flushed and a changed expression in his éyes. “Now I’m all right for “T found something,” he said. a while! Now I have nerve! It’s when I feel this way that I’m ready for,anything! It’s when I feel this way that I shall do the job! never bother me any I’ll put out those eyes so they'll more! Look at my hand. See how steady it is.” He held it out, and Gene saw that it did not shake. nodded Skelding. to sit down and talk without getting daffy.” “What’s the use? 1 know what you want to say to You fool! Why, one of Merriwell’s bitterest enemies!” “Good,” “Now you should be able me. Skelding, I thought you were “T. was—once.” “But you've lost your nerve, just like all the others.” - “Tt’s not that. I have had my eyes opened.” “Bah! Don’t tell me! than you did before, but you have lost your nerve. I You do not love him any more am the only man left with any nerve, and I get that from the right kind of stuff. They think Merriwell is the only thing that ever happened here! He has put them all under a spell—all, all! I believe he has put you under a You'd never changed like this if he hadn’t— never! But his time is limited! I swear it! Why did I load that revolver? Ha! ha! Why, for a dog, of course. When is the best time to shoot dogs? Tell me that, Skelding. Tell me!” Gene saw that Defarge was in a condition of excite- ment bordering on frenzy, and he wondered how he was going to control the fellow. It would not do to leave him then, for he might do any desperate deed. “The night is the best time to shoot dogs!” declared Bertrand. “It’s night now. Now is my time,-and I'll do it!” i, He caught the revolver from the table. “What are you going to do?” gasped meres start- / ing up. i spell! bolted like a madman from the room. “Stop!” shouted Skelding, leaping after him. Down the stairs went Defarge, taking four and five’ Skelding sprang after him with reckless’ at a time. haste, determined to overtake and stop him somehow. : ‘It was a wild chase. The deranged ‘fellow reached the foot of the last. — gi bounded out of doors. ene ' “T am going to shoot that dog!” cried Defarge, as he SGRar bts ange et nese, Sign eT ‘ sat on eet ee ata She tid TIP TOP Gene was not far behind. Away they went toward Van- derbilt Hall. ‘“He’s going to try to shoot Merriwell now!” panted Skelding. It happened that they met no one. “That last drink turned him into a madman!” Up to Merriweil’s room rushed Defarge, with Skelding gaining on him. But Gene was not able to overtake the maniac. As Gene came up he saw the door to Merriwell’s room standing open. A light was shining from within. De- farge had just leaped into the room, and Merriweil, who had been writing, had risen quickly from his desk. Then Skelding saw Defarge thrust the muzzle of the revolver right against Frank Merriwell’s breast and fire. There was a flash, a puff of smoke and the muffled report of the weapon. Merriwell had made absolutely no move to save him- self, and the madman had fired point blank at Frank’s heart, the muzzle of the weapon being not more than six inches from the breast of the intended victim, Soar ss te ‘ CHAPTER V. FRANK OFFERS HIS HAND, Tt seemed that the crazy student had shot Frank Mer- riwell straight through the heart. But Merry did not fall. Instead, he grappled with Defarge, seized the revolver in his hand and flung him back against the wall. .. Then. Skelding rushed in,.and Frank..must have thought Gene there to attack him also. However, Skel- ding also grappled with Defarge, holding him helpless while. Merry wrested away the revolver. The murderous student- fought like a fiend. came from his lips, but the insane light glared from his No. cries eyes and he frothed at the mouth.. Frank flung.the revolver to the floor behind him. “Hold him steady,” he said to Skelding. “Tust give ‘me a moment with him,” For in that furious struggle Defarge seemed to have superhuman strength, and he caused them both to exert themselves to their utmost to subdue him. “Look at me, Defarge !” commanded Frank. ‘Look me straight in the eyes!” _. “No!” muttered the furious fellow. “T will not!” He tried to keep his eyes turned away. “Look at me!” commanded Merriwell, again. } | WEEKLY. 1B “Nol”: “Look at me!” . He could not resist. Slowly he turned his eyes ‘on those of Frank. Skelding looked on in breathless, wondering silence. He saw that a great struggle was taking place between these two, and he knew well enough who would be the victor. The fierceness died out of the face and eyes of the French youth. His power of resistance faded and di- minished. His contorted features relaxed and a sleepy expression came over his eyes that had been so wild and fierce. Then he stood there quietly, making no move. 9 “Let him go, Skelding,” said Merriwell, in a calm tone. Gene stepped back, but held himself ready in case Ber- trand broke out again. Merry had taken his hands from the fellow. Now he pointed to a chair, saying: “Sit down there !” Seeming unable to offer any resistance, the fellow obeyed as meekly as a mastered dog. Then Frank seemed to turn some attention to him- self. “His face showed wonderment, as if he were not a little bewildered. “The fellow fired at me with the muzzle of that’ re-_ voiver less than a foot from my heart,” he said, “yet I felt no touch of the bullet. I do not quite understand it.” He looked at Skelding inquiringly. It was plain that Frank suspected Gene, and he was on the alert, He must have wondered that Skelding followed Defarge closely in the rush into that room, and not even: Gene’s readiness in aiding Merriwell to master the crazy student explained his action. : It is probable that Frank half suspected a plot between Defarge and Skelding that had somehow misearried.. In case Defarge failed in his attempt, Skelding was to he on hand for some purpose. Still this did not explain why Gene had been so willing to grapple with Defarge and hold him while Merry sub- dued the fellow with the power of his eyes. Skelding looked at the revolver and then at Merriwell, who was watching him. closely. | “It is loaded with blank cartridges,” Gene said. Frank picked it up and examined it. un He saw that Skelding told the truth, 5 Some students who had been startled by the shot now { your heart in using your influence thus. 16 came to Frank’s door in search of the place from whence the sound had issued. Merriwell blocked the door so that they could not see into the room, laughing, as he said: “Accidents will happen, you know; but it’s nothing The revolver was loaded with a blank, and so no one would have been hurt, even if it had been pointed serious. at somebody.” In this manner, without telling them a falsehood, he gave them the impression that the weapon had been dis- charged while it was being carelessly handled, and they departed satisfied, although some of them wondered not a little that Frank Merriwell should handle a revolver in a careless maminer. - Frank closed the door and turned back, the revolver in his hand. | Defarge was sitting quietly on the chair, while Skel- ding was standing near. “You did that eo 8 nicely, Merriwell; but I don’t see why you sheltéered us.” “Sheltered you?” cried Frank. “Why, what did you have to do with it? You helped me hold him.” ~ “Because I knew he was mad. I am his friend.” “T have never fancied you were my friend, Skelding.” “Yet you did not tell the truth to those fellows. theugh Defarge tried to kill you, oe did not tell the truth.” “Defarge did not know what he was doing. - feel sure of that, for I saw madness in his mae and eyes,’ _Skelding nodded. “You are right. He was mad, driven so a disappoint- ment and by the devil’s drink he has been taking of late. It was a fearful blow to him, Merriwell, when he failed to make ‘Bones.’ your influence against him perhaps you were justified in But he felt that you were the cause of his failure. He brooded over it. He rH been drinking absinthe, me it has made him Even I do not believe you unjustly used an: maniac.’ ’ “Tam sorry for him,” declared Frank, sincerely. “He has always been ready to do me any and every possible injury, and yet I am sorry to see any man in such shape. Even though he might have wished to kill me, he would not have tried to do it this way had he been in his right _ mind. He would have known it meant hanging-for him, | and that would have restrained hit.” TIP TOP WEEKLY. Skelding nodded. “That is true.” The It may have been his in- “But he may not have meant to do me harm. pistol was loaded with blanks. tention to frighten me.” It was Skelding’s first impulse to state that this was the fact, but it seemed Frank was watching Gene closely. to him that Merriwell’s eyes could look straight into his heart and detect if he spoke the truth; so his impulse to try to shelter Defarge in such a manner quickly left. him, and he said: “The revolver was loaded with ball cartridges origi- nally. Defarge did not know they had been changed for blanks,” “They were changed ?” “If they had not been you would be a dead man now, Frank Merriwell.” “Tell me how it happened, Skelding.” Gene glanced toward Defarge, as if he did not like to talk of it there. “Look at him,” oe Merry. eyes are closing now.’ He stretched out his hand toward Defarge as he spoke. and the eyes of the mad student drooped and closed, “He is asleep. See—his _while he appeared to be fast asleep. Skelding was awed beyond measure. “You may a now,” _ Frank. “He will not hear what you say.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” | . Skelding had seen Defarge become quiet and docile be- neath the steady gaze of Merriwell’s eyes, and he now understood that Frank had some wonderful power over the fellow. | ‘ Se “Sit’down, Skelding,” Merriwell invited, motioning to- ward a chair. “I shall lock the door to keep intruders away.” ~ : 1 He did so, and found Skelding seated. Merry came" and sat down near, saying: “Perhaps you will be willing to sli. me the whole story. You say Defarge blames me because he failed in — his society ambitions? Is that right?” — pe ‘Merry had not spoken of “Bones.” ‘A member of that society never discusses his sre outside the secret rooms of the order, “That is right. Up: to the:last minute he lieved he FOIE eed To eta, op at Spe emp” - wy my & uM * ei + cae a ZA es was sure of going to ‘Bones.’ It drove him daffy when the fifteenth man was chesen and he found himself ig- -fored. He has been crinking for some time, and ab- sinthe has obtained its hold on him. Since that he has taken quantities of the stuff, and you see what the re- sult is.” “I see,” nodded Frank. “Poor chap! I have a hyp- notic influence over him, Skelding, and that was how I was able to conquer him as you see. I never knew I possessed such power till one night a long time ago when, then crazed by drink, he tried to strike me in the back with a knife. his eyes, willing that he should obey me. He did so, and But I do not believe that any man has a right under normal cir- I held him helpless and looked deep into I found I had power to make him do as I chose. cumstances to exercise such a power over another, and I removed the influence from him. Tora long time I fan- cied I would never have further trouble with him, and I even hoped that, without another clash, I might make him friendly toward me. It would have given me satis- faction at one time had this resulted. But when I came back to Yale this year I found all the old bitterness in his heart had awakened, and he tried to injure me once more. Then I willed that he should be unable to harm me as long 24 I kept my power over him. Once more, however, I released him. It must have been since then that he took to drinking absinthe.” “Something must be done to save him, Merriwell, or he will be lodged in a madhouse within a week. But I did not think perhaps you mean to have him punished for making an attack on your life? Your patience with him must be exhausted.” . “TI try to hold my patience with a man: just as long as I believe there is any hope for him. But I must confess that Defarge’s case looks hopeless. You have not told me; Skelding, how it happened that the cartridges in his revolver were changed. Who changed them?” “I did.” , nw “Your” h “Yes,” >. “When?” _ “In his room a short time ago. I called there and found him loading the weapon. From what he said I ‘knew he meant to try to.shoot you. He went out to the room:of another fellow to get a drink, . The revolver lay onthe table. Beside the box of ball cartridges was a TIP TOP WEEKLY. _a pretty mean fellow, and I know it. | only friend I have left.” L7 box of blanks. While he was gone I exchanged the ball cartridges for the blanks.” “And saved my life by doing it. Skelding, you have been my enemy, but by this one act you have wiped out all the past. I have thought pretty bad things of you, but now I am willing to forget everyhing. Skelding, we may not become friends, but we can shake hands.” He held out his hand to Skelding. Gene looked at it a moment, and then he shook his head. CHAPTER VI. THE POWER OF FRANK’S EYES. “No, Merriwell,’’ he said, making no show of feeling, although he experienced some, “I’ll not shake hands with . you,” He had not expected this, and a slight flush came to his handsome face. Frank looked disappointed. Skelding saw he had touched Merriwell’s pride, and he hastened to add: | “It’s because I am not worthy to shake your hand, Merriwell, that I decline; not because there is any of the old hatred in my heart. I think that is gone. I’ve been For a long time I kept my eyes closed to the fact, but they have been * opened at last.” ee Frank wondered if the man was sincere. If so, there was even more to Skelding than he had fancied. “But you saved my life,” said Merriwell. “How do you know it was for that I did it?” “Why e “Perhaps it was to save my friend from being hanged. Now you can see it in a different light, Merriwell. Never — mind whether it was for your sake or for Defarge’s that I~ changed those cartridges. I did save your life, and 1 am going to ask a favor of you.” “What is it?” “Will you grant it?” ; a ees 2 “Tt is the foolish man who makes a promise before he, __ knows what he is promising.” om “Tt’s not for my sake, but for Defarge’s. He is the — “The only. one?” “Ves,” = “Why, there are Chickering and his friends.” “ ‘don’t think I ever really with those fellows. If you show that you are too eager to make the right sort TIP TOP “They are no longer friends of mine.” “Tow is that?” “I quit them to-night them. , Merriwell. I have sickened of I do not wish to pose as better than I am, but I I fell in with them and got to going round with them, but cer- tain of their habits confess the truth, belonged to that gang. vere always obnoxious to me. To the reason why I stuck to them was because they hated you. I hated you also, but not for the same cause that inspired their hate. I hated you be- cause I was jealous of you; I confess it. They hated you because you would have not! hing to do with men of their class. To- night, in Chickering’s room, I gave the whole bunch a little game of talk that set them gasping. T told them just what I thought of them all and that I wanted to never have anything more to do with them. You may doubt it, Merriwell, but I am done with all of them for ail time.” | “More than ever I feel like offering you my. hand,” exclaimed Frank, sincerely. “I tell you now, Skelding, that.I have absolutely no use for the Chickering crowd. My friends have accused me of. being altogether too leni- ent with my enemies; but I think I could not be lement My contempt for them is too great.” “I don’t wonder,” nodded Gene. “They have no friends among the real men here. Unfortunately for me, I was fool encugh to get their They are outcasts. brand on me, and I know I'll never be able to pull away from it while I am in Yale.” | “You can try,” said Frank, encouragingly; “although a man does find it mighty hard to live down a bad repu- tation, and for that very reason may get discouraged. It is true heroism to keep trying, however.. The. fellow who has had a bad name must feel that he is to blame for it himself, and he should not be disheartened if every- one seems to doubt him when he is doing his best to be straight. Persistence wins at everything.” Gene’s face began to take on an expression of eager- ness. “Do you really suppose there is a chance for me?” he “asked. “How can I make friends that are worth being called friends? The Chickering odium will stick to me.” “Show that you have quit them for all time, but make no talk about it. done with them, you'll find you’ll not get much credit. If you go round telling people you.are WEERLEY. of friends you may only succeed in arousing suspicion and defeating yourself,” Skelding felt that this was gocd advice. “But we're forgetting Defarge,” he said. x “Tt’s* for him I want you to promise to do something. J know there is no reason why you should lift your hand for a man like, him, but you may be able to save him from going to the madhouse.” “How?” | “Your influence—your power., You understand what I mean?” : “T think I do. “He must be kept at any cost from drinking absinthe I am willing to try.” : That is the only thing that can save him. You can pre- vent him from taking the stuff, and you are the only one.” “T understand what you mean. | must command him to let it alone.” * “That’s it, that’s it!” “And that is all the favor you ask of me? aves.” “You are modest, Skelding. For your sake, I'll try to save him. I do not believe there is much good in him, but madness is a terrible thing, and I do not wish to think of my worst enemy as a lunatic behind iron bars.” Skelding was satisfied. Merriwell rose and moved his chair till it was directly in front of the high-backed chair on which Defarge was sitting. Then he sat down there, cautioning Gene to be silent and not interrupt. He next: reached out his hand and touched the slumberer on the forehead, saying gently: “Wake. up, Defarge.” Bertrand opened his eyes. “I wish you to attend closely: to what I tell you,” said Frank. “Do you understand?” tN aa” “Tn the future, Defarge, you cannot drink absinthe in The smell of absinthe shall make you faint Ina mechanical manner Defarge said: any form. or sick. If you lift to your lips a glass containing the stuff your fingers shall be unable to hold the glass, and it shall fall-from your hand’ before you can drink. Do you understand?” “Yes,” said Defarge, in the same siethiiaicak manner. “Further, for the space of one week, you shall be una- ble to do anything to injure me, Frank Merriwell.” “Why only for a week?” haces Skeldings ; “Why not make it forever re a etme ie ; t ; ty ; ' SRO TOE TIT TT TET GM BET ~——— . posite sides and began their march, loudly singing their society songs. ; It was the night of the initiations to the three junior societies, Delta Kappa Epsilon, Psi Upsilon and Alpha Delta Phi. It was a strangely interesting sight, and crowds had gathered to witness it. Slowly and with dignity the hooded and gowned meme bers of the societies marched about the campus. This part of their doings was intended for the eyes of the public, but later things would happen within the solid walls of their society houses that the public had no hope of witnessing. What were those things? Who can say? date who has passed through the ordeal ever opens his lips to tell what happened to him. But certain it is that within those walls there was a merry old time that night, for it is there the local bur- lesque is given, and this has proved of spicy interest to the general public, being filtered to the outside world by the medium of publication. A ee may be published to the world by the tongue of gossip. This year among the happy candidates were two of Merriwell’s friends. Jack Ready was one of them. “La! la!” he said, modestly, as he was congratulated. “Proclaim not the honor to the world. great privilege for the Four Hundred to catch me when I break away from Yale. Publication does -not always mean print. crown. You are a king.” “A fool’s cap would be better,” who had been offering congratulations. I’m glad he’s made it.” grunted Browning, : ‘ No candi-. ° It will be a ae Oh, I’m strictly the thing, _and they can’t get along without me.” we “What you really need,” said Greg Carker, “is a “T don’t know how they. ever made the mistake of taking him in, but~ 20 TIP: TOP WEEKLY. “Thanks, my fragile friend,” chirped Ready, with the old-time flirt of his hand. “When I amin need of a fool’s cap I’ll know where to come for it. Cluck! cluck! Git ap! My! my! how the wind blows!” “I'd like to have the privilege of hauling you over the coals to-night!” said Bruce, with a baleful glare in his eye. “Oh, I wouldn’t do a thing to you! You'll get it, anyhow, for they’ll be sure to give you a double dose to cure your freshness.” “Alas!” sighed Jack, “it can’t be cured. I’ve taken everything for it from Pink Pills for Pale People to Lydia Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound, and it remains just as fresh as ever.” ? “Try carbolic acid,” suggested Bruce. Later Ready and Bingham had disappeared, and their friends knew they were going through the “‘fiery ordeal.” What a wild night it was! Those who have passed through it know something about the events of that night. To-day the initiations are far milder than be- fore the tragedy of Wilkins Rustin in ’92. ‘Rustin was a fine, athletic fellow. During his initiation he was blindfolded and told to run at best speed along an un- frequented street. Being a swift runner, he drew away from the two men in whose charge he was. They shouted a cry of warning to him, but this he misun- derstood, and, swerving from a direct course, he ran into the sharp pole of a wagon, They picked him up bleed- ing and unconscious, and he died from his injuries. A storm of indignation arose all over the country, and the faculty came near deciding to wipe out the societies altogether. It was fortunate for Yale life that this radi- cal step was not taken. The men in charge of Rustin were overcome with grief, and their sorrow led to their acquittal of anything but a charge of grave folly. This night of which I write nothing of the kind took place; but the old members of the society and the new- ly elected ones had a jolly time of it. They made a night of it. Along toward morning, as it was growing light, the - members of the societies engaged in a wild and wierd game of baseball on the campus. » That is, many of the - members of the societies engaged in the game; but there were many others who curled up in the shelter of some. nearby sheds and serenely fell asleep. ‘Ready was. not one of the sleepers. Bingham would Ee have slept, but Jack mauled the big fellow till he got him . out behind the bat, with a birdcage over his head for a mask, Jack himself was pitching. “Look out for my curves,” he advised. “Talk about Frank Merriwell’s double shoot! Why, I’ve got the corkscrew ball.” “T’ve discovered to-night that you have the corkscrew habit,” rumbled Bingham, trying to make his queer cage balance on his shoulders. “Put.’em over,” called the batter. “If you hit me, Vl bring suit against you for breach of promise.” It was rather dark, and Ready actually threw a curve. Fortunately the ball was about as hard as a ripe cucum- ber, for it grazed Bingham’s fingers and struck the bird- cage a glancing blow, setting it to spinning about on his shoulders, The batter swiped at it furiously and threw himself off his feet onto his back. The watching crowd, was boisterous in its applause. This was the kind of baseball that filled their hearts with exceeding great joy at about this hour in the morn- ing, “One ball,’ decided the umpire, who had closed. his eyes and turned his back, 27 “One ball!” shouted Ready. ‘Why, he struck at it, Mr. Umpire. “But it wasn’t over the plate,” said the umpire, with dignity. “That doesn’t make any difference.. He struck at it.” “Be silent,” commanded the umpire. “He had no business to strike at such a bad one. It is one ball.” And that decision stood, . The next pitched ball struck the batter in the small of the back. “Dead ball,’ said somebody. “No; dead man,” said the umpire.. “Take him off the field. Remove the corpse.” : “Hold on!” cried the batter... “I want to get one crack at that ball. Give me a show.” “T have declared you dead,” said the umpire; “so you'll have to make room for the next man., Drop that bat and take to your hole, you lobster!” The next man came up and hit the first ball straight at Jack, who did not stop it with his hands, but with the pit of his stomach. : “Judgment!” he gasped. “I have it!” : 7 i Ki wee re b I i KY RET Re ee TP TOP “That's right,” said the umpire. “Corbett got it there at Carson City. You're out.” “Out?” squealed Jack. “It’s the other man who is out!’ “T tell you that you are out,” insisted the umpire. “Get off the grass.” : And Jack was compelled to make room for another fellow, who was ambitious to do some pitching. “Alas and alack!” he sobbed, as he stood aside. “It it thus we poor mortals get it in the neck!” “I thought you got it in the ‘pit of the stomach,” said Bingham. “Only a bird in a gilded cage!” Jack exclaimed, point- ing to the big sophomore. But the pitching of the new man was of a most ter- rific order, and Bingham loudly called for him to “ease *em over.’ The second ball the new man pitched was a foul tip, which the catcher misjudged, getting it just where Ready had received the batted ball. Over on his back rolled Bingham, while the crowd whooped with joy and danced grotesquely in the gray morning twilight. _ “Drag off the dead,” solemnly ordered the umpire. Jack Ready rushed in, caught Bingham by the heels and started with him, dragging the big fellow along on his back. He succeeded in pulling Bingham for at least a rod before the fellow recovered enough to kick him off. “Hey!” roared Ralph, as he sent Ready reeling. “What in thunder do you take me for, you jackass? Think I’m a dumpcart? Is that why you promptly har- nessed yourself into the thills?” “Excuse me!” chirped Jack, standing off and survey- ing the other with comical gravity. “I thought you were dead, and I was on the way to the dumping grounds with you.” “You'll find I’m not dead!” snapped Bingham, as he got up and made a dive for Jack. ¢ “T surrender!” Ready helplessly cried, throwing up his hands. “I might escape you by running, but the effort is too great.” | “You can’t run,’ declared Ralph, as he grasped the joker. “T know it. I have discovered something that can outrun me or any other man living. I’m going to enter it in all the races this season,”. “ “What is it?” WEEKLY. rs) A gas meter.” Bingham thumped Jack. “You'll have to pay for this coat,” he declared. “You tore it when you pulled me along.” “Where did I tear it?” “Why, on the back, of course.” “And you were on the part that was torn. Oh, well, you are used to that. You often get’on a tear.” Then, with their arms about each other, they stood and gazed on that wild and grotesque game of ball, It was a highly hilarious spectacle, to say the least, and all the rules of baseball were ignored and violated by both In fact, the closer the players stuck to the regular game the greater penalties the ume pire put upon them, oh oN players and umpire. Arm-in-arm, Bingham and Ready entered the neigh- boring shed, where they saw dark forms stretched about. “Behold!” said Jack, in a hoarse whisper, “This is a battlefield, and here are theslain, who by the ruthlesg enemy have been shot.” ; “I’m only half shot,” declared one of the sleepers, sitting up in a dusky corner, “Gimme ’nother drink.” Then another sat up and began to sing in a wild and weird manner: “How dry Iam! How dry I am! Lord only knows how dry I am! I want a drink, | want it now! How dry I am! Lord only knows, how dry I am!” One by one the others roused up and joined in the singing, sitting there in the gloom, some swaying slightly, some holding themselves rigidly straight on account of the queer feelngs in their heads. It was a strange sight, and the hoarse, tunetess chant- ing sounded like a funeral dirge. “Shut up!” grunted one fellow, who had refused to sit up. He put his hands over his ears and tried to go on sleeping. The singing—if singing it could be called—continued in the same dirgelike strain. ? , “I want a drink, I want it new! f How dry J am!” * 7h wa “We'll see if we can’t accommodate you,” muttered’ Ready, who had found in a corner of the shed a hose used for washing wagons. Investigation showed that: TIP TOP 22 \ the water could be turned on in that corner. Jack shut ithe nozzle and turned the water on. Then he was ready. “How dry I am!. How dry Iam! Lord only knows, how dry I am!” “Perhaps this will wet you down a little,” observed Ready, as he calmly turned on the hose and let drive at [the crowd. Swish! spat! spatter! ’ The water flew, the singing stopped, the men shrieked, ‘and there was a wild scramble to get away. ' “It’s a cloudburst!” yelled somebody. “Help! help! Fire!” cried another. “That stuff struck ’ “Oh, goodness!” gasped another. tie in the mouth just as I was singing. I’ve swallowed more than a gallon of real water! It'll be fatal!” i They made a wild scramble to get out of the shed. Some of them got up and ran; others crawled as fast. And all the while Ready continued to ‘serenely play the hose upon - them. Not one stopped to investigate, for that water was “cold and wet.” It was too much for their nerves. In a very few minutes Ready had cleared the shed. As the last of them went out, he dropped the hose and ran after as they could on their hands and knees. them, wringing his hands and pretending that he had been driven out with the others. He left Bingham i in the shed roaring with laughter. vis Ohl my! my!” eurgled Jack, as he came tearing out into the midst of the water-dripping crowd, and I was \?? haying such a lovely dream! What happened, anyhow! “The waterworks exploded!” declared one drenched fellow, wringing water out of his coat and wiping it out of his eyes. . ( “Wasn't it awful!” gasped Ready. “Hush!” commanded one. “Listen!” _ Bingham was heard laughing in the shed. i “’Sdeath!” panted Ready. ; _... “’Sblood!” hissed another fellow. | “Somebody turned that water on us!” | “That's right!” agreed Jack, excitedly. ie who did it is in there now!” eee eee “The wretch _ .. “He must die!” savagely howled one of the wet chaps. Sg ay am ready to kill him with my faithful bootjack!” . “He must suffer!” they all declared. “Who dares go = ein there and capture the wretch?” eee Bot WEEKLY. “Wait,” we cat pounce upon him.” advised Ready. “He'll come cut, and then Even as he spoke, Bingham came strolling out of the sued, still shaking with laughter. “At him!” hissed Jack, and they flung themselves upen him. “To the stake!” snarled once. “What stake?” asked another. “Mistake,” chuckled Ready, to himself. Then he plunged into the thickest of it, yelling for them to give the wretch some of his own medicine. “Hold on!” cried Bingham. to do? Hold on!” “Don’t be afraid,” said Jack. you. There is no reason why you should worry about that.” “What are you going to do?” asked Bingham again. “What are you going “We won't let go of “Give you your just deserts, baseborn wretch!” cried Ready. “Did’st think to escape retribution?” 1”? 3ut I haven’t done anything! It wasn’t me! “Don’t think to deceive us with thy false tales.” “But you know I didn’t do a thing, Ready! Why, ” 1 you ' Jack, however, raised such a racket that Bingham’s | words were drowned and the big fellow was dragged back into the shed, where the hose was found on the ground, still hissing and squirting. Two men who had been drenched volunteered to hold Bingham. A dozen were eager to play the hose. They gave it to him at once. He dtcked his head, and the water struck him under his collar at the back of his It seemed to take the strength out of him and leave him gasping and help- ) Then that cold and chilling stream neck and poured down his back. less for the moment. played alt over him. Tees ade Jack Ready stood aside, his hands clasped, a look of sadness on his face and deep joy in his heart. ‘ “Tt is ever thus,” he said to himself, “that the inno- cent man ever gets it in the neck, while the other chap _ gets off and becomes a hero. Let this be a lesson to you, Jack, = boy, to aways a, care not to be the innocent one.’ ff They did not t let up on Bingham till the big soph was drenched to the skin and in a furious mood. He broke . did get. ies TIP TOP away from the fellows who were holding him and rushed irom the shed, vowing he would murder Ready on sight. whispered Jack, “I’ve had a lovely time to-night,” still to himself; “but something tells me that I had better fade away: Here is where I fade.” He managed to escape from the shed, round which he stole, making off into the gloom. At a distance, watch- ing the men near the shed, stood a lonely figure. Jack drew near and saw it: was Bertrand Defarge. CHAPTER VIII. THE PROMISE. A little further on Ready came upon another man, who seemed to be watching Defarge. It was Hock Mason. ‘Hello, Mason!” not wrapped in the arms of old Morpheus? “Why art thou At this exclaimed Ready. witching hour you should be snoring sweetly.” “T’ve been watching him,” said Mason, motioning toward Defarge. | “Ail night?” “A large part of it.” “Why should you take, all that trouble?” “Because I feared he might commit suicide before morning.” “Suicide?” “Yes” “Why ?” “He was pretty wild last night, drink absinthe.” Trying?" . “I said that,” “Well, didn’t he succeed?” No, sah.” “Why not?” “That's the strange part of it, was crazy for a drink of the stuff, but the odor of it seemed to make him weak and helpless. Then, when he tried to lift the glass quickly and drink it off without stopping, the glass fell from his fingers just before it I saw him trying to reached his lips. Three times he tried it, and three times he dropped the glass, which was shattered on the floor.” “He must have found that, drtdkc SAREE W when. he “But he did not eet it.” WHREKLY. I can’t tell why. He “No? Did he call the game off?” He paid for all the stuff, de- clairing that Merriwell’s eyes had kept him from drink- “He gave up in‘despair. ing. Then, in a sort of frenzy, he rushed out of the and I fol- From place to place he went, trying place. I thought he might do himself harm, lowed him up. everywhere to get the stuff. When he did get it and tried to drink it, the same thing happened to him again and-again. I tell you he became desperate. Then he got out into the night and tore away. I followed him up, meaning to try to prevent in case he attempted to drown himself. I think he did haye some such thoughts.” “Mason,” said Ready, putting a hand on the shoulder of the man from the South, “I have always regarded you as a fellow with horse sense.” * said Hock. “But I find,” Jack gravely added, You are a chump.” “Thank you, sah,’ “that I have made a mistake, @ “What—what, sah?” gasped Mason. | “Any man who will contemplate getting wet to pre- vent Bertrand Defarge from committing suicide is a chump,” Ready gravely declared. Mason was angry, but he saw something in the face of the queer sophomore that prevented him from losing control of his temper, “But, sah,” said the youth from South Carolina, “you do not ow how much he counted on an election which did not come to him. I know all about it, for I was with him tap day. The hand that fell on my back was the hand he thought must tap him.” “Which shows that he got just what was due him, my dear Mason. It’s not your place to worty:over him in the least, an@ I think you have been wasting your valuable time chasing him about. Time, you know, is a precious jewel, and the man who wastes it when he can sleep or loaf makes an awful mistake. Come, Hocksie, let’s perambulate toward our boudoirs and prepare for chapel. Forget it, my boy. Let Defarge take care of himself.” So. Jack dragged Mason away, and they left Defarge standing there alone in the gray light of morning. It had, in truth, been a wild night for Bertrand, but now the intense longing for absinthe had passed from him, a grateful quietness had come upon him, and some- thing seemed to tell him that never again would he be O74. | TIP. TOP tempted to drink the stuff that was dragging him to de- struction, He went back to his room, but not to sleep, for Skel- ding soon followed him. Several times that night Gene had visited the room of Defarge, only to find the fellow out, and it was his fear that the influence of Merriwell had failed, in which case Bertrand might return a raving maniac. He was relieved when he found Defarge sit- ting there by the window in the morning light, quiet and calm, and unexcited. Of course. Defarge was astonished when Gene ap- peared at that hour. Skelding told him how it hap- pened that he was there. “Well, I have had a bad night of it,” confessed Ber- trand, “I was seized by a mad desire for that stuff last night, but the strange thing was that I could not drink it, no matter how hard I tried.” Gene nodded, smiling. : “At first,’ Bertrand went-on, “ the smell-of it made me so sick and faint that I could not get the glass to my lips.” Again Gene nodded. is ‘, ae “But I felt that I must five it. So, holding if off at arm’s length at first, I lifted it quickly, meaning to dash it down at a swallow.” _ “Then what happened?” asked Skelding, eagerly. . “The glass fell from my fingers every time before I could touch it to my lips. I can’t understand why it , happened, but it fell and was broken on the floor.” > “Then you were saved?” “Yes, though Iwas forced at. last to roam about through thé city for hours. Toward morning a strange calmness came over me, and I knew alj desire for that stuff had passed away. I believe it has left me forever.” “In which case, you have Frank Merriwell to thank that you are not now a murderer and a maniac.” Defarge stared and lifted his hand, ee “Not Merriwell, but you,” he said. “You told me you exchanged those cartridges.” _ “That time, yes; but had you eoahiiied to drink that stuff you would have made the attempt ate at another time, and I might not have been around.’ “Well, why didn’t I continue to drink ?” _ “Because Merriwell would not let you.” > Then Skelding told Defarge how Frank had Willer i | is his enemy should not be able to drink absinthe in WEEKLY. any form, and how just wuat Merriwell had ordered had come true. | “You can see what you owe to him,” said Skelding. “You hate him; you regard him as your enemy; yet he has saved you from a madhouse.” Bertrand sat. there, gazing out of the window in silence. It was hard for him to think that he owed so much to the fellow whom he had hated so intensely and tried to injure so repeatedly. * “T have been Merriwell’s enemy myself,” Skelding went on. “It was a long time before I saw the folly of my ways, but the truth came to me at last. friend now, for I would not ask him to be a friend to me; but I have buried the past, and I shall never lift a hand against him again. Why don’t you do the same, De- farge? You can see how hopeless it is for you to try to. injure him. He has the power to control you when you are away from him. It is your duty to go to him and confess that you have-done wrong, and thank him for saving you by the spell he cast on you.” Defarge shook his head. “JT can’t do that!” he exclaimed.” “Why not?” “T can never humble myself to him.” “Tt is not humbling yourself when you thank a man, Look here, De- farge, you have not many friends in college, have. you?” No” . “Neither have I.” “Well ?” “We might become friends. ‘one whom we can regard as such, be he friend or foe, for such a favor. But, as I have for- ever renounced all intention of harming or trying to harm Merriwell, I cannot be the friend of any one who is plotting him injury. You, have your choice now. Be a man and do the right thing with Merriwell and I will stick by you. If you do not—well, we can’t have much of anything to do with each other, That’s all.” a have to think it over,” said Bertrand. “I’m tired now.’ ) ne “AN “dane ” said Gene, Preparing to- 90. a hope you'll come to your senses.’ | i: He went out, leaving Defarge mena e ‘through the win- dow at the pink of the morning ky, * Iam not his . We both desire some eater g gh a, It was a beautiful morning, and somehow “tl fee cai eX ae ce ae es it: Eee SE ‘ Dat ee ea sionate French youth felt that a brighter and better morning was breaking within his soul. ate ate ate ste aed ate ale i. ok * ste * xe alc 4 * Trank was surprised when Defarge came to him and “Merriwell, I have no hope that you will believe me, but I have come to say that in the future I hope God will strike me dead if I lift my hand against you or plot with others to do you harm!” Frank turned those wonderful eyes on Defarge and saw that the young Frenchman was never more in ’ > earnest. “IT should not have come here to say this,’ Bertrand confessed, “if it had not been for Skelding. He tells me you have kept me from drinking absinthe. I believe the craving for the stuff has gone from me forever.” “You can’t be sure of that,” said Merry. WEEKLY. O5 “I know it, and for that reason I wish how to ask you to hold me fast yet a while longer under the spell. Keep me from drinking the stuff. Can you’ a aes ; “Will you do that? when I tried to shoot you! You know I was crazed by it You know I am pretty humble now, else I’d not be here asking a favor! I am sorry for the past—I swear lam! Do you believe me, “Merriwell ?” fy “Yes, I believe you.” “And you will still help me? ‘You will keep me from drinking absinthe if I am tempted?” “T will,” promised Frank. . aj , , . “THE END.) The next number (267) will contain “Prank Mert well’s Deception; or, Celebrating Omega Lambda Chi.” eekly. LATEST £65—Frank Merriweli’s Struggle; or, The Strongest. Man in the World. 264—Frank Merriwell’s Coach; or, How the Freshmen Won. 268—Frank Merriwell in Form; or, The Wonderful Athlete of the Scarred Face. 262—Frank Merriwell Deceived; or, Jimmy Lee, of Charlottes- ville. 261—Frank Merriwell’s Bosom Friend; or, Making Up the Yale Nine. 260—Frank Merriwell’s Sweethear Proposed. 259—Frank Merriwell’s Thiet: Stick. ‘ 258—Frank Merriwell’s Suspicion; or, The Girl from Maine. 257—Frank Merriwell’s Hand; or, Saved from the Snare. 256—Frank Merriwell’ s Mysterious Move; or, Thirteen Pieces of ‘Silver. 265—Frank Merriwell’s Scheme; or, The Daring Deception of Dr. Cloud. 254—-Frank Merriwell’s Club; or, Indoor Baseball in Baltimore. 253—Frank Merrivwell’s Skill: er, Liz, the Girl Wrecker. 252——Frank Merriwell’s Not Work. 251—F rank Merriwell’s Party; er or, The Girl to Whom He , The Mystery. of the Black Life Struggle; or, The Bluff That Did , The Cruise of the Petrel. Back numbers always on hand, to you, by mail, peateaic IssuUES: 250—Frank Merriwell’s Ring; or, The Rivalry for. Elsie. ’ 249—Frank Merriwell’s Search; or, Elsie’s Narrow Escape. - 248—Frank Merriwell’s Set-Back; or, Dick Starbright’s Success. 247—Frank Merriwell’s Dilemma; or, Forcing His Enemy’s ; Hand. 246—Frank Merriwell’s Mastery; or, The Success of the Polo King. 245—Frank Merriwell’s Entertainment; or, Celebrating the Vic- tories of Old Yale. 244-Frank Merriwell’s Shrewdness; or, Clearing His Protégé’s Honor. 248—-Frank Merriwell’s “Brassie’ Shot; or, Inza’s Difficult “Hazard,” 242—Frank Merriwell’s High Jump; or, Winning the Champion- ship from Harvard. 241—Frank Merriwell’s Kick; or, Downing the Princeton Tigers, 240—Frank Merriwell’s Generalship; or, Beating the Carlisle In- dians. Won. 2388—Frank- Mcrriwell’s Policy; or, Playing. Columbia for If you cannot get our publications from your newsdealer, five cents a copy will bring them Practice. | 237—Frank Merriwell’s Billie’s. Power; or, Hazing the Freshmen at = - 239—Frank Merriwell’s Freshmen; or, The Relay Team That _ : TIP TOP a Ag.ideat fublication ie NEW YORK, May 18, rgor. (POSTAGE F'RER.) Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5¢. Each. 8 NBONUDS; ichpakscodecenwiauak a ta.s hdc. One VOCAL. recccscs ideehas®ekes SaL00 # MODLHS. vewovngegeaiererecegess Se. | 2 copies ONE YeaT..eqseesress 4.00 SB TRORCHE «Cn ccvanewdiscccnctecs: SLD | Loopy ‘two veare..c. scsi. sss 4.00 How To SEND MoNEY.--By post-office or express money order, registered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own Loo if sent by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary etter. ~ RECHIPTS.—Receipt of your remittance is . acknowledged «by proper change of number on your label. if not correct you have not been properly credited, and should let us know at once. STREET & SMITH’S TIP TOP WEEKLY, 288 William 8t., New York City. “APPLAUSE. I have been reading your Tip Top Weekly from No. 1 to date, and as I have read about every other boy’s book published in the past twenty years I feel like I am entitled to write just once on its merits. The Tip Top is undoubtedly the best boy’s book ever placed on the market by any publisher. I am a traveling salesman, twenty-nine years of age, and have always:-been an Elsieite, but I bow to Mr. Standish. I hope Elsie will marry Bart. I think a period of about seventeen years should elapse after Merry leaves college, and then have Frank, Bart, Bruce, Harry and Jack re- visit Yale, not forgetting Badger. I have never bothered you before, and will, perhaps, write again. With congratulations and kindest regards to Burt L. Standish and the publishers, Le Roy,, Kan. Jack FE. -Wesr. You are certainly well qualified to praise Tip Top. Ypu do so enthusiastically, and we in return send you our best wishes and thanks. — ———— Well, at last it has come about and the contest between Elsie and Inza is ended. .While I always admired Inza, I loved Elsie, and hoped that she might be Frank’s choice, until she began to waver. between Frank and Bart. Then I began:to wish for anew sweetheart for Frank, for which I am now. very sorry, for the instant I read of Frank's choice my feelings went through a sort of a revolution and I now heartily indorse Inza. I will never cease to love Elsie. I suppose the Inza admirers will take this as a victory, and, while in one sense it is, in another it is not. I be- lieve if the readers had had the choice Elsie would have been the one, for in lists published in Applause Column, Elsie’s was always the longest, and in letters published they were about evenly divided. I notice in reading the letters from other readers that [ am about the only one that disapproves of Bart. “I am glad the choice is made, and I am perfectly satisfied with Mr. Standish’s good judgment. Frank Merriwell is about one out of a hundred who marries his first love. Wish the Tip Top and all its attaches long life and prosperity. _ _Eeprrus Roor. ‘Topeka, Kan. Thank you. I write to congratulate my fellow. readers,;who have so ably ‘defegded and championed my favorite, Inza Burrage, on the success of their caiise. I'am a stenographer on one of the most prominent railroads of the United States, and my duties are such that I find little time for reading, yet, somehow, I always find time to read Tip Tép Weekly. It is certainly all that it is _- Glaitned' to be. Its shining virtue is that its hera—Frank Merri- WEEKLY. well—is the embodiment of all that is noble and manly—truly an ideal American youth. An ideal, the emulation of which cannot otherwise than better us all. Since reading No. 260, in which Frank makes his choice, I feel botind to write to tell Mr. Standish that the reading of that issue gave me more pleasure than the product of any author has ever done. I have been watching with the deepest interest the controversy concerning the two charming heroines—Elsie and Inza. I did not present an argument, for I thought my comrades were doing all that could be done—I had no suggestions to make. For this I hope they will ‘accept my congratulations. When it seemed that the .' case was hopeless, when Inza seemed destined for Starbright, Terms to Tip Top Weekly Mail Subscribers, \ I could scarcely refrain from expressing my regrets. Yet it seemed impossible that Mr. Standish could do a thing which. . would seem.so unjust. For if ever a character merited the hap- - piness which has become Inza’s, she did. Since the happy day at Fardale, that kiss has been a memory to her which she held more dear than all things. She has seen the one she loved ap- parently lost to her, yet with perfect resignation and yet buoy- ancy she kept the sorrow which it caused her from all who knew her. Yet how loyal aud trustful she remained! Who can say she has not received her just reward? I regret that I do not know. Mr. Standish’s addre: that I might express my gratifi- cation, yet I hope this will reach him, that he may know. that I honor a just man. I have not one word to say against Elsie. I have not one word to say against her admirers. Truly, they are not wanting for reasons in their arguments and preference. Elsie is certainly a charming girl. Yet Inza, so radiant and queen-like! Justice could not have been present in any other choice, when we view the past. I hope that I have not written too much, but that it may, find room in your columns, yet I could not express myself and ‘write less. And ‘now, fellow Inzaites, three cheers for Inza. Will you give them with a will? Williamsport, Pa. ARCHER WALLACE. It pleases us. greatly to have you so heartily approve of Frank’s choice, and we are. more than rejoiced to have then tendercd such warm and sincere congratulations. All Inza’s friends -are wildly enthusiastic at this culmination of her love affairs and the good wishes of their friends are boundless. Thank you for all your good wishes. We will extend them to Frank and Inza. Having just finished this week’s Tip Top, I have been thinking about what Frank said about any one beifig an athlete who would try. I am fifteen years of age and want to try, but do not know how to go about it. If you would kindly let me know through your Correspondence Column just how to go about it and what exercises to take; in other words, map out a Course for me, I shall be very much obliged. wie a F..M, St. Louis, Mo. . ai a . Just the very thing! Any boy: can: be an. athlete if he tries. Frank Merriwell has said so, and, following his advice, Tio Top has started a splendid new department, called Physical Culture. This is just the very thing you and hundreds of other boys need. It will tell you how to go about training yourselves to be athletes. ‘Take a careful look at the first installment of this department on another page of this number, and also take your first great lesson in self-development from it. More will follow... ‘ I. was..more than pleased after reading No, 260 of your Tip Top Weekly at the course our unequaled, author, Burt L, Stand- ish. pursued in regard to the Inza-Elsie controversy.. Although { knew Mr. Standish would, in the end, arrange things to please all, I have been, from the first, an ardent admirer of dark-eyed Inza, and have always wished to see her, become Frank's partner through life. Not that 1 dislike Elsie; I think. her, a most perfect ‘character, but one not suited for Frank... I do not write to make suggestions (the. author, who .has upheld the Tip. Top thus far, can certainly keep it above the level until its publication ceases) but Jam sure‘i voice the opinion of many in hoping that when Frank does marry, Inza wil! be his choice; and also that nothing will occur to mar the present happiness. of this. well-mated couple, Hoping. this will not take up too. much ‘room “in, your Applause, I will close; first, however, congratulating Mr. Stand- ish on the noble work he is doing through that king of publica- , f / : j , t FOES Gn SNE ATES ON Sor rye at os Re esis Ss a a = TIP TOP tions, Tip Top Weekly. May Street & Smiith have success and prosperity. _ Turo. CLEMENT, Atlantic City, N. J. Thank you. I have read every one of your delightful Weeklyfrom No. 1 to date. I am charmed with it. I would like to congratulate Burt L. for the delightful manner in which he has brought about the engagement of Frank and Inza. Inza was always my favor- ite and we boys here have had many a tiff as to the merits of Inza and Elsie. Inza was Frank’s first love and he was by duty bound to marry her: Now, if Burt L. can only bring about the engagement of Bart aud Elsie it will please many of his ad- mirers. I like Frank for his athletic qualities, as well as for his moral ones. I am somewhat of an athlete myself. I was on the football teem for two years and got the name of “Calamity” on account of my rough playing. I played on the champion basket- ball team and the champion hockey team of Pittsburg High School. I was captain of last year’s baseball team and of this year’s hockey team. Sincerely, Pittsburg, Pa. Puit Lewis. The Tip Top stories relating to baseball, football and hockey must have interested you hugely, as you seem to be something of an athlete yourself. Keep up the good work, there is nothing so beneficial as athletics judiciously indulged in. I have. never expressed my opinion of the Frank Merriwell’s series to you, so I am going to try this time. Frank Merriwell’s a dandy, He’s always up-to-date; He can play great football And so likewise can he skate. This is my first attempt to write poetry so I guess it will do for the first nee 4i,S,,.B. Ithaca, Michigan. Thank you. ‘4 I, the manager of the R. C. Baseball Club, have been authorized to let you know what we think of the Tip Top Weekly. We think that it is indeed an ideal publication for the American youth. I was a strong Elsie admirer until Frank chose Inza. Of course I was disappointed, but still I am satisfied because it is his (Frank’s) choice. I have a friend who was a strong admirer of Inza and now he has the laugh on me: I am some- what of a camera fiend and have taken several pictures of our ball team, which, by the way, is called “The Merry Weils.”” Any- one having a picture of their club I would be pleased to ex- change with them. Wishing the best of luck to Burt L. and, last but not least, Street & Smith, the king of publishers. Ciare G. Horton, Red Creek, N. vy Manager R. C. Baseball Club. Three cheers for the R. C. Baseball Club; may your season be a victorious one and we trust you will pile up big scores. With what neatness and dispatch! How perfectly in accord- ance with human nature; at the right time and in the right place; so did Burt L. Standish finally round up that which has been the all-absorbing topic, the cause of many interesting and stir- ring, letters (in Applause), the choosing of Frank Merriwell’s | sweetheart! In spite of the fact that I was (and am) a champion ‘of golden-haired, sweet-natured Elsie, I must admit that, so weil penned and strong was Mr. Standish’s No. 260 that it seemed as though Inza was the only one who had ever come into Frank’s life. Inza was the only one who had evet come into Frank’s life. That number was indeed a fitting climax to Act I. Grand! just grand!’ Hear the deafening applause, the wild cheering, the multitude who, with one great acclaim, join in wishing these two—dear to the hearts of all—the happiness and prosperity they ‘deserve. And the curtain has gone down—but just long enough to prepare for the great ayd good things to follow. It -‘seeyns as though it’s all real life. I’ve known Frank and Inza . and their friends’ so long that I could not control the outpouring “of my feelings, so I just sat down and gave vent to them. But WEEKLY. ‘27 you will allow me the privilege, for ever since Tip. Top’s birth I have been. its consistent reader and great.friend. ‘Merry’s hardships and trials have been mine,:as have his many: pleasures. And now, once again, here’s to the happy »couple,:°God’s choicest. .gifts be their’s. And here’s to Bart and. Elsie;: they'll make a grand. pair. Burt L. will attend to that. And the noble “flock” (Merry’s flock), they come’in* for a full share of good wishes, etc. Best wishes and compliments to Messrs. Street & Smith and Burt L. Standish, for their great: king, Tip Top. A veteran reader and admirer, Chicago, Ill. BurRKE MERRILL. Your enthusiasm is almost contagious and we will expect to © see many more such letters. We are glad you are so pleased at Frank’s choice; Inza is a loyal, noble girl and will undoubtedly, be a great helpmate to Frank. We join with you in wishing them untold happiness. Solin igh cll Bega ne re +e a nets hay fj I have been a constant reader of the Frank Merriwell stories for three years and in my opinion they are the best stories ever published for boys. My favorite characters are Hodge, Badger, Diamond and Inza. The first three are men who have intense, Passionate natures—the kind which, when once won, are truest and noblest. The respect and honor they have for Frank ‘is. much greater than if they had been friends from the beginning; ; for that reason I am glad Inza is to be the girl for Frank. A’ person of Frank’s nature would naturally seek a girl of Inza’s calibre. Everything he doesis with all his heart and soul and I, with all due respect to Elsie, who has many admirable quali- ties, think that Elsie could _not have given Frank the love. which such a nature would demand. In closing I will add that I sin- cerely hope that the success which has followed Frank will fol- low Mr. Standish; and I, for one, will never tire of his delightful _ and refreshing stories. BP: CSS Chicago, Il. Thank you for. your good wishes and pleasant letter. We are sure Frank and Inza will be very happy. and we.are glad you. so sincerely wish them both joy. Allow me to express myself in regard to your most excellent weekly, Tip Top, of which I am a very ardent ‘reader. I be- lieve there is no better book published for the American youth. Ever since I began reading Tip Top I have been an. Inzaite, and I am glad to see that my favorite won out. I quite agree with “A Wyoming Reader” in all he said about Bart, and feel that Bart is not given proper credit for his severe struggle. Next to Frank I like Bart. I try.to be like Merry in every way and succeed very well in all but one. I am a pugilist, just starting, and I hope to make a name for myself. I believe a man can be honest and upright, no matter what his vocation, and I hope I will not fall in the estimation of my friends and fellow readers. In your last book, 260, you say: “Prize fighters have’ muscu- lar development, but usually little mental development.” Ad- mitting that that be true in a great many cases, I pride myself on being an exception. I spend my spare time studying and hope to be a student’ in Yale in the near future. This is my first letter and if it is not too long, would like to seé it in ‘the Applause Column. Even if it is too long, I have, at least,’ the satisfaction of knowing that I have expressed my honest opin- ion of young America’s greatest and best Weekly. Long life to it and its publishers and author. PUGILIST. Chicago, IJ. Your good wishes are very gratefully received and we are glad you are:‘so anxious and have ambition enough to improve your mind, as-you state you do. ‘ oA, At last the joyful tidings have reached the readers, Frank has said to Inza: “Inza,” he went on, “you were my sweetheart then and now I knaw I loved you ever since. Inza, dearest, do you love me? Will you marry me when I leave college?” “I know now that I have always loved you more than anyone in the world.” Book 260, page 28. But, as Mr. Standish says,. it. was not the readers that made the pick, it was Frank’s heart and: his — love that made the choice. Mr. Standish says, “Let us all joia in in wishing these two friends of our’s the greatest happiness 28 TIP TOP and prosperity.” I lope Elsie will marry Bart Hodge, as she loves him, as she has already said, “I wish I had never met Frank, or met yott first.” I hope the marriages soon take place. Success’ to Burt L, Standish and Street & Smith. Utica Ni Yo Wm. J. Ketty, @hank you, hn ihren .. ¥ thought-once more IT must write to Tip Top. I have just finished reading where Frank has won Inza and I am happy. I wm anxious to know the surprise in store for us,.but it will be something nice, I am sure. I see the ball team will be organized @t Yale in next issue. I want Dade Moreat to be one of the Foremost players; I admire his ability and hope he will some time be one of Frank’s flock. I have lately been feeling very melancholy, but the Tip Tops lately have cheered me up. Wish- ing sticcess to Merry and Tip Top and its publishers. Worceéstet, Mass. Fe AG Se. MWhank you. / ee » Y have read the Tip Top for about five years and think it is the finest library published, without exception. My favorite characters are Hodge and Badger; and I am very well satisfied with the way the Elsie-Inza question was settled. I think it would be a good idea to discontinue the Badge and have instead a séri¢s of pictures of the leading college baseball and football teats, and the victorious relay teams competing at the U. P. on the 27th of April. Also of individual athletes, such as’ Beck, Sheldon, Baxter, Long, Tewekesbury, Kranzelein, Grant, etc. If the pictures were put up im attractive form’ and at a nominal cost they would, in my opinion) find a ready sale, as they would make a fine collection. Now, readers, let ts hear what you think of my suggestion. Hoping you will adopt this suggestion, Harrisburg, Pa. Bart Honce. Your suggestion will receive our attention. In the meantime many thanks for your pleasant letter. te I have read Tip Top Weekly for a long time and can’t get along without them. I was the first boy to read them in this town; the othér boys said I was foolish, but after a while I got them to read them and now every boy in town réads them. ‘They aré véry geod books for young people to read. I think Bink Stubbs, Jack Reatiy, Bart Hodge and Danny are thé best boys. T am @iad Frank got Inza and also pleased Bart was lucky enough to get Elsie. A constant reader, Lewis. W. Rushville, Neb. Thank you. Although I have written once I feel as though I ought to write again. J am fifteen years old, five feet seven iftichés in height and weigh one hundred and forty-five pounds. I think the Buck Badger Club should be ostracizéd from the Tip Top League for wanting Bart Hodge ostracized from the flock. I like the base- ball scries best. Three cheers for Street & Smith and Burt L. Danvers, Mass. A. © Thank you. ‘Allow us to give you a few words of praise of your, ideal pub- lication, the Tip Top. We have read your publication from No. I to date, and we think it is the best that we ever read. We never before sent you a letter, becattse we thought best to wait and see the result of the Inza-Elsie question; but as we now know that Inza is the girl, why, then we send you these few lines. We think Mr. Burt L. Standish is the greatest author in _ America in his line of work. We were of the same opinion of Mr. Standish in regard to Inza and Elsie. We hope that Bart will marry Elsie, for she can be a good wife to him and conquer his fiery teniper. We do not think, but we kri&w that the Tip Top has and will have the greatest circulation in the U. S. We will tell vou the truth, now that we are not only admirers in praise. We took Frank Merriwell’s picture from “Frank Merri- -well’s Captivity,” and framed it in a gilt frame and Inza’s pic- ture beside him. I took Inza’s picture from the book entitled, “Inza, the Mascot of the Crew.” It has a beautiful border and WEEKLY. the best background that could be had; it is of gilt paper with Frank Merriwell and Inza Burrage in fanty letters. Please par- don us for this long letter. Long live Bart. L. Standish, the won- derful author, and great success to Street & Smith. We remain, your future readers of the Tip Top, Oscar Gorn, Boston, Mass. ABRAHAM TENENBAUM. The pictures of Frank and Inza must be decided ornaments to your room and we are glad you have always before you Frank’s picture, which, no doubt, is a constant reminder to you both of his sterling deeds and brave actions. May you follow in his footsteps. I lave read your Tip Top Weekly from No. 1 to date, and think it is the best boy’s paper in the world. I am working in the Garibaldi Fruit Gardens and all of the employees read your papers. I am nothing but a water boy now, but I hope to work my way up. Every Saturday we (tlic boys) have a debate on some subject; it is usually about the Tip Top. Last Saturday it was, whether oy not Frank should marry Inza. I said that he should and Sam McBirney, one of the other boys, said that he should not. I won the debate. We have a debating club called the Tip Top Debating Society-of San Francisco. Hoping to see this in print soon, R. Bryan LAWLER. San Francisco, Cal. We are glad you were the victor in the debate, which resulted as it should have, for Inza.is the only girl for Frank, and they will tndoubtedly be very happy together. We have organized here in this Academy a “Frank Merriwell League,” and have about twenty members and with great pros- pects for an increase in nuimber. We look forward every week to the coming of your Tip Top Weekly and every Friday even- ing the paper is read by one of us to the other members of the league. Most of us are ardent admirers of Inza and have had a great many arguments among ourselves as to which of the two girls deserved Frank’s affections. Frank, we think, is at ideal American boy, so kind and ‘affectionate, brave and true, and so fit to judge for himself as to who should be his partner in life. Anything Frank ever does is all right. We earnestly implore of you to bring Frank to Mercersburg in some of your stories, as it would be fully appreciated by all the boys of this Academy. With best wishes to Tip Top Weekly and Burt L. Standish, Mercersburg Academy. MERRIWELL LEAGUE. We sincerely hope your club increases in membership and prospers greatly in every way. Our fegards to the boys of the Mercersburg Academy and we hope to hear again from you. Please accept these few words of praise for the popular and best paper ever published, the Tip Top Weekly. I think that it is a very interesting and instructive paper for young men and boys and ir fact for everyone. Although I am a girl, I cannot think of enough praise. I have read every paper from No. 1 until date ad shall continue until they are no more, Allow me to say a few lines in regard to the Indianapolis Merriwell Club. I thought that it was a very unmanly and cowardly act to thrash and expel a meinber of their club because he expressed his opin- ion and did not agree with them. I felt very indignant when I read that letter, and I think that some of those members deserve a thrashing atid call-down themselvés. Perhaps Mr. Shafter ex- pressed his opinion too stforigly or unjustly; even so, what right had they to thrash him for it, and also how many others have given their opinion of Elsie—did they get a thrashing? Al- though Inza is my favorite, I like to see fair show. With best wishes to Mr. Standish, Street & Smith, and last but not least, Frank Mérriwell and Inza. Girt ADMIRER. Whitman, Mass. Of course the club you mention certainly did take heroic méastires to punish their offending colleague, but he, no doubt, aroused them sufficiently, and after all, boys will be boys. It is probably all right by now and they are all good friends again; at least we will hope so. | tee pigeah ss B eh bt eS PPR SEY - =? hat bia sm ia z ta Oe Fear ee nn ae 4 et MAO Te ee OLEAN ERT, _ contact. offers no resistance to that half of the ball which lies be- CURVE-PITCHING AND jh TO DO IT. The science of curved pitching is gov- erned by two very important conditions. These conditions are: First, the resist- THE THEORY. ‘ance offered to the ball by the air and, second, a re- volving motion of the ball. ‘Both of these conditions are absolutely necessary. Either of them, alone, is power- less to produce the curve. Together, they work har- moniously. It would be difficult to determine which of them is the more important, as neither can be dispensed with. That the air offers a very sensible resistance to a body passing through it, cannot be disputed; and the faster the body moves the greater will be the resistance. For example, let a person bring his hand gently down on the surface of water, and although he feels a resist- ance, still the water readily gives way to his hand. Then let him bring his hand down once more, this time with all the force at his command, and he will find that instead of meeting a soft, yielding substance as in the - first case, he will meet something that resembles a white oak plank more than it does water. This fact alone proves that speed increases resistance. Now, if a baseball in moving through the air at a given rate will encounter a certain amount of resistatice froin the air, it is manifest that if its speed be increased the amount of resistance will be increased in proportion. The learner will see the application of this principle in the solution of the second condition of which we shall now speak. _ Our illustration represents a ball passing through the air in the direction indicated by the arrow, but having no rotary motion. ‘The dotted lines in front of the ball rep- resents that part of the air with which the ball comes in It will be seen by the diagrams that the air hind the line marked A to B, all of it coming in front of ’ ES Oe a oe ee ryt PCLT TET LTT CANT eeeee Peel PEPE eee Prrti tial ntttiedidel | reer iy iret ts qpteatae { metered teeter pti eetyy EET eee HUEHISERLGERMSERAGTTAT ! ! ays a ae ae ttt | ee Sti {| | 14ht1y LT | | tif j it) the line. Therefore, the front half is practically the only part of the ball that is affected by the air. Now, let us suppose that all, or at least the greater part of the air resistance falls on that part of the surface — which extends from X to B. The learner will readily understand that such resistance acting on the slanting surface would crowd or push the ball to the left, of in other words in the direction of the least resistance. On the other hand, if the greater resistance fell on the sur- face X to A the ball would be forced to the right. But in this case the resistance is equally divided on the two surfaces X A and X B, and consequently the ball will e not be forced in either direction, but will nove straight a ahead in the direction indicated by the arrow, 86 we may - 7 conclude that if a ball be set revolving when it is thrown it will describe a curve iu the direction of the least resistance—that is, it will lean or bend in along the same | direction as that in which it is rotating. ‘The beginner can easily see, then, that the revolving movement must be given to the ball as it leaves the hand and also that success in curve-pitching depends upon the ability of the player to impart thig revolving motion. It is claimed by some that it is impossible to describe the motion of the hand in curved pitching. Now this is a great mistake. Nothing is easier than todoso. It is also claimed by some that the wrist is what produces the curve. This is another error as we shall presently show. ‘The curve is produced, as we have already shown, by the revolving pointing as nearly straight up as possible. motion; and the révolving motion is produced by the fingers. The wrist, therefore, simply helps to get the _ hand-iu the correct position. Grasp the ball tirmly with the first two aie gers of the right hand, with the thumb “QUT-CURVE.” 21 the opposite side-of the ball. Close the other two fingers in the palm of the hand. Use the under-hand throw, and. carry the hand forward midway between the shoulder and waist. Turn the palm exactly upward and the first two fingers Release the ball, either by drawing the thumb back or by turn- TO THROW ¢,, _ ing over to the right and allow the ball to roll around the side of the forefinger and not off the tip as is claimed by some. The learner will find that he can get a much better curve if he catches his middle finger lengthwise on the seam of the ball before throwing it, as by so doing he can cause it to rotate much more rapidly. A left-handed pitcher by following these directions will get the ‘‘in-curve,’’ instead of the ‘‘out-curve,’’ for the simple reason that he will cause the ball to revolve in the opposite direction. Grasp the ball firmly witli all the fin- gers, with the thumb on the opposite side. Use a straight side throw, carrying the hand well out from the body on a level with the shoulder. In this curve when the ball is released, the hand should be in the following position: Palm turned exactly toward the left, with the fingers suffi- TO THROW THE “LOW IN-CURVE.”’ *, ciently closed around the ball to give it the required rapidity of rotary motion. Release the ball while the hand is in this position. This curve will also be greatly _ improved by catching hold of the seam of the ball with _ the ends of the first three fingers before throwing it. This curve is perhaps the easiest one to acquire. We _have seen a beginner throw a good ‘‘in-curve’’ the first By following the" to roll under the first finger, agsisting the process by a time by following these directions. _ directions for i curves,’’ a left-handed pitcher will get _ s the 4 ‘out: curve.’’ This, eurve differs from the ‘‘low in- a, TBROM curve’’ only in the hand passing above THE HIGH «the head. Grasp the ball as-for ‘‘low in- IN-CURVE.” : : curve,’ throw with the overharid motion eatrying the hand forward. above the head. When the ball is released the palm must not be turned down, but toward the left as in ‘‘low in-curve.’’. This is a very de- ceitful curve for the batsman to hit, and the learner will do well to give it partictlar attention. Grasp the ballin the same manner as hewn: for *‘in-curve.”’ ' CURVE.” throw or a throw which carries the hand . close to the right knee. Or perhaps a com- bination of the two styles would suit some persons better. When the ball is released the hand should be pointing directly toward the homie base, with the palm turned exactly upward, allowing the ball to roll off the ends of the fingers. Catch hold of the seam with the ends of the first three fingers. Probably but few of our readers will ever suicceed in obtaining or acquiring much control over this curve, It is the TO THROW THE “UP-CURVE.” most difficult of them all, mainly for this. reason: Every one knows that the ball has a tendency to fall—z. e., tocurve downward. This is the natural result, due to gravity. Now, in order to get the ‘‘up-curve,”’ this downward tendency must, of course, be overcome. How? First, by throwing the ball with great swiftness in order to get great atmospheric resistance in front; and second, by giving a very rapid rotary motion to the ball in order to throw as much of that resistance on the underside as possible. In the right or left curves, momentum is the only force which has to be overcome, but in the ‘‘up- curve’’ both momentum and gravity must be overcome. In the ‘‘down-curves,’’ gravity is of great assistance, but in the ‘‘up-curves’’ it is anything but that. Directions: Grasp the ball in the same manner as for ‘‘out-curve,’’ turn the left side of the body toward the batsman. Raise the hand containing the ball about as high as the shoulder. Bring it downward and forward with a quick strong jerk, carrying it close to the knee in doing so. The back of the hand must be turned toward the knee, and should be kept in this position until after the ball is released. The hand should be carried past the left knee at least a foot before the ball is released from it. Just as the ball is thrown, the little finger edge of the hand will be turned upward, and the palm will be in such a position that the pitcher can look into it. and pointing directly away from the pitcher. the ball while the hand is in this position by allowing it twist of the thumb. Let the ball roll under the side of the finger and not off the tip. With the exception that Use either an underhand The first two fingers will be nearly horizontal Release see “ag Ee, “? oA. PSREBS I Beh, RE RIBAS VOR TR ame emer . eee nr eae A saga = Z es ‘parabola aud not an are of a circle. z prevent tt the hand is in a different position (aid of course produc- ing different results), this throw is like the one for ‘‘out- curve.’’ On account of length of time it takes to acquire this curve, we would advise no one who does not co1tein- plate entering the professional arena to try to master it, at least until all the others have been acquired. These curves are severaily Gesignated kc Rlcen anh as ‘‘out-rise,’’ ‘‘in-rise,’’ ‘‘out-drop’’ and TRE INGER Sr eo. ae MEDIATE in-drop. ach one partakes of the CURVES. Nature of the two curves which compose its name. The two first mentioned are more difficult to acquire. than the other two. In throw- ing any one of these etitves'the imaginary axis should be neither horizontal nor perpendicular, but at an angle between the two. The different styles of throwing used for these curves will suggest themselves to the learner. The ‘‘out-drop’ ) is especially easy. In throwing any of the curves if the learner has any particular style of throwing which comes more natural for him to use than the one given here, he may use it provided it will give the correct rotary motion. ‘The styles here given are the ones generally used, and are more natural for most persons to use ‘than any other. For the benefit of those who may be scientifically in- clined, we will say, that the path of a curved ball isa In other words, the last half of its flight curves much more than the first half. WHY BEGINNERS FAIL. 1. A Too Slow Ree his is the most common cause for volving Motion. failure. The result is obvious. It causes the arc resistance to be too evenly distributed over the surface of the front half of the ball, and little or no curve is the result. 2. Revolving Mo- | _Hi8 is a frequent cause of failure. To tion ata Wrong’ he sure, it may get some kind of a curve, ree but when one is trying to throw the ‘‘out- eurve’’ it is rather provoking to see the bail turn persist- ently in some other direction. 3. Pitching with his should never be done. “Always the Wind. pitch against the wind, if possible. Pitch- ing with the wind lessens the resistance in front of the ball and thus spoils the curve. : ce sa he ; 4... Teying to Curve ‘Throwing an.‘‘out-cfirve’’ from north Against the to south curves the ball to the east. Now, Naan if the wind is blowing from the east it will retard the curve, and it may, if very strong, entirely In pitching: from north to south, an east et) will assist an ‘‘in-curve,’’ ‘a west wind will assist n ‘‘out-curve,’’ a sout wind will assist any curve, and a Faith wind will retard any curve It may be safely said that if the feliueiey does not suc-_ ceed at first, it will be for one or more of these reasons: Failure most _commonly results from the first one and. particular attention should be given to it. Beginners are quite apt to believe that they cause the ball to revolve faster than they really do. HINTS TO BEGINNERS. he pitcher and catcher should always have a code of signals by which they can secretly communicate with each other. They should have a separate signal for each curve, and also for throwing to bases. As the catcher faces the whole field he is better able to see an opportun- ity for throwing to a base than the pitcher is, and the pitcher should seldom do this except when signaled to do so by the catcher. The particular curve to be deliy- ered should always be mutually understood by them, as the catcher is liable to be injured if he mistakes the curve. One thing the would-be pitcher is very apt.to do and that is to give up too easily. To all such I .would say that it is quite reasonable to expect that it may be quite a time before success comes. ‘Therefore, don’t get dis- couraged but practice at every opportunity. Practice is the key to success. Practice is what does it. NEXT WEEK’S PHYSICAL, CULTURE DEPARTMENT WILL CONTAIN AN INTERESTING ARTICLE ON INDOOR TRAINING. TIP TOP PRIZE PHOTOGRAPH GALLERY. Tip. Top will reproduce photographs of the best physi- cally developed readers. Send in your pictures and those that are well photographed will appear on the page now devoted to Our Yale Athletes! The object of this gallery is to show how much a boy can improve himself by physical training, and we therefore want to obtain the pictures of all competitors for. THE TIP TOP ATH- LETIC PRIZES. These pictures should show the chest, arm and neck muscles. At the end of six months we will reproduce the photographs of those boys who show the greatest physical improvement. Prize Winners. Send us your photograph now, together with the CONTEST COUPON, Follow Professor Four men’s instructions, and at the end of, six months send another photograph which will show your improvement, — ; , This is the way to get in direct line of becoming A WINNER IN THE TIP TOP ATHLETIC COS te