Issued weekly Subscriptio year. f d as Seco Crass Matter at the N. Y. Post e by S" &

'No.256. Price, Five Ce

WITH

 
ee

 
 

TIP TOD WEEKLY ~

AN IDEAL PUBLICATION FOR THE AMERICAN YOUTH

Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year, Entered as Second Class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 238 William
8t., N. Y, Entered According to Act of Congress,in theyear 1901 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D.C

 

No. 256.

NEW YORK, March 9, 1901,

Price Five Cents.

 

»

Frank Merriwell’s

>

Mysterious Move;

x

OR,

THIRTEEN PIECES OF SILVER.

Bv BURT L. STANDISH.

CHAPTER I.
“WHY DID FRANK CHANGE HIS MIND.
Frank uttered a sudden exclamation and.
dropped the paper he had been reading.
_ “What’s the matter, old man?” asked Dick
Siathichi ; :
_ They were sitting in the waiting-room of
_ the Grand Central Station.
_ minutes they had meant to take a train for
New Haven.

In just eighteen

mee was a Arias expression on

>

“What’s the matter?” Starbright again

asked. | .

Instead of replying, Merriwell dove into

his pocket with one hand and brought out

a number of coins, which he began anaes

‘in a most critical manner.

“Shy on carfare?” grinned the big fresh-
man.
ticket. I can lend you a quarter.”

Frank had selected a silver half-dollar and
was looking at it with great intentness, turn-|

ing it over and over. He examined the head

of Liberty with great minuteness.

ron

 

“Why, I thought’ you had a return
  

seem to be

said
and

“You struck on her,”

ce

Dick. But she’s struck on the coin,

any young man should look out for a gitl
who is, struck on the coin.”

‘Frank selected another silver half-dollar
and began examining that.

“You seem to have plenty of silver on
your person,” Starbright observed. “Has
the tide of free silver prosperity struck in?”

Merriwell compared the two coins, still
maintaining silence. Then he seemed to* be

weighing them, one in each hand.

“What’s.the game?” persisted Dick. “Let
me come, in. I’ve got fifty cents. Is that

the limit:”

Frank deliberately dropped one of the

coins on the marble floor. ees
“That's a pretty rings’ murmured the
freshman, as the sound came Clear and dis-
tinct. “Why don’t you get a diamond set
in it and ‘give it to some charming young
lady?”

Merry dropped the other coin, seeming
to listen intently to the sound as it struck
the floor., :

“Silver is falling,” Starbright desperately
“What's the
Have you forgotten how tg talk or are you
deaf?”

“Wait,” said Frank, as he picked up the

declared. matter, old man?

two coiris and resumed his inspection of
them. |

“Ah!” sighed the big fellow, with pre-
tended relief; “he can speak, anyhow. I had
begun to have fears.”

*~

another half-

dollar and scanned that with the same se-

Merriwell selected silver
rious manner of deep interest, while his com-
panion continued to watch him, wondering
what it could mean.

Frank shook his head a little, frowning
and seemingly worried.

“T don’t like it!” he muttered.
“Then I'll take it,’ said Dick, reaching

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

.¢

over. .“I can make use’ of it, and I like
that kind of stuff.’’

Frank put the money in his pocket and
picked up the paper, which he hastily folded
and slipped into the side-pocket of his over-
coat.‘ Then he turned to Dick, saying:

“Starbright, ('m net going back to New
Haven with you.”

“Hey?” gasped Dick. “Not—going—
back?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I have good reason for not returning to-
day.
I’ll explain later.”

Dick’s curiosity was thoroughly aroused,
but he knew it would be entirely useless to
question Frank.

Merry had been called on to New York
by an appeal from Starbright, who explained
that Inza Burrage had most mysteriously
and unaccountably disappeared. On arriv-
ing in the city, Merriwell found Inza’s fa-
ther ill in @ hotel, while Dick was utterly

unable to tell what had become of Inza. -

;

Frank traced the girl to a “private sani-—

tariun®’ in Brooklyn, where she was held a
captive, having been placed there through
the scheming of the rascally brother of Bes-
sie Levering, a girl whom Inza had visited.
Levering was in love with Inza, and, being

a hare-brained cigarette fiend, he had de-

vised this wild plan to obtain possession of

f

Never mind what it is now, Starbright;

eS

her and the wealth which he believed she —

would some day receive through the death
of her father. Young Levering had led the
manager of the sanitarium to believe that

Inza was a girl without friends and that her

disappearance would create little comment or
Without doubt he had somehow ob-_

stir.

tained enough money to pay the “doctor”.

well for his service.

But Frank upset the whole plot and suc-

ceeded, with the aid of Starbright, in res-_

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
  
    
  
 

   
   
  

  
   
   
   

 

     
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

  

TTP

cuing Inza, whereupon both Levering and
the “doctor” discreetly disappeared, and the
closing of the private mad-house soon fol-
lowed.

Mr. Burrage had recovered from his sud-
den illness almost-as quickly as he. was
stricken down, and had left the New York
hotel for Brooklyn, where he was stopping
at the Clarendon. Inza was also there.
And now Frank Merriwell, who had been

on the point of leaving for college, in com-

S

;
A

pany with Dick, suddenly at the last mo-
ment had changed his mind and announced
his intention of remaining behind.

“Ts it anything serious, Merry?” asked
the big freshman, noting the expression on
his companion’s face.

“Perhaps so; perhaps not,” was the baf-
fling answer.

“The fellows will be looking for you.
What shall I tell them? What reason shall
I give for your failure to come back with
me?” ~

“You need not give a reason.”

“But I'll have to tell them something.”

“Just say I had to wait over a day or so
longer.” /

A sudden stispicion dawned on Starbright,
causing his face to turn pale and his heart
to give him a severe pang of jealousy. Inza!
Frank was remaining behind to see her—to
have an open field. For Dick was desper-
ately in love with the dashing, dark-eyed
girl, and the course of events ‘had led him
to believe that, for all of Merry, his case
was not- utterly hopeless.

_.That was it! Starbright drew himself up
stiffly, giving Merry a stare that was full
of mingled reproach and apprehension. He
knew Frank’s power; he had heard Inza

speak of Frank in nothing but the highest

terms, and he was satisfied that Merry still
held a place in her heart.
Once Dick had believed the field free and

   

TOP WEEKLY.

    

open to him, being convinced that Merri-
well cared for Elsie Bellwood far more than
for Inza. As Inza also thought this was

the case, there was nothing remarkable in

the strong friendship that had developed be-

tween her and the handsome Yale freshman.

But a later turn of affairs had convinced
Dick that Merriwell had not absolutely re-
tired from.the field, and he feared that some-
thing might cause Inza to care for Frank
as of old.

It is human nature for any of us to covet
something that is desired by others, and the
more others desire it the greater our long-
ing for it will be.

Dick Starbright was no exception. Hav-
ing once believed he stood a fair chance to
win Inza, the danger of losing her was al-
most appalling, and the thought of it took
hold of him with crushing force.

But Frank Merriwell was his friend, and
he did not forget that. He remembered
how wlhien he appeared at Yale, friendless
and unknown, Frank’s hand had been
stretched out to him and Frank’s friendship
had placed him at once in good standing.
It was Frank who had saved him from the
machinations of enemies who drugged him
and tried to work his downfall and disgrace.
It was Frank’s influence that had caused
him, a mere freshman, to be given a trial
on the ’Varsity eleven, where, by his ewn
merit and ability, he had remained.

;

No; Dick Starbright was not a fellow to
forget these things. A hundred times he
had told himself that he was ready. to fight
for Frank Merriwell to the death—tready, if
necessary, to die for him.

Merry knew nothing of the tumult aroused
in Starbright’s heart by his jealous thoughts,
though he could see that some strong-emo-
tion had seized upon the big fellow, and he

asked:

 

 
TIP TOP WKEKLY.

*“What’s
illp Why, man, you’re pale as a ’‘ghost!”’

the. matter, Starbright—are you

The color came surging back to Dick’s
All at- once he. felt
and insignificant in the presence of this no-
With a
seized Frank’s hand, -huskily exclaiming:

“Tt’s
it’s getting near time for that train to leave.
Got to
mysetf

V’mn
Sorry
along. VU
I think
I understand why you’ve decided to stay

face, small. and mean

ble friend. sudden impulse, he

nothing, Merry—nothing! Jove!
I can’t afford to miss it, if you do.
show up at college and try to set
right for the time I’ve lost already.
afraid [’ll get soaked hard for it.

you’ve concluded not to come

miss your company on the train.

over another day, and I—yes, by Halifax !|—
I wish you luck!”

Without
word, Dick whirled about and

The train was being announced.
another
rushed out through’ the doorway to the long
platform.

_ “Think you know why I’ve decided to re-
main behind, do you?” muttered Frank.

“My boy, I hardly fancy you do.”

Then, with quite as much haste as Star-

bright had displayed, he dashed out of the
station, sprang down the steps, crossed the
sidewalk at a bound and plunged into a han-
som cab, crying to the driver:

“Clarendon Hotel, Brooklyn, and get me
there in a hurry!”

Slam! went the ate Crack! went the
whip.

Away went the cab. 4

—

CHAPTER IL

M.OV-E.

Be AS 4

Inza. Burrage was just preparing to go
out: when Frank’s card was brought up.
She uttered an exclamation of surprise when

she saw it.

ae rank?”
we e thought he had startedfor New. Havent” —

she ‘murmured, flushing. “Why,

showing his pleasure.

is quite unusual for a

Then she ran into the adjoining room and
told her father, who was sitting on a com-
fortable chair by the window, reading a
newspaper.

Mr.

“Send down for him to come

Burrage was also surprised. ,
up, Inza.
I wonder why he has come back ?”

Inza was wondering also, and a suspicion
that had assailed her caused her heart to
flutter wildly in her bosom.

“What if heshas come for that?” she whis-
“I cannot decide, for I—
I shail

pered to herself.
do—not—know—my—own—heart.
put him off.”
Having arrived at this resolve, she in-
structed the boy to bring Frank up. 3
In a few moments Merry appeared.
“Why, Frank!” Inza cried, “we thought
you were on your way to New Haven.”
“That’s right,” nodded Mr. Burrage, com-=
pale, age-marked face
-“But we’re glad to”

ing forward, his

see you here, just ehe same. Aren’t we,

Inza?”

,

¢ WER Ei
“Of course we’re glad,” she laughed.

“But it is such a surprise. If you had ar-
rived ten minutes later, you’d not found me
here. I was just going out,”
“Then I’m glad I was not late,” sai =

4

Merry, upon which Inza seemed both ee ed 3

and confused. /

To her surprise, however, Frank turned

to. Mr.

“Can you change a five-dollar bill, sir?”

Burrage, asking:

“T don’t know. I think so. ‘I'll see.

The gentleman drew forth-a poukee: -book,

Boi

upon which Merry quickly said:

raed Bi as much silver as pases if you
have any.” Gn

“That’s odd,’ é laughed Inza’s father. 3 Se
a person to wish for sil-
ver when they are getting a bill broken, ‘But i
I haye some silver.”

 

 
 

 

 

  
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
   
 
 

 

 

TIP

  

TOP

He plunged his hand into his pocket and

brought forth a number of coins.

“Let me have as many halves as possible,”

urged Frank.
“T can let you have three dollars’ in
Mr.

Frank’s Hands, together with the remaining

halves.” Burrage counted it into

amount, and received the five-dollar bill in
exchange.

To the
ther,
half-dollar

surprise of both Inza and her fa-

Merry began inspecting each silver

with great intentness, and it
seemed that there was a worried expression
on his face.

“What are you looking for?” laughed th

girl, “Are you making a collection of old
coins? If so, yoa’ll not find a prize in that

‘lot, for they all look new and bright.”

“That’s right,” agreed Frank. “They are

new, They ali bear the date of last year.”
y )

“All of them?”

eves.”

“That’s rather singular.”

Frank separated the silver half-dollars

from the other and deliberately

placed them in a pocket by themselves.

“Mr. Burrage, Inza,”

money

he said, “aren’t you

becoming tired of hotel life?”

They looked surprised.
“Tt is rather monotonous,” admitted Ber-
nard Burrage; “but you know how we are
situated.”

“And we have a few friends in Brooklyn,”
said Inza. e

Frank was silent a moment, and then a

look of resolution came to his face, as if he

had decided upon something.

“Mr. Burrage,” he said, “I do not want
you to ask any questions, but I wish you
to prepare to leave this hotel right away.”

-Inza uttered a little exclamation of sur-

prise, while Bernard Burrage seemed quite
astounded. heen

sor am not ready to ‘explain now,” said

g

oy

“‘drel who caused all your

 

WEEKLY. :

Merry; “but I will do so later. Can you get

ready at once?”
“We can be ready by noon.’

“That is not soon enough,

ready in thirty minutes, at most. Time is
valuable just now.”

‘“< W h y;

Merry interrupted Inza with a gesture and

*
9 Ld

what—

a smile.
“T will keep my promise to explain later.”
he declared; not now.

se :
but

Trust me and
do as I direct.’

Inza deena alarm for a moment, and then
flung it off,

father, who was pale and trembling.

iurrying to the side of her
st ee
And

“Don’t worry; father,” she said.

sure there is nothing to worry about.
Frank is here.”
“My child!” he exclaimed, with a shaking

ee

voice, You have enemies who wish to -lo

you harm—I know it! We must get away
from this city without delay. If the scoun-
trouble had been
captured!”

“Tell no one that you contemplate go-

Vit

have

ing,” instructed Frank. “Just get ready.

return for you Ree many minutes

passe dd,”
‘oom,

Then he hurried from the descend-

and left the hotel on the
‘

ed by the elevator

Washington street side.

Across the street, not far away, was 2

drug-store, with some leather goods di3-

played in a window. F rank went straight to
this store, where he purchased a small pocket

Then

pocket where he had placed them he took

purse of chamois skin. from

the silver pieces received from Mr. Burrage,
together with two he had found in his own

possession, and placed them in the smal}

purse, which he slipped into an inner pocket

of his coat.
Having done this, he waited a few min-
utes to give Mr.

= 3

You must be

the

Burrage arid Inza time tr

.

   

    
    
       
     
     
     
    
   
    
      
        
     
        
6 TIP TOP

prepare for the sudden move. Then he re-

turned to the Clarendon and ascended to

their rooms.
Mr.

Burrage, whose heavy overcoat was  but-

Inza was quite ready, and so was
; 4 y:

toned to his chin, and who now tramped

restlessly abSut, with the aid of a stout cane,
“Our
them?”
“Leave them,”
see that they reach you.”

trunks,’”’ said he; “what about

directed Frank. “I wiil
“But this whole business flusters me—con-

fuses me. Where are we going? Why are
we going?”

“All of which I have promised to explain
in due time. Leave it to me.”

“And we shall not return here?” ques-
‘tioned Inza.

“No.”

“Then I must take some things with me,

9?

for

“Nothing more than may be taken in your
pockets or mine,” said. Merry.
not carry a satchel. In fact, there must be
nothing about your appearance to indicate
“that you are leaving the hotel for good.”

“But—but we are to pay our bill before
we leave?’ ’

“No.” ;

“Why, that is running away—it is taking
French leavél”

“Call it what you like, you ‘are to do noth-

9?

-ing that will indicate you are leaving.’

“It is strange,” faltered Mr. Burrage, his
bewilderment increasing with his fears, “I
don’t like to do such a ee
nodded Prats
“but it is necessary. You must trust me
fully and completely and do just as I say.”

_ Had any one but Frank asked such a
thing of them, they would not have thought
of complying; but they well knew there was

_“T knew you would not,”

some good cause for all this, else he would
not have asked it of them.

“You. must”

WEEKLY.

“I will see that the hotel bill is — and
everything is properly attended to,” Merri-
well again assured. “Shall we go?”
Inza turned to her father. He caught her
in his arms, huskily exclaiming:

“Heaven protect you, my child! I hope
no further harm may come to you.”

“Don’t. soothingly

murmured.

worry, father,’ she

“Tt is all right. Frank is here,
and we will trust everything to him.”
“Yes, everything,” he agreed.

Then they left the room and the hotel.

CHAPTER IIT.
MONEY TO THROW AWAY.

At the Long Island Railway station Frank
purchased tickets for Babylon, and then took
a train for Oyster Bay.

By this time it had become evident: to
Inza that Merry feared pursuit, and she was
both alarmed and indignant.

The fear of being confined again in a pri,
vate mad-house possessed her and made her
shudder.

Mr. Burrage fretted somewhat, and. she

sought to soothe him. 2

Frank remained on the platform till the
train started.
and sat down in the séat behind them.

“Well,” he said, with apparent relief, “that

was what in my theatrical days I would

have called a quick shift.”

“But what do yougmean by it?” demanded
Mr. Burrage, sharply. “Why have you
made us all this trouble, Frank?”

“T am sure it is ae the best, father,”
Inza.

“Yes, but I'd like to understand it. I

don’t fancy this jumping round in the dark.” —

“T have said that I will explain everything
in good time,” said Merry. “I trust you
will wait patiently, Mr. Burrage.” _ ce

“All right; but it is very annoying. I’m
: | Toot ;

Then he came into the car

said

é

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

  
 
   

   
  
    
  
  
  
      
  

 

 

 

41

not very well, and this may bring on another

attack.”

“I hope not. I shall try to see that you
are made quite comfortable.”

“Our trunks——”

‘~

Dl} take care of them, and they’ wiil
reach you by to-morrow morning, at the
latest.” :

“That’s bad enough, but traveling around
has made me used to almost any inconven-
ience,”’

“Where is Dick, Frank?’ Inza asked, her
cheeks flushed.

“Gone back to college. We parted at the
Grand Central Station.”

“Then he knew why you decided to re-
main behind ?”

“No, I did not tell him. I expected to
go with him until after we reached the sta-
tion. I changed my mind while waiting for
the train.”

“And did not tell him why?”

“No.”

“What did he think?”

“T am sure I haven’t the least idea, Inza.”

“He must have been astonished. I won-
der he did not resolve to stay with you.’
She laughed with a touch of. mischief as
she said this:

“IT think he wanted to do so,” declared
Merry, smiling; “and I do not blame him.
But he need not fear that I will take an
unfair advantage when he is not on the field
to look out for his own interests. No mat-
ter how much I may be tempted to do so,
I shall refrain. Although ’tis said that ‘all’s

fair in love and war,’ I’ve never taken an

unfair advantage of any man in either.”

Her cheeks were burning now, and for a
moment she turned to look out of the win-
dow.

The train was pulling out of Brooklyn,
and the suburbs through which it was pass-

_ ing did not look very attractive.

TIP 'TOP

en a ao

   

WEEKLY. 7

“Sometimes,” she said, in a low tone,
“oreat victories are won by strategy.”

“Yes,” he admitted, “and sometimes by
treachery, but always the traitor is scorhe;|
and despised by ail.”

There is little danger that you will ever
win a victory in that manner,’ she laughed,
with an effort.

“If I were to do so, I'd not value the
prize,” he quickly returned. “An open field
and a fair fight is all-I ask.”

“Even then,” she murmured, “are you
certain you would regard the prize as worth
fighting for?”

“It makes a difference what that prize

9?

might be,” he said, evasively.

“What in the world are you two talking
about?” exclaimed Mr. Burrage.

“We scarcely know,” admitted Frank, with
a laugh. “Were we both to answer your
question honestly, the answers might be

quite different.”

iy

Then he excused himself and went for-

ward into the smoker, where he took a seat
quite by himself. ;
- Having sat down, Ffank slipped out the
chamois skin purse and opened it. One by
one he took from the purse the silver half-
dollars, again inspecting them with great mi-
nuteness. |

Having done this, he took trom a pocket
of his overcoat the paper he had been read-
ing at the Grand Central Station, and once
more perused a paragraph that’ had there
fallen beneath his eyes.

“Yes,” he nodded, when he had finished,
“there isn’t a doubt of it. I am not mis-
taken,” .

He whispered the words, folded the paper,

restored it to his pocket, and resumed his in-

spection of the silver coins.

“I beg your pardon, sir. Can you change
a five-dollar bill?” xg
The man behind Merry tapped him on the

=

      
t

a; although he spoke distinctly and without an }

8 TIP TOP

shoulder and asked this question. He could
see the open purse and the silver coins.

In the aisle stood the train boy with ci-
gars.
explained the passen-
“and the boy

“T wish to smoke,”
ger who had spoken to Frank,
a five.”
the bill,”

cannot break
od cannot change said Merry, at

once.
“Why, |

hind. “Perfectly

know.” ‘<

” said the man be-
that,

I'll take silver,’

willing to do you

“But I cannot change it,” Frank again de-
clared, closing his purse with a click.

“Wot’s der‘matter wit yer?” growled the

boy with the cigars. %’Fraid o’ gittin’ flim-
oy g =

_ flammed wit a fiver? Why, you've got. der

change right’ dere.”
At this moment, however, a man across

the aisle touched the boy on the elbow, say-

‘

ing: ~
«1 think I can break the gentleman’s bill,
if he does not object to silver.”
: “Not at all,”
the bill.
Merry had been attracted by the voice of

assured the passenger with

the man on the! opposite side of the aisle.
He fancied he had heard that voice before,
and at once looked the man over.

~

The one who had volunteered to change
‘the bill was a man about forty years of age,
black
His skin was so

with dark hair and mustache, coal
eyes and a square chin.
“very dark that he looked like a foreigner,
accent. He wore a black suit and a bright
red. necktie.
- gold chain with a dangling, showy. charm.

He had several heavy rings on his fingers.

Across his vest was a heavy

. This man produced a handful of silver,

observing! e

. “Just been to bank, and sey loaded me
up there. A fiver? I can give you: ‘ten

hal ves for it.”

WEEKLY.

“All right,” said the man with the bill,
handing it over. “I’m glad to get them;
thank you. Now, boy, give me half a dol-
lar’s worth of cigars.”
said the boy,
I’d a lost

dat trade if everybody wuz as mean as some

“Here dey are, ten straight,”

offering the box. “Tankee, sir.

swell blokes wot is too stuck up to ’com-
modate folks.”
Then, having given Frank a glare of
scorn, he moved on.
The
laughed at this,

man who had bought the. cigars

and Frank turned round
promptly, saying:

“T had a particular reason for not wishing
I hope

to let you have my change, sir.

_ you will pardon me.”

“Oh, don’t mention it,” flung back the
man, as he lighted a cigar. “I’m sorry I
asked ye.”

9

“Ordinarily,” said Frank; “I’d been more
than willing to change silver for paper, but
just now I am anxious to change paper=for
silver, and I'll give you three dollars in pa-
per for six of those silver half- dollars you
received from that gentleman.”
“No ye won't!”
promptly. “You didn’t accommodate me,
now darned if Ill ee you!”

Frank smiled.

YS

“Tn order that. it may not seem like an ome

accommodation,” he said, 2 am willing to

make it an object to you.” He took out
a two-dollar bill and aone. “Here are three
I want that silver -bad.

you this money for five of those silver hale

dollars.

dollars, by which you will make fifty cents.”
“Let me look at your paper: money,” said -
the man behind, suspiciously. he
~ Frank permitted him to take the bills,
ats the stranger peered at them: closely, _
finally saying:
“T guess they’re all ale but’ hanged: if
this ain't _ first time I ever knew. oF any-—

 

 

exclaimed Bie smoker, = =

Tl give
 

 

 

 

 

Pee 'Sorty,

ee OP

body .paying a premium for silver. Here
you go—one, two, three, four, five—two dol-
lars and a half.” ~

Frank took the pieces of silver and care-
lessly dropped them into the side pocket of
his inner coat, nodding his thanks.

Across the aisle the dark-faced man was
glaring at Merry with a sidelong look, but
Frank seemed to’ give him no attention
whatever.

After a time, Merry rose and sauntered
back to the toilet-room of the smoker.

Inside that room, knowing he was safe
from prying eyes, he took out the silver he
had received in exchange for the paper
money and looked it over.

“Just as I thought!’ he muttered, when
he had-examined each and every piece. “‘This
grows interesting.”

Then he took out the chamois skin purse
atid crowded into it the five silver halves he
had lately obtained’ making thirteen pieces in
all which the ptirse contained.

As he left the smoking-car and passed to
the passenger, he flung the purse containing

this money away.

CHAPTER IV.
THE MONEY COMES BACK.
» Having thrown’ away six dollars and a
half in bright silver money, Frank seemed
somewhat relieved.

He found Mr. Burrage had grown more
‘fretful, and Inza was having trouble in keep-
ing him quiet.

Merry did his best to assist her, and, hav-
ing succeeded fairly well, finally strolled back
to the smoker.

To his surprise and disappointment, he saw
nothing of the dark-faced man if the smoker.
Then Merry passed the entife length of the
train, three cars, atid became satisfied that the
man for whom he was looking had got off.

’ Frank muttered. “I was anxious

Ds ne

 
 

WEEKLY. . 9
to see more of that chap. But for Mr. Bur-

’

I’d not lost sight of him.”

rage and Inza,

The man who had bought the cigars was
not inclined to talk, and Frank once more
left the smoker.

He had been given something to think
about, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Oyster Bay was reached at last, and they
proceeded straight to the nearest hotel.
While Mr. Burrage and Inza were being
shown to rooms, Merry remained behind to
register and make arrangements.

Usually, Frank wrote a hand as clear as
copy-print, but to-day he dashed off a fright-
ful scrawl, so that the name of Bernard Bur-
rage looked far more like “Bertrand Bever-
age” than anything else. He then explained
that the baggage of the gentleman and yoting
lady would arrive that night or early the fol-
lowing moruing.

After this Frank went up-stairs to see if”
Inza and her father were comfortably fixed.
He found Burrage still fretful, apparently
much troubled by the mystery of their hasty
move from Brooklyn.

“This seems to be quite comfortable,” said
Frank, as he observed that an open fire had
been started in the room Mr. Burrage was to
occupy. “I don’t think you can complain of
the accommodations, and I -hear that, in the
summer time at least, the cuisine of this hotel
is first-class. If you are not satisfied here, it .
will not be much trouble to move elsewhere.”

“Move! move! move!” sighed Mr. Bur-
rage. “It’s nothing else! I am tired of it!
I’m» going to buy a little house somewhere
and settle down. If I do, I suppose Inza will
get married right away and leave me to my-
self.

“Don’t worry about that, father,’ said
Inza, bending over the back of his chair and
putting her arms about his neck. “There is
no danger that. [will be -married for many.

years tocome. Of course, I don’t propose to

a

  

 

 
 
 
    
      
        
     
       
10

ae

be an old maid. I know it’s usual for girls to
declare they are going to be old maids, but ]
have no such intention. © Still, one thing
sure—I’]] not marry for a long, long time to
come.” 3

She was looking at Frank as’she said this,

and her words and manner expressed great

earnestness.
It seemed that Merry actually drew a deep

breath of relief.

“T must go back to New York to-night,
he said; “but I shall be down to see you early
to-morrow.”

“T hope you'll see fit to tell us, then, what

said Bernard Bur-
cd

all this business is about,”
rage.

‘@ethaps I may. Don’t worry about it,
for I do not think there is now any cause to
be alarmed.

_and you should take a much-needed rest.”

It is quiet here, Mr. Burrage,

“Oh, rest—quiet ! Why, I believe my na-

ture demands life, stir, movement, excite-

ment. That is why I have moved about so

much in recent years. I couldn’t seem to

settle down and be satisfied. Sometimes I
have thought of going back to Fardale.”
“not there !”

' “*Phat’s the way!” he exclaimed. “When-
ever I mention returning to Fardale, she ob-
T don’t understand it. I

“No, no!” eried Inza, quickly ;

jects just like that.

_. don’t know why.” *

~ Lt 18

said the girl.

“Then, rl tell you,”

because the mere thought of returning there
_. to live fills my heart with loneliness and pain.

What is there to call me back there? All my
_ friends have left the place, or are dead. I
would know only a few of the old people
there. It would be a place of old memories.

‘Wherever I turned something would remind
- me of days gone by. I could live there only
in the past. Such a life as that is not for me.
J must live in the ‘present—and the future.

ayers now it is often aga for me to think .

this move then.
wo .

TiP TOP WHEKLY.

”
of the happy days at. Fardale—to think they
are gone forever !”
Frank was thrilled with the same deep feel. |

" ing as she spoke, and he understood her thor-

oughly.
“I do not blame you for not wishing to

return to Fardale to live,” he declared. “Even

a
_ to visit there by one’s self is enough to revive —

old memories and fill one’ with sadness.”
“When a man gets to my time of life,” said
Mr.
past.
know it is different with the young, and I
cannot blame you for looking ahead, instead

Burrage, “he is willing to live in the

-His memories are sweet to him. I

of backward.”
Somehow, a feeling of sadness assailed
Merry, and he found it hard to cast it off.
“T must go’now,” he said. “I shall-return
to-morrow, and I hope to be able to explain
Above all things, don’t
worry.’ 4
Inza held out her hand ‘to him, and he felt

the same old thrilf as his fingérs touched hers.

“Trust me, Inza,” he murmured : “trust me ..

in this matter. I would not give you all this

trouble and worry for nothing.” ~
“T do trust you, Frank,”

And then, in a lower tone. she added: “I

she answered.

have always trusted you.’

He had learned just when ‘he could get ES

train back to the, city, and he hastened to

reach the station. As he walked, he thought —

of Inza’s last words, and somehow they stung — ne

him. ; : ae Nites
“No, no!” he muttered; “there came a time ~ _
when you did not trust me, Inza. I am not

sure you were to blame, but I da know that

you doubted.”

Merry boarded the train and took ‘a seat.
in a corner of the smoker. ‘He was busy with
his thoughts. *The car filled as the train
stopped at various stations. At length an old
man who looked like a farmer came in and

sat down 5 at: Merry’s side.

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

ag NTN ee apenas ”
ene ik faggot tae ae

  

“Goin’ to have a tetch o’ cold weather,”
said the stranger,

Merry was so absorbed with his thoughts
that he did not observe that the man had
spoken to him.

“Sing’ler to me t’-day,”

thing happened

said the old fellow.

Still Frank was silent, staring out of the
window.
“’Tain't very often I find anything of

did

it’s jest botherin’ me mightily. I

vally,” the stranger persisted; “but I
t’-day, an’
dunno what t’ do ‘bout it.”

Frank did not move.

“I dunno but the best thing I kin do is
advertise it in th’ papers,” the man said.
“What would you do if you’d found some-
thin’ of vally’ an’ didn’t know who it
b’longed to, ner how ¢’ find out?”

Merry did not answet the question, for he
was thinking of the old days at Fardale.

“I'd like to live those days all over again,”
he thought, as the stranger at his side con-
tinued to talk about something of great

“vally” that he had found.

At last the man became discouraged and
disgusted.
dumb!” he
“IT reckon I’m a fool to waste my

“I s’pose you’re deef an’
snapped.
breath talkin’ to ye!”

_ Frank drew a deep breath and started a
bit. * | '

me beg your pardon, sir,” he said, politely.
“Were you speaking to me? I did not hear
you.” P

“Didn’t hear. me!” exploded the farmer,

angrily.
sense I set down here!’

“An’ ve bin waggin’ my jaw ever
Well, you want t’
Either
that ur else you’d better go see a doctor an’
find out what ails ye.
_you’re in love! Didn’t hear me!
bin makin’ all that talk fer nothin’!
Tm disgusted

keep | yer ears unplugged, young man.

I bet eleven cents
An’ I’ve
I swan,

  

I git off here, so I ain’t got

TIP TOP WEEKLY,

Fone ene Sag ee

   

11

time t’ tell it all over—an’ I

wouldn’t tell it
if I did hev time!”

Then the old fellow got up, giving Frank
a look of withering scorn, and marched out
of the car.

Merry was amused, and he turned to see
the old fellow descend from the car-steps t
the platform of the station where the train
had

twisted his mug at Merry.

paused. The farmer, still
Then the train
started.

As the train pulled round a curve, Merry
looked back and was surprised to see the
old fellow come running after the cars, wildly
waving his hands, his hat flying off, his whole
aspect that of a person in frantic despair.

Le

thought Frank.

must have forgotten something,”

o

“Wonder if he left anything
here.”

Then, as he looked around, he saw sortne-
thing on the seat beside him.

It was a‘chamois-skin purse, stuffed to
bursting.

With a gasp of surprise, Frank caught it
up and opened it.

It contained thirteen silver half-dollars!

CHAPTER V.
A BAD SCRAPE.’

Frank was astounded.

In a moment he had satisfied himself that
the purse was the one he had purchased at the
Brook-
lyn, and the silver half- dotfars were the ones

drug store on Washington street,

he had put in it.

He had thrown the purse and the money’ .

away, fully expecting never to see it again,
but now in this surprising manner vit came
back. :
No wonder he’stared at it in scvcnieiabenes
For some moments he could, not conceive
just how it happened that the money was
there, but he soon decided that it had slipped

from the pocket of the old farmer.

resentful, ©

=

ig

   
  
  
  
   
  
  
    
  

     
    
   
      

 
12 TIP TOP

“That’s the éxplanaton,”’ Merry thought
“T remember now that he was talking to me.
I happened to be thinking about something,
and I did not pay much attention to what he
said, but it seems that he was trying té tell
me about finding something. By Jove! It
must be that the man picked up. this purse
where it fell when I flung it from the car
window !”

This seemed a satisfactory explanation, and
Frank drew a deep breath of relief.
“was running after the
He had just discovered the purse and

Well, he is better off
But What am I going to

“That's why he
train.
money were gone.
without this stuff.
do with it?”

He turned as if to again open the window
and fling out the purse and its contents; but
paused, shaking his head,

“No, that won’t do. It will fall into the
hands of somebody else, and it may make
lots of trouble for the finder. The old
farmer is well rid of it, and I think I’ll take
care that it falls into the hands of nobody
else. Next time I throw it away it will go
beyond the reach of human hands.”

Why was Frank Merriwell determined to
get rid of those thirteen pieces of silver
money? and why did he not wish them to
fall into the hands of any one else?

Merry slipped the purse into his pocket,
but the knowledge that it was about his pe:
son made him feel uneasy and guilty. He
longed for an opportunity to get rid of it
torever.

’ For all that he had reasoned out the prob-
able manner in which the money had _ re-
turned to him, still there was something re-
-markable abdutsthe affair and he did not

- cease to wonder over it.

He was thinking of this when ‘the train

arrived in Brooklyn, and somehow it gave

him an uneasy feeling.

Leaving the station, Merry hastened

‘straight to the Clarendon Hotel, where he >

unhesitatingly appeared at the desk of the
-eashier and announced that he had come to
_ pay the bill of Mr. Bernard Burrage.
_ | “How is that?” asked the cashier,
Bs guidly. BPE 4, :

Mr, Burrage has been called away,” sai

‘ who promised to move the

pearet

Jan-.

WEEKLY.

Frank, ‘and will not return to the hotel. He
sent me to settle in his place.”
This unusual proceeding must have sur-

‘prised the cashier somewhat, but he did not

betray it. With an air of condescending su-
periority he looked over the books and told
Merry what the bill would be.
Frank paid at once, taking a receipt.
“How about the trunks?” asked the cash-
a “T prestme they have not been moved
yet?” ;

“No. An expressman will call for them in
a short time.”

“Very well.”

Merry was aware that the man behind the
desk surveyed him with cold, piercing eyes,
and somehow it seemed that those eyes could
see the chamois-skin purse and its contents
bulging in one of Frank’s pockets. _

“I’m going to get rid of that confounded
thing as soon as k can,” Merry muttered, as
he left the hotel. .

It would not have surprised him had he —
discovered he was followed by a shadower. —
In fact, he took some pains to make sure such —
was not the case.

“Tove!” he murmured, as he paused on a
corner. “I feel ike a hunted criminal! First’
time I ever felt that way in my life, and T
don’t Ike it.”

Then he hunted up an expressman, whom
he paid to call for the trunks, which were
to be léft at the outward baggage-room of
the Long Island Railway station.

He took a receipt from the expressman,
trunks within

a»

thirty mintttes.

Frank was at the station shies the man ap-
“with the trunks. .

“They wanted to. know at the hotel where.
— trunks, was goin’!” said the express-_
man; “but I comiget tell ’em AIRS. ae
it ey

“You didn’t have to tell them,”
_Frank. : : .

“The porter was so hanged insultin’ that

said

‘told art it was none of his aes busi- be =

ness.’ oo Nac :
“That was proper,”

“here is an extra dollar.” : =a

“Thank yer, boss. If ye ‘a’ paid me

Mertiwell smiled.

 

 

 
 

 

TIP TOP

this in advance, I’d smashed the
the jaw.”

Ls ytite < re ish d owritl © 10

Iam quite as well satished with what you
did,” assured Frank.

The expressman mounted to his seat and
drove away.

porter on

Already Merry had purchased a ticket for
Oyster Bay, and now he proceeded at once
to get the trunks checked to that destination.
ot is a shadower watching the
trunks,” he thought, “he is bound to follow
Hans * till they reach Bernard |
matter what I do. If t
‘later, I fancy it will be found
lére,*
' Having made sure the
out on the next train to Oyster Bay,
satintered out of the station.

A train had just come in, and a few pas-
sengers were getting off and pouring out to-
ward the street. Fé
Frank walked out briskly, intending to as-
railroad and

cag re

he trail is taken up
broken right
would go
Merry

trunks

cend the stairs to the elevated
take a train for the Bridge.

At the*very foot of the stairs he was as-
tonished to feel himself clutched by a pair of
hands, shrill, triumphant voice
shouted: < :

“I’ve got ye, you darn sneak! Don’t you
ter git erway! You'll find I kin hold

while a

try
; ye!”

Startled not a little, Merry turned to see
who had set upon him in this manner

It was the old farmer who had occupied the
seat with him on the train!

“Hello!” exclaimed Frank.
want?”

“That’s a nice question fer you ter ask!”
snorted the old fellow, in great indignation.
“You know what I want, consarn yer pic-
ter!”

“You are mistaken,
enough to——”

. “Don’t try to wiggle out of it that way, fer
it won’t ‘work. I know ye, you darn slick

“What do you

sir. Please be good

_. pickpocket!”

“Be careful!’ said Merry, sternly. “Tam
not accustomed to such language!”
“Then you'll hev to git accustomed to it

right here, hang ye! TI ain’t no man to mince

_ words, an’ I’m bound ter talk straight to a

- eritter of your character.”

Burrage, no .

a ES TET AIOE

WEEKLY.

“What do you want?
“T want my money, b’gosh
“Your money ?”

hiss

“Yep, my money, by thunder!”
“What money ?”
“You know, durn ye!”
“How should I know? Man,
cited.”

“Who wouldn’t

money .right in my. pocket

you are ex-

hed the
down

7
,
+t
j

sot

beside ye, an” it was gone whens! got off the

train, You played it mighty slick

out of the

that you
earin’
Oh, I kin see by your looks
You got it
follered ye right here,
an’ I want my money. | you've got it
on ye this minute. Where is a perliceman.
(ll. jest turn ye over to the law, that’s what
I'll do!”

Merriw

was lookin’ winder an’ not h

a word I said.
smooth crook.

over ye. I
7

that you're a
painted all

bet

ell began to realize that he was in
for he saw that were he
him it

a very bad scrape,

eet and the money found upon
would be difficult satisfactory ex-
plaffation. He could not claim the money was
and that he had thrown it away while on
the train, for no one would believe such a
story.
The loud talk of the old farmer had

tracted attention, and a crowd was beginning
to gather.

to make a

his,

“Confound that money!’ thought Fr ank.
“T wish I’d never seen a piece of it! It’s bad
luck !”

‘Some of the crowd began to make re-
marks. =

“Hang onto-him, old man.”

“He looks like a pickpocket!”

“Sure thing. See them fingers.”

“Bet he knows all the tricks.”

It was the first time in bis life that Merry
had been takef for a pickpocket, and the ex-
perience was far from pleasant. At that mo-
ment he was convinced that he really looked
guilty in the eves of the assembled witnesses.

“Somebody call a perliceman,” cried the
old farmer. “I’m goin’ to have him marched
straight to the lock-up, b’jing !”

““TDon’t have to call a cop,” said a boy.
“One is comin’ now.’ a
Frank looked up the street and saw this.

 
14

was true. Observing the crowd, a police-
man was hurrying in that direction.

“Now, b’gosh! I guess we'll make ye shell
out, you pesky thief!” chuckled the farmer,
exultantly. “T’ll ’arn ye to rob me!”

CHAPTER VI.
VA CEE V ER BS CAPE.

Instantly Merry decided that it would not
do under the circumstances to fall ‘into: the
hands of the policeman. Quick as thought,
with a twisting wrench, he broke the farm-
er’s hold ‘upon him, and then he made’a leap
for a passing trolley-car.

“Stop him!” was the cry.
pickpocket !”’

“That’s pleasant!’ muttered Merry, as he
leaped on the rear platform of the car. _

-He was pursued and it seemed that he
could not escape capture. The policeman was
close to the car,

Through the car went Merry, flung open
the front door and was out on the platform
before any one of the passengers lifted a hand
to stop him. ‘Fortunately there had been no
passengers standing in the aisle to interfere
with him.

Snap!—open went the gate on the side
nearest to the middle of the street. Off
jumped Merry, just as the conductor rang
for the motorman to stop the car.

Another car was passing in the opposite
direction, and the conductor happened to be
collecting fares inside. The gate on the side
near the middle of the street was closed at
both ends, but gates of that sort were small
obstacles to Merry then, and he went over it
and onto the rear platform with perfect ease.

The moment Frank struck the car platform
he jammed his hat over one ear, lopped the
brim, turned up one side of his coat collar,
hunched one shoulder and “leaned against
the gate in a slouching manner with his
back turned toward the men whom he knew

“Pickpocket !

te were looking for him.

‘The change in his appearance was remark-
‘able. It seemed that he had lost at least three
inches of his height, and his looks seemed to
denote that he was very much under the {n-
fluence of liquor. Frank Merriwell had dis-
ees as if by magic,

Ne

‘ring 1

-He

 

TIP TOP WHREKLY.

Frank’s every move had been quick and
prompt, without a single instant of hesitation.
It happened that no one had seen him go
over the gate of the passing car and reach
the rear platform. To the surprised motor-
man, who craned and looked back
the motment he stopped his car, it appeared
as if Merry had been run down by the other
car. Surely that slouching figure leaning
against the gate on the rear platform was not

425. So
nis eck

the leaping fugitive who dashed through the

first car!
Merry did not turn his head to look back,
strong as the inclination to do so was on him.
slouched against the gate, his head tip-
ping and rolling with the motion of the car. ~
However, his ears were wide open, and
they served him just then in the place of
eyes, telling him that the other car had been
stopped by the policeman and the crowd, who
could
left it.
The conductor came out and stared ba
curiously, observing:
“Something’s the matter there.

ck

What ails

that old fellow with the whiskers? What’s
the cop doing?”
“Tha’s all ri’,” said Merry, thickly. “Cops

all have t’ wear whishkers when Tom Platt~
shends—hic!—down hish new p’lish forsh

from up. countrysh. Z-z-z-z! How. th’ win
"ll blow then!” 2 —
The conductor looked at Mér ey ate
“When did you ae on?” he asked.
don*t remember you.’ ;

“Tha's all tv: Frank ae with a.

flabby wave of his hand. “Jes’ shtepped on.
Don’ want no farmersh for cops. Dick Cro-
ker’sh good, ’nuff to run thish town, Tom
Platt better mind hish own bushiness !
what I shay! ’Rah for Dick Platt!
wish Tom Croker! -’Rah for Tam’ny!”’

“You're slightly mixed, my friend,’
the conductor. “You want to brace up and
close your face, or I'll have to put you off.”

“What—me?”’ | |

Frank appeared greatly astonished.

“Yes, you.
and you haven’t paid your fare, anyway.”

“Tha’s ri’.
fare.
Pi

shix fares. pay.

not yet realize that the fugitive had

ey a ;

‘Tha’s o
Down

said

You’ve got an awful skate on,
g Of,

Didn’t hear you ring in m’
7 t? hear th’ bell ring. Jes’. you
I got the |

 

 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
   
 
  
 
 
  
  

 
  
 
 

       
    
       
      
 

aE ee Se eg TT lena ee RR eR I

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

change. Go ‘head; yank the ol’ string—hic!

—shix timesh,”’

Frank was fishing aimlessly in his pocket
for change.

“T don’t think V’ll ring in for you.
you ll have to get

You're
too skated for this car, and
off and walk.”

The conductor gave the signal for the mo-
torman to stop the car, which came to a halt
in front of one of Brooklyn’s large depart-
ment stores.

“Thash only one ring, Mishter C’nductor,”
said Frank. “Letter go fi’ timesh more. I
shaid shix faresh.’

The conductor took Merry by the shoulder.

“You'll have to get off.”

“What Whaffor? Don’ you dare
put me off! I’m ’spectable ’Merican chitizen.
I dare you to put me off!”
But for all of his talk, he permitted the
conductor to put him off with ease.
he had reached the street, howeyer, he seemed
to brace up with difficulty, and he shook his
fist in the direction of ‘the rear platform of
the car, thickly cry ing:

“Don’ you do it!
an’ put me off.”

“Look out or a peeler’ll nab you,” advised
the conductor, rang for the car to go
ahead..

‘Frank turned and reached the sidewalk,
where he quickly mingled with the crowd of
shoppers; and his intoxication vanished in a
most surprising manner the moment he had
passed through the doors and entered the big
store. |

“That was almost too easy!” he told him-
self, with a laugh of Satisfaction. “But
hanged if I like the experience of being mis-
taken for a pickpocket! And everything
would have been against me if that, officer had
ever got hold of me. The money would have
-been found in my pocket, and | doubt if all

I dare you to come off

as he

my explaining would have done me any good. ~

It was a narrow squeeze. I’m going to get
rid of that hoodoo money as soon as I can,
and this time I’ll send it where it will never
‘come back.”

He passed through the store and left it by
a doof that opened on a side street. Then he
boarded a car bound for the Bridge.
| _Merriwell’s wonderful faculty of altering

When.

15

moment with-
means of disguise had stood him
more than once. In this
he had been aided by his experience as an

his personal appearance in a
out artificial
in excellent stead

actor, although he had practiced the art then
partly acquired till he grew astonishingly pro-
ficient in it, Even was ‘convinced
that he had but acquired a limited talent in ¥
that direction, and he entertained a belief that
a man with natural ability in that direction
might persist until he would be able to alter
his personal appearance to such an extent that
his intimate friends would not recognize him.

now he

Certain it is that most men have two or more
personalities which they maintain without ef-
fort through habit, and even the story of
Jekyll and Hyde did not seem wildly impos-
sible to Merry. .

Frank could see that a peisen possessed of
the ability to thus alter his appearance might |
find the talent of untold value to hire. Were |
he a criminal, the ability must often enable
him to foil pursuers and evade the hand of
the law.

Such thoughts as
through Frank’s mind as the car bore bim
toward the Bridge False beards and’ afti-
ficial disguises of that sort were crude and
‘bungling devices with which to deceive ©
shtewd eyes; but the ability to absolutely
alter one’s appearance without recourse to
such means was invaluable.

“lf Vd seen the farmer first,” he
thought, “I'll wager something he'd never
recognize me. Anyhow, it was by accident.
that I ran against him there at the station,
and there. is little probability that Pil en-_
counter him again.” ee -

He decided to inclose the checks for the
trunks in a letter which he would mail to
Inza, as he might not go out to Oyster Bay
until late the following day, and the contents
of the trunks would be needed by, Inza and
her father.

“T’ll just, drop into the Astor House se
I get over the Bridge and attend to that piece
of business,” he thought,

The car passed the Clarendon Hotel and
kept on its way to the Bridge.

As the Bridge was approached, Merry felt —
for the purse containing the thirteen Pues
of silver.

these were : passing

old

 
iB TIP TOP

It was resting safely in his pocket.

Out upon the Bridge rumbled the car.

As the middle of the Bridge was reached,
Frank rose and stepped out to the rear plat-

form of the car.

“The bottom of the -
class place for stuff of at kind,”
_ Frank, as he brought out the purse.

Nith a flirt of his hand, he flung it far out
from the Bridge and it dropped like a stone
toward the river below. ;

“Gone!” sighed Merry, in relief. “That
settles it. [ll never be troubled with that
stuff again, and Mr. Farmer will find trouble
in proving his charge if he should meet me
and cause my arrest.” .

East River is a: first-
thought

Feeling much relieved, he returned to his -

seat. in the car.
When the. New York side was reached
Merry was the first to step from the car.
He had‘not taken ten steps before he halted.
Direcfly before him, lighting a half-smoked
cigar, ‘was the dark-faced man who had
changed the five-dollar bill on the train

-

CHAPTER VII

ANOTHER CHANGE.

~~

Frank remembered that.this rnan had pos-
sessed several of the bright new silver half-
dollars which he had flung from the Brook-
lyn Bridge but a few minutes beforé. He
had given them to the stranger on the train
in exchange for a five-dollar bill.

But Frank believed he had seen this man
before observing him on the train.

FRANK MAKES

In: fact, Merry took a great intérest in the

-“foreign- -appearing fellow.

A sudden inclination to play detective and
shadow this man grasped Merriwell. ~ Out
came the newspaper from Frank’s pocket and
-a moment later he seemed to be searching
through its columns for something. In fact,
he was holding the paper so the man would

not see his face if he were to look around sud-_

_ denly.

_ But the man with the red necktie did not
look round. Having lighted his cigar, he
started off at a rapid walk in the direction of
the Bowery. , | 2
It was not by any means the first time

to»

- Street-cars rolled-past ;

WEEKLY.

Frank Merriwell had played the shadower,
and he did not find the task at all difficylt.

Over their heads the L trains rumbled ; be-
neath their feet the walk was slimy and wet.
trucks and teams of
all sorts jammed and blocked the street. All
sorts and conditions of men were met on | the
way.

It was evident that the man ahead did not
dream he was being followed. Not once did
he pause to look round. Once or twice he
spoke to somebody he Each time
Frank noted the person he spoke to was an
Italian.

“He’s an Italian fiiael f,” Merry ~decided ;
“but. he has managed to get rid of almost
every trace of accent. He is an educated
man. There is soemthing shrewd and busi-
ness-like about his face.”

Frank’s interest in the man grew.

The Bowery was reached, but still the man
walked briskly northward. :

Of a sudden he disappeared.

sut Frank had not been tricked. With his
eyes wide open, Merry had seen the fellow
turn oe into a saloon.

“Think VIl go in there myself, ” muttered
Merry, as 2 walked leisurely toward the
places. are

He realized he was altogether t6o: well
dressed not to attract notice im such a place. —
Besides that, he might run into the dark-faced
stranger and be recognized. ;

“Got to take a chance,” he said, again turn-
ing up one side of his coat collar, lopping his —
hat-brim over his.eyes, rolling up one trou-
sers leg and buttoning his overcoat crooked.

When Frank entered that saloon he had.
the appearance of a young man who had
reached the fag end of a very heavy spree.
His face had assumed the expression of a
man disgusted with himself and the world in
general. His eyes seemed swollen and half
closed. He seemed very, very tired.

With a faltering yet hasty step, Merry

knew.

reached the end of the bar, against which he =

lurched, huskily ESR EES aah
“Gimme a whisky an’ hurry it, ‘el man, are
Seltzer chaser.” — ee
Then he fumbled in his pockets, bese :
forth a dime in a way that seemed to’ prove.
it was me aes one in his clothes,

 
 

Lee

“End of a misspent fortune,”
thickly. “What’ll I do for
Goodness knows!”

1e muttered,

next-+ drink?

“You need a bracer, me boy,” said the bar-

keeper.\ “Let me fix yer up somet’ing to
straighten yer out.”’
“Don' want t’ stra
Merry declared.
she’ll last,

# And

“Well,” said Merry, fumbling at his chin
and turning his eyes with an effort, ‘
make any diff’rance t’ you,
i got frien’s. [ll
whisky } “thd

“Sure t’ing.”’ .
bath. May never

ighten out, old sport,”
“Want t’ keep ’er up long’s

’ 1 ” f
an. then———

masts wot ?”

“it don t
does it, ol’

somebody. Tha’

sport?
touch

“Then here goes for a
get another.”

Frank turned out a brimming glass, his
hand shaking so that some was an ed on
the bar.

“Don’t waste it,”
the bottle away.

said the barkepeer, taking

_ *°Scuse mé,” muttered Frank. “All my
fault. Had ‘nother dine Vd bloe ye, ol’
sport. Sorry ain’t got it.’

“Thats’ all right,” declared the barkeeper,

' good-naturedly. “I know ye’re a dead game
one by yer looks.”

Then he turned to wait on another cus-
tomer, and, with a dexterous move, Frank
emptied the contents of the glass into a cus-
_-pidor, When the barkeeper observed him
again he was drinking the seltzer “chaser,
while ‘the empty whisky glass stood on the

bar.

Merry had been surprised on entering ‘the
place, for, despite his apparently intoxicated
condition, he had quickly observed that the
man he had followed was not in the room.

There was, however, a little side room par-
titioned off from the main saloon, and Frank
soon located his man in that room, where he
was sitting at a table, talking earnestly to
another man,

Immediately the Yale man decided on the

course he would pursue. Somehow he was
satisfied that the owner of the red necktie was
shrewd and observing, and he knew the fel-
- low had looked him over closely on the train
» when he g

ave three dollars in paper money

TOP WEHREKLTY,

for five silver halves. Shortly. that
dark-faced man had left the train.

seemingly the whisky

-atrter

had braced Frank

up, for he turned and left the saloon with a

step far steadier than when he entered.

a pe eae TE a salad SES ah Be eS ]
Once outside Merry turned back down the

a corner and hastened to
+ i ° ° < 7
sie a ian clothier, having observed

as he came along in the wake of.

1an he was bcc toariae
shop was at his front
}

customers, and he pounced

The. proprietor of the
door leoking for
on Merry the instant Frank

threshold.

: hs eae
passed Over the,

“Vot can I do for

he asked.

dress suidt ?”
“Look here,

you to-day, young chent-

leman ?”’ “Couldt I sell you a nice
sharply,
he sf

Wi

Cohen,” said Merry,
every trace or his pretended intoxicatic

vanished, “I

sn
1]
|
Li

ing want to make a dea

you that will be a good thing for you. Uh:
derstand?) Now, don’t
sary ‘talk, for my mean
business. I want a suit of clothes that will
make me look
tough. Catch

good clothes,

make any unneces-

time is-liniited. I
mug—like a genuine
I’m

like a
that?
but I’m looking for
that will change my appearance so my
mother would not know me if she were to
meet me. Plaid bob- coat with
spreading skirts, vest of the rankest
, plug hat that I cari wear over my eye,
and a necktie that will scare-a dog into a fit.
Are you wise? Do you savvy?”

“Sufferin’ Mosesh!” gasped the astonished
Jew, with uplifted palms. ‘Vos you crazy,
young chentleman? Vot——”

“Now, don’t ask questions, for it’s none of
your Business. [ want just what I’ve called
for, and. if I can’t get those things here I'll
have to go somewhere else in a hurry. I'll
pay you well, and I’ll leave this suit behind
in your care. When I call*for it'you’ll get
twenty-five dollars more for your trouble.
Now, if you know when*you’ve got a good
thing, hustle out the outfit I called for and
show me where I can get into it.”

The astounded Jew lost little time in obey-.

not: looking — for
something
grand-

trousers,
fancy
sort

‘ing, and he soon had Frank changing his

clothes behind a screen. Merry was able to

secure just such clothing as he desired, and.
rs Aerts $ cae
he made a “lightning change.

W hen he is-

 
    

18

   
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
     
          
       
         
     

 

him was so remarkable that the Jew could
scarcely believe it was the same young man
who had walked into the shop a few minutes
before,
Not only had Frank made a change of
clothes, but his air, his walk, the carriage of
, his body, the expression of his face—all had
changed. He came forth with the step of a
genuine tough looking for trouble. His hat
was pulled down over his eye and his chest
was thrust out, with his chin protruding.
“Where is der bloke wot runs dis joint?”
he demanded, in a rasping tone of voice. “I
want ter settle wid him.”
_  “Vor.der lofe uf Apraham!’ gasped the
eold Jew. ‘“Vot a tifference! ‘“Vot a tiffer-
ence !”
* “T want dat chain an’ ticker,”.said Merry,
pointing to a heavy watch chain that was
strung across the vest of the proprietor.
“Wot’s it woith?” , 2
“Der chain vos gold- ite und—
“Wot’s it woith? Name it, watch an’ all,”
The Jew named the price and Frank forked
over the money at once, getting the watch and
chain. The chain added to the general ef-
fect of his get-up.
Having paid for the suit, Merry said :
“Now, remember, Cohen, you will be paid
bedi for taking care of that suit. I may call
for it to-day, to-morrow, or a week from
now, but I’ll surely call for it. It'll pay you
better to keep ‘it for me than to sell it.”
“T Vill keeb id vor you, young chentle-
man,” assured the old Jew, who was bewil-
delighted and filled with wonder.

 

~<

dered,
exe vos a coot customer, und I vill@bliche
you.’
“That’s
to the limit.
~ know your business.
Then Frank went out and turned his steps

}

right? Always work a good thing

to find the man he was shadowing.

 

CHAPTER VIII,
THE MONEY RETURNS, AGAIN.
Merry had taken chances, for he knew the

     
    
        

3 _tened his. a on returning.

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

sued from behind the screen the change in

“thought himself strictly

down to him out of the air’
; ford rum for me, and give these hearties both

him to upset. the glass.

No need to tell you that, for you
So long.” Mi

again toward the saloon, where he hoped still p

man he was trying to follow might leave the —
saloon while he was) away, therefore he has-

PEN ‘

Seeing him walking along the street with a
swaggering, aggressive air, any one would
have regarded him as a Bowery: ‘blood” who
“der proper ting,
The personality of Frank Merriwell
had been: sunk and obliterated in the new
character he had assumed.

Straight into the saloon Frank pranced.

The moment he passed inside the door he
discovered there was trouble brewing’

see !”’

A half-intoxicated sailor was quarrelling
with a big negro and a disreputable- looking
white man who seemed to be the negro’s
friend. *

“T've got the money to pay my passage,’ A
the sailor declared, “and when I drinks I ee
drinks alone. I didn’t ask either one of you
to take grog with me, so lay off and steer
clear if you don’t want me to come aboard.”

“T s’pose you think you’re too good to drink
with us, boss?” sneered the colored man. ioe a

“T don’t know yer, and I don’t want to,so |
don’t run across my bow. A man has a right — 7
to drink alone if he pays his money, and Bill
Gans ain’t never broke. When-he gets short
of the needful the birds just drop it right
Barkeeper, Med-.

 

a glass of water.’

The barkeeper put out a glass atid bottle,
and the sailor proceeded to pour out his
drink. As he did so, the. negro lounged *—
against him, “hitting his elbow and causing

       
       
        
        
      
    
      
     
     
   
   
   
    
    
     

 

Instantly, without further talk, thie Sue
whirled and knocked the colored man down.
» “Clear for action !” he roared.

Then the negro’s companion struck | tHE 3
sailor a staggering blow, but, after ‘reeling —
several steps, the latter came round, and re-
turned with a rush.

The sailor was a fighter, and in a | moment
he had beaten down the guard of the white —
ruffian and given him a crack on the jaw that
tumbled him to the sawdust floor.

In the meantime, however, the negro had
recovered, and there was a knife in his hand |
and murder in his eyes when he leaped to his —
feet. With one hand he grasped the sailor
and yanked him back, bending him over his -
 

$k eee >

 

  
  
  
 

 

 
 

   
   
  
  

 

  
  
   
 
   
  
  
 

and my
grub to share!
life!

order if you hadn’t caught his hand.
_ ine blind! but you have a scientific way of

ii POY

was lifted, and it seemed that a
sudden quarrel.

The knife
tragedy was to end this

The knife did not descend, for that black
wrist was clutched by Frank Merriwell, who
gave a twisting wrench that nearly broke the
negro’s arm and caused him to drop the
deadly weapon to the floor. *

“Can't never stan’ round an’ see no gent
done up like dat# said Merry, as he whirled
the negro round and kicked him clean against
the wall with one free swing of his foot.
“Alwus disagrees wit me tet see two blokes

a heavin’ dirt inter one. Me name is Chuck
Brodie, an’ I fig! its wit der under dog.”

The negro’s companion, seeing what hac
befallen his black friend, scrambled up anc
started for the door.

He did*not escape Frank’s boot, and Merry
lifted him in the same manner that he had
lifted. the colored tough. The fellow fell
sprawling at the which Merriwell
reached and flung open ina twinkling. Then
the disguised athlete caught up the white ruf-
fian and flung him out upon the street, ob-
serving as he did so that he would kick him
into shoestrings the next time they met.

Merriwell turned back to give his attention
to the negro, but-the colored man had taken
to his heels and was just disappearing by the

‘
ch
a
1
L

door,

side door.

The sailor was leaning against the bar, re-
garding Wrank Swith mingled astonishment

and admiration, while the barkeepers, much

relieved by the outcome of what had prom-
ised to be an affair that might give the place
unenviable notoriety, were laughing heartily,
neither of them having been given time to get

‘into the encounter.

“Excuse me fer interferin’ wit’ your scrap,
mister,” said Merry, approaching the sailor ;
“but I t’ought youse was ina bad hole wit’
der bote of dose mugs on yer, an I jest hat ter
sail in. Hope I ain’t offended yer by med-
dlin’ ?”

“Say, messmate,” cried the sailor,
a warm article, and you can share my bunk
grub as long as I have bunk and
Why, I reckon you saved my
That nigger had all the wind out of
my sails, and he’d finished me off in short
Blow

“you're

 

   

Vink LY. 19

Id ruther
xcean liner

: of ge
be struck fair amidships by an
than to have you swing that ee on me!
Give us your hand, my heartie! Bill Gans is

proud to know a man what can kick like

that!”
accepting the

cs x 4
nondec 97
noadea Mrank

l’anks,

sailor’s profiered palm. “Me name is Chuck
Brodie.”

kate relation to Chuck Connors or Steve «
Pp
Brodie

1 99

“A cousin ter bote of ’em, pal.
to grip your fin!
Have a bit of grog

ae a2 1 et 1 1
Well, ('m mighty glad
'
}

You’ re a mate to tie to!

tink I will. I’m broke, an’ me
neck is dry.’
Dp

“Set out the wash, barkeeper. Broke, are

*ye, messmate? Well, that’s hard luck. But
d
VY Ga

yer saved my life, an’ Bill Gans don’t fergit
that, though it ain’t worth much. I can’t get
broke if I want to, for the birds throw money
at me. They throwed some to-day, and here
it is. It’s yours, and you've got to take -it.
I’ve got some“more, and | ship to-morrow for
a six months’ cruise, so I ain’t got no use for
that stuff.. Ill be mortal offended if yer re-
fuse to take it.”

The sailor drew a purse from his pocket
and slammed it down on the bar with a
chinking thump.

Frank saw that it was a new chamois-skin
purse, stuffed to its full capacity. It looked
familiar.

“It’s mighty poor pay for what you done,
messmate,” declared Gans; “but it’s the best
I can do.”

With his heart in his mouth
the purse and opened if.

It was filled with silver half-dollars all
bright and new!

Dazed and wondering, Merry .counted thé
pieces.

There were thirteen!

, Frank took

CHAPTER IX.
THE OLD CIGAR-WOMAN, |

A feeling of amazement and awe, a sensa-
-tion that was almost uncanny, seized upon _
Frank Merriwell.

    
    
     
 
    
       
        
      
     
     
         
      
      
        

  

20 TIP TOP

Beyond a doubt the purse was the one he
had purchased in Brooklyn,

The thirteen pieces of silver it contained
were the ones of which he had desperately
sought to rid himself.

To make sure, he closely examined one of
the pieces, and that examination settled the
fast doubt in his mind.

“It’s: bewitched !”

* may.

thought Merry, in dis-
“Tt should be at the bottom of the East
River this minute!”
“What’s asked the old sailor,
im apparent surprise at Frank’s strange ap-
pearance. “If there ain’t enough——
“Dat’s all right, old sport,” assured Merry ;
“but wheré in der name uv Tim Sullivan dit
yer git dis boodle?”’
“TI come by it honest,”

the matter?”

99

asserted the other,

 

resentfully. 3
“T don’t dispute dat.”
~ “Then what’s the matter ?”
“Nutting, only
“What ?”
““Won’t yer tell me how yer came to have
dis?” : —?—e
“The birds dropped it fer me. Why, when

I-can’t seem ter
Come, meéssmate, let’s take our nip

I’m in luck, it rains money !
dodge it.
of grog.”

Frank — stuffed

_ purse.
“T can’t drink wit yer, pal, till yer tells me
jest how you came by dis boodle,”

The old sailor scowled.

“First time I ever gave a man money and
had to explain how I got it,” he growled.

“TI don’t want yer ter feel dat you has gotter

tell dat,’’ said Merry ; “but dere is a reason
why I wants ter know.”

“Well, I dunno’s | mind tellin’ yer,
it’s you. But take the grog first,
spin the yard afterwards.”

3ut Frank had no intention of drinking
the “BTOB. and he did mean to hear the
“yarn.” |

“Dere ain’t no need , uv makin’ it long,
he said. “Jes’ tell me how yer came ter have
dis money and dis purse. Dat’s all I wants

“ter know? ©" Sweat

“You're a sticker, messmate. Yer see, I
was comin’ over from Brooklyn on the Ice
_ King a little while ago. The Ice King is a

the money back into the

he said.

seein’s

and [’ll

+9

   

Chicherio, Teather Stamping”

WEEKLY.

tug, and the engineer is an old shipmate of
mine.” js
GON
ray of light.
“Well, we was near the mi
and right under the
dropped®on the

urged Frank, beginning to see a
f

Bridge, when something
deck right at my
picked it up, and it was this purs
silver, just as you see it.” *
The mystery was explained,
was not relieved of the

filled with

¢ uncanny feeling, and
the conviction that he as pursued by those
thirteen pieces of silver. And he feared that
they would make serious trouble for him in
the end.

“Are

:
Gans.

ye satisfied, my hearty?’ growled

“Sure ting,’ nodded Frank. '
He might have refused to accept the
money, but, for a_certain reason, he re-
solved not to do so, and the purse and its
contents fell into. his pocket.
At that moment the man with the red
necktie, accompanied by a rough-looking
came out of the little side room.
“Vl see you to-morrow, Giovanni,”
the one Frank was sh

Italian,
said
“Be on hand

92

adowing.
promptly, and¢don’t keep-me waiting.

‘Nev’ hav-a da fear ‘bout dat,” said the
Italian. ‘I know-a my biz’. I nev’ keep-a
you wait’.”

Then the man with the réd neck#ie walked

out of the saloon. —
“can't 8 ter drink
said Merry, in a low tone.
of somet’ in’ dat. I’ve.
hurry... So long. ie
Then he went out by the side door before

wit yer now, pal,”

gotter ‘tend to in a

Bill Gans could open his mouth to make a

protest.

Frank _was ‘soon a short digisuce behind
the fetlow. he was following, and he quietly
shadowed the man from the Bowery to Man-
gin street.

When the dark-faced' fellow’ let hinsels

into a building by a door he unlocked, Mer-
ry was not far away, lounging in a doorway.

The building the man had entered Jooked
as if it might at any time be condemned by

the city. Over the door through which the = :

man had disappeared was a sign, “ “Achilles ;

 

\
es

a ie oS

ddle of the river, ~

feet.i 1?

but Merry ,

“T’ve jes’ tought

SS men

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

       

 

 

 

 

 

      
   
      

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
   
  

 

 

 

   
    
   
      
  

 

   
 
   
   
    
   
   
   
     
   
 
 
   
  
  
   

OP nS:

  
  
   
 

  

five straight,

Or;

straight,”
dollar.

TIP

“T wonder if I
How am [ to

“Well,” muttered Frank,
have chased him to his hole.
find out?”

‘Havirig asked himself the question, he
looked around for means of answer-
ing it.

Across the street from the shop of the
leather stamper was a little cigar store.

Merry decided to try his luck there,

some

and
into the little store he sauntered.
Behind the counter was a wrinkled old
woman.
Vet >! good five-cent
with an air of

ver got fer a
loidy ?” Frank asked,
profound politeness.

“Raith, an’ Oi have anny ything ye want,
sor,” answered the ganinesens in a rich
brogue. “Oi have a foive-cent shtraight
that’s ivery bit as good as the foinest Hin-
nery Clay. By Ouse yez be afther havin’ a

smoke,

_moildeigod, sur?’

“Tf yer please not,” answered Merry, bow-

ing again. “I take me weed strong, so kind-

‘ly gimme der blackest one yer has in ‘der

place
The woman put out a ha
keeping her hand close to them, as -if

Teta of cigars
te

feared her customer might scoop them all

and. bolt through the door.

Merry selected one of the cigars, which

“were black enough, to say the least, inspect-

ed it, smelled of it, nodded, smiled sweetly
on the old lady, and inquired if they were
for a quarter.

“Tt’s foive shtraight, Oi told yez they were,
she answered, a bit sharply. “How do

yez think Oi cam be afther puttin’ out such

or six

goods as thot six fer a quarther? Oi’d lose
money on ivery box.
' dollars a thousan, an’ nivver a cint off fer

They cost me forthy

cash.’
“Den ye’re sellin’ dem too cheap at five
asserted Frank, tossing down a

please, loidy.?”
‘The old woman thawed instantly, a smile

_ breaking out through the wrinkles of her
face. The mest she had expected was a five-
cent trade, and the surprise came near tak-
- ing away her breath.

es “Thank yez, sor,” she said,

 

  

 

, eh ate laden ioemeratmenes ec

TOP WEEKLY.

‘quisitive to ax

“Will. ye gimme twenty in a bag,:

gathering in.
the bill and hastening to follow Mery: s di-

 

  
   

21

rections. “It’s a real gintleman ye are thot
don’t be afther troyin’ to bate a poor widdy
down, sor.” .

““Live an’ let live’ is me motter,
poor has hard times ernough.
it might be diff’runt, but
bloke grinds

an’ der
If ye was rich
[ ain’t got no use
der face of der

fer, a wot

poor.’

“God bless yer koind harrut!’”’ cackled the

old lady, as she handed out the cigars in a
bag. “It’s a foine young gintleman Oi knew
yer wur th’ moment me oies risted on yez.
Oi hope ye'll loike th’ cigoirs an’ be aither
callin’ again.”

“T’anks, loidy; but I dun no dat I'll stop
round dis part of der town.’

“Ye’re a shtranger?”

“Dat’s it, ma’am. - At least, I’m somet’ing
ofa stranger, fer I’ve been a long time erway
from dis place.
an’ look
Dere ain't
find anyt’ing ter do, w’y

It seems good ter git back
eround, but I miss me old pals.
menny of der boys left. If I kin
V’ltstay here”

it’s not too in-

“Pwhat’s per business, if
yez, sor?”

“Well, 1
working,’ Merry truthfully answered. “I
seen dere is a shop over ‘crost der street.
Wonder if I could hit der boss up fer some-
ens.

“Tt’s nothin’ yell git over there,” declared
the old lady, in a queer way. “Oi take it
there’s s precious little leather worruk done in
thot place.”

“Ts dat so?” asked Merry, in apparent sur-
prise. “But der sign over der door Pens

“Young, man, ye don’t want to be afther
always takin’ shtock in ivvery soign ye see.”

know somet’ing about leather-

 

She winked at him in a peculiar manner,
and Merry pretended that his curiosity had
been awakened by her words, -

“Wot kind of a place is it?” he asked.

“Tt’s not. me that’H be after talkin’ too
much, but it’s a quare place, I know. ‘Av th’
leather comes in th’ boxes that go in there
sometoimese it’s- powerful heavy leather, |
d’yer moind, fer it takes thray or four min to |
handle wan small box.” |

“What sort of men do yer see roun’ der
place?” ;
“Well, it’s a moighty sure Bo _— Iv- |

aes ge ne eter nce

    
y

23

very wan av thim is a dago, an’ nivver a bit
av use have Oi fer a dago at all, at all.”

“Fyetalians, eh?”

“Thot’s roight.”

“T t’ought dat name over der door sounded
like an Eyetalian name.”’

“Tt is thot.”

“D’yer know dis Shykeerio,
name is?”

“Oji’ve seen th’ gintleman.”’

“Tall, dark mustache, black

wotever his

eyes, dark

' skin, red necktie?”

“Begorra! it’s as loike him as ye can make
it, young gintleman.”’

“Den I’ve: seen der cove. He’s in dere
now, an’ I t’ink I'll go over an’ hit him fer a
job.”

“Ye moight as eet save yer toime. Take
me advice an’ kape away. It’s no job ye'll
get there, an’ it’ll be to yer hilth av ye nivver
nose round th’ place. Oi live nixt dure.”

“Next door?”
SIS; :
‘“Dat’s pretty near.”

“Tt’s near enough Oi’ll be whin th’ police:
_come down on th’ place, d’yer moind,”

whis-
pered the old cigar-woman.

“Der perlice? Why

“*Sh!_ It’s nivver a worrud Oi’ve said. A
dago stroikes with a knoife, an’ it’s no trou-
ble Oi’m lookin’ afther, th’ saints presarve
me! Av Oi didn’t know ye fer such a foine
young man, nivver a worrud ur a hint would
have come from me; but Oi don’t want to
see ye get inther throuble.” ‘

~ “Tanks, loidy. I appreciate yer kindness,

-an’ I'll look somewhere else fer a job. Foist

I’ve gotter find a place ter hang up.” =
“Do ye mane a place to room?”
“Nat's it.”

“Oi have a foine little room over th’ way
that Oi can let yez have fer two-fifty a wake.

{

Me daughtey Katy is at home now, an’ she’ll |

show yez th’ room av ye want to see it.”
Frank ‘was struck by a sudden conviction
that it might be a good schemé to take that

room.

“T’'l] look at if,” he decided, at once. “An’
if I takes it, I'll pay fer a week i in advance.”

. “Thin Oi hope ye'll loike it, young gintle-
man, aes see, = ae to es up area cint

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

Oi kin, an’ it’s harrud hivvin aven wan room
REDTY, :
“Do yer have many lodgers, loidy?”

“Ownly thray now, all aces and respict-
able, though wan av them do be a dago.
Nivver a bit do Oi loike dagoes, but Pietro
is different fram th’ ithers. He kapes a fruit
shtand an’ sells newspapers, too. It’s a
roight good thing he’s makin’, an’ some day
Oi ixpict he’ll be a rich man,”

The garrulous old woman would have rat-
tled on about trivial things, but Merry took

the number of the house, promised to look —

at the room, and left the little shop.

CHAPTER X.,
FRANK INVESTIGATES.

Frank did not regret the time he had spent
in the little cigar store.

Katy was at home, and she oxpaaged her |

willingness to show the room Merry wished
to see. She was not a bad-looking girl, al-
though rather slack in appearance.
been born in the United States, or having left
Ireland early in life, she had not a trace of,
brogue. :
Frank had ‘won the confidence of the sid

cigar-woman by his politeness, and he did :

the same with. Katy, adding a discreet

amount of flattery, which he was careful not |

to “lay on too thick.”
The room was small enough, but it doles:

fairly clean, and Merry doubted very much

‘if he stopped there more than a ugh or two, |
at most. ; oe
how are der neibhbors, Miss Ma- e

‘Als?
lony?” he asked.

“They don’t belong to the Hand ‘en
dred,” Katy laughed ; “and I don’t think any —
of them are particular friends to the Astors
and Vanderbilts.”’

“Who lives next door, on der east ?”

“Don’t , nobody live there. It’s a leather
shop.” .

“T tought it looked like a private house.”

“Tt was once, but some Eyetalians have it
now and run a shop there. *It used to be
‘connected with this house, and I think they
took boarders or lodgers in both places.”

“Wot d’yer seat It uster Bes connected
how?” |

Having —

Fk

 

 
 

 

“By a door cut through the wall between
the two houses. That door ain’t never been
opened since we took this place. It’s fast-
ened solid with bolts and bars.”

-: Frank thanked fortune that Katy took af-
ter her mother in being loquacious.

“T wants ter be sure I’m gettin’ inter a
~ -~ place wot is all right,” M said. “Of course,
I know, Katy, dat youse an’ yer mudder is
PR, all right ; but it’s der lodgers wot I’m t’inkin’
~ of. Where is dis door ye speak of?” |
“It’s in Pietro’s room. But ye needn’t

worry "bout dat. I tell you it’s never opened.
* » Besides,

room and lock

 

you can have a key to your own

+4

it up solid. But

 

ou don’t

el
7

 

look like you was timid.”

“Tanks. I’m rich, dough, an’«]
want. nobody to rob me uv me stocks an’
bonds wile I sleep. See?’

Merry laughed and winked, and Katy re-

   

don’t

  
   
  
   

garded it as a joke.

“We keep a respectable house,” she
declared. “The dago is as quiet as you
please, and he'll never bother ye. I don’t
suppose you mind any rumbling noise you
may hear after you go to bed at hight? If
what it is,;don’t let it worry

  

again

     
   
  
  

you don’t know
Cope”
~~ “Rumblin’
noise?’ .
“Oh, just-a rumble and a clanking sound,
* like machinery of some sort. It comes from
the leather shop, though it’s strange why
_ they should run heavy machinery in there.”
“Dat place seems rudder mysterious, don’t

   
 

x

 

noise? Wot sort o’ rumblin

 
  
  
  

 

 
   
 
 
 
 
 

- “There’s something odd about it, but we
-*tend to our business. and let them look after
theirs.” “ i .
- “Dat’s right. Well, I’m going to take der
room, Katy, an’ here’s a week’s pay in ad-
_vande.” :
Frank handed over the moriey, and Katy
gave him a key.) Then he asked about res-
- tautants and departed to get something to
eat, for he was very hungry.

There was a queer little restaurant in a
_ basement not far away, and Merry made for
this’ place. Just as he was on the point of
__ descending the stairs, he felt a hand on his
shoulder, and a voice said: \

‘You're the chap I’m looking for!’

    
    
   
  
 
 
  
  
 
    
   
 

 

TIP TOP WEEKLY. 23

Merry whirled and fomnd himself in the

grasp of a policeman.

He was startled, and his first thought was
of the chamois-skin purse which contained
the thirteen silver pieces. He could feel it
bulging in his pocket, and at that moment he

would have given much had it not been there.

Concealing his dismay, Frank quietly
asked :
“Well, officer, wat d’yer want o’ me?”
The policeman released him, saying:
“Why, I took you for another fellow. It’s

a mistake, but you look like Pete Condy.

Must be some relation to him?”

“Ye’re dead wrong. Never heard o’ dat
chap.”
e7yN ’ du 4 a6 “
Then you're. a stranger here.
me.”
‘Don’t mention it, officer.”
Intensely relieved, Frank descended the

steps and entered the restaurant.

Excuse

“LH get rid of that hoodoo money at the
very first opportunity,” he mentally vowed.
“T- wouldn’t be caught with that stuff on me
for a thousand dollars.”’ ~

Three men were sitting at a small side ta-
ble. They had been eating, but were smok-
ing now, conversing in low tones, with their
heads close together.

By the.dim light Merry saw they were
dark-looking men, and he recognized one of
them as Achilles Chicherio, the man whose
name was above the door of the reputed
leather shop.

Frank walked past them and took a seat at

corner table. They were talking in Italian,
atid they seemed carefuh not to have their
words overheard. —

In walking to his,table, Frank had passed

a rack on which hung a single overcoat. '
“Looking at it closely, after taking his seat, he

recognized it as the coat belonging to Chi-
cherio.
The bill of fare was. limited, but Merry
ordered soup and a steak, with coffee and
graham rolls.
Italian. *

Under different circumstances, the young
Yale man might have been somewhat fin-
icky about eating there; but now he realized |
that he was almost famished and the smell

, x % +f :

The. waiter looked like an

  

~~

  
4.

TIP TOP
of the broiling steak, which soon came to his
nostrils, made him ravenous.

Chicherio and his companions interested
Frank, who would have given something had
he been able to hear and understand all they
were saying.

They paid very little attention to Merry,
though it was plain they took care not to
speak loud enough for him to hear.

Frank’s order was filled, he found it
very appetizing, so that he was able to eat it
with relish. :

When he had finished, the three men were
still smoking and talking. ;

He paid his bill and started to leave the
place.

As he passed Chicherio’s overcoat, against
which he brushed, he skillfully dropped the
chamois-skin purse containing the thirteen
half-dollars into one of the yawning side
pockets. ‘

“You're welcome to it,’ he thought, with
an inward laugh of satisfaction. ‘I’m sure
it belongs to you, every piece of it.”

He felt relieved to know he was again rid
of the purse and its contents.

and

Having left the saloon, he bethought him-
self of the checks for the trunks, which he
resolved to send to Inza without delay. For
this purpose he proceeded down to the post-
--office, where he purchased paper and envel-

opes, wrote Inza a letter, inclosed the chetks,
which he carefully wrapped, and mailed it to
Oyster Bay. “

In the letter Frank ‘said that he hoped to
see her soon, and be able. then to make a
full explanation of,any thing that now seemed
unaccountable and mysterious.

Leaving the post-office, Merry soon found

the shop of a locksmith? where’ he purchased
a bunch of doorkeys as large as a man’s fist.

With these keys in his pocket, he felt. al-
most as guilty as he had while in possession
of the purse containing the thirteen silver
coins.
vT¢ a policeman were to nab me now,” he
‘ muttered, “I'd find it difficult to.explain in

a satisfactory manner why [ am carry ang

about all those keys.”

Darkness was coming on, and the street
lamps were gleaming when Merry again ar-
; ive on Mangin street. .

WEEKLY.

He went straight to his room. It was ~
near supper-time, afd he seemed. alone in the
house.

Having satisfied himself that there was lit-
tle danger of interfegence, Frank slipped to
the door of the room occupied by Pietro, the
[talian. .

After listening some minutes, he decided
that Pietro was not*in. ‘Then he produced
the huge bunch of keys from his pocket and
began trying them one after another in the
lock of the door, working with the swiftness
and silence of a professional, burglar.

He had tried nearly half of the keys,
he found one that fitted the lock.

With a little click; the bolt flew back.

Outside the door Merry paused and lis-
tened again. It was dark there in the hall.

He could hear no one stirring in the house.

With the utmost caution, he swung the
door open. . It creaked a bit on its hinges,
but he did not hesitate at the sound? ~

Standing on the threshold of the room,
Merriwell struck a match, holding it above
his head as it broke into bright. flame.

The light, revealed the interior of the small
room, There was-a bed, a stand and one
chair. ‘Clothing hung on the walls.
the’clothing partly concealed a door that was’ :
set in the wall between the two houses.

Three steps took Frank to that door.

te
tried it as the match flickered out in his fine”
gers.

It was locked atta

Then he struck another match and looked -
around once more. ;

Something lying before him on the little.
sind caught his eye, and it was with difficul-_
that he repressed an exclamation of astonish-
ment.

[twas the chamois-skin purse. |

The putse was open, and beside it on the.
stand, as if they had been carelessly emptied,
een were thirteen bright, new silver half-

dolla

CH APTER X
A DARING NIGHT ADVENTURE.

Frank’s first sensation of surprise. quickly E
gave way to one of intense satisfaction, ae

 

when’ ~

 

Someof —
 

TIP TOP WEEKLY. 25

cried. “There is no doubt of it now. I

thought I was right, but now I feel sure
Orit.”

re knew his position was dangerous, for

it would look bad for him if any one detected

him in that room, and, satisfied that he had

learned as much as he could at that time, he .

immediately made a retreat, closing the door
as he slipped softly out of the room. Ina
moment the key was turned quietly in the
lock and he lost not a moment in getting into
his own room.
There he sat down to think over what he
had discovered, and try to devise a plan of
procedure.
The purse and the silver half-dollars he had
left untouched upon the stand of the Ital-
jan’s room.
Merry was not satisfied that Achilles Chi-
eherio knew Pietro. Chicherio had found
the purse and the silver pieces in the pocket
of his overcoat. Without doubt he had won-
dered how the purse came there. Perhaps
he had been alarmed by its presence. Pos-
sibly Pietro had been the first friend he en-
- countered after the discovery, and, thinking
the unaccounted presence of the thirteen sil-
_ver pieces in his pocket presaged no good to
him, he had promptly handed purse and all
over to Mrs. Maloney’s roomer. Since that
: time Pietro had visited his room and leff the
_ purse and its contents on the table. .

. This seemed a reasonable explanation, but
there was another. Pietro mfght be a pick-
pocket. It was possible he had abstracted
the purse from Chicherio’s pocket.

. In the latter case Merry knew he was quite
wrong in regarding the two men as friends
and accomplices.

But Merry did not fancy this could be the
correct. explanation of the presence of the

money in that room.

Mrs. Malony had stated that the Italian
kept a fruit stand, and also sold newspapers

and periodicals. This being true, it was like-

_ly he was not an ordinary pickpocket.

* “Tt was ata newspaper stand that the con-

founded money first came into my posses-
sion,” muttered Merriwell, as he pondered
upon it. “I bought a paper and found I had

hing but a ten-dollar bill. The man be-—

he did so, giving me a load of silver half-
dollars. But that man was not Pietro, for I
am satisfied it was Chicherio himself. I rec-
ognized him on the train. And he had a
load of the same kind of money.”

Continuing to ponder over the matter,
Frank could see how, if Pietro and Chicherio
were intimate friends, the latter might for a
time be in attendance at the newsstand of
the former.

The longer he thought about the matter
the more satisfied Merry became that he was
at the point of unearthing a grand piece of
rascality. He realized that he was playing a
dangerous game in trying to pry into the se-
crets of such men, any one of whom might
not hesitate a moment in knifing a person
suspected of being a spy; but the danger of
the game and the possibility of the sensation
he might create by the exposure were incen-
tives to lead him on. Not only that, but he
was Satisfied that he would be doing a great
service to society at large.
‘ Frank was prepared to remain in. that
room for some time, but he did not retire
and go to sleep, though he lay down on the -
bed. His eyes and ears remained open. He
listened to every sound as the minutes crept
by, and he was prepared to make it a night
of wakeful watchfulness.

The roomers in the house came and went

and came again. He heard the voice of Katy
talking to some one. Looking out into the
street, which his room faced, he saw the
light gleaming yellow from the little cigar
store, telling that Mrs. Malony was still wait-
ing for such trade as’ might drift along.
_ The time passed slowly enough to Frank.
but he possessed infinite patience. At last
the light went out in the little cigar store.
Mrs. Maloney had closed up for the night.

It was nearly midnight when Merry, still
listening keenly, heard a soft, catlike step
pass his door. A key was fitted into a lock,
a door squeaked as it opened, closed quietly,
and then all was still.

Pietro had come in, : ¥

Already, as he waited and listened, to
Merry’s ears came a faint rumbling sound,
accompanied sometimes by_a slight jarring.
He had ascertained that these sounds were _
not caused by heavy teams passing on the

 
26 Tre
street. It was possible they came from dis-
tant trains passing on the elevated road, but
he did not believe it. Once or twice he
seemed to hear a clanking as of machinery in
operation,

Pietro was in his room, but still Frank
waited. Finally, he opened his own door
slightly, remaining close by it to listen.

He heard the Italian stirring once. Of a
sudden the rumbling noise became surpris-
ingly distinct, and it almost seemed that it
came to Merriwell’s keen eats by way of Pie-
tro’s room.

This was for but a moment, and then it
ended as if suddenly shut off.

A minute later Frank was listening just
outside the door of the Italian’s room.

The house was silent, as if all its inmates
had retired. Frank had left the door of his
own room standing slightly ajar, for he knew
it might be necessary for him to retreat into
it suddenly.. .

At least ten minutes Frank Merriwell
stood there, with one ear to a panel of Pié-
tro’s door. At last his hand found in his

pocket the key with which he had turned the
bolt in the lock. ;

Frank was not armed, even though he
well knew he was on the verge of making a
move that might place him in deadly peril.
He depended;on his good fortune, strength |
and wit. .

Not many men would have dared make the
venture, and it would not be truthful to state
that Frank Merriwell approached it without
hesitation, and without a fear of the conse-
quences.

In some respects such an adventure was
foolhardy, to say the least, for Frank might
‘have communicated to the police any sus-
picions he entertained, and left them to take
care of the case.

planations which might bring ‘trouble upon
Bernard Burrage. His suspicions might be
totally unfounded, in which case he would
be placing himself in a bad light. 2

“T’ll know the whole truth,” he decided.

Then, crouching outside the door, with
. rématlable coolness, having steadied his
nerves till they were like iron, he slowly. and —
vs mies inserted the key. 1 in ee oe

Ny a Ce:

But he could not do this
personally without being forced into ex-,

SR etig ete errsaeeaee eet

TOP WEEKLY.

At night the slightest sounds are amazing-.
ly loud. Of course, Frank could not com-
plete his task of unlocking and opening the
door without making any noise, and what
little he did make seemed about loud enough
to wake the dead. |

But the door was ofven at last. On the
threshold Frank halted, peering into the
darkness, listening for the sound of breath-
ing.

From the street a faint light came in by
the grimy window. Aftér some minutes this”

light seemed sufficient for Frank to discern ©

that no one occupied the bed.

When Merry entered that room, he com-
pelled himself to do so for all of the feel-
ing that Pietro might be waiting for him
with a dagger.

But no Pietro met him, and, before long,
he became satisfied that the Italian was not —
in that room! ‘

Had Frank made a mistake in fancying

he heard Pietro come in, open the door, pass — -
into the room and lock the door behind him? De

Frank closed the door. ‘Then, with the
tread of a panther, he crossed the floor
straight to the spot where he had located the
door in the wall. His hand found it. The —
clothing he hdd seen hanging over at on his :
previous visit was gone. Nas
Merry tufned the knob of the door. and 8
pulfed. ee

It opened silently ! 3

Then to his*ears came the rumbling sound &
from out of the darkness before him.

Into that darkness stepped the daring Yale_
man. He closed the heavy door behind him —
and stood with his back against it, listening =
with all his ears. ~ is

Away down in the basement of the build-
ing something rumbled and jarred.

Now Frank used his hands.to ‘guide him-
self along a passage till he came out ‘into: ;
room, re

~He moved with snail-like slogans!

“T must be careful not to get twisted i in re-
gard to the location of this pasage,” he
thought, “for it must serve as ig means Be
retreating to safety.”

Fortunately, a flight of stairs were close
at hand. They were bare, but he made little

noise in Sene:

 

Si aee
 

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

The rumbling came at intervals, growing
more and more distinct. &

Beneath the first flight of stairs was an-
other fligt it, leading to the basement,
___ When he reached the head of these stairs,
Frank could see a dim light below, and he
heard the sound of

Now he moyed more rapidly. Down the
stairs he flitted, and at the foot he paused
where he could look into the basement room.

A swinging oil lamp lighted the place, in
the midst of which was a heavy screw press,
which was being operated by four men.
This press had made the rumbling noise.

A fifth man and Merry
- recognized him as Chicherio.

All around in the place were lathes,
retorts and engraving tools.

And the men operating the big press were
stamping out silver half-dollars!

Frank Merriwell was gazing into a den of
counterfeiters !

¥YoIces.

was looking on,

forges,

CHAPTER XII.

THE CAPTURE OF THE GANG.

Stilling his
heart thumping furiously in his bosom,
‘Frank watched the gang at work striking off
silver half-dollars. At last he was rewarded
for his little piece of detective business. But
one thing was left for: him to do—get out of
that place as soon as possible and inform the
police.

Still, Frank lingered,
spectacle.

Suddenly he heard a sound that gave him
a start of alarm.

Crash—bang!

breathing, but feeling his

fascinated by the

Bang—crash!

Heavy blows suddenly resounded above, /
causing the counterfeiters to stop their work
and listen in alarm, their faces paling.

-_ “Somebody breaking in!’ exclaimed Chi-
‘cherio, hoarsely. “The police!”

The other men uttered startled oaths in
Talian

Crash! crash! rath!

Frank Merriwell realized the full extent
of his peril. If he were caught in that den
_by the police, he would be regarded as one
of the. gang.

oe the stairs he je oad. Pacatae by the:

27

sounds that the door attacked was giving
before the assault.

SAM Task 5 “two the
teEs ht that flashed across his startled brain

‘If I can get into the other house!”

He knew the whole coiners
at his heels. He knew they were making for
He knew Pietro had rented

minutes!’ was

gang of was
the same door.
the room in the adjoining house for just
such an emergency It was te serve
the gang as a means of escape in case of a

as this.

raid.

Frank understood that a then
meant disaster, ar~est and no end of trouble.
He kept his wits about him and fairly flew
up the first flight of stairs, dashed to the
foot of the second and went leaping toward
the next floor.

Behind him he heard the door crash in-
ward, and he knew the officers were pouring
into the building.

It was well for Merry that on entering he

mistake

‘had,taken careful note of the proper manner.

He made no mistake, and he
lost no time. In the darkness he found the
passage and plunged through it. The door
burst open before him and he slammed
shut, hearing a man panting behind him.
With all the strength at his command,
Frank braced himself against that door.
Something: struck it heavily; but it remained
There were savagle and repeated
After a time,
place in the
on the door

to get out.

immovable.
assaults, but Merry held it fast.
it seemed that a struggle took
passage, and then the assaults
ceased.

“T think the officers have the gang,” mut-
tered Merry, in satisfaction. “I know I
helped them to nab some of the fellows by
holding this door.”®

Then he went to his own room, well sat-
ished by the events of the night, even though
he had not been instrumental in bringing the
coiners to justice.

”

“The police were too swift for me,” he
laughed. “They must have had the place
under suspicion for some time. I rather
fancy this haul-to-night will remove any sus-
picion from Bernard Burrage. There is no
reason why I should stop here longer, and
I'll get out.”

He left the place for a respectable hotel,

ot

 
= the

28 TIP

where he slept comfortably through the rest
of the night.

The following is quoted from one of the .

New York morning papers of the following
day: ;

“Tf you happen to have a newly-coined fif-
ty-cent piece in your pocket, look at it close-
ly.. It may be that the face of Miss Liberty
and the letters and figures on the coin are
a bit dull—not as sharply cut as they should
be. In that case, the coin is probably from
the mint of Achilles Chicherio & Co., as
clever a gang of counterfeiters as has been
captured ‘in this country in many aday. The
coins produced by Chicherio and his friends
are nearly perfect. ‘They are 850 fine, while
the coins, minted by the United States are goo
fine. The ring of the Chicherio coin is true,
and, on casual examination, they are as per-
fect as the United States ever turned out.

“The United States Secret Service officers
of this city got-information about five weeks
ago that a gang of counterfeiters were mak-
ing false coins her abouts, and since then the
men have been shadowed. .Last night Will-
iam P, Hazen, chief of the service in this City,
assisted by Special Agents Griffin, Henry
and Burke, arrested five of the most daring
counterfeiters ev VC known in New Y ork,
©The chief ‘mill’ of the gang was at No.
Itt Mengin street, in which they have been
at work since June last.. The ostensib’e busi-
ness conducted in this place has been leather
pressing. “There the men had a die press that
could not be operated by less than three
men. ‘The press weighed five tons and cost
five hund cat dollars.

_ “Achilles Chicherio was the engraver’ of.
gang. He is a well-educated Italian and
an artist by training. The dies made by him
are nearly perfect, and it is only b yecauge the
gang has not had the machines to periectly
produce them that the counterfeit coins were
‘discovered. The gang looked for its profits
in the difference between the fineness of the
silver from which their cBins were produced,
850, as against 900, the fineness of the Gov-
ernment coins.’

With this paper in his pocket, together
with the one that contained the item that
had led him to make his mysterious move in
hurrying Inza and her father out of Brook-
M alee, proceeded to Oyster Bay

lyn,
early tl e following day. Heé was received
with great satisfaction | by Inza and her father.
ee ~The story of Frank’ s adventures proved
a intensely interesting, and they listened to it
an *re athless ait nce. Anza flushed = paled

_very coins in question.

eis

TOP WEEKLY

as he told of the assault on the doors of the
“dunterfeiter’s den while he stood peering
into the basement, hidden by the darkness
of the stairway. She utttered an exclamation

of satisfaction when he had finished relating |

how he fled up the stairs, plunged through
the door between the two ‘houses and held
it fast to prevent any of
ing an escape that way.
When he had finished,
rage looked quite as bewildered as ever.
3ut dash me!” he cried, ‘I
stand what all this has to do
to leave Brooklyn so suddenly.
much in the dark as ever.”

however

“As I sat in the Grand Central station yes- ‘

terday,” said Frank, “reading this paper

while waiting for our train, my eyes fell on

the following item:

“The police are trying to trace a mysteri-

ous person, who lately registered at the Her-
ald Square Hotel under the name of Bernard
Burrage.

he as suddenly recovered, immediately leav-
ing for parts unknown.
he gave the
fifty-cent pieces of the sort that have been at-

tracting attention recently by their appear- oe

ance in circulation, and it is thought that he

must have some connection with the gang.
that is flooding the city with these coins. —
When he first appeared at the hotel. he was _
accompanied by a very handsome girl, who ~
was registered as Miss Burrage, and reputed

to be his daughter. She was not seen at the

hotel, however, after her first appearance.
Burrage will be arrested on eeu if oe '

by the-police.”

When Frank had finished redding take F

was on her feet, her face flushed with indig-

nation, while Bernard was speechless with

astonishment and rage.
“It’s an outrage!”
“Father, you ought to sue that:paper!’
“Why, - it’s preposterous 1" gasped Mr.
Pte
“Exactly,” nodded Frank.
‘ing this item, I realized you were in danger
of getting into serious trouble, and I decided
to get you away, if possible.
changing a bill for you, and giving you the
' Those coins I had
obtained from an Italian who*kept a news
stand,

12?

can’t under-
with our having”
I’m just as

That Italian belonged to this" gang,

the gang from —— $

, Mr. pas :

While at the hotel Mr. Burrage
was seized with a sudden illness, from which

In settling his bill —
cashier a number of spurious _

ar

exclaimed this gine:

“But 8 ats s

I remembered es

 
 

TIP TOP

and the newsstand, probably, was one of the
distributing points for the bogus money. I
found two of the coins in my own pocket. I
‘obtained some more from you when [| ar-
rived at the hotel in Brooklyn. Now you
my motive-in hustling you out here,
doctor said you must net sustain an-
other shock like that caused by the disap-
pearance of Inza a few days ago, and I de-
cided to keep the truth from you for the
time. It may not have been wise of me, but
I fancy it has turned out all right now, and
you need not worry about being troubled by
the police.”

“But I believe I’ll sue that paper for libel,
just the same!” fumed Mr. Burrage.

“All right,” laughed Frank. “You
my permission,’

see
Your

THE END.

The next (257) will
“Frank Merriwell’s Hand; or, Saved from
the Snare.’

number contain

have’

WEEKLY.

Correspondence,

A, Darrenbacker,
W. K., Hag
The flock.
N. E., New
face value.
*
John Till, Jr., Malden, Me.—Send to Princeton for
a catalogue, and all particulars will there be given.
C. William, Maybury, Cal.—l. All British coins
hereafter minted will bear his head. 2. You had best

consult a physician, as it is difficult to make sug-
gestions without knowing ali the symptoms, °

Pittsburg, Pa.—No premium.

estrom, Md.—l. Ten cénts a piece. 2.

York City.—The coin is listed at its

— > HG ee

LATEST ISSUES.

206—Frank Merriweil’s Mysterious Move; or,

Pieces of Silver.

rank Mefrriwell’s Scheme; or,

eeption of Dr. Cloud.

254—F rank Merriwell’s Club; or
Baltimore.

253—Frank Merriwell’s Skill; — or,
Wrecker.

22—Frank Merriwell's
That Did Not

251—Frank Merriwell’s Party; or,

‘ Petrel.

20—Frank Merriwell’s
Elsie.

249—F rank Merriwell’s Search; or,
Escape.

248—F rank Merriwell’ s
bright’s ‘Success,

47—F rank Mer riwell’s

Fnemv’s Hand.

246—F'rank Merriwell’s Mas
thte Polo <ing.

Thirteen
255—-F'1 The Daring De-
Indoor Baseball in
the Girl
‘The Bluff

Liz,
Life Struggle; or,
Work. oe
The Cruise of the

Ring; or, The Rivalry for
Elsie’s Narrow
Dick Star-

Forcing « His

Set-Back; or,
Dilemma; or,

tery; or, The Success of

 

 

 

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the publishers after carefully considering a number of designs for a
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made, finished in gilt and beautifully, embossed. The widespread
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subject to

 

 

address, all letters on the

« [IP TOP LEAGUE...
STREET & SMITH, 238 Wiliiam St., N. Y°

 
would reappear; they are so happy.

80

 

Tip opWEEKLY.

“AN IDEAL PUBLICATION FOR THF AMERICAN YouTH ”?

 

 

 

 

e NEW YORK, MAkcuH 9, 1901.

 

Terms to Tip Top Weekly Mail Subscribers.
(Pos'raan Free.)

Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each.
Pmonths - + + - = + + Ghce.| One year - + + + - - $2,30-
@ mouths - - + - + + + Sie, | 2 copies one year 4.00
@ montha - <« + + + © + $1.26) 1 copy two years” - - 4.09

low To SkND Mon #Y.—By post office or express ioney order,
Fegistered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At yourown
tisk if sent by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary
fetter. ;

Recwiprs.— Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper
ehange of tuamber ou your label. If notcorrect you have not been
properly credited,and should let us iow at once.

STREET & SMITH’S TIP TOP WEEKLY,

238 William St., Now York City.

- APPLAUSE. |

I have read the Tip Top from No. 1 to the pres-
ent, and as I have not seen any applause from Port-
jand, Ore., I thought I would let you know it is
read here, and very much liked. .

Of all faces

You see untold,
And all the graces

Of young and oid,
The first you find

You will agree D
Is Frank Merriwell’s

And Elsie.
ERNEST E. VOSPER,
Portland, Ore.

Let us hear from Portland again.

Thank you.

I am one of the many admirers of Tip Top Weekly. \

I am fifteen years of age, and belong to two gym-
nasiums in Newport, and I am trying with all my
might to be like Frank Merriwell. Elsie is the girl
for Frank _ to marry, and I think there are many
others in Newport who think the same. I was man-
ager of the St. John’s football team last time we
had one and gope to have soon again, when the
‘time comes. Frank is the best character of all the
books I’ve read and gives me fine examples to fol-
low through life. I hope he will be the captain of the
baseball team next season, and hope he will havea
good boat crew. I hope to go to Yale some time my-
self and trust I will we sensible enough to conduct
myself as Frank did. I think Hlsie is the nicest girl
for Frank, and I think Frank will be the happiest
with Elsie. With kindest regards to Mr.
and Messrs. Street & Smith,
ARTHUR ADAMS,

Newport, R. I.

If. you do succeed ‘in entering Yale, we hope
* Frank’s example will be a fine incentive to you
and that you will accomplish all you set out to do,
just as Merriweli did. :

} ( '

Hurrah for Tip Top, the “king of all weeklies!’’
This is from a thirteen-year-old reader. I have
written before, but that could not stop me from
writing again. Tip Top is indeed ‘‘an ideal publi-
cation for the American youth.’ It. is the only
weekly which I enjoy reading. When I am reading
of Frank I imagine he is next to me. I try to copy
Frank, and am succeeding very well. Of the two
girls, I think that Elsie will be Mrs. Merriwell.
Why, the book almost tells us so. I admire Inza for
her courage. But saying that Frank will marry Elsie
is not saying she is my favorite. In fact, I like both.
I wish I was in Frank’s place. I like Bart next to
Frank. I hope he will not.take Hisie away from
Frank. I love Rattleton. I wish Bink and Danny
Iam about to
graduate this February. I will elose now, as I am
taking up too much space. Hurrah for Frank, Bart,
Harry Bruce and all the rest of the “flock.” Give

7

Inza and Elsie my best regards. I wait ,anxiously /
: y 1D} RYAN

VERETT E.
3 ‘ Brooklyn, N. Y¥.
We like to hear that our boy readers are trying to
follow Frank's example, ‘and we are delighted you
have, suceeeded so well. You couldn’t have a better
model than dear old Merry, Fe

for the next issue.

Standish
a?

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

XI wish to tell you how I appreciate your Tip Top

and to thank Burt L. for writing them:
There’s a dandy book named Tip Top,
And it’s just simply fine,
For. Frankie is its hero,
And is not of the common kind,
Frankie is a Yale man,
Always just and true;
And if you’ are in trouble,
He’s sure to help you through.
JAMES EGAN, .
; Cleveland, Ohio.

This verse is very appropriate,’ and will appeal to
all our readers, we are sure. Thank you.

[ thought I would write to you and let you know
how much enjoy your Tip Top. Weekly. I think
it is the best weekly publication for the American
youth. Your paper here has a very large sale, which
I think it heartily deserves. I am one of the ad-
mirers of Elsie, as is the case of nearly all of the
young men inthis vicinity. F hope in time that
Frank will marry Elsie, for I think she would make
a much better wife than Inza. Hoping the Tip Top
Weekly will continue to flourish for years to come
and wishing succéss to Mr. Standish. and the pub-
lishers, Cc. H. LEWIS,

Garrettsville, Ohio. —

Many thanks for your good wishes. ;

r =

We write again, this time having two more names
to add to the great list of Tip’Top admirers. We
have read many other books, but we think the Tip
Top the best, and are always glad when’it is Fri-
day, so that we ean get it. The character of Frank
Merriwell is splendid, and a model for any one to
follow. We congratulate Mr. Burt L.
this and the other characters which he has so ably
drawn.
Merry’s truest friend, as he has proved many times.
We would like to hear of big, lazy Bruce falling in
love with some girl. We think Starbright, Dash-
leigh, Ready and the rest are all right. Elsie and
Inza are both fine girls, and, as Dick and Inza ad-
mire each other, Frafff can still win Elsie, whom,
we think, he has always really loved the most, judg-
ing by the conversation he had with his father in
Top Tep Weekly No. 250 (‘‘Frank Merriwell’s Ring;
or, The Rivals tor Elsie’). Hoping to hear of Hans,
Barney and Ephraim soon, we will close with three
cheers for the Tip Top.’ A
HENRY KUHLMANN, LOUIS RONFELDT,
HENRY RONFEHELDT, MAX LIEBOLD,

Toledo, Ohio.

Thanks to the quartet for their good’ wishes.

Having read the Tip Top Weekly for over three
years, I thought I would write you expressing m
thanks for your king of weeklies, the Tip Top. .
am very much pleased with it. Merriwell and his

riends are all right; and the Yale series have suited

me better than the rest. Kindly allow me te ex-
press my appreciation of the true Yale spirit as I
have seen it in Detroit, Last fall the Detroit Ath-
letic Club was honored by a visit from the football

team composed of Yale Law School, who showed the oy

large audience who witnessed the game that the
never-say-die spirit of Yale is no myth. The Yale
combine were out for sport, and composed entirely
of men who were not on\the *Varsity eleven.
The game, strange to say, resulted in a defeat for
the plucky Yale Laws; who were badly handicapped

by the weight of their opponents, a small amount of ©* —
practice and a continual changing of men who were  ~—
with the ball on —
eleven became in-

used up. During the last half,
Yale’s four-yard: line, the Yale
fused with the grit for which they are famous, and,
aided by the yelling of the Yale contingent present,
earried the ball the whole length of the field, a1 ida 5s
were only stopped from making a touchdown by the —
referee’s whistle.
that I am a bore—’ Refuse me.” I was born in Phil-
adelphia—that is why I am so late with this account —
of the best football game ever played in the City of —
the Straights. Si
Breka co-ax, co-ax;
Breka co-ax, co-ax;
a O-up, O-up, d wee)
‘ Parabaloa! , Yale! - i

Hoping, that Yale will triumph on the diamond this —

year, an

that the Tip Top Weekly will never have
@ peer, A.

DETROIT ADMIRER,
Detroit, Mich. —
Your description of the football game stirs us all
up at the very thought of the enthusiasm and nerve ©
displayed by old Eli’s sons. You are right,’the true —
Yale spirit is a grand thing. They are stavers from.

the word ‘‘go,’’ and always put up a good fight. W

are glad the Yale stories have pleased you so much,
and that you are such an ardent advocate of foot-
all. PR ong : $ Lee

 

Standish on —

Next to Frank we like Bart Hodge, who is

JT am’ an Englishman, but I think os
 

  

   
     
     
     
   
    
    
     
      
      
     
       
    
 
   
   
       
      
    
   
   
   
 

 

We have read the Frank Merriwell stories ever
since they have been published and like them best
of all. We think that Frank is a fine fellow. We
have formed a club of fifteen members with Mart
Watson as president and secretary; Carl Watts, vice-
president, and William D. Bruce, treasurer, sup-
ported by the following members: C. D. Morse, C,
Banker, F. ‘Banker, Oswald Clayton, D. Watson,
J. Hoefler, H. Pettengill, R. Day, W. Humphrey, T,
Furman, C. Griswold, Hugh Fox.

MART WATSON,
flion, N. Y.

e
May your club prove a most successful venture
and progress accordingly.

 

_ J have read the Tip Top Weekly from No.‘1 to the
present date, and rthink it is the best weekly pub-
lished. I have organized a club and call it the Tip
Top Club. We read all the weeklies, and think
there are none that can compare with the Tip Top.
Seeing there is no letter fromathis place published
vet,» will write and let you know of the club we
have organized in honor of the Tip Top. So, long
live the name of Bert Standish. The members of
our club are the following: Giles O’Brien, president;
Joseph Goedderz, vice-president; Marie L.. Driver,

 

treasurer; Frank McGivern, orator; ‘Frank J. Ga-
bion, outside guard.
MINNIE PHILLIPS, Recording Secretary,
/ Brainerd, Minn.

Thank you.

 

In behalf of the Yale Merriwell Club of this uni-
versity, I take great pleasure in extending te Mr,
Burt L. Standish our most cordial invitation to be
present at a reception given in his honor on Wednes-
day evening, February 13. If Mr. Standish will
kindly advise me as to the time of his arrival in

. New. Haven our reception committee will take great
- pleasure in meeting him at the station. In the
event of Mr. Standish’s finding the above date in-
convenient, we would be pleased if he would kindly
let us know what other day would suit him better.

EMORY H, LINDENBERGER,

Secretary.
{ am very much honored by this invitation, but
being constantly in receipt of many similar ones
from all over the country it would not be exactly
| {nm keeping for me to show partiality to any of them.
Therefore 1 must send you my regrets and at the

same time my most cordial regards and thanks.
B. L. STANDISH.

 

As we have just finished reading No. 249, we
theught we would write to let you know what a
‘friendly feeling we have for the Tip Top. This
last number we are particularly pleased with, as in
it we have the interesting character of Selton Dirk,
and we know that with his aid Frank will always
be able to find his father. Our interest in Starbright,
Merriweill, Wiisie and-Inza is at its highest pitch. We
ean hardly wait from one book until the next. With
- the best wishes for the Tip Top and Frank and his
“many friends and the author, “READDRS,”’

. a ; Lexington, Ill.
That is just the way we like to have our readers
_ write, telling us that their excitement runs high and

their interest is so keen. Tip Top is always ex-
 ¢iting, always interesting, and, above all, always
. eontains something new to arouse the thoughts and
- ambitions of our readers.

 

Ags I have never seen any Applause from South
- Berwick, I will write and say that the boys in this
town think there is nothing as good as Tip Top,
‘and I think so myself. As all the rest of the readers
of Tip Top are taking sides in the Hlsie-Inza ques-
tion, so I will take my stand, and for Elsie, ever
time. Some of the Inzaites have said that Wilsie is
* s timid thing, and not at all the girl for Frank. as
she would not stand by and encourage him as Inza
wouiu; but how’ about the time that Elsie drove
away the bear when Frank was. down? Was she
very timid then? Some of the Inzaites will doubt-
- Jess remember the time Inza wanted Frank to lose
the game and let the other side win. Was_ there
anything very noble about her then? And if Frank
had done as she wished, and lost the game, would
he have ever had any respect for himself after-
ward? Would that have been encouraging him? I
will say no more; but ‘‘a word to the wise is suf-
; ficient.” I wu — ne best ovaene to Street &
2 ; urt . and a e@ rest, j
name AN BLSIE STANDBY,
South Berwick, Me.

You are a good Elsie champion! Of late there has
been a close contest, with honors about even; but
't keeps growing in interest, and we are watching
it keenly. ,

 
  
 

   

TIP TOP WEEKLY,

Hoping he will get her,

the right girl,

‘hear about Harry, so loyal to Frank,

21

I have read the Tip Tops for a long time, and Jf
think they are fine. In regard to the Elsie-Inza
question, Inza is the girl for Frank. After reading
No. 248, I think Frank has but @ small chance.

EUGENE HAWLEY,
San Francisco, Cal,
certainly philosophical. Frank will get
whether. Inza or Blsie, though the
means settled as yet

You are

matter is by no

I have read. your Tip Top Weekly from 1 to 20
and reading over the Applause column I see there
is quite a time as to whether Inza or Hilsie is the
girl for Frank. [f think Wilsie is.the girl for Frank,
and would like to see Frank and Bart have quite a
tussle for her, with Frank on. top.

HARRY BRUNEL,
Philadelphia, Pa.

You are evidently fond of excitement and nothing

short of a race for Elsie would please you,

 

Having read the great work of Mr. Standish for E
the last five years I thought it was time for me to s
write and let you know how I jike your great and
only Tip Top. I think your book has a good name
for it is tip top in every respect. I was glad to see
in No. 250 how Bart loved Elsie. I think she is the
girl for Bart, and I sincerely hope that he will win
her for a wife, as It don’t think she and Frank
would be happy together. [I think that Inza is the
girl for Frank. I will close, hoping that Bart will
win Elsie for a wife, and I also wish Street &

Smith the great success which they deserve.
A GREAT ADMIRER OF FRANK AND INZA,
: f North Port, Aia.

Thank you for your good wishes. As to the matter
of Frank’s choice, the question is by no means set-
tled. Time alone will tell which of the girls he is

       
       
     
    
     
        
      
   
    
    
    
     
       
     

to win.

     
     
     
      
    
     
     
     
        
     
    
       
     
    
   
    
       
   
    
     
    
   
      
   
     
     
     
   
       
     
       
     
       
        
    
 
        
 
      
   
 
        
     
     
 
   
    

I have read Tip Top Weekly every Friday after-
noon, and when I get through reading it I hardly
can wait for the next week’s issue. I think Bart is

Frank’s best friend, He has some bad faults, but
after he thinks it over, he’s all right again. I like

the rest of the flock very much, and I would like to

1 I am afraid

my letter will take too much room in your good, old

Tip Top, but I want to say something about Elsie \ %

and Inza question. Elsie is the girl for Frank. ae

Wishing Tip Top and its publishers long life, eg

, MILTON GROSS,
Newark. N. J.

Thank you for your pleasant letter. Bart is a good

fellow, and is deeply devoted to Frank. We are glad

our readers see his good qualities and forgive the

bad ones, which, after all, every one of us pos-.

sesses, ;

 

I am a great admirer of your Tip Top Weekly, and
an- interested partisan in the Inza Hisie question.
The inclosed lines denote my favorite. If you con-
sider them worthy of publication, I should be happy re
to see them in the Tip Top Applause. Long life to
Tip Top, author and publishers, a

OUR MASCOT.

Oh, Inzaites! Oh, Inzaites!
"Let vict’ry’S morn arousesyou soon,
Awake, and claim our leader's rights,
Oh, Inzaites! Oh. Inzaites?
Stand loyar to old Wli’s blue,
Applaud the mascot of the crew,
And follow Inza—ever true, .
Oh, Inzaites! Oh, Inzaites!

- Oh, Elsieites! Oh, Hisieites!. *

Your days of triumph now are past,
Your glory’s eciimbed its: greatest height,

Oh, Elsieites! Oh, Elsieites!
Go hide in some secluded spot,
Ye chamipions of the weaker lot,
And Plsie’s name dare mention not,

Oh, Elsieites! Oh, Hilsieites! x

Oh. Inzaites! Oh, Inzaites!
Remember, time is slipping by; | :
Spring up and claim aur leader’s rights, >

Oh, Inzaites: Ob, Inzaites! 3
Praise Inza’s name in one loud voice,

And in her triumph all rejoice,
For we'll approve of Merry’s choice,
Oh, Inzaites! Oh, Inzaites! a e
: JOSEPHINE A. MAURIN,
Chicago, Ill.

These verses are splendid, and willicause wild re- . —
rons in the Inza camp. The Hisieites have just _—
een flattering themselves that they were in the
lead; but, after these fine verses, we think they will —
have to look to their laurels. 5 :

°
a her like Bart, Frank’s best and truest friend.

iP roe

Having read Tip Top for the past year, we thought
it about time to tell you how much we appreciate
your paper, “It is the best library.we have ever read.
frank is a brave fellow, true to old Yale. He acts
wisely in waiting to see which way the tables turn,
as the saying is, before making his decision. Elsie
is the girl for “Frank, although he is the one» who
is going to decide. She is a brave, true girl, al-
though many readers contradict this. Inza is brave,
but too independent. We are anxiously awaiting the
decision, which we hope will be in eur favor. We
hope to hear more of Elsie in future, and wish
Mr. Standish good luck.

THREE. GIRL ADMIRERS,
Brooklyn, N. Y.

“Possess your souls in patience,’ as the saying is,
and ali will be disclosed in its good time. As yet
the question of Frank’s choice is unsettled,

Having never seen any applause from our little
city to your excellent weekly, I will now take the
liberty to express my feelings toward the grand and
only Tip Top. It is in every sense of the word an
ideal publication for the American youth. It towers
high above all other weeklies. Frank Merriwell is
a typical model for any young man to follow, and
those who do so will most surely reach the topmost
round of the ladder of success. It is one of my
highest wishes to become a ‘“‘Frank Merriwell, the
Second.” As to the Elsie-Inza question, I think
Elsie is the girl for Frank, for the simple reason
that deep down in Frank’s heart, I believe, he loves
Elsie better than any other girl; and I also believe
that true-hearted Frank will marry the girl he loves
best; consequently, it is bound to be fair and beau-
tiful Elsie whom he will choose for his loving wife.
But I will leave it with our excellent author, Mr.
Standish, to decide, Wishing you a grand and glori-
ous success, I am ever a reader of Tip Top,

. : BANKER R. E. H.
; t Stanford, Ky.

We hope your wish may be gratified, and that you
will become a second Merriwell. Here's success to
you, and may you follow in his footsteps, and be a
credit to yourself and friends. “

After having read the Tip Top from No. 1 +o
present date, I think, without doubt, it is unequaled,
and is the best weekly published. In regard to the
Inza-Hlsie question, I think they are both noble and
worthy girls; but, like one reader, I do not think
that Frank should marry either. Now, if Frank
could marry both, why, then it would be all right;
but I don’t think he wants to marry either one.
Why? Because he does not love either, or his choice
would have been made long, long ago, for Frank

has not yet met his fate, and when that time comes
his heart will tell him, and he will not have to have
time to decide who it is he loves. It hasn’t taken

Dick long to decide whom he loved best; and I am
glad it was Inza. I trust he may win her, and may
. they have a long and happy life. Now, then, what
of Elsie? Why, I am sure that no one will Seon
are so many down on Bart? A great many don’t
try to understand him; if they did, they would find
that he ts true blue. Some will say he is dark and

stern, and always bas a kick coming about. some-
thing. Very well. Now, look at it in a different
way. Bart can see and understand that, while a
_ great many of Frank’s friends have not much love
. for himself, and think his face is always as dark as
a thundércloud, they know Frank loves Bart, and
they try to treat him all right for the former’s sake;
and yet Bart knows they are not over fond of his
company, Then, he loves Hlsie and he loves Frank,
his dearest and best friend, and for that friend’s
gake he'has to keep his love locked in his heart, be-
cause he thinks that Frank loves Hlsie, and he
would not come between his best friend and the one
-. he loves, even though he knows she is ‘the one he
loves with all his heart, .brave, loyal Bart! These
thoughts make him so dark and gloomy all the time.
I hope Elsie may yet learn that it is“Bart she loves;
then you will see a different fellow, Put yourself in
his place, and, I think, -you will better understand
why he is not jolly and light-hearted like some of
Frank’s friends. I think he is next to Frank, and
_ hope that others will think, as I do, that without,
- Bart the Tip Top would,lose one of the best heroes’

and Frank his best friend. Jack Ready is a_bird.

He is the life of the Tip Top for funny jokes. He is
always ‘‘ready.’’ He should have to have his joke,
Ty. think, at any cost. Wishing success and long
life to B. L., Frank and Bart and all their friends
and readers of the Tip Top, | HARRY W. C,,

et Tesh neta Newark, Ohio.
‘You are a loyal supporter of Bart, and we are glad
. to see it. Bart is a.fine fellow, and loyal and true

to Frank; and we are pleased to see our readers
appreciate his frank nature, True friends are a
rarity in this\ world, and when we do find one, let us.
keep fast hold of him lest we should lose him.

in’ the latest books,

g00 io
trust you wi. always keep Frank as your model
“youth and hero.” Sapa ee

WEEKLY.

I have just finished Maud Green’s letter in No.’
250 of the ‘lip Top, and would like to ask her just .
how she feels since reading Nos. 249 and 250. I am
of the opinion that these two numbers are sufficient
to almost silence the Inza admirers forever, al-
though No. 250 does not strengthen my side of the
argument at all, as the words uttered by Hilsie in the
last of Chapter 10 are almost a death-blow to Elsie’s
loyalty and heretofore truthfulness. I, like Miss
Green, am strongly opposed to a vote being taken
in regard to this interesting dispute, for if one were —
to be taken, it would be an insult to Mr. Standish’s
ability, and, then, it would.end this very interesting
dispute all too soon. .As for Mr..Bush, I will say.
that his letters have been a.source. of amusemen
to me, as he states his case so strongly, and ‘always
has a ready answer for all questioners. But I would
like to ask him, and all Inza admirers, if it doesn’t
look pretty black for them just now. Of course,
things may brighten considerably before he reads
this; but just now, I think, it looks rather black. As
to Inza’s marrying Dick Starbright, I think it would
prove an excellent mateh, for Dick has the qualities —
of a fine man, and is, therefore, worthy of Inza., -
Hoping Frank will be successful in his fight for
Elsie, and that he and Bart will still remain friends,

I close, wishing Mr. Standish and Street & Smith a

long and prosperous. life.
5 ‘ CHAS, CHAMPBEL,

. 3 Chicago, Il.
We will admit Elsie’s friends are well to the front,

The Inzaites had best sent their arguments to the
columns to uphold their favorite, as the dispute is

now at its height. 1 i

started to read your great —
weekly, Tip Top. Since that time I have followed
it closely, hardly able to wait for the next issue. I
have read a great many books by great authors,

About four years ago I

some that have given me advice through life; but ~

the man that has helped me in my greatest time of
need, as far as advice and courage are concerned, is

&

Mr. Burt L. Standish, by following (or, that is, try-

ing to follow) the example of his noble hero, Frank —
Merriwell. There were times when everything looked
dark before -‘me—that was when I had to. leave —
school. All my patience and all my hope had van-

ished when I could not at first get employment; but —

then I asked myself what Merriwell would do if he
were in my place. I knew that if he were, he would |
face circumstances with hope and cheerfulness» so
I attempted to do the same.
to get a good position, and, finaly, after a request ~
for a trial in a wholesale-house office, was success- —
ful in securing it. I am still employed there, but —
not in the same capacity. I started as office boy,
and, after going to college at night, I learned short- —
hand and became a stenographer. During. times
when my patience fails me I think of Merriwell—of _
my model, Merriwell. E
space, but I cannot help it, my pen will not stop, for —
the enthusiasm that lies within me for your great |
Tip Top would take a book to express. One more
word, and that on the Elsie-Inza question. ' As mat-
ters are getting quite exciting’ now, and, as Merri-_
well, Hodge and Starbright have shown their colors,
it is the proper time for my opinion. The girl for
Frank is Inza. She was his first love, and I am
quite stre that noble and true-hearted Inza loves
him with all her heart. Frank has declared love to
both Inza and Elsie, and the reason for their actions
I think, is the fear of their
coming between each other. Now, as to Bart, who is
Frank’s truest friend. Just: imagine the secret love
in his heart for Elsie all the time, but not wanting
to declare it for fear of Frank, whom he thought ~
also loved her; and he would rather die than come
between Frank and _ LElsie. But in the burning,
steamer, where he thought death was. certain for
both him and Elsie, he declared his unbounded love, ©

.

that he may die with his beloved. -Plsie is also true

and brave, and is just the one for our true and
quick-tempered Bart. Then Starbright. The girl for
him is Rosalind Thornton. Wishing good luck to all
the flock-and Burt L., . Ls es

Cleveland, Ohio. ae

Your letter speaks volumes, and pleases us mor
than we can tell you. To feel that we have been
the means of encouragement to you through Tip
Top’s columns, when you were so blue and de-
pressed, and you took Frank for a model, whom, we
are glad to say, is a good one for any young ma
to pattern from, is all vastly satisfying to us. Tip
Top always does good, and helps the young men an¢
women who read, it. We hope you will be as su
cessful all through life as you_were in getting such a
position. We wish you all kinds of success, and

I went out determined he

Now, I know I am taking up. __

 
 
 

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