ve Cents. sued weekly — By Subscription, $2.50 per year. Entered as Second Crass Matier at the N. Y. Post Office by STREET & SMITH en meee —aermeennes sate No. 264. Price, Fi OVER THE LINE THEY GO, WITH THE NOSE OF THE FRESHMEN’S BOAT IN ADVANCE. Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year, Intered as Second Class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 238 William St., N.Y. Lntered According to Act of Congress,in the year 1901 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. No. 264. NEW YORK, May 4, 1901. Price Five Cents, ~>- FRANK MERRIWELL’S COACH; : —Cragic, OR, Hlow the Freshmen Won. By BURT L. STANDISH. CHAPTER [. ON NEUTRAL GROUND. Frank Merriwell’s room was the neutral all classes ground on which—or in which and conditions of Yale men met. The air of that room, perhaps one of the finest rooms in splendid Vanderbilt, was thoroughly demo- There the man with money or with ancestry cut no better figure than any other To be a notable in Merriwell’s room, the. student man, unless he had done something. must have accomplished something worthy of his efforts. Of course the “good. fellow” was not barred, but he could not hope to be a central figure merely because he was a good fellow, The Merriwell spirit was “a do-something spirit,’ and it was strangely infectious, for all | who associated with him regularly soon ac- quired the habit of doing things. Even big, lazy Browning awoke at times and astonished everybody by the accomplishment of some marvel. Hodge was a perfect engine of en- ergy, although at times he became liable to break loose and run wild, like an untamed mustang. Jack Ready, the eccentric sopho- more, was as restless and full of ginger as a young colt ora half- -grown kitten. Berlin Carson, the Westerner, possessed all the breadth, vive and sweep of the cattle range and the plains, and he was fast making him- self notable since coming “under Merry’s >? wing.” Hook Mason, the man from South Carolina, had once perverted his energy and been reckoned a bully, but after the days of his reformation he used his energy in the right direction and accomplished things far more worthy than beating an enemy. Joe Gamp, right down from New Hampshire, long, lank, awkward, hesitating in speech, had shown that he had sterling qualities and could fill an emergency on the ball field or in the socialistic the classroom. Greg Carker, young millionaire, whose head continually buzzed with schemes for the elevation of the masses and the leveling of the aristocracy, . could forget his schemes at times, could cease to rant about “the coming earthquake,” and could do things worthy of a young Twentieth Century Yale man. Jim Hooker, who had been rescued from ostracism by -Merriwell, and given a chance ‘to hold his head up before all men, showed that he ‘possessed manly qualities and would not hesi- tate in the face of necessity. Starbright, the young freshman giant and wonder, had.been brought to the fore as Merriwell’s protégé, and no man could say he had not proved him- self worthy. But only Starbright and Merri- well knew how worthy he had been as a friend, for it was the big, yellow-haired man from Andover who opened Frank’s eyes to the fact that Inza Burrage had never changed in her devotion since the old days at far-off Fardale. Not only that, but Dick had caused Merry to look inward and discover that his heart, also, remained unchanged, and And then Dick stepped aside, his boyhood. n king the greatest See of ae life—all TIP TOP WEEKLY. that Inza was dear to him as in the days of could Frank Truly Starbright had done something for Merry! What nobler friend have! to win for himself the seat of highest honor amid that group of true blue Merriwell men. And then there was Dashleigh—he could do something. He cotld play the mandolin and sing divinely. He had been playing just now, and he lightly strummed the strings as the gathered students fell to chatting and joking. “Dashleigh,’ assumed grace before the freshman, “your ’ said Jack Ready, posing with playing is remarkable for its simplicity. Why shouldn’t it be? acteristic of you.” It is perfectly char- “You're a critic of music, I | torted Bert, scornfully Vhy shouldn’t I be!” came solemnly from the queer sophomore. “I have traveled a great deal with a band.” “You have?” si of Se Be round my hat. Besides that, I have a lovely drum in my ear. Such advantages as those have given me the right to be Cigea | in musi- cal matters.’ “IT know a better critic than you who is deaf-and-dumb,” declared the freshman. “Poor fellow!” sighed Jack. “Deaf-and- dumb ?” “Yes.” nome “What an unspeakable affliction !” Dashleigh started to say something, and then flourished his mandolin at Ready, as if to smite him. away. “Say, fellows,” he cried, “I was down to Traeger’s with Ned Donovan and his friends | last night, and we had.a corking good time.” “By the bottles you had around you when I dropped in there last evening, I fancied you were having an uncorking good time,” ob- served Berlin Carson. “No ow, that’s s not bad for a tenderfoot from ‘ij jave a habit of wearing a band But the queer fellow waltzed_ loeteee amelie gas * bers,” z the wild and woolly,” nodded Jack, regard- ing Carson, approvingly. “My boy, you are when he struck He carried a gun on each hip, three bowie knives coming. Why, gentlemen, New Haven, he was‘a walking arsenal! in his belt, two more in his boots, and had The first night at Old Lady Harrington’s retreat for freshmen Just for- got to unshackle them from his boots, derringers in his sleeves. he went to bed with his spurs on. you know. Of course Mrs. Harrington made a gentle kick in the morning, when she found sheets, and I under- That his spur tracks in her stand he had to settle for the sheets. taught him a lesson. bered to take his spurs off his boots before rolling in. Oh, there’s nothing like experi- ence as a teacher. I have heard that he _. sometimes removes his boots on going to bed now.” Carson took this guying good-naturedly. “That’s’ all right,” he said. ‘At, least, I don’t do one trick that I hear is customary with you. Fellows, why do you suppose Ready puts his pocketbook under his pillow every night when he goes to bed?” y nig g “He cuc-cuc-can’t be afraid of ru-ru-rob- grinned Joe Gamp, “ ’cuc-’cuc-’cause he never has enough’ mum-money to tut- tempt a robber who was lul-lul-looking for the price of a drink.” “Still he does put his pdgiereeok iadee his “And for that very reason he reminds me of a pillow, I’ve heard,” declared Berli lin. thrifty business man.” “How is that?” asked Boxer. “Why,” said Carson, — wants to feel that he has money to retire on.’ Ready threw up both hands, uttered a ter- _rible groan, and fell heavily on Bruce Brown- ing, who was stretched on the couch. He ms rebounded with a springing movement, how-_ “ever, and leaped away in time tg escape a kick from the big senior’s. heavy foot. TIP TOP WEEKLY. : o After that he remem- quired Jack. “Please have your fits elsewhere!” rumbled ie . : Bruce, with a glare at Jack, who was bowing profoundly and humbly craving pardon. . “I don’t know where else I can find any- clared Ready. ‘will you find a way thing so soft to fall on,” de “Say,” smiled Bruce, ‘ to repress your idiocy for a short time?” 3 exclaimed Jack, with an expres- “Did I hear. aright? And only yesterday I had not been talking to him “Tdiocy !” sion of despair. five minutes before he called me an ass.” “Why the delay?” grunted Browning. “That reminds me of something I said the last time I attended the theatre,” Ready as- serted. “The play was over, the orchestra - : was playing a lively *march, all the ‘people — 3 I looked up, and right over one of those doors I saw the Then I said were moving toward the doors. word ‘exit’ in large gilt letters. something real witty.” “What could it be?” murmured Dashleigh. “T said, “That lets me out,’” explained Jack, “Ha! ha! ha! pure, unadulterated wit. Have a laugh with Ha! ha! Why, I’m budding into a é3 second Sydney Smith, and Syd was the real thing.” : aoe “You will be nipped in the bud if you’re said Frank. “Sit down, Jack, and let up for a while. You’ve had your — That’s what you call me ! not. careful,” mouth open long enough to thoroughly ven- j tilate your system for an hour, at least.” “And there has been an awful escape of gas,” said Carson, e “You’ve run your race,” declared Greg Carker, with a aplenn waye of his Hane “Stand aside now.’ ss _ “Ts the earthquake coming?” a awesomely in- “Tf so, I'll get out of the ‘old thing’s track ina hurry, Cark.” 2 “Speaking about races,” put in Bingham, the sophomore, “T heard a strange rumor to- day. It was to the effect that Merry. hi : been aeked ae the freshmen to give. hem & "TEP little coaching and hag agreed to do so. I can’t believe it, for it seems to me that he -has his hands full without bothering with the fréshmen crew. Merriwell ?” “Yes,” I’m sure it isn’t true, is said Frank, quietly, “‘it is,” ‘CHAPTER IT, THE FRESHMAN COXSWAIN. There was a moment of silence, and then Ready was ‘heard sobbing violently, as if his heart were breaking. “What makes you feel so bad, Jack?” asked as Bingham. “Is it because we didn’t get Mer- riwell to coach our crew?” “Not that, not that!” asserted Jack, press- ing his handkerchief to his eyes and flopping intense sadness. one hand in a gesture of “I’m so sorry for him! I love him even as I love a nice, juicy steak, and to think this terrible disappointment must be his! Alas! alas!” - “What ails you?” cried Dashleigh. “Don’t get a foolish notion into your head that the -sophs will beat us.” “Tt is written in the stars,” clared Ready. “As far as that race is con- cerned, you’ll not be in it this year.” “We'll have Star- = bright, who had been keeping still and listen- a walk-over,” put in ing to the others, but who was aroused now. “Merry says: we have the finest freshman crew since his day in the freshman boat.” “Taffy,” said Jack. . that makés such talk to his men.’ Kt Pte sane it : coach us,’ “But it’s a Epa coach before he knew he was to find em ina very sloppy condition, see} is Secchi hed fall easy aba to that the rrible disease. known as swellidus TOP WHEKLY.,. your boat, go ahead. solemnly de- | motion toward Jack. “Well, then it is certain that he will now. “Vou don’t need to have it,” bright. ‘Nature got ahead of the disease.” “Young man,” said Jack, severely glaring “if you were not so As it 18, do you permanent injury, I at Dick’s muscular figure, small I’d thrash you for that insult! fearing lest I withhold my hand. you out at Lake Whitney, for all of your new coach.” Starbright laughed heartily. “That’s the greatest joke you’ve cracked this evening, Ready,” he cried, in his hearty way. “Why, your old crew is made up in a crazy manner!” declared Ready, who was a little touched and dropped his’ bantering style for “You've got a coxswain as heavy as What sort of a time. 1 am—yes, heavier than I am. crazy notion is that?” _ “Don’t let it worry you,” advised Dick. “Tt isn’t worrying me, fellow. ing my soul. If you are crazy to pull around that amount of dead weight in the’ stern of sut I don’t see how Merriwell can say you have a good crew. I think he is overworked, poor fellow! I fear I see in my mind’s eye an asylum for the in- sane, looking darkly before him.” “’Sh!” said Bingham, with a cautioning “Don’t alarm him, or it may send him off at once. Say something soothing to him, Ready.” ' Frank, standing up and stretching his splendid arms “Don’t worry, gentlemen,” said above his head. “I am sure I was never in better condition than at this minute, and I’m glad to be able to give a little time to the — freshmen. I feel it my duty to give the time to the new class, just as : gave it to Jone class last year, Ready.” es “Don’t apologize! don’t apologize!” cried Jack. year! Oh, “Laura! Think Of sf boat said Star- But we'll literally bury — ween ml nen rae ia ea a ee It’s delight- + “Tt isn’t necessary. You had good ee stuff to werk on last year; but just look at fee - «this- TIP TOP WEEKLY. — | 5 being pulled by. such Indians as Starbright, Dashleigh, Morgan and others of the same ill, with a big duffer like Earl Knight in the stern ! boat ! poor freshmen! Merriwell, get Knight out of that [ beg—TI implore you to do it! The My tender heart bleeds for them, and their defeat will be bad enough without making it worse by giving them a man like that to drag around.” “When he wants your advice I think he'll. ask for it!” snapped Dashleigh, who did not fancy this free-and-easy style of Ready with ~ Merriwell. | “He may not know how bad he needs it till “Besides that, ‘if I remember correctly, he is not in the habit the race is over,” said Jack. of asking much advice.” — “Why are you not going to rew this year, Ready ?” asked Carson. “Oh, the boys wanted to give the freshmen a chance!” said Jack. “T was urged to row, but I said, ‘What’s the use to make it a dead sure thing at the start?’ Besides, baseball is just about all [ can attend like Merriwell. ‘He’s the only ‘to. I’m no steam engine, He’s the only one of his kind. fellow. I ever saw who was able to do any- thing and everything without ever making a muff. But he can’t make a winning fresh- 5 men crew Out of a lot of wooden cigar-store ie signs. Nay, nay, sweet one; ’tis impossible.” “Tell you what,” cried Dashleigh, “Ill bet you a hundred dollars we beat your old crew!” | “Now that is not money enough to pay me for the trouble of putting it up. said one thousand dollars, I might have con- | sidered it.” 3 r “You haven? t.seen a thousand dollars since you looked in a window of a New York bank during the ‘trip of the ee team,” “said Stata bright. ts . So they left me out. ’ some hesitation. - Tf you had- 2 “And that’ 's the only time: ‘you ever saw so_ ““But I so little regard such false statements that I “Base calumny!” declared Jack. will not even draw my purse to disprove them. But I'll take that bet of yours, if you will call it fifty cents, which I happen to have convenient in my waistcoat pocket.” With a languid air he brought forth a sil- ver half dollar, which he triumphantly dis- played. Carson snatched the piece and looked at it. “Plugged !” he remarked, as he passed it back to Jack. sible that you had all that good money.” “T thought it could not be pos- Ready looked distressed. “Plugged?” he gasped, examining the money. “Alas, too true! shall give the half to you, Carson, and let you go know a near-sighted beer-slinger. I round there and enjoy yourself. The change will do you good.” “T couldn’t think of leaving you penniless,” declared tht Westerner, with a wave his hand. ge) “They’re onto you!” cried Dashleigh, laughing. - There was a rap at the door, and Frank called for the one who knocked to come in. Then the door opened and a young man, — with a splendid figure, entered the room with “Hello, Oe = right in. - “Phere,” Dashleigh, ‘ make you, look like thirty cents in the little Knight!” cried de You’re welcome.” : said Ready to Starbright ae ‘comes the handicap that will — affair we have been discussing. Think of dragging around a coxswain like that! ‘Haven’t you a small man in your whole class” that can steer a boat?” “Shut up, please!’ warned Dick, in a ie “Knight is sensitive, and he'll think you're making some observation about | his tone. et But I happen to. that ran the whole’ length: of his left cheek from temple to chin. Otherwise he was quite a good-looking fellow. But that scar was enough to attract and fascinate any one who saw it for the first time, and it caused stran- gers to stare at Knight wherever he went, so that ‘in time he became very sensitive about ‘his misfortune. This scar had made Knight very retiring when he first entered college, but he was a fine, strong, athletic-looking fellow, and his classmates finally drew him out and induced him to take part in athletics. When it came to rowing, it was found that ~ school crew, or something of the sort, before he developed into such an athletic-appearing chap, and some combination of circumstances gave him the stern of the freshman boat. Tt was not long before the discovery was He could steer a boat, and he could keep a crew , made that Knight knew his business. in trim at those times when they were not beneath the eyes of a coach. He had an en- couraging way of calling a man down pleas- antly and putting new life and effort into which is an art in itself. - Merriwell met Knight cordially and soon : & had him feeling somewhat more at ease in , gathering of students from all classes. fact, until he began working with the fresh- man crew, not even Merriwell had known - there was such a man in college. “Why, he’s as large as Merriwell !” mut- tered Ready, who could not be repressed. _ “Say, Dashleigh, I'd like to make that thou- -sand- dollar bet, two thousand. You can never win with a man like that in. the stern of your old scow. I'll bet my life on it!” i “Make it something of value,” said Bert. Knight had once been a coxswain on a high-- him, instead of getting him mad and sulky, the midst of this strange and * remarkable : Because ‘of his diffidence, Knight ‘was : scarcely known outside his own class. In - _any one else. remove _ Knight | from the boat ‘and. put. ae = | / seemed too early to get out on the harbor at E — ae: but t the weather came on warm and de- TIP TOP WEEKLY. “Tm “Now, look here,” growled Ready ; the only chap who has a license to be fresh You- can’t follow it up without getting into trou- ble. fresh and remaining alive; but an ordinary man in this crowd, so you had better quit. I have studied the art of being who tries to follow in my footsteps should take out a large life insurance and make his wallets After a time, Frank plainly stated that he would excuse all who had not been specially requested to remain, laughing as he did so. Ready, “Methinks I scent a secret conclave, and I- Le But I must hie “Fired out!’* murmured sadly. wouldst rubber, if I could. myself away.” : So they filed out, bidding Frank grood- night, and not one took offense at being thus Se ela laae 8 plainly told that they were to go. Starbright, Dashleigh and Knight remained. Ee | of the freshman crew found their way to Frank’s — ade b - Some time later other members room, where they remained for at least an hour behind locked doors. . ate talk victory into them.” i no use,” declared Ready; “he can’t CHAPTER III. THE TEMPTER AND THE TRAITOR. ‘Frank Merriwell’s energy and the amount of work he was able to accomplish astonished ee every one. It seemed that he must have his 3 hands pretty full as captain of the ball team, but he found time to coach the freshmen, who relied on him far more than they did on It had been predicted that Merriwell would lighter man in his» place, and there wis no lit- tle surprise when he failed to do so. As far as possible, Prank’s work with. the carried oh privately. It >» Pra freshmen ‘ was IP TOP WEEKLY. lightful, which gave the four crews the op- portunity they desired. The freshmen were the first to take ad- vantage of a warm evening, and, under cover of darkness, they put in an hour of hard work. withdrew The next day Orson- Arnold from the freshmen crew, and Ben Snodgrass took himself out of. the sophomore eight. Frank Merriwell was responsible for both resignations. Merry was a great character reader, and somehow he had suspected Arnold the first time he talked with the fellow. Arnold was one who made a great pretense of frankness and honesty, and he was forever calling at- tention to these traits of character, which he He had a way of telling how much he despised wished people to suppose he possessed. deceit, and Frank soon decided that the fel- low was a bluffer and needed watching. : Then, without delay, he set Jim Hooker to watching the suspect. Ordinarily, Hooker - would not have relished the job, for he re- membered how he had once been suspected _and spied upon, but he was ready to do any- thing for Merriwell. 3 _ Hooker proved a good detective. He soon = brought Merriwell information that made Bengt rank look both grim and regretful. “T thought iy said oes “but I hoped I was wrong.” a ees meet in the old back room in Jack- = s,” said Hooker. “They do not. choose to be seen together, you know, for that would : create comment, Freshmen: and sophomores do not become chums, ay if they be-. tong to rival class crews.’ | “Jackson keeps a bad. “hax said Frank. “He should not be’ permitted in the city. I believe more crooked work has been planned n his joint than in any orise: places in New a figure at Yale. gether. beyond his means, as his grandmother . as see him to “Jackson knows you?” : Frank flushed a little, but promptly said: “Yes, he knows me. I used to wander in there sometimes. I have found it necessary to go there in search of friends, and I’ve had one or two little encounters there, I once threatened Jackson with police investigation if he did not refuse to let certain men play cards for money in that famous little back room of his. I had him on his knees before I was done with him, and he’s been very re- spectful since. He always lifts his hat to me on the street, even though I may not choose to speak.” “Then you have a grip on him?” a“ . “Not now, I fancy.” “Still, you might go there and have your way to a certain extent.” “Perhaps so.’ “Then Vil find out the time, and you may. see what you can do.” : The night after the freshmen. took their — hour on the harbor, Orson Arnold and Ben Snodgrass met in the little back room at Jackson’s They sneaked into the place by the side door, taking care not to be seen, for their days on their respective crews would terminate if they were known to frequent that resort. rh Arnold was a fellow with a fine’ pair of shoulders, coal black hair and eyes that sel- dom looked any one squarely in the face. ‘That is, they seldom looked higher than the chin of another. the chin of any person with whom he was | He had a way of looking at | talking, but he looked higher only for in- stants. He was not a bad-looking chap by any means, and he was a rather tasty dresser. In fact, he considered himseslf something of a lady’s man, and it was his ambition to cut His ambition was alto- was sending him to college, and the old allowance, havin man to whom he lent it freely. 8 peatedly warned him that overstepping that allowance meant the termination of his col- lege course. Snodgrass had muscular arms and a broad back, but his chest was not properly develop- ed. His shoulders seemed burdened by too much muscle, and already they were begin- ning to roll inward somewhat. He was a rowing crank. Since the day he entered Yale he had done nothing but row, row, row. It was his one engrossing ambition to finally make the Varsity. Thus far he had suc- ceeded> only in getting onto the sophomore In his first year he had not found a The fellow craved attention and admiration, and he was eight. place in the freshman boat. determined that the sophomore crew should attract attention this year by defeating the Almost were the winners in the class races at Lake freshmen. always the freshmen Whitney, being given far greater attention than the sophomores; but this year Snod- grass had sworn to himself that there should _be a change about of the usual order of ‘things. If the sophs won, attention would » be drawn to their men, and that might mean * that he, last and rated for what he believed himself Snodgrass, would be observed at worth. In such a case, he would go onto the Varsity with a bound. | Now, it happened that Snodgrass had just - what Arnold wanted—money. He spent it ; freely on himself, but Arnold was the only A mutual at- 5 traction seemed to draw those fellows to- - gether, and somehow they came to an under- €: standing. Snodgrass found Arnold could be bought, and then there were secret meetings. a . between them. a3 This night, having slipped into that dingy back room, with the green baize table in the riddle of the narrow Boar, they took care to TIP TOP WEEKLY. Prétty soon a panel in the door at button. the opposite side of the room slid open, and the face of one of the barkeepers appeared. “What’s yours, Ors, old boy?” asked Ben. ” “A gin fizz,” said Arnold. “Ginger ale for me,” said Snodgrass. “A pack of Sweet Cap.,” ordered Orson. The slide went shut with.a little bang. “Well,” said Snodgrass, eagerly, “you've got something to tell me?” “Sure thing,” nodded Arnold. “That’s why I’m here.” “Important ?” “Rather.” “Out with it.” “My throat’s too dry to talk. Wait till I get that fizz.” “You hadn’t ought to drink it, you know. You’ re in training. “Traming be—jiggered! What am I training for?” “The regatta at Whitney.” “Come off! help lose that race. fizz? “But, you’d be fired off the crew if any- I’m awful dry.” body found out you were drinking fizzes in here.” “So I'd be fired if anybody and: out I was here talking with you. Might as well go the whole hog, to use an elegant phrase. So I’m going to drink, and I’m going to have . a smoke.” ‘ ; The slide went back and the barkeeper ap- peared with the drinks and cigarettes. Snodgrass paid for them and placed them on Ss 3 Then the slide slammed again, — the table. they were alone. “Tm a little thirsty myself,” grass, taking up the ginger ale. “Let me get. my face into that fizz? € claimed Arnold, as he eagerly grasped it. Bo: lifted it to his ee naEee removed the e straws. pape You know I’m training to - Why shouldn’t I take a ad ee ) A escapes his notice. TIP TOP WEEKLY. When he had drained the glass, he took the cigarettes and elevated his feet to the top of the table. “I'm tired,” he declared. “It tells on me, this infernally hard work Merriwell is giv- ing us. The fellow seems to think we're made of iron—like himself.” “He must be made of iron to do all the things he does,” said Snodgrass: “but 1 am not stuck on him much, for I know he kept me off the ’Varsity last year.” “What? “T don’t care,” growled Ben, scowling. “I Why, you were a freshman.” was a better man than some who made the eight, but Merriwell ran in his particular friends, just as he has run them onto the nine this year. He had a puil then.” “Well, he’s got a bigger pull now. He seems to be the only. pebble.” “His advice is taken in everything,’ com- plained the sophomore, bitterly. “He ac- tually seems king of the sporting field here. They seem to regard him as atithority on the subjects of football, baseball, rowing, hockey and everything else. If he was like other fellows and simply made a specialty of some- thing! But he goes into everything and leads at whatever he tries.” Arnold had rolled his cigarette and pulled a little of the tobacco from one end. Now, with it between his lips, he took out a pair of gloves and put them on. eras “What's that for?’ asked Snodgrass, curiously. “Precaution,” grinned Orson, wisely. “Precaution against what?” You know how they stain, Well, Merriwell would He has the curs- ~ “Cig. tracks. _a fellow’s fingers. be sure to see the yellow. edest, sharpest eyes I ever knew a man to have! Don’t seem to look at you so hard, but he sees everything. Nota blamed thing If he saw yellow on my es fingers—well, that would be my finish.” “Then look out if you want to square that It’s You must help me out by doing debt with me. a great chance for you, Arnold. what I say, or I shall have_to have the money.” Arnold turned somewhat pale. threaten, Snodgrass!” he “Don’t ex- claimed. “You know I can’t pay the money back now. I’ve told you so.” “And I gave you a chance to square the whole business.” “By throwing the race. I’m a square chap, Snodgrass, and it was gall and wormwood for.me to agree to your terms; but you had me foul, and what could I do but agree?” “Oh, nothing, of course!” “Of course not! Why, my old chump of a grandmother would yank me out of Yale in a hurry if she found I had run into debt over two hundred. It’s the first time in my life I ever did anything dishonest, and the thought of it has driven me to drink.” Arnold tried to squeeze out a tear, but it was plain to his companion that he was mak-_ ing a weak bluff. “Well, if you stick to your agreement there will be no need to worry; but you must look out to keep your place on the crew. If you are dropped, the whole scheme goes to smash. That’s why I say be careful about your smoking and drinking. Merriwell’s keen eyes will soon discover it if you get a ; little out of condition and keep so.” “Oh, blow Merriwell! him. I’d like to thump I wish we might catch him alone, Snodgrass, and give him a good drubbing. - Why can’t we do it? We might lay for him - some night and take him in a dark place.” “If he recognized us, we’d be spotted as his enemies, and you know it isn’t healthy to be the enemy of Merriwell. The Chickering — set are his enemies, and they are ostracized.” “They would be anyhow.” 10 TIP “Oh, They ents; and money counts.” I don’t know. have rich par- “Money counts less at Yale than at any other /college*in the world.” but I believe it Still, T will admit that I do not care to become “T know it’s claimed so, counts here just the same as elsewhere. openly rated as the enemy of Merriwell.” Arnold was smoking now, and he inhaled the poisonous fumes of the cigarette with great relish, taking it deep into his lungs and breathing it out in a thin blue cloud, some- times letting a little escape with each word. For all of his musclar shoulders and body, he had the cigarette mouth, insipid, weak, un- manly. Look at any lad who habitually smokes great numbers of cigarettes and has done so on close ex- for a long time. You will see, amination, what is meant by the “cigarette mouth.” You will see that his mouth is not _the firm, is likely that he will have a habit of carrying strong mouth of the manly lad. It his mouth open and breathing through it con- -stantly, instead of breathing through his nose. This will give a forceless expression to his whole face. able that his will power has been stolen away by cigarettes, his manhood is being under- mined day by day, and he is preparing him- self to be a weak, wavering and, wretched failure in the world. “Well, you haven’t told me what you were going to ‘tell, said “What has Merriwell been doing to-night?” jd man,’ . “Guess !” = SE can't.” | “That's true; you couldn’t guess!” “Wel what is it? ‘now? You have me anxious : “You know he ordered us out for a pial to- - night.” “Yes.” | And, in truth, it is prob- ‘cannot refuse. Snodgrass. _ life.” TOP WEEKLY. “Well, how do you suppose he did the coaching ?”’ “From another boat.” “Chased us round ?” “Yes “Not much!’ “How, “From the boat.” “The boat?” “Yes; he took Knight’s then?” place and was cox- swain !” Snodgrass whistled. a new idea!’ he “What did Knight do?” “Waited on a wharf.” “Well, I must say that’s exclaimed. “This is news!” nodded the sophomore. “J wonder if that is just the proper’ thing? It strikes me as being the least. known.” rather queer, to say I don’t think he’d want it to be “Of course not! We are to say nothing about it.” smit- “By Cesar!’ exclaimed Snodgrass, ing the table. “It will be a double victory to defeat the freshmen! How must do it without fail! Ors.” “And I am in such a eae that I It will be defeating We. I depend on you, Merriwell ! that will cut him! Tf IT could, you may be sure, Snodgrass, I’d not be here with you to-night, telling you all this stuff. My conscience will never cease pricking me. But what can a man in my place do!” “Oh, drop it! that holler!” “T can’t help speaking: of it. You make me tired with T have sold myself for a few paltry dollars! No, no— not that! I sold myself to keep myself from disgrace! There was no other way! I had to do it! “You ve told me ‘that before, I think,” ” te marked the Fasarrowd dryly. It’s the first a oh a TIP “Perhaps so. But I’m broke again, old man. Let‘me have another tenner. I must have it.” “You're getting too frequent, Ors. can’t do it.” “Can't” the table and flung aside the cigarette: “No; have five.” Arnold dropped his feet from I haven’t ten with me. [I'll let you “But I need ten.” “T tell you I haven’t got it! See I this is all the money I have.” Snodgrass displayed the contents pockets. and there was less than six in all. He had known well enough that Ar- nold vould want money and had come pre- pared. “Well, then, I’ll have to make that five do