NEE & SOREN ccmnnsies CHAP BY TH AND WITH A iN AND AMAZEMENT THE FELLOW TIP TOP WINTER SPORTS CONTEST. Another Great Opportunity. There is a good old adage among athletes that says the muscle that does not have something to do all the time grows thin and weak. Tip Top pins its faith to that adage, and, when it has trained its athletes up to a high state of physical development, Tip Tor does not intend to let them go back. It is another to keep him there. Here are the latest inducements to keep. Tip thing to make an athlete. improving. FIRST. TIP TOP BASKET BALL LEAGUE. For the Basket Ball for.the season Tip Top offers the following prizes: 1. A Pennant to the Championship Team. 2. A Complete Basket Ball Suit to Each Player of Winning Team, this to con- | sist of: A Basket Ball. A Sleeveless Jersey (any color). A Pair of Running Trunks. A Pair of Ribbed Stockings (any color). Send in your scores as soon as possible. Tip Top will publish them all. ‘CPOA, SECOND. TIP TOP ICE HOCKEY LEAGUE. For the Ice Hockey Team-having the best average for the season Tip Top offers the following prizes for each player of winning team. A Spalding’s Shaker Sweater (any color). A Pair of Hockey Skates (Canadian pattern). A Spalding’s Hockey Stick. A Skating Cap (any color). ph . { Team having the best average It is one Tie Tor does both. at work and Tor athletes | THIRD. TIP TOP RELAY ICE TEAM CONTEST. To the Team of Four boys who skate in the fastest | time over Four Miles on Ice, each member of the team to skate one mile of the distance. Tir Top offers the following prizes to each member of winning team: A Pair of Spalding’s Racing. Skates. A Shaker Sweater (any color). A Skating Cap (any color). SSA FOURTH. TIP TOP CHAMPIONSHIP ONE=MILE ICE RACE. A Pair of High Cut Canvas Shoes. | Tip Top offers three prizes for the three best records established, on skates over a one-mile ice course. The skater making the best time to receive the First Prize, which comprises: A Pair of Spalding’s Racine Skates. A Shaker Sweater (any color). A Skating Cap (any color). The skater making second best time to receive the Second Prize, which comprises: A Pair of Spalding’s Racing Skates. A Shaker Sweater (any color). The skater making third best time to receive the Third Prize, which comprises: A Pair of Spalding’s Racing Skates. A Pair of All Worsted Gloves. COUPONS FOR ALL EVENTS WILL BE FOUND ON PAGE 32. \ i; _ by the newspapers, L forthe. eAifrcanYatth oo, Issued Weekly. By Subscription $2.50 per year. fintered according to Act of Congress in the year 190 Entered as Second Class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 2378 William St., 2, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. LV.4Y. Sf No. 304. Dick NEW YORK, February 8, 1902. Price Five Cents. RIWELLS PERIL: OR, LEFT TO DIE IN THE FLAMES. By BURT L. STANDISH. CHAPTER I. IN DICK’ S$ ROOM: The cadets came flocking back from the holiday furlough, and Fardale Academy resumed its norma! appearance. But such things as they had to tell one another! Such tales of jolly times at home! The envious ones who had remained at the acad- emy listened sadly and regretfully. . With two exceptions. Dick Merriwell and Brad Buckhart were not ex- On the contrary, pected to listen. they were 1m- _portuned to tell of their wonderful adventures with » Captain Jubal, of which all Fardale was talking. The story had leaked out, and, with exaggerations and alterations, it had been caught up and circulated nota few of which ridiculed it as a ridiculous and improbable yarn, probably invented, they said, by two imaginative novel-reading boys and accepted as truth by the credulous, simple-minded people of the neighborhood. So the lows, at ead first opportunity, y crowded up to Dick’s room, the eager fel- and beset him with questions, which he laughingly answered. “T suppose you’re proud and stuck up so that you'll not have anything to do with mere yearlings since being taken into the society of pirates?” grinned big Bob Singleton, as he heartily shook Dick’s hand. “How did you guess it?” smiled Dick, giving the big yearling’s hand a warm squeeze in return, “And, he’ll never stoop to playing football any more,” from Steve Nunn—‘“not even when he is made captain of the eleven.” “Look here, old man,” piped Ted Smart, squeez- 2 | Lie: FOP ing his way nearer to Dick, “can’t you let me have a few pieces of eight from your old treasure? I don’t need ’em since vacation! Oh, no! I didn’t blow my allowance in less than four days and have to call Not at all! I haven't But Pilmakea confession—if air was selling for five cents a barrel, on the governor for more! come back here broke. Perhaps not! ' I'd jolly soon suffocate.” “Unfortunately,” said Dick, “I didn’t get my hands into that treasure box, for which the whole of Far- So I can’t fork over any pieces of eight, Ted; but, rather than see dale seems to be searching now. you perish in awful agony before my eyes, 1 may be induced to part with a few shekels gathered from I’m not hard to touch,” “Wouldn’t Oh, no! not at all!” my modest patrimony. “Modest patrimony!” gasped Smart. that make Noah Webster blink! “T say, Merriwell!” broke in Toby Kane, “are all those yarns about hermits and pirates and treasures and caves and things true?” “Ask Buckhart,” smiled Dick, with a motion to- ward the door. “Here he comes.” The Texan came striding into the room. “What ho! my hearties!” there and put a reef in the rudder! he:-enveds's diay: aft Furl the top- gallant fo’case sail and splice the anchor! out the spinnaker and bring her up into the wind! Hold her so!” Then he stopped and clapped his hand over his mouth. Head her no’th by no’theast! “Well,” he exclaimed, a moment later, “blow me, if I can shake that nautical talk since meeting up with iny old side pard, Cap’n Jubal. It just bubbles right out of me, and I reckon people will be taking me _ I do, I swear!” ee for a deep-sea sailor if I don’t quit it. “Oh, yes!’ said Smart; sarcastically; “not a doubt of it! will be sure to mistake you fora salty old tar! If you make that kind of nautical talk, people ‘Reef Well, wouldn't that chill you!” eas eae Darrell came in and looked for. Price: whom he Darrell _ the rudder’ and ‘splice the anchor!’ found in the center of the admiring throng. : “pmnied, a batt and came forward. Shake: WEEKLY. “Look here, Merriwell,’ he said, ‘can’t you be quiet during vacations? WEEKLY. 3 8 But we thought it might be some sort of a joke you had all true we'll swallow every word of it. hatched up. It doesn’t seem that any one except you two chaps has seen this Captain Jubal face to face, and so “You are very anxious to make it appear that there is no such person as Captain Jubal? think shot Cale Burk, the hermit? Lib Dixon, the fisherman? Who do you What became of I understand very well your desire to cast ridicule and doubt upon me; but I have a fancy that you can’t make it work, for I be- lieve that a majority of those who know you two fel- lows and. know me also will take. my word against yours in any matter. You will find the door just where it was when you came in without being in- vited.”’ ' Thus Dick Merriwell dismissed them. CHAPTER It. Tih: CBROSED ON BSa “Well, Pll be shot!” muttered Savage. “Not likely,” said Ted Smart, audibly. “Fellow born to be hanged is never shot... Savage and Hogan were turning toward the door when it opened to admit a strange figure. The newcomer was dressed like a sailor, but his About his waist was a belt literally thrust full of all sorts face was completely hidden by a black mask. of weapons of antique pattern, while at his side swung a cutlass. To say the appearance of this person was surpris- ing and startling does not do the case complete jus- tice. He looked as if he had stepped from the pages of some old-time pirate yarn, and the boys in the room uttered exclamations of wonder as their eyes fell upon him. The masked chap stopped near theedoor. “Dick Merriwell,” he called, in a deep, hoarse voice, “stand forth.” “Keelhaul me!” gasped Brad Buckhart. “Ay, ay, sir!” answered Dick, falling at once into the spirit of the thing, and stepping out from the : 4 TIP TOP WEEKLY. midst of the lads who had surrounded him. “I am here, sir.” “T have come to warn you to be prepared, for tke fatal hour is near. Behold the signal of our mystic order.” Then he seemed to draw some queer geometrical figures in the air with his index finger. “What, ho!’ exclaimed Buckhart. cles! Is it the ghost of Cap’n Jubal?” The masked chap paid no attention to Brad. “Ted Smart!” he called. “Oh, you don’t mean me?” said the little fellow, skipping out into view. “I didn’t do it! Pirates are not in my line.” Bet the finger of the unknown was ieveled at Ted, and Ize said: “Yow must also be prepared, for the fatal hour is near. Behold the signal of our mystic order.” Again he drew those strange imaginary figures in the air with his index finger. “Dot it again,” urged Ted, with a twist of his com- ical face. “I didn’t qtiite catch you that time.” “Beware and remember,” said the masked chap, starting to back out of the door. “Hold on,” wouldn’t mind taking a look at your face, sir.” urged Savage, moving forward. “We He was on the point of trying to strip off the mask, but like a flash, the fellow drew his cutlass and pre- sented it, point first, at Joe’s breast. The suddenness with which Savage stopped and staggered back caused the most of those present to laugh outright. “You don’t mind a little thing like that, do you, “Oh, no, not at all!” “Look out, fellow!” snarled Savage. Joe?” chuckled Smart. “You might have hurt me with that thing! it, “Had you done so, it would have been your TI nearly ran against fault. You sought to lay violent hands oe a mes- senger of the mystic order.” He was at the door now, and, with a sudden move, 2 he dodged out, closing the door behind him. A moment the boys in that room stood avi, a “Great barna- then Buckhart made a leap, tore the door open and looked out into the corridor. Don Kent had his hand lifted to open the door from the outside, the Texan opened it from the inside, and they were face to face, Kent looking. somewhat surprised by Brad’s sudden appearance. “Where did he go?” asked Buckhart. “Who?” “Fellow with the mask on.” questioned Kent. “Didn't see him.” “Didn't?” “No.” “You must have seen him, Mr. Kent!” Buckhart. minute. exclaimed “He dodged out of this door just this You couldn’t have failed to see him.” “Pardon me, sir!’ exclaimed Kent, stiffly, showing symptoms of anger atonce. “I tell you 1 did not see any such perso’ come from this room, Do you mean to dispute omy word, plebe? ie OP “No, but “Then close up and refrain from back talk. Is \ Merriwell in?” | That settled Buckhart, but still he did not believe it possible the masked fellow had escaped along the corridor before he could be seen by Kent, who must have been near at hand when the unknown dodged out of Merriwell’s room. However, it would not do to insist on this with a yearling, as he was certain to get himself into no end of trouble by doing so, and Brad let it drop at once. Kent came in and shook hands with Dick, who was being chaffed by some of the others in the room about the visit of the fellow wearing the mask. - “What’s that?” questioned Don, shoxving interest. “What did he say and do?” ) He was told, whereupon he declared: “Merriwell, you're in luck.” “In luck ?” laughed Dick. “How?” “Why, don’ t you know the Meaning of that piece of business ? ee “No.” “Well, it was a notification that you are: been chosen t to yerce * “member st er tally: Dogs. of § Rage TIP TOP Fardale, and that some time within twenty-four hours you are to be initiated. You were warned to keep yourself in readiness.” Now, the Jolly Dogs were made up from members of the plebe class who had shown themselves desira- ble. It was really a plebe society at the academy, although it held over into the second year, and it was reckoned as the stepping-stone to other and more dignified societies at the academy. set of fel- lows, and they had a way of making it very warm and To be sure, the Jolly Dogs were a lively interesting for the incoming plebe class each year. Some of their pranks had created no end of stir at the academy in the past, but still the order held to- gether, all efforts to disband it having proved un- availing, and each year plebes regarded it as a great honor to be chosen as members. Dick had encountered the Jolly Dogs early in his career at the academy, and it was said that he was about the only chap who ever got the best of them in a single round and was left unmolested thereafter. For in the affair at the old lime kiln Dick had thor- oughly bested the Five Fiends and the onlooking band of disguised Jolly Dogs. Young Merriwell’s career at the academy had made him a marked boy, and, but for his failure to submit to the hazing of the Five Fiends, it would have seemed certain to every one that the Jolly Dogs must choose him for election to their society. - But there were those who had freely predicted the passing over of Merriwell by the Jolly Dogs, which seemed likely to end his aspirations, if he entertained any, for social advancement while at the academy. In few cases did cadets obtain admission into the second and first year societies after being passed over by the riotous Jolly Dogs. aS \ > ‘ Dick, however, had not been passed over, as Kent now informed him. He had been elected to mem- bership, and the coming of the grotesquely disguised lad to his room was for the purpose of notifying him ° j ie be ready for the ordeal of initiation. ~ When he heard Kent tell Dick oes Ted woes be- oa to — himself on 1 the head: WEEKLY. 3 “And I’m another!” he whispered; “for did he not single me out also! My goodness! what a nice, quiet, Sunday-school sort of a time we'll have when the Jolly Dogs run us through their coffee-grinder!” For it was said that the initiation ceremonies of the Jolly Dogs were of the order generally described by the one word, “fierce.” 3? “T congratulate you, Merriwell,” said Kent, grasp- ing Dick’s hand. “The honor conferred upon you is one of which you may well feel proud.” Others offered congratulations to both Dick and Ted. Savage and Hogan had remained in the room long enough to find out the real meaning of the appear- ance of the “masked pirate,” and then they departed, both feeling decidedly sore, for neither of them had been elected to the order of Jolly Dogs during their plebe year. CHAPTER IL FRIENDS: AND FOES. Jim Watson roomed with Dick, but in his heart he envied and hated young Merriwell, of whom, how- ever, he was very much afraid. Watson had long en- tertained an ambition to become a member of the Jolly Dogs, for he fancied that the fellows belonging to that society had great sport torturjng other fel- lows whom they disliked and whom they could select _ at will as their victims. Often he had imagined — himself a member of that society and thought how he would cause Merriwell to dance to a lively tune. And now, right before his eyes Dick was notified to make ready for initiation into thé society—Dick was chosen and he, Watson, was neglected! Watson’s small heart was overflowing with jealous — oh ame envy, but he forced himself, smiling hypocritically, to” offer congratulations to the youth he considered so. fortunate. : “I knew they couldn’t fail to take you in, Mein ; well; but I did think it possible you wouldn’ t care oR o become a er of such an organization.” es ‘ stress of circumstances, ~ do so. 6 “Did you really?’ smiled Dick. think that?’ “Why did you “Oh, you are so exclusive, you know. I fancied you'd think it beneath you.” said Dick. “Thanks!” “It’s plain, Watson, that you have made a mistake in sizing me up. Iam not at all the sort of a chap you seem to think I am, and I regard it as a great honor to be chosen for mem- bership in the Jolly Dogs, if I have been chosen.” Watson was simply one of the many fellows who did not understand the complex nature of young Merriwell, for Dick was a fellow all could not read like an open book. He was in no way an ordinary lad, and therefore most ordinary lads misunderstood him. Nota few very ordinary fellows took a strong dislike to him. And it seemed that the cheaper and . more ordinarv they were the greater became their J y g antipathy toward this fellow who was so utterly out of their comprehension. The open, jolly, laughing, honest chap wins friends quickly and makes many of them; but it is the quiet fellow, who is not understood in a moment and whose amazingly fine qualities are brought out only by -who makes such friends as stick by him always through thick and thin and stand ready to lay down their lives for him, if necessary. Dick Merriwell was of this latter class. He was a boy who, having won a friend, could keep him always. He did not thake friends rapidly, but since coming to Fardale he had bound to his soul with hoops of steel one comrade whom time nor fate could not change— Brad Buckhart, the Texan. That was not all. He had wrought in Hal Darrell a remarkable change, although he had not tried to. Darrell had hated Dick most intensely, but the positive manhood of young Merriwell had finally overcome that hatred so that Darrell, in downright shame, had.been compelled to put aside all antipathy and call a truce. Who could say that time would not make Darrell _ another of Dick’s undying friends? _ ehere were Ener who had appreciated Dick in a ‘ Scudder and their ilk. TIP TOP WEEKLY. way from the first, even though he had not sought their appreciation or friendship. Hugh Douglass, the plain, quiet, steady-going country lad, was one of them, while Ted Smart, the chattering, buoyant, _And Bob Single- ton, although a yearling, had a warm place in his frivolous little plebe, was another. heart for the boy who had demonstrated in Chad- wick’s pasture that big Bob was no longer the king- pin of Fardale in the manly art of sparring and ‘self- defense. Dick had not the least desire to be regarded with admiration or friendship by fellows like Watson, In short, he preferred that they keep away from him and let him quite alone. Dick Merriwell was not perfect—far from it! In every one the good and bad mingles, and it must be confessed that young Merriwell had faults and could make mistakes. He knew this as well as anybody, and it is a fact that he often thought himself far worse than he really was. And he wondered that his brother Frank had taken so much interest in him and had borne with patience so much from him. At times Dick longed to become like Frank, but generally he feared this was quite beyond his ability. , In his eyes Frank was as near perfect as a human be- ing could- become; but it did not seem possible that Frank had ever known the temptations and trials and weaknesses of the general run of boys. Dick did not know that Frank: regarded him with no small amount of amazement, wondering at his un- yielding determination and superb athletic powers, only fearing that the boy might form a too-high opin- ion of his own ability and thus be harmed by that disease called most unfortunate generally the “swelled head.” For there were reasons why Dick should entertain an exalted opinion of himself. football field had caused hundreds of madly- -excited — spectators to. roar his name and had brought his friends thronging round him to lift him aloft and bear their shoulders. In other him triumphantly on Eee he had tee aay successful and seen ex: s ; Mel His feats upon the » a 6 Sa eR ES gs pal Sn aE ee EE acento - - 4 a here. Se CRESS 53 sata Sn era TIP TOP alted and admired; but, to his unbounded credit, be it said that he continued to conduct himself with the same quiet modesty and dignity that had made him a marked lad when he first entered the school. In the eyés of not a few this modesty had seemed like pride and cold reserve, but time had shown the discerning their mistake. Not that Dick did not pos- sess pride in the extreme, but he was not haughty, and he was not a cad or a snob. It made no differ- ence to him that somebody’s father was very wealthy and moved in the best society; if this somebody did not seem worthy from his own personal qualifications Dick wanted nothing of him. It made no difference that another came froma family with a pedigree run- ning back to Plymouth Rock, or to a castle over the ocean; if this other was not a manly youth and de- serving of friendship, Dick passed him by. Heraldry and crests and riches were ignored by him. But the unknown chap with a poor, hard-working father, who was striving for an education and was bound to. make something of himself if possible ap- pealed to Dick at once. Douglass was one of these, and ever Dick had stood ready to help Hugh in any emergency. More than once he had suggested and hinted that he might be of assistance to Hugh; but Douglass had replied with a shake of the head and an expressed desire to pull through of his own accord. Dick admired Hugh Douglass, for he saw the fel- low was one who won nothing save by determined -and persistent effort. He was not quick or brilliant at anything, and it was necessary for hint to keep plugging constantly in order to hold his own in the school. | Watson was a chap who managed to get along somehow without much work, and he thought him- self clever. He had believed on entering the school that he was destined to become popular, and it had galled him to see young Merriwell rise into friendly relations with boys of the higher classes without "seeming to. try to advance himself. ‘Watson had ‘ined and failed. Pei ee ‘¥ And now Watson was sabre! because Dick had his chin... am not going to skin out. i ‘Merriwelt WEEKLY. 7 been chosen to become a member of the Jolly Dogs. He felt that this meant\ that Dick would advance steadily from year to year, until he was finally taken into Sword and Pen, the first class society of the school, to which all Fardale cadets aspired. Watson waited until many of the visitors departed, and then he offered Dick congratulations, his heart being filled with envy at the time. Brad Buckhart was another who had waited, and he, too, congratulated Dick; but his face was long, and he looked entirely wretched. “What's the matter, old man?” asked Dick. “You say you're glad, but you look sorry.” “Well, it’s ful glad for you, but I’m howling sorry I’m not going this way,” said the Texan; “I’m power-_ to be with you when they run you through the coffee- mill.” “lm sorry myself, Buckhart,” said Dick, sincerely. “T reckon I could ride their old goat all right,” rue- fully nodded.the Westerner. “I’ve straddled buck- ing bronchos, and no ordinary society goat can throw me. But I see it wasn’t my luck, and so I congrat- ulate you, and I hope this means that you make Sword and Pen dead sure before you leave Fardale.” Watson slipped out, turning over in his heart the ‘fecling of bitterness because of the fortune that had come to Merriwell. He descended the stairs and bastened from the building, thinking it necessary to get into the open air. | “just his confounded luck!” he muttered, and came near running heavily into another fellow as he uitered the words. 3 “Here! here!” snapped the other fellow, catching him by the shoulders and.stopping him. “What are you trying to do?” “Get out of ’ Watson's hand dropped, and hw _ stared at the other. “Scudder?” he exclaiméd. © “Why, I thought you were going to run away from © here? You told me you wouldn't be here when ze caine back after the holidays.” { “Changed my mind,” said Uric Seudder, rubbing ; 8 TIP TOP can stay, I guess I can all right, all right. He broke a rule when he gave me his paper to copy at exam- ination, and, of course, | made a mistake when I handed that paper in instead of my own. When I gave him back my paper he thought it was his, and turned it in. If it hadn’t been for his confounded luck he’d had to take his medicine without any glory, and I’d got my vacation. As it was, I came near get- ting expelled. Say, I’d been expelled if it hadn't been that old Gunn knew it would look mighty bad to fire me and only punish him by cutting off his va- cation. That was the only thing that saved me, even after I swore on my life that it was a mistake and that I never really intended to throw him down by pass- ing in his paper as my own.” “But all the fellows are down on you.” “Oh, I suppose so! Whatifthey are? I’m going to stay here and show em! And I'll show him, too!’ Scudder did not say what he would “show,” but Watson fully understood his meaning. “Don't suppose I ought to be seen here talking with you,” said Jim, glancing round. “I room with Merriweli, and I don’t want to get him down on me.” “Oh, you’re afraid of him?” Let’s “Well, he’s getting to be popular and get out of sight somewhere if we’re going to chin. Where can we go?” es “Back of the gym.” “Go ahead. I'll follow.” So Scudder led the way, feelittg that things had come to a desperate pass for him when even a fellow like Watson did not wish to be seen in his company. Scudder had brought it upon himself, but he blamed Dick Merriwell for all the misfortune that had befallen him. Back of the gym. he paused near the corner and faced about. . Watson came slipping round in a mo- ment. | 3 “I’m sorry for you, old fellow,” said Jim; “but really you see how I’m fixed. | Everybody knows you're Merriwell's enemy, while ['room with him. It wouldn’t do for us to excite suspicion. If any- 39 ‘ ie , thing should happen to Merriwell WEEKLY. “What can happen to him?’ exclaimed Scudder, with a gesture. “Nothing ever happens to that fel- low! If any one fired point-blank at him with the muzzle of the gun three feet from his heart some- thing would stop the bullet before it touched him!” “That's right,” agreed Watson. “And you ought to see how popular he is. You ought to have seen the gang that came crowding into his room just now.” * g “Why should I see it?’ “Everybody was trying to shake hands with him. And he’s had nfore luck. What do you think?” h, anything!” “He’s chosen.” “Chosen ?”’ “By the Jolly Dogs.” “No? Oh, say “Tt's dead right. He was notified in his room just a little while ago. That is, Kent said it was a notifi- cation. Now, what do you think of that?” Scudder expressed his feelings in a very violent manner, _ “T swore, too,” said Watson. “But we might have known he'd made it.” | “Why, he raised the dickens with them when they tried to have some fun with him. He got the best of them and made them look like thirty cents. They must have felt cheap. And now they’re going to make hima member! Oh, blazes!” ! “Tt made me sick,” said Watson... “I kad to stand up and pretend to be glad over his luck, but I was sore all the time. If there’s been anything I wanted bad since coming to school it has been to get into the Jolly Dogs. It’s dashed little show a fellow has of | making any of the recognized societies unless he is taken up by the Jolly Dogs. They are not a recog- nized society here, but they pull a strong oar, just the same.” : Scudder nodded. : “And Merriwell has been chosen? Well, we can’t help that. Of course, I know there was no chance for me, but that wouldn’t have been so bad if he had missed, too. Some feilows have refused to become scenes = TEES OR Se ~~ te eee con NOME RS ay a ieee : 3 : i i | J : a j } | } | ia i members of that society. If he’d refuse! I don’t suppose there is any chance of that.” “Yes, there is,” said a voice, and round the corner stepped Joe Savage and Sam Hogan, much to the surprise of Scudder and Watson. “You were talk- ing of Merriwell,” said Savage. “You expressed an opinion that there was no chance that he’d refuse to become a member of the Jolly Dogs. There is such a chance, and [ think we can make it a certainty. We need you fellows to help us in our little game. It'll never be known if we work the thing right, and there is not the least danger in the world. By my plan I am sure we can lead Dick Merriwell to re- fuse to be initiated into the order of Jolly Dogs.” Scudder had recovered from his startled surprise, and now he eagerly asked Savage to unfold his plan. “AML right,” said Joe. “Watch at the corner, Ho- gai, to make sure no one comes and catches us here. lf my plan fails to make him back out I'll eat my boots! However, even if it does fail, we can have no end of satisfaction out of it, and Mr. Dick Merriweill will look like the wreck of the Maine when we get through with him.” He then proceeded to unfold his plan. i CHAPTER. IV. LURED ENTO A MRAP. Dick Merriwell had been to the village and was. returning to the academy. It was dark, the sky be- ing overcast. “The strip of’ woods beyond the cem- etery looked grim and gloomy, while the white stones of the graveyard were ghostlike. Behind him sounded a long, peculiar whistle. Ahead of him, like an echo, sounded another. Dick stopped. | | “Now, what’s the meaning of that?” he asked him- self. “Seemed like signals. Well, I have prepared for trouble. I went to the village on purpose to se- cure a little arrangement that will enable me to have some fun with the Jolly Dogs while they are having fun with me.” He walked on again. TIP TOP WEEKLY. In a moment he stopped. Directly in the middle of the road stood a ghost- like figure. It seemed to be a form wrapped in a winding sheet. One of its long arms was lifted as Dick stopped, and a hollow, croaking voice said: “Advance, mortal! Draw nearer.” “You've got a bad cold, haven't you?” said Dick, immediately. ‘I advise you to take something for it. . Syrup of squills is good.” “Advance, mortal!” croaked the beckoning figure. “Thy hour has come!’ 5 ““Thy hour! Why don’t you say, ‘your hour?’ Why is it that spooks always say, ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ and ‘thy’ and such out-of-date stuff?” “Beware! Mock not at the dead!” ‘Not for the world!” said Dick, coolly. “But you haven’t answered my question.” “No; but come with me, oh mortal!” said the shadowy form. “Where?” inquired the boy. “To the tomb.” “No, thanks! I beg to be excused. I haven't any interest in tombs.” “Careful, rash. mortal! Offend not the dead!” “Don’t be so touchy!’ exclaimed Dick. ‘Explain your business with me.” : “Thou art wanted,”’ “You talk like a policeman. Why am I wanted?” “Because thou art chosen. Look behind thee.” Dick heard a slight noise behind him and turned - There is no escape. his head. Less than ten feet away were three figures in black, flowing robes, wearing hoods upon their heads. They stood there in grim silence, drawn up across the road. “Good-evening!’ exclaimed the boy. “Lovely evening for a stroll. Beautiful moon, if we could sée: ity > - The black figures lifted each an arm, seeming to point down the road beyond Dick. “March on!” they commanded. By this time Dick was satisfied that he had fallen ' / 19 TIP TOP into the hands of the Jolly Dogs, who had been wait- ing for him to give him the regular initiation. “All right,” he said. “But do you mind telling me just where we're going?” | ‘March on!” repeated the black trio. ' He turned and saw the white figure watching him, but immediately it started along the road. “Here goes,” thought the boy, and he followed. Soon they came to a road that turned off to the right, and this the figure in white took. “Follow,” commanded the three in black, who had kept at Dick’s heels. 3 “That’s not the way to the academy,” he said. “Follow,” repeated the three, waving their arms in the direction taken by the one in white. ST wonder if they thought they could frighten me any “What a farce!’ mentally exciaimed the lad. in such a silly manner.” He followed the one in white, striding along with- out hesitation; and in this manner they proceéded in silence for a long time, turning into yet another road and reaching a lonely section that was comparatively near Fardale. Dick wondered that they should come so far, but he knew he had been there before. When the figure in white finally turned from the highway and took a dim _ road that led across a field young Merriwell believed he knew whither they were bound. This road across the field must have been made by some one hauling wood from.a strip of timber, into which they soon plunged. It was quite dark in there, but stilleDick could see that white figure,striding on in advance. Beneath the feet of the silent ones the snow grated at times. The woods were deathly still. | ‘Finally they came out into a clearing, and in the | midst of that clearing they reached a huge, dark building. | Dick knew it was the Meadow Barn, where once - before he had been brought, and where the Jolly through a course of sprouts. 2 Dogs had descended on the gay plebes, taking young ‘Merriwell a.captive for the purpose of ante him WEEKLY, Dick turned the tables on his captors, making them seem and Before they had finished with him, and feel decidedly foolish. When some of the events of that night became generally known to the cadets at the academy it was freely prophesied that Merri- well had spoiled his chance of being taken into the society. But the Jolly Dogs youthful wonder of the school, and now there were had learned to respect’ the not a few of them who held that the society would be honored if Dick accepted membership in it. From some of the cracks in the old barn shone streaks of light. The door opened before the white- robed chap, and into the barn they all went. “Well, this is a fine place to take a fellow in the middle of the winter!” exclaimed Dick, looking around. “Is this where the Jolly Dogs hold their meeting's ?” “Be care- ful with thy tongue, or it may be torn from eS, “Silence !’’ commanded the one in white. mouth! if “ESSA All? be real rude!’ drawled Dick. “Really, that would Two old lanterns lighted the empty barn floor in a most unsatisfactory manner. He had expected to see a band of rollicking chaps gathered there, but be- yond the four who lad accompanied him to the spot there seemed no others. A sudden feeling of suspicion began to get hold of - the boy. Something seemed to tell him that things were not as they should be. He asked himself if he had not been«deceived and tricked. | “Are you ready to pass through the ordeal that | shall make you one of our royal order?” inquired one ae of the three in black. | “I’m ready for anything,” asserted Dick, grimly. “Then it will be necessary to gently bind thy hands behind thy back,” said another of the black trio, pro- ig It is Pt + + A a - 7% w # ag no oh wy ys9 ducing a stout piece of rope. . co calm. to submit without a murmur.’ ' “Hold on!” commanded ick: as they gathered about fy ALetes s talk this over a little” foe I TIP TOP “There is no time for talk!” exclaimed the one in white. “You must submit quietly.” “You seem to have dropped the ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ said Dick. you one of the Jolly Dogs?” “Ofcourse, We ce business, ” I believe I know you. Are are all members of the order.” Ts that so?” : “Of course. But we waste time. If you offer re- sistance it will be the worse for you. In order to be- come one of us you must submit without question and without murmur to whatever may befail you.” They closed in yet a bit nearer, but he flashed ‘his dark eyes on them, once more commanding them to wait. “How do I know you are Jolly Dogs?” he ques- tioned. “You may not be anything of the sort.” “Doubter! quietly we shall be compelled to use force.” Shame on you! If you do not submit In that moment Dick resolved that he would not submit until they had satisfied his doubts, and quickly he told them so. “At him!” shouted the one in white, springing for- ward, with outstretched hands. Dick simply grasped the white-robed chap by the wrists, and then something astonishing happened, for, with a yell of pain and amazement, the fellow leaped high in the air and fell flat on the floor. Like a. flash, One grappled about his body, but Merriwell grasped Dick turned on the ones in black. the lad’s hands with a sudden firm grip. Another scream rang through the barn, and the boy in black reeled backward as if struck by lightning, tripping in his flowing robe and also falling to the floor. The other two sought to seize the boy, but he sim- ply placed his hands upon them and they uttered wild cries, while they staggered as if before a great shock. “My goodness!” said Dicky “What an awful fuss you are making! Don’t yell like that. It’s shocking.” One of the four uttered a snarling ery and sprang up. “Down him!” he grated, fiercely. ois It was the fellow in white. “Soak him, fel- We've got him, and he can’t get away!” { lows! WEEKLY. 11 In a moment Dick was satisfied that everything was not right. He felt that he had been lured to that lonely spot for some purpose other than an initiation into the Society of Jolly Dogs. With a great leap, Dick seized the fellow in white and tore the hood from his head, exposing his face. “Joe Savage!” he exclaimed. “You're a fine mem- ber of the Jolly Dogs!” Then again he grasped the wrists of Savage, and Joe uttered a shriek, twisting and writhing until re- leased, when he fell to the floor a second time. Upon Dick’s back sprang one of the three in black, while another tripped him, and he was brought to his , knees. “Now we have him!’ they panted. CHAPTER V. THE STRUGGLE—THE BLOW—REMORSE, Dick Merriwell knew he had been trapped, and that these fellows were not members of the Jolly Dogs. the others. Savage was his enemy, and so, of course, were And they seemed to have him in a very bad scrape, for it appeared that they must get the best of him by sheer force of numbers. Dick, however, had not submitted to being bound, He had suspicious before they had been as they plainly anticipated that he might. detected something able to render him helpless in that manner. But the three in black cast themselves upon him and bore him to the floor. ie Then it seemed that they had him foul. 5 ‘But young Merriwell simply reached for their hands, and when he grasped them they uttered shouts of pain and began to thrash about wildly un- til he released them. Savage, looking white and shaken up, rose to his knees and stared at the writhing mass on the floor. As he looked he saw his friends seemingly hurled to the right and left by some strange force, although Dick Merriwell remained calm and appeared to eee no violent mov ements. 12 TIP TOP There was a mystery about it all, for Diek seemed possessed of a remarkable power that balked all the efforts of his enemies with perfect ease; and, having cast them aside by merely touching them, he rose to his feet. Savage had risen also, and he hesitated about at- tacking Dick again. Young Merriwell pointed at Joe. “You are the leader!” he said, coldly. “I have had dealings with you before, fellow, and I know you for just what you are. My first act toward you was one of friendship, and you have repaid me in treachery and hatred.” He took a step toward Joe who feil back, snarling: “Keep away! Don’t put your hands on me again. Merriwell!” He fumbled in his pocket and drew forth a clasp- knife, which he started to open, panting and shaking. Dick did not wait for him to get the blade of the knife open. With a swift leap and a clutch, Merriweil had the fellow by the wrists once more. “Drop it!’ he commanded. Joe twisted and writhed, cries of pain coming from his lips. He seemed .to have grasped the knife in a manner that made it impossible for him to let go. Of a sudden, Dick released the hand that held the knite, and Joe dropped it, straightening up for an instant. In a twinkling Joe’s wrist was grasped again, and again the fellow began to twist and writhe and utter cries of pain, while his face was contorted in a way that indicated distress. Dick Merriwell held fast and laughed into Joe’s face. “You don’t seem to like it,” he said. “What makes you squirm so! Stand still.” “Lul-lul-lul-let go!” gasped Joe. Down on his knees he dropped, and then Dick gave him a sidelong fling that stretched him on the floor. — | The others had recovered, but their experience : _with the boy they had thought to have so much sport _ with had made them hesitate. Thus it was that Dick WEEKLY. was not again attacked from behind. He was ready for them when they rushed at him once more, and he struck the first one a blow on the chin that knocked him down in a twinkling. The next one was seized by the wrists and easily pitched headlong to one side. Dick grappled with the third, and tore the hood from his head, exposing his face. “Sam Hogan!’ he exclaimed. “I knew you must be one of this little party of jokers. You ‘are a good mate for Savage!’ Hogan was furious. “You're a fool, Merriwell!’ he declared. “You don’t know enough to take a joke in a decent way!” “Oh, yes, Ido!” Dick laughed. “You are the ones who do not take the joke in the right spirit, for the joke is on you. Anda jolly old joke it is, isn’t it, Hogan! Why, you thought you had me fooled com- pletely!’ What fun you did mean to have with me after you got my hands tied! And what fun I’m hav- ing with you now that my hands are not tied! Oh, say! It must be you see the point of the joke, Sam!” Then he kicked Hogan's feet from beneath him, brought him over his hip with a twisting movement, and flung him almost half the length of the barn floor. “There are two other gentlemen here,” said Dick, “whom I'd like to see face to face. I have not yet had the pleasure of—— Hold on! Wait a bit!” at ‘ “a For one of the fellows had started to run away. Dick overtook him with a leap, catching him by the back of the neck and whirling him round. | The fellow struck at Dick, who parried the blow with ease. Then the headgear was ripped away and Scudder was exposed, | | “Another of my very good friends!” cried Dick, in ' Fi disgust. “Ugh! I don’t like to handle a snake!” , He released Uric, aif he felt repugnant to the touch. , | “T’m as good as you!” snarled Scudder, and he flew at Dick in a perfect burst of passion, striking blindly with his fists. gli quia , en - Dick was taken somewhat by surprise, and one of j _ pened before. TIP TOP Then he had the fel- low by the wrists, and Uric was twisting and writhing Scudder’s blows reached him. and groaning, as if suffering tortures. , “There is still another,” said young Merriwell, as he dropped Scudder in a shuddering heap and looked about for the third chap in black. He was just in time to see that one escaping by the door. “Go!” said Dick. how, you are a coward to desert your “Tl find you out in time. Any- Joe Savage had risen with a pitchfork in his hands. He saw his opportunity, and struck Dick down with a blow on the head, delivered with the handle of the fork. The stricken lad dropped heavily, and lay. quite still, stretched face downward on the floor. Savage stood over him, panting. “What have you done, Joe?” gasped Hogan, catch- ing the arm of the fellow with the fork. . “Fixed him!’ grated Joe, fiercely. “I’m afraid you have!’ muttered Hogan. “You struck him an awful blow.” “T intended to.” “Perhaps you have killed him!” “Oh, no—not that!” “Perhaps you have.” ‘Savage slowly dropped the fork to the floor, loo ing startled and terrified. , ” ‘he whispered. Uric Scudder laughed outright. “Well, it Nt ye NO great oe if you have!” he de- “T didn’t mean to kill him, clared. “But it’s SOR 1 murder!” palpitated Savage. know I didn’t hit him hard enough for that!” - 17? ‘Murder—no!” cried Scudder. “He was killed by accident while being hazed. Such things have hap- They have happened in colleges.” “But I haven't killed him—I know I haven’t,” is whispered Savage, dropping on his knees. ) Hogan was so frightened that he did not know . “what to do, but stood looking at Joe, his face. one ae er Ape WEEKLY. 13 Savage was shaking. He feltfor Dick’s pulse. “Oh, Lord!’ “What is it?” came huskily from Hogan. half-sobbed Joe. “I I swear I didn’t!” said Scudder, “He was attacking he gasped. “Tm afraid I’ve done it!’ didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to! “Of course you didn’t mean to,” getting Savage by the shoulder. us. It was self-defence!” “Self-defence ?”’ ay Oe “Self-defence! Four to his one, before Watson ran like a sneak and Why, we were three to his one! a coward!” “What of that?” “Why, we never could make a plea of self-defence under such conditions, I tell you it’s murder!” He gasped forth the last word painfully, plainly possessed by a fearful terror. In most instances Scudder had shown himself a craven, but now he was the coolest one of the trio. “We need make no plea of self-defence,” he said. “All we need do is fix up a good story and stick to it. \WVe were hazing him, and he was knocked out by ac- cident. It’s easy enough to stand by that, and. we’ll not be punished very much.” “It’s the ruin of us all!” groaned Hogan, who now knelt tremblingly opposite Savage; “It’s the end of our days at Fardale! It’s the end of everything!” He ripped open Dick’s clothes and began to feel for the beating of his heart. In the excitement of the moment the boys did not realize that it was not at all likely that Merriwell could be instantly killed by a blow from such an in- strument unless his skull had been crushed like an- eggshell. : They were nothing but boys, at most, and the sit- uation had driven reason and coolness from them. “I—lI can’t feel his heart!” mumbled Hogan. | Then he looked into the staring eyes of the fellow | kneeling on the opposite side of the prostrate. lad am, and they seemed to communicate their horror to each ie other. and add to it in that aaa 14 The light of the lanterns showed a sickly yellow cast on the faces of both. Their hands were shaking. Hogan took hold of Dick and turned him partly over. His face looked ghastly, and it caused the boys to utter gasps of dismay. “I believe yéu have killed him for sure, Savage!” muttered Hogan. “What made you hit him with that thing?” “What made me do it? I didn’t know what I was doing—I swear I didn’t! I was so excited.” Then he stopped short and stared from Hogan to Scudder. Finally, he hoarsely asked: “Boys, what can we do?” ’ “There is only one thing for us to do,” declared Uric. story we mean to stick to.” “We must catch Watson and decide on the “We must tell the truth!” exclaimed Hogan. “The truth!’ groaned Savage. “Do you know what that means to me?” | “I know what it means to all of us,” said Sam, des- perately. . “But I’m the one who struck him!” “You are no worse than the rest of us. Didn’t any of us mean to hurt him much.” “But we did mean to hurt him,” asserted Joe. “We | were going to humiliate him! We were going to make him squeal and beg. We can’t deny that.” “What of it?’ broke in Scudder. “We're not the first who have tried to make him squeal and beg!” Savage rose suddeniy. “No, we’re not the first!” he cried; “but we suc- ceeded no better than the others! We did not make him squeal! It’s not in the Merriwell blood to squeal! We might have known it We were fools—fools to think we could make that boy beg! And I am the biggest fool of all, for I knew he was like stone! I q7) knew he had the heart of a lion! ) “Don’t rave, old man—don’t Scudder put a hand on Savage’s arm, but Joe flung it off, with a snarl. “Don’t touch me, fellow!” he almost screamed. } _ “Don’t touch me, you dog! You’re a sneak and a TIP TOP WEEKLY. coward! Why, you were his roommate once, and you turned against him! It would have been bad enough had you been merely his classmate, but you were his roommate.” “Bah!” retorted Scudder. ‘‘What of that? What: How did he treat me? self better than I! if I was? He thought him- He never treated me like a friend!” “By heaven! He treated you better than you de- served!” burst with terrible scorn from the lips of Savage. ‘You were a sneak, and he knew it, for he read you, just as he had a way of reading us all and sizing us up. . Still, knowing you were a sneak, he treated you well as long as you did sot molest him! He trgated you better than you deserved after you started to plot against him and try to drag him down. He should have crushed you at the start. Never since you began to plot against him has your petty brain been free of schemes by which you hoped to humil- ate or humble him. Once he could have driven you in disgrace from Fardale, but he held his hand. How did you show your gratitude? By further plots—by more treachery! And then, when you had won his y y sympathy by your wretched lie about an invalid mother who would be heartbroken if you did not come home during the holidays, you again betrayed his trust in the matter of the examination papers! Oh, you pitiful thing! You vile, sneaking, crawling snake! One Merriwell is worth ten million such as you! A hair of his head is worth more than your whole body! But you must know that you’re de- spised By all Fardale! If you don’t know it, I tell you so now! The fellows despise you—the faculty despise you—all despise you! And you deserve it! You could never have been anything here after that last trick on Merriwell! Now, like the rest of us, you'll have to get out of school! Perhaps you'll go to jail with the rest of us!' That’s what you deserve!” Savage paused after this torrent of scorn and re- buke, his breast heaving, his whole body shaking. “Are you through?” asked Scudder, with a sneer. “Oh, I could tell you more; but I’m through.” TIP TOP And Why, you go on like a “I’m glad of that! You're very tiresome! you're ludicrous, Savage. stainless chap who never did a wrong in his life! You fire all that hot talk at me, and you're not mtich in Fardale yourself. I’ve had it hinted to me that Mer- riwell did you a good turn once on a time, yet you were one of the concoctors of this plot to make him Bah! one to strike him down—to kill him, perhaps!” squeal! But, more than that, you were the Joe staggered a bit, and put a hand over his eyes. “Oh, it’s true!’ he groaned, hoarsely—“‘it’s true!” “Of course, it’s true!’ nodded Uric. “T’m a wretch, also!” whispered the shaken fellow. “T know it! I deserve no sympathy—I deserve pun- ishment! I'll get it, too!” Then he dropped beside Dick, wildly feeling for the beating of the boy’s heart, choking, mumbling, pray- ing. | : “Tt’s still!’ he moaned. ‘It does not beat! He’s dead!” He clutched the stricken lad and shook him. “Dick!”, he cried, ‘‘Dick Merriwell! Dick! Dick, open your eyes!” Wake up, He looked imploringly into Dick’s face, but there was not even the flutter of an eyelid. “Dick, I didn’t mean to do it!” panted Joe. “Oh, I swear I didn’t! I knew you were unconquerable, and that made me mad! I was crazy, Dick! And now see what I have done—see what I have done!” He looked up at Hogan, who was on the verge of tears. | i “Hogan,” he said, “I’d give my life if I hadn’t done it!” | “Don’t be a fool!’ came from Scudder. “You'll think differently about it to-morrow.” But Savage paid no attention to him. Again he stared imploringly at Dick, but suddenly, as if all the horrible truth had come to him at last, he started ‘back, screaming: “Ah! He’s dead—dead! Merriwell—Dick Merti- well! I killed. him—lI, a cheat, a card cheat! He did ue something for me once—something my best friend . WEEKLY. 15 would not have done! He tried to save me from my- self by bringing back those marked cards! He gave them to me, and I burned them! They were the proof against me! He did it that I might start over and be honest! But I couldn’t get out of the old He me. Then I swore I’d make him sorry! And it’s ways! I played again, and I cheated! xposed come to this—to this!” He got up once more, his legs shaking and threat- ening to let him fall. “Come,” said Scudder. “T struck him down!” said Savage, in:a low, husky tone. “I, the cheat, struck Dick Merriwell down in a cowardly manner! I.struck him from behind! Pll give myself up—lI’ll tell all, all—everything! I hope they'll hang me. It'll be what I deserve. Ill ask them to hang me!’ “For God’s sake!’ gasped Hogan, getting hold of Joe’s arm. “Are you stark crazy?” “T’ll do it!’ asserted Savage, grimly., Scudder whispered in Hogan’s ear: “We must get him out of here.” “But—but—him ?” questioned Sam, with a motion toward the prostrate body. “We can do nothing. We'll have to let him be. We must overtake Watson. We've got to find Wat- | son and keep him from saying a word till we agree on a story.” “That’s right,” Hogan nodded. “It’s the only way,” said Scudder. “Savage’ll be all right after he gets over the shock. Come on.” “Come, Joe,’ said Sam, starting to urge the other away. “Where?” asked Joe, huskily. “We must find Watson. Savage, in a dazed condition, permitted Hogan to Come on.” lead him out of the barn. CHAPTER VI. fT) E BURNING BARN. - Scudder. lingered behind a little, but soon came. : iia out and joined them. — “Why did you hang back ?” asked Hogan. ge 16 TIP TOP “Oh, I thought he’d go better with you alone. He's sore on me now.” Toe’s head was hanging, and he did not seem to pay much attention to either of them. “Take hold of him,” directed Sam. like a drunk. He can hardly stand.” But when Scudder offered to take one of Joe’s arms, the fellow suddenly seemed to realize it, and he drew away, grating: “He webbles “Let me alone!” “All right,” said Uric, falling back and shifting again to the side Hogan was on. “We must find Watson,” he whispered in Sam’s ear. “I wonder where the fellow went.’ “Perhaps he scooted for the academy.” “Fool!” exclaimed Scudder, But at one period in the struggle Uric himseli had {lt like taking to his heels. The mysterious power of Dick Merriwell, who had seemed able to hurl his antagonists right and left by touching them, and had thrown them into convulsions by grasping their wrists, had seemed supernatural to Scudder. Always about Dick there had seemed something far out of the ordinary in his ability to overcome his enemies in personal encounters ; but never had he dis- played such amazing powers as on this eventfui and tragic night. But neither Hogan nor Scudder was thinking of this now. The tragedy had driven everything else from their minds. “Let's hurry,” said Uric, looking ovet his shoulder. “Can't hurry any faster than we are. Savage won't walk faster.” “| killed him!’ muttered Savage. Again Uric looked back, and then he seemed to push on for a moment, as if to leave the others be- hind. But he quickly seemed to change his mind, falling back with them. Ahead was the dark line of the woods. The clouds still hung so thickly overhead that the night was dark and gloomy. There seemed a raw chilliness in the air, and Scudder shivered. “TI hope we find that fool Watson!” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t he wait?” “T killed him!” muttered Savage. - “Thatsmakes me tired!” snapped Uric. “It was an accident. What if he keeps on insisting-—— is “He won't,” said Hogan. “He mustn’t!” said Scudder. “He'll ruin himself WEEKLY. —and us! I don’t care so much about him since he took a fancy to call me the names he qd, but f “He was crazy, then, but he called himself just as hard names.” “He can call himself what he likes, but I don’t fancy having him apply such names to me.” “He was excited. Youcan’t blame him. He didn’t mean to finish Merriwell.” “T killed him!’ came mechanically from the lips of Joe, who was being pulled along by Hogan. “What are we going to do if he keeps that.up?” questioned Scudder, again glancing over his shoul- der. “He must be brought to reason in some way.” They reached the edge of the woods. Suddenly up before them rose a dark form, that caused them to halt in a startled way. “Who’s that?” cried Hogan. “It—it’s me!” answered a husky voice. you talking, and I waited for you.” “Watson!” exclaimed Hogan. “Is that you, Jim?” asked Uric, stepping forward, cautiously. A earn Then Scudder came out boldly ee “Wel, what in thunder do you mean by running off like oA ?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you stand by us?’ “Stand? Stand before that fellow?’ exclaimed Watson. “Why, nothing human could stand before him!. He grasped my wrists and I felt-my joints be- ing wrenched asunder! I was helpless in his clutch, though I sought to break away. 1 felt shooting pains, while my legs and arms and very flesh seemed to draw up in knots! It was awful! Stand? W hy, who could stand before him! Where is he? What has become of him?” q “T killed him!” repeated Savage, hollowly. Watson gasped. | “What’s that?” he asked. “Don’t mind him,” said Uric. us like a fiend after you left. He meant to destroy us all. He was a perfect demon.” “Oh, he’s a. demon when he gets started !” agreed Watson. “And I have to room with him! If he had seen my face—think of it! When I engl ies I saw him exposing all of you——’ “You took to your ne was eae brave!’ - Scudder, retreating behind “T heard 99 . “Merriwell attacked said Hogan: “That iaamaeenen ae tacked you after I left, and ee ey “Come on,” urged Scudder. “Let’s get away from here.” “But where is he?” demanded Watson. ” “He at- “T killed him!” said Savage, in the same monoto- nous manner. “He’s back there,” said Scudder. “Not dead—not dead?” jealpitated Watson. “Why, how - “It was an accident!” explained Uric, “nothing but an accident. No time to explain everything here. Come on.” “Oh, Lord!” breathed Watson, cravenly. “Killed Dick Merriwell? Why, it’s dreadful!” “Of course, it is,’ agreed Hogan; “but, just as Scudder says, it was an accident. Joe did not mean to kill him when he struck the fellow with ‘ “T killed him!” In the same mechanical way Savage uttered the words. Scudder shrugged his shoulders.” “Tf we had not been with him,” he said, “that fel- low might tell his story to any one he cared to, for all of me. But he’s got to quit that business! He’s got to be reasonable. The safety of every one of us is involved, and he’s got to stand by us.” As he spoke, he looked back toward the barn in am anxious way, then gave a start. “Come on,” he again urged. “We can talk the matter, over as we go along.” “Merriwell dead?” muttered Watson, as if unable to believe it. “Oh, say, fellows! you must be fool- ing! I know you're joking!” “Wish we were,” muttered Hogan. “It’s no joke. Joe hit him over the head with the handle of a pitch- fork, and . | “TY killed him!” came once more from the lips of Savage, who seemed to be under a spell. “Dreadful!’’ exclaimed Watson., “Are you sure? Perhaps ; He stopped short, his face turned in the direction of the old barn. . “Come! come! come!” broke from Scudder. “‘Let’s hustle along!” “What's that?” cried Watson, flinging up his arm and pointing. “A—a light! No—it’s—by Heaven! it’s fire! The old barn is afire!” They all turned, and in the center of the clearing, through the cracks of the old barn, they saw a red h TIP TOP WEEKLY. 17 glow, that grew brighter and brighter with each pass- ing moment. Soon the outlines of the barn could be seen, with every crack a gleaming line of red. Sam Hogan groaned. “My Lord!” he breathed. “It is afire—it is!” “That’s right!” exclaimed Scudder. “One of those old lanterns must have exploded. The old barn’s all ablaze!” | “The barn afire!” came from Hogan. “Why—why, he’s in there—Merriwell’s in there!’ “He is!” shouted Savage. “He’s there—burning up! Tl get him out!” With a leap, he was away, running toward the barn! “Stop him!” cried Scudder. “Stop him!” screamed Hogan. But neither was quick enough. “We must stop him!” Hogan declared. “Perhaps he’ll rush right in there. He may be burned to death!” He started on the run after Savage. “Might rush in there!’ said Scudder, as if struck by a thought. “Let him rush! Let him go! That will silence him!” “But he’ll be burned to death!” palpitated Watson. “He must be stopped!’ “Of course, he must—of course!” agreed Uric. “Hogan will catch him—he’ll stop him!” “Perhaps he can’t! Oh, what a night! We were fools, Uric, to have anything to do with this scheme —fools!” “Nothing less,” nodded Uric. “Come on. We'll have to go back, and-see if Hogan catches Savage.” “Let’s run,” urged Watson, “let’s run.” So they ran, but all the time Scudder was think- ing it might be a good thing if Savage was not stopped—if he dashed into the burning barn, and did not come out. Uric reasoned that Joe was so over- come by remorse that he might betray them all and cause their undoing by the story he would tell. But for that, it was an easy thing—in Uric’s estimation— to arrang¢ a story they could stick to, and one that would let them off with nothing severer than an ex- amination and a reprimand for their folly in carrying the hazing of a fellow student to such an extent. And the fire—why, now they need not tell that Merriwell had been struck down by one of them. They could claim that he perished in the flames. The fellow’s brain was active with schemes of this 18 sort. He seemed to see, clear as crystal, a simple way out of the trouble, if Savage were led to rush into the fire and perish also. He almost laughed aloud as he ran along at the side of Watson. Both of them were still wearing their black robes, and once Watson tripped and fell. Scudder stopped to pick him ‘up, and Watson growled something about the robe, but they did not stop to slip the things off. _ As they came near the barn fire burst out through the roof, and they saw the whole structure from top to bottom was a mass of seething fire. “Tf Savage ever went in eahess he'll not come out,” said Scudder. But Hogan had overtaken Savage and stopped him just in time. He was compelled to struggle with his friend, who fought furiously to break away and rush into the burning barn. “He’s in there!’ cried Joe. “My God! he’s in there—burning! Let me go, Hogan—let me go!’ “No!” grated Sam, “no! It’s too late! The whole barn is a mass of flame!” “I don’t care! I will go!” “You shall not!’ “Twill! I will!” Savage tore the hands of his friend bse but. Hogan’ tripped him as he started | to rush into the burning barn. : Then Hagen flung himself on the back of his friend, pinning him to the ground. . “Vm not-going to see you commit suicide!’ he panted. “Oh, I struck fie down!” came from Joe. now he’s in there—burning up! For the love of heaven. let me get him out, Hogan—let me ‘get him OnE TC “What good would it do? No human being could ; a live i in there now.’ “Then let me die trying to get him out! Tt will “serve me right! Let me die a Hogan was horrified by the frenzy that possessed his companion, who continued to fight eto break _ away. ie Noeas long as I live and have Steere enough to hold you!” he gaspingly declared. . "He may not have been dead, Sam!’ groaned. Sav-. age. “We left him too quickly! | We were not sure. Oh, what ee we e were! ve eo not have ete swear I’d followed! you have done?” “And TIP TOP WEEKLY. him to a doctor! Oh, Sam, what have we done? Perhaps we left him to perish there in that fire!” The horror of this thought gave such a terrible ex- pression to the face of the repentant youth that ant dirs shuddered and turned his eyes away. “It’s frightful!” he muttered. “It’s awful!” “Awful!” cried Savage: “It’s fiendish! Do you think I can ever know another moment of peace? Never, never, never! Not as long as I live! Not till I stand on the scaffold! Not till the rope of the hangman encircles my neck!” “Oh, stop! stop!” begged Hogan. like that, Joe—don’t!’’ “That’s what I’m coming to, and it’s what I de- serve! I killed him!” . Then, with a sudden wrench and a burst of amaz- ing strength, he flung Hogan off and was on his feet in a twinkling. Straight toward the barn door he dashed. t “Got to stop him!’ palpitated Sam, as he shot after the crazed boy. Fortunately the door of the barn, which was smoking hot, did not yee at once to the fingers of Savage. Hogan pounced on his Wack like a panther, caught him up and fairly carried him away before Joe knew what was happening. “Fool!” cried Sam. “Don't talk “Tf you had gone in there I Thus you would have been murdering me, too! Aren’t you satisfied with what “Satisfied? Oh, yes! I have stained my hands with the blood of the finest fellow who ever lived! I have killed him, ty I should be pepes! aie ha! ha! ha!” The laughter of Savage was more Levertod than anything else, and Sam begged him to stop it. When Scudder and Watson came up, they were amazed to hear Joe laughing like that. “What makes him laugh?” asked Watson. “Laugh? Js he laughing?” exclaimed Uric. “T swear that’s the worst sounding laugh I ever heard ef “Here, you fellows!” called Hogan, seeing them. : “Come here, quick!” ear ns . _ They went over to him. | bi ae “Stay here,” he said. pi he gets. ae streak oe like that I want: you to help 1 me hold pai Rie aig mee ue “What! S fig matter # Bey a TIP TOr ju seaman 5k, pone he tt at ime “The fool is crazy to rush in there and pull Merri- well out. Think of it!’ “He’s gone daffy!” said Scudder. ‘‘What’s Merri- well good for now? What if he did get him out?” Savage turned his eyes on Uric, and there was a teerible light of accusation in them, before which the fellow could not help cowering a little. 4 1% ' 4 #3 1s 5 “What is he good for? His dead body is worth a thousand such as you—a thousand!” “Yah!’’ snarled Scudder. “Better go in there and get it, then! And I'll not try to stop you, either!” he added. “Stop that!’ commanded Hogan, fiercely. “What / is the matter with you? You mustn’t mind what he says—now.” “He picks me out!” returned Scudder. “He turns on me every time. I’m sick of it!” ¥ There came a crackling, creaking sound. The heat of the fire beat upon them. A shift in the wind : swirled the smoke around them. The clearing was filled with light, showing the dark winter woods all ; round. i Scudder coughed and choked. i “Let’s get back,” he said, and moved away. | Vv “Take hold,” said Hogan to Watson, and, with i i Savage between them, they also moved back. . f Savage let them lead him away, making no further ik attempts to rush into the flames. He seemed weak an and dull once more. ~ ee Scudder got hold of them as they emerged from the smoke. “Say, fellows!” he breathed; “we want to be hust- |. ling out of this!) And we'd better move lively !” “Why ?” “Why! You ought to know, Watson!” “You mean “Look at the light of this fire.” Well?’ ‘See how it shines against the clouds.” 2 A WV bat of it?” “Think how far it can be seen.” “That’s so.” “And it may bring somebody here to investigate.” “By Jove! you're right!” “Of course, I’m right! We want to get away be- fore we're seen here! We must!” “That’s right, Hogan,” said Watson, turning to Sam. “We must hustle out through the woods and - get away. If we’re found here——” WEEKLY. 19 “What of it?” muttered Savage. “We killed him?” “You did it!” said Scudder. ““Dén’t try to put it on us. None of us had a thought of doing such a thing.” “These rigs!’ exclaimed Hogan, beginning to strip his cheap robe off. ‘‘We must get rid of them!” Scudder tore his off in a twinkling, and told Wat- son to do the same. Savage made no move,. but Hogan took a knife and ripped the white robe from top to bottom, quickly getting it off. “T’ll take care of them!” exclaimed Scudder. “Give them to me! I'll take care of them.” They gave them over to him, and he soon found a long pole, on the end of which he placed the robes. Getting as close as possible to the barn, he poked the garments through an opening where the fire gleamed hotly. In that moment, without warning, the roof fell in, and the side of the barn near Scudder swayed out- ward, | Uttering a scream of fear, Uric dropped the pole and fled. None too soon. Down came the side of the barn with a crash, send- ing up a great shower of sparks, like a million twink- ling fireflies. And barely was Uric far enough away to escape being struck by the falling ruins. He came out white and shaking. “Did you see that?” he gasped. “I came near be- ing crushed under those burning timbers!” “Which would have been a good thing!” said Savage. Scudder whirled on him, his fist uplifted and clenched, as if to strike Joe. Hogan was between them like a flash, looking at Scudder, as he said: “If you had hit him, so help me, I’d thrown you into those burning ruins, you whelp!” Uric’s hand fell at his side. “Come, let’s get out of this!’ he said, turning away. CHAPTER VII. DECEIVING SAVAGE. Once they had started to leave the clearing they lost no time, for the fear was on them all—with the exception of Savage—that somebody would be at- 20 TIP TOP WEEKLY. tracted by the light of the fire and would see and recognize them. . Inte the woods they plunged, hurrying along the woodroad. “Our tracks!” said Hogan. “We'll leave “They won’t show much,” said Scudder. road has been used since the last storm.” “But they'll show.” “some,” “And anybody can tell we have been here. The burning of the vars will cause them to look for tracks.” “What if they find tracks?” “Why “How are they going to say who made them? They can’t prove it was us.” A short, harsh laugh came from Savage. “Don’t worry over that,” he advised. -‘“They’ll not have to do any detective work to find out.” “Eh?” gasped Hogan, looking through the dark- ness to catch a glimpse of the face of his friend, which showed plainly when they came out into a strip of road where the trees were not thick overhead, per- mitting ‘the clouds to reflect the glow from the de- stroyed barn. “T shall tell everything at once,’ shall not delay’ about it.” “The lunatic!’ muttered Scudder. “It is the only thing to do,” asserted Savage. “Why the only thing?” “Because it is the truth. No matter what lie you - might invent, the truth would come out at last. ‘Mur- der will out!” “But it’s no case of murder!” broke in Scudder. “It was an accident. We can prove it was an acci- dent.” “How?” “By our sworn statements, The back caught fire by accident. We all rushed out, supposing Merriwell would follow. He didn’t. We tried to get back to him, but the fire spread so rapidly that it was impos- sible. If there is a chance that we'll be traced through - these tracks, we can stick to that yarn. But I’m for denying all knowledge of it. How can they bring it home to us? There is no way. I tell you there is no way in the world! Who saw us come here? No one. Who saw us capture Merriwell? No one. If we get away without rane seen, we'll be fools to run and ae Vink beter it!” tracks !”’ “This ’ said Savage. “I ‘ounce himself as a ae do ee e Savage laughed hollowly. “The bigger the lie, the more certain it is to be found out. Ifa lie is told, the greater the punish- ment. But Ido not fear punishment! I desire it, for i deserve it!” “Well, there’s no reason why you should ruin all the rest of us just because you are determined to ruin yourself,” “The truth must be told!’ “What do you think of that, Hogan?” “We'd better talk this thing over, Joe,” said Sam. Perhaps it will be best to tell part of the truth.” “I shall tell everything !’’ “That fixes us!” said Uric. “We're done for— through the folly of that crazy fellow!” A change came over Joe again, and now he rushed forward, in panting haste, saying: ‘“T must lose no time—not a minute! an officer and give myself up!’ I must find Scudder got Hogan by the arm and hissed in his ears “He’s clean daffy! Can't way of knowing what he will tell. this night have made him crazy!’ “You're right,” said Sam, sadly. clean out of his head.”’ “Are we going to let him rush out and rave forth any sort ofa yarn? He'll make it look twice as black as it really is. He'll get us all into prison for life!” “What can we do?’ “He must be restrained.” . “How? You shan’t hurt him! He’s my friend!” “No need to hurt him.” “What can we do, then?’ ; “Take him somewhere and ae him till he gets straightened out and reasonable “Where ?’’ “There must be a place—the Dead Road Mill! That’s the very place!” Hogan hesitated. you see it? There is no The happenings of “T’m afraid he’s “It’s the most dismal old place in the whole country. We couldn’t keep him there long.” “Perhaps we may not have to. Peckpa a few hours wiil bring him round.” “If I thought so re “We may as well try it. him to his senses. gan, You don’t wish to-see him rush out and de- We'd better try to eck We'll be doing him a favor, Ho-| ICT yi < ‘ eae re pring mete i i rage arg PR ee “et AP A ete ig AP ‘ ¥ : it seem that the family had retired early. Fa place where the Dead Road led to the old mill. tracks: could, be nets * seen. ae had not. stopped TIP TOP “Heavens, no!” “Then be sensible—let’s take him to the old mill. There we can try to talk reason into him, and we may succeed.” ‘Perhaps we can't get him there not go. Perhaps he will How can we “If we have to carry him, we ought to get him to the mill. I think we can fool him by making him think we're taking some short cut to the village.” “Why to the village?” “Because he wishes to hurry authorities and give himself up.” “I hate to try the trick on him.” “But you will?” See By this time they came out of the woods and struck for the main road, which was soon reached. Watson had kept along with Savage, and Scudder came up with them now. “This way,” said Hogan. “No, this way,” said Savage, motioning in the op- posite direction. “Come on! Hurry!” “Where are you going?” asked Sam. wish to go to the academy ?” “Straight to the village!’ Straight to an officer!’ “Then come this way, and we'll take a cross road through the woods— a short cut.” Joe had no thought that his friend would deceive him, and so he was readily turned in the direction they wished him to go. Their great fear was that they would meet some one on the road. But they did not have to go far before they came to a seldom-used road that led into a piéce of woods, and this they took. Looking back, they saw the light had died out in straight to the but Hogan “Do you the sky until there was but a faint tinge of red on _ the clouds above the burned barn. They passed a house, but it was dark and quiet and lonely. No one was stirring about it, which made Probably they had not seen the fire at all. “Perhaps no one saw it,” said Scudder. No longer did they fear meeting men hastening to the fire, but they did not wish to be seen at all by any chance traveler along the road. They met no one, and finally they came to the That road had not been used of late, and they knew their WEEKLY. 21 to think much of this, and now, with Savage to hear, there was no chance to talk it over. But Savage seemed to have fallen into a trance once more. He scarcely heeded when they turned from the highway, climbed the fence and struck into the Dead Road, with the snow deep about their ankles. After a little, he halted and thickly said: 33 “Where are you going? I don’t know this “Short cut to the village,” assured Hogan, and he permitted them to urge him on. Finally they came close to the old mill, with the sound of the water rushing beneath it and splashing over the icy waterwheel. Not till they were about to enter the mill did Sav- age arouse himself again. “What’s this?” he asked. “The old mill,” 99 “We had to. “Where explained Hogan. come here for something.” “The old mill?” ~¥es;” ! “Why, I thought we were taking a short cut to the village. Why did we come here?” “We'll tell you pretty soon, Joe. Come on.” He let Hogan urge him into the mill and up a flight of stairs. Then an old lanip was found and lighted, throwing a sickly, yellow glow over their haggard faces. “Close that “Now we'll reason |” ordered Scudder. ‘ng Mr. Savage to door, Watson,” see if we can i CHAPTER VIII. AN ACT, OF MADNESS. Then Savage seemed to awaken. “Tricked!” he almost screamed. “Fooled! You lied to me! You, Hogan—my friend—you lied to me! Why did you bring me here? What’s your trick? What's your game? J’ll bet my life it is the planning of that miserable creature! I'll bet my life on it! I know it!” Pah He pointed a shaking finger at Scudder, who faced him as firmly as he could. : The light fell on the dust-covered sscbese of the old mill, and it showed an open trap, about four feet — square, in the center of the floor. Beyond the open- — ing all was dark, and down there the icy water of 22 TIP TOP WEEKLY. winter gurgled and splashed near the useless; moss- covered wheel that had once driven the mill. “Be calm, Joe,” urged Hogan. ‘We wish to talk with you—to reason with you.” “Tricked!”’ repeated Joe, his eyes glaring wildly. “What are you. going to try? You can’t frighten me! Don’t think you can do that! Iam not afraid of you all!” Hogan advanced and tried to place a hand sooth- ingly on the arm of the excited lad, but, with a snarl, Joe flung it off. “Keep away!’ he commanded, fiercely. “I can’t trust even you now! I can’t trust any one! Merri- well was the only fellow who could be trusted implic- itly, and [ killed him. He was the soul of honor, but the friends | have made are all deceitful and treacher- Stand off, Hogan—stand off!” He was working himself into a rage once more, and even Hogan was awed by him. “T am still your friend, Joe,” “Didn’t I keep you from throwing your life away by rushing into that fire?’ You know I did.” “That was no act of friendship!” “Wasn't it?” muttered Scudder. gone!” “That was no act of friendship!” repeated Savage. “If you had not held me, I might have perished in the fire. That would have ended it! I’d not be facing the gallows now! You might have told any story you liked, and I’d not;have contradicted you.” “That’s what I was thinking of,” said Uric, in Wat- son’s ear. “It would have been the very best thing. I was sorry when Hogan held him back.” Now, even Watson drew away from Scudder a bit, for the cold-bloodedness of the fellow was too much tor Jim. Scudder stepped over to Hogan, whispering in his ear: “Make him promise to keep still—make him prom- ise!” | “Whisper, you snake—whisper!”’ cried Joe. “What is your plan? Why have you brought me here? - Are you going to kill me in order to keep me quiet ?” “No thought of anything like that, old man,” as- sured Sam, in a soothing voice. ‘‘We came here to talk over the best plan of getting out of this very dis- agreeable scrape. If you have no desire to save yourself, Joe, you must know that we are not foolish ous! Sam protested. “I'd let you enough to wish to be punished for something we did not do.” “Ts that it? You want me to lie for you?’ “No. We want you to’ be quiet, and we think you'll agree to keep still after you have had time to cool down and think it over. That is why we have brought you here, o!d man.” “And you've got to agree to it!’ put in Scudder, harshly. “We are not going to’ be destroyed by you!” Savage looked at him steadily for a moment. “T have no sympathy for you,” he said; ‘‘but I’m sorry for Sam. We killed Merriwell, and Sam may have to take some of the punishment, even’ though I struck the blow.” “You are the only one to blame,” said Scudder: “But we'll get you out of it, if you'll be reasonable. If you had pulled Merriwell out of the fire his body would have betrayed us. But now that has been de- stroyed, what proof is there against us? That fire was a good thing for us—a mighty good thing!” Again Savage looked at Scudder as if seeking to read his very thoughts. Anda strange light came into his face. Step by step, slowly he advanced to- ward Uric. He lifted his hand and pointed into the startled eyes of the now shrinking fellow. Suddenly he shrieked: “You did it!” “Did what?” gasped Uric. “Why did you stay behind in that barn when we © left it? swer that—answer it! the barn?” “Nothing!” choked Scudder—‘nothing !” “Liar!” thundered Savage, straightening up and glaring. at Scudder—‘miserable liar!” 39 Why were you the last to come out? . An- What did you do after we lett “Tl swear-—— j “T know why you remained behind!” “Bah! you beef “You set the barn on fire, you dog! mained behind to do it! You cannot deny it!” Suddenly Scudder straightened up in brazen de- flance. “Well, what if I did?” he said. “What if I'set the barn afire? Wasn't it the best thing to do? That was the way to hide the evidence against us.” ; “Hear him!’ cried Savage. “He set the barn on fire! Perhaps Merriwell was not dead! Think of that! Perhaps he was burned to death in there! It , You re- } } : : i : 1. steerer nes OM I; is x ; i. { : b oe re ‘ { f pi he cr fi I, t f | ¢ it ae fi al gas t] Be Wy We ot ‘ Bret et hi ben EC a } is te} streamate init asian naa apne ee SN acne iia asia ae ace aageinamenst eect elie Behe a CO OLE OE oe poe st Be in his selreneapentr er ee = eo eee was a thousand times the superior of them all. TIP TOP may be that my blow did not kill him, after all! But, even if it did not, this wretch has fastened the crime of murder on us by burning the barn!” “Oh, you know he was dead!” exclaimed Scudder. “You are trying to shoulder it allon me now! But you can't make that work! I won't have it!” “Oh, you vile cur!” grated the furious fellow. Then, of a sudden, he leaped on Scudder, caught him by the throat, dragged him to the opening in the floor and, before the others could prevent, hurled him shrieking into the blackness below. splash ended the shriek. All was still, A great — CHAPTER EX, TB: DR AMD Ad TV Sy Dick Merriwell was not dead. He had been stunned by the blow Savage deliv- ered, and, for a little while, he was unconscious. When consciousness returned he heard Savage raving madly over him, and he lay still, with his eyes still closed, wondering at first just what it meant. When the wild words of Savage told him what had happened he resolved to keep up the deception yet a few moments more, thinking thus to punish the fel- lows, who were, as he understood, badly frightened. Then Savage got hold 6f him, shook him and begged him to ‘wake up.’’ Dick made no response. Savage felt for the beating of, Dick's, heart, but, intense terror and excitement, he felt:on the right side, instead of the left. Dick held his breath, and it was not. remarkable that no pulsation :of his heart was detected. . Then he heard Savage wildly denounce himself to the otliers, asserting that the lad he had struck down He heard Joe declare he would lose hho time in giving himself up to the authorities. Dick’s heart was filled with a feeling of satisfaction, for it seemed that this was deserved by the remorse- f.1 fellow, and still he remained quiet. t / Then Hogan and Scudder ur gos the repentant boy out of the birt But Scudder lingered behind, slipped back as. the _ others passed out, seized a lantern, smashed it, scat- a tering; the oil about, and proceeded to touch a. spatch to it, . As ‘the higee sprang’ ‘up gor this dastardly a. WEERLY. 23 Scudder cast one triumphant yet frightened glance at Merriwell and ran out of the doomed barn. The moment the fellow was gone Dick started to rise. The fire flared in his face, and there was still a rumbling and a pain in his head, but he got upon his feet quickly and hurried to the door. Opening the door, he peered out, but he could see nothing of his enemies. he-was out- In a twinkling side and the door was closed behind him. Dick lingered to watch the barn burn. “They will believe I burned with it,” he laughed, softly. “I can see where they meet with a very start ling surprise.” But he felt that Savage had been punished enough. The raving of the fellow had awakened sympathy in Dick’s heart, for he felt that Joe’s remorse was sin- cere. The fire within the barn was spreading. see it gleaming through the cracks. Dick retreated from the immediate vicinity of the old barn, and paused near some thick bushes that grew not far away in the clearing. Brighter and brighter gleamed the fast- -opreading fire within the barn, He could and smoke was pouring out through the roof, fising in a black pillar. “No more rackets in that old place for the boys!” thought Dick. “Scudder put an end to that busi- ness. He meant to burn me in there! I suppose that was his trick to cover what had hap- pened.” The dog! Soon he saw Savage come rushing back, saw Ho-.. | gan overtake and battle with him to keep him from plunging into the barn. He crouched by the bushes and watched the two, hearing the wild words of the crazed lad, which rang distinctly through the clear- ing. “He is in there—burning up!” “For the love of Heaven, struck him down! cried Savage. let me get him out! I He may not be dead! We were not sure! Oh, what fools we were! We were cow- ards! Perhaps we've left him to perish in that fire!” Then the struggle was renewed until Savage burst _free and rushed to the door, where Hogan overtook him and dragged him back. Again Savage raved, declaring he had stained his hands with the blood of the finest fellow who ever. — lived. and swearing he would par himself up to ty - hanged for it. cm hike he has. peceived fully poston punishment 24 muttered Dick. “He doesn’t deserve ; but those other fellows—I think they do. rst of the lot!” He saw them tear off their robes and thrust them into the fire with the aid of the pole. When the side of the barn nearly fell on Scudder he was ready but this night,’ any more Scudder—he is the wo to rush forward and try to rescue the fellow, Uric darted back in time. Then they went away, Hogan leading Savage, who had subsided into a dazed condition. “Well, this has been a night!” thought young Mer- riwell. “I did have some sport with them with the aid of that hidden dry battery and the gentle shocks I gave them. They didn’t know what ailed them when I gave them the current.” The secret of Dick's remarkable power was a small yet wonderfully strong battery carried hidden in one of his pockets. ‘This battery was the latest discov- ery of a great electrician, who had found a way to store electricity of sufficient voltage to paralyze a horse if applied to the animal, and yet the battery was a package that could be comfortably carried in a coat pocket. From the battery insulated wires ran aown the sleeves of Dick's coat to some pads hidden in the palms of his hands. When he grasped an- other person with both hands a circuit was formed, and the one grasped received such a terrible shock that he was rendered lelpless for the time being. Frank Merriwell had purchased one of these ar- - rangements and shown it to Dick. On the day he was chosen to become a member of the Jolly Dogs Dick resolved to have some sport with those who were to initiate him, and he obtained the battery and prepared for the initiation. When he fell into the hands of his four enemies he used the arrangement to good effect upon them. Dick followed them at a distance from the burning barn through the woods, along the road, and finally ‘to the old mill. While he was wondering what they were doing there, he heard sounds of an encounter within, fol- lowed by a shriek, broken short by a splash. y Remembering his own experience some weeks, be- fore, when he was sent down through the trap in the floor to plunge headlong and helpless into the water beneath the mill, he rushed round to the other side, where the stream came pouring out. He was in time to see a dark object brought whirl- ing out from beneath the mill. The stream carried it close to the shore, and he seized it and dragged it up the slippery bank, knowing it was a human being. Looking. close into the face of the half-unconscious fellow, Dick recognized him, and exclaimed: “Scudder L” . For a moment he. hesitated, then he lifted the fel- TIP TOP WEEKLY. low mill with him. — , Just as he reached the door, down the stairs came Hogan, Watson and Savage, the latter in advance. Watson carried in his hand the lighted lamp. The light of the lamp fell flaringly on Dick Mer- riwell and his dripping burden. Joe Savage uttered a shriek and reeled backward against Watson, who droped the lamp, which went out. “Hold on!” cried Dick, quickly. ‘Don’t be afraid of:me! I’m not dead! I’m here—alive! But we must do something for Scudder at once.” “Alive?” exclaimed Savage. “No! Impossible!” “You didn’t kill me,’ asserted Diek. “You stunned me for a little while, that’s all. I am all right, and I think you felt bad enough about it, so I hold no grudge. But Scudder is in a bad way. He mdy have striick a timber in falling. Take hold and let’s carry him upstairs.” “The barn burned “And I was outside it at the time’ that later. Get hold here, Hogan!” Although completely bewildered, Hogan obeyed, and they carried Scudder up in the darkness. Another lamp was found and lighted, and then Dick Merriweil kuelt beside Scudder and began to work over him. Savage came creeping nearer and nearer, staring at Dick in doubting amazement. He drew close be- hind Dick and touched him. Then he suddenly fell on his knees, covered his face with his hands and burst into “tears. “Thank God!” he sobbed. “I am not a murderer! Punish me, Merriwell! Do anything you will. I shall be happy, for I did not kill you!” - “T think you have had punishment enough,” said Dick. “And it’s possible he has, too,” nodding to- ward Seudder. He took off his own coat and wrapped it about Uric, whose hands he had rubbed vigorously. Scud- der came round after a time, but he did not seem to realize what had happened. He looked at Dick in bewilderment, muttering: “Who are you?) Why, I thought—— - Was it a dream? Who are your” “It’s Dick Merriwell!’’ exclaimed*Savage, his face still damp with tears. “And you—you, who tried to destroy him in the burning barn, owe your life to him !’’ ; And then he added: \ “IT owe him something more than life! I can ” began Savage. Vil explain all never square the debt !’’ THE END. The next number (305) will contain “Dick Merri- well’s Snowshoe Hunt; or, The Hidden Hut of Blue Mountain.” | . es in his arms and ran round to the door of the 4 Pe erent ae << SSeS acetic < a a Lazy jk 4 | NEW YORK, February 8, rgoz. Terms to Tip Top Weekly Mail Subscribers. (PostacEe FREE.) Single Copies or Back Numbers, Se. Each. SMONCHEs es asad vevekes's COG REY YOBTs 7.55 seas aceon ose caewe $2.52 42 MIONEHS: ise eee doves Seneca Sc. | 2 copies one year............6 4.0 GANGS. «ca clvatersisi veces ..$1.2 | leopy two years............. 4.8 How To SEND Mon®gy.—By pvst-office or express money ordé¢r, registered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your owm risk if gent by currency, coin, or postage stamps in -ordinary ter. oe: RecwIrTs.—Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper change ¢. number on your label. If not correct you have not been properly credited, and should let us know at once. STREBDT & SMITH’S TIP TOP WEEKLY, 2388 Willinm St., New York City. APPLAUSE. Having read a great part of your Weekly, and intending to get back numbers, I thought I would write these lines: Dick Merriwell is a dandy, As every reader knows ; He always is so handy, No matter where he goes. “The Maverick” has a temper, Yet has friends both tried and true; Our Dick will always be his friend, No matter what he’ll do. Bob Singleton was Dick’s enemy, And at all things tried to win; But now Bob is his friend indeed, - For Dick has shook hands with him. : Fardale will soon play basketball, And I am sure she’ll win \ If she but does the handsome thing, And puts Dick Merriwell in. Hoping to see this in print, I am, yours truly, Brooklyn, N. Y. WALTER MANASSE. The verses are very good, and will please all of Dick’s friends. As I have never written to the Applause Column of the Tip Top Weekly, I will endeavor to express a few words of grati- tude. I have read quite a number of your books. I must say that Dick is a great boy. Hal Darrell, Big Bob, Brad Buck- hart and a few others are the real articles. Wishing to see this in the next number, I remain a constant reader of Tip Top, Dick’s sincere friend, Baltimore, Md. Dick Merriwell’s admirers are welcome to our Applause Col- umn. Let us have the pleasure again. “ — ee I have just finished reading No. 208 of your grand Tip Top Weekly, and think it is one of Mr. Standish’s best issues. In looking over the Applause Column in this number I see that. an- other man by the name of Frank J. Mercer has joined G. McNeill in trying to run down our dear old friend, Bart Hodge. He certainly must have a crashed head. and cheeky nerve to write stich a letter as he has. Of course, Bart has his faults, but who hasn't? He has a hot temper, and it has at times got WEEKLY. 25 the best of him. but, after he has cooled down, he’ has always repented. This is my first letter to your Applause Department, although I have been a constant reader for nearly a_ year; but I could not help saying a few words in defense of Bartly Hodge. I am an ardent admirer of Frank, who is a fit model for every American youth. Dick, also, is a great favorite, and I think, will in time equal Frank in every way. . Wishing great success to Frank, Dick, Bart, Burt Standish and Street & Smith, I remain, a constant reader. Philadelphia, Pa. ALFreD HOoLLowAy. Well! well! Another of Bart's friends, and a wise Tip Top- \ per, for just read what he has to say about DICK MERRI- WELL. Tam going to write to tell you how much I like, the Tip Top Weekly. I have just finished reading “Frank’s Brassie Shot,” and I think that there are no better books published, either American or English. When I have read them myself I give them to my friends, and they all have the same good opinion of them. I have read a good many of them, and shall continue to do so as long as I can get them. I think that Bart is Frank's best friend, although a little hot-tempered. The queer. way in which Harry Rattleton twists his sentences affords much amuse- ment, and Jack Ready puts life into the book. I think Elsie is the girl for Frank, but Inza is also a very brave girl. Wishing Tip Top every success. _ Gro. Dary. Nhill, Victoria, Australia. Dear Tip Topper, you are very enthusiastic, but I must say you are a little behind the times. You want to catch up, and read the latest numbers of Tip Top—all about DICK MERRIWELL, Frank’s brother. They give all others cards and spades. -At the same time, when I realize that you are away out in that fine country, Australia, I want to congratulate you, and tell you to keep right on reading Tip Top. a It is my desire to write a few words in regard to “noble Bart.” As to those people that think he ought to be put out of the Flock, I would say: “Go ’way back and sit down.” Some fine day you will hear of G. W., McNeill employing a man to stretch his hat for him. It will be a great surprise to me if he does not take treatment for that “swelled” head of his. I think that R. J. H., from Fayetteville, N. C., is not capable of defending himself. He must be very weak-minded, for not being able to pick out a gentleman such as “Bart” is. I would like to meet “R. J. H.” and the Southern fire-eater for about thirty minutes each day, to use in place of my punching bag. I also wish to congratulate Miss Nettie Boyle, from Port Colborne, Ont., Can., on the noble way. she defends “Bart.” I hope to see Dick and Hal become friends, as Frank and “Bart” did. Will you please inform me if I can get the first 200 numbers of “Tip Top” at a special price, and what it will be? I beg to re- main, your truly, C. F. Hi-pesranpr. Hartford, Wis. Thank you. You can secure all back numbers of Tip Top by applying at Street & Smith’s, 238 William street, N. Y. City., at the uniform price of five cents per copy. 4 Of all of Frank’s friends, none has had so much to contend with as Bart Hodge. Brought up in the South; taught to despite the Northerners; possessed of an uncontrollable temper ; hot-headed:; given everything he wished; strong in his hatreds and friendships, is Hodge.’ Then all the more honor to him! When a boy has to fight such a nature as he possesses, he has no time for anything else. Fight on, Hodge! the battle, thanks to Frank, is almost won. Of all Frank’s flock, who among them is as ready to avenge his insults, pains and injuries as noble Bart Hodge? Who of all of them loves Frank as does Hodge? Hodge loved Elsie; so. did Frank. Hodge conquered his pas- sions and jealousies and spoke to Frank as a friend should, told him everything, and then let the best man win! But two good friends could not afford to be brought together in such a way, and for such a goal, and Mr. Standish caused Frank to turn to Inza—Inza who had a right to him, who would have made a6 Bart’s life a perfect. hell for him had she married him, for their natures wete flint and. steel. Elsie, true, trusting and weak, would glory in a nature such as Bart’s, and would soften it, for she would not quarrel with him, and he would have to love her for her trust in him. A man’s worst enemy, if brought toa sincere friendship with. him, is the best of friends. Frank loves Bart; then, ‘why. can’t» you accept, Frank’s judgment? Was he ever wrong? Does it concern you more,than Frank? Can't Frank think for himself? . Then quit meddling where you have no right. .Get out of this, with your dirty attempt to come between two life-friends. Let them alone, and give Bart credit for what he has done. Would you aid a fellow in his struggles for_the right? Or would you give him a push, cause him to despair, and go to the dogs? The latter is contemptible, and no honest, true fellow would. be guilty of the act.. Stop your mud- slinging and help a good man along, or keep on, and join the Chickering set where such peaple belotig. You will be accusing Bruce of somethifig next, and trying to do him dirt. I've thrown down the gatntlet for Hodge. Pick it up! Brooklyn, N. y CLARENCE FE. Mutrorp. Your defense of Bart is an exceptionally. clever one, and should settle once and for all the questions’ relating to his loy- alty to Frank, whether he should remain in Merry’s flock or ‘not, and his love for Elsie. We hope our readers and Bart's friends will be pleased at your very logical letter. I see a letter in the last page of No. 29t from John Leute, Jr., -of Dayton,’ O., arid I would like:to argue a little with him, and see if he really knows what he is talking about. He seems to think that Bart is more to the friends of the Tip Top than dear ‘old Merry~is. Can he tell me why Bart should marry Elsie when she has always known him (Frank) than Inza? Are we looking more to Bart’s happiness than Frank’s? Would Frank ever be as "happy with Inza as with Elsie? I think not, for he can never forget the trip that Inza took in the West with that little Princeton man. If Bart must marry, why did he not take Inza and leave pure Elsie to Frank, for two dishonorable people would surely get along better than one. Wishing the Tip Top all the success that it so richly deserves, I beg to remain, respectiully yours, Craupe W. Cain. Caldwell, Ohio. _ Bart’s enemies still pursue him, but his friends must still de- ' fend him, just as they always have. Not having seen’any letter of Applause to your Weekly from ‘this city for some time, I thought it time to write and tell you “how much I think of your Merriwells, especially Dick, I have ‘read all the numbers from when Frank first found Dick, and ' think they are grand. I am sorry that’ Dick has ‘Hal Darrell for an enemy, for I think a good deal of Hal. I also like Brad Buckhart and Teddy Smart, Bob Singleton, and all of the football team. /' I have. read all of your numbers of dale,” and am. sorry that the last one is printed, although I feel ‘your next numbers will ‘be of equal interest. Hoping that you will continue your fio ‘Top, I am, your faithful reader, , JOHN SCH WARTS. Burlington, Iowa. You hit it right on the head. DICK MERRIWELL and Dick’s friends are the best, brightest* and bravest boys that ever trav eled together. } | ee | 1 Having never seen any letters in the Applause Column from _ Putnam, I thought I would write and tell you my opinion of should tad it.. I am a girl, but I am sure I enjoy it a much as any boy does, I have been reading it for years, and’ would not want to be without it for anything. be, an- Elsie admirer, I am very sorry Frank did not choose vy her; of course, he knows best himself, but I must congratulate. Bart on his choice. I think Bart is the very best of Frank’s ‘nothing much, for every one has a temper. be epinjen:ae Biss: Sleays a Mpostay of J TIP TOP WEEKLY. ‘Dick fcnataeels at) Parsi" Tip Top. I think it is just splendid and every boy and girl . them. up. T-am, and always will . 2 _ friends. i his only fault is his quick temper I am sure that’s. I am of the same. . ce Pe in yack ee to Frank’s love affairs, also her thinking she would like to see Bruce marry Inza. I-thought of that long:ago. I think Dick is all right, and I hope that when he is going to settle down (which I hope will not.be for a good many years yet), he will marry, Doris instead of Felicia, his cousin. I think Hugi Douglass and Brad Buckhart are two of Dick’s best friends. I will close with best wishes to the author and publishers of Tip Top, from ' Minnie. McGarry. Putnam, Conn, We. like our. girl readers to send us their opinions as well as the boys. Let us‘hear from Putnam again. Having read the Weekly from No. 1 to date,.we.take the privilege of expressing our admiration for “the ideal publication” of the American youth. In regard to the Inza-Elsie question, we think it has been settled very satisfactorily. We would like to know what has become of ‘Jack Diamond and Hock Mason, who are our favorites. We would like to inform those Hodge-haters to “go and chase themselves” until they know a man when they see him. We long to see Hal and Dick become friends. If G. W. McNeill does not “cut out” his adverse criticism on Bart, we will: demand an open apology or satis- faction with ‘the “dukes.” We would. like to see another reunion between all the loyal “Sons of Eli,” including Hans and Ephraim. Three cheers for ‘the unbranded maverick-.of the Rio Pecos. Suffolk, Va. Bunk AnD BUNK. I like what you say about our good old Tip Top friends. Now, don’t fail to read about-DICK MERRIWELL. You will agree with me, such stories never were written before as DICK MER- RIWELL at Fardale. In looking over the Applause Column I noticed the letter from G. W. McNeill, and I thought I would write and express my . views. The ridiculous letter from the young scoundrel, saying Bart Hodge; the best ‘fellow of Merry’s Flock, should be dis- missed, so incensed me that. I would have taught Mr. Mc. a lesson if I had seen him. I agree with “Bob,” of Wilsonburg, W. Va., in everything he says. If Frank Mercer wants to help Ge W. McNeill, and if he interferes at any time in a dispute between “Bob” and’ the lunatic G, W. McNeill, I will give him a ripping such as he never had. And if I meet him I will promptly knock him down and make him take back what he said against Bart.’ With best wishés to Mr. Standish, Merry, Bart and my friend “Bob,” Iam, . ‘Tom. Philadelphia, . Pa. : The pugilistic tendency seems to’ be developed in some. of our readers to an alarming degree and, as we have said before, it is a blessing(?) that many miles are between the contestants. I Hive read nearly all the slates of Tip Top, sai site it is” the best weekly published. Looking over your Applause Colamn in No, 208 I see there is another would-be gentleman, by the name ‘of Frank J. Mercer, who wants Bart Hodge dropped from. the ‘Flock. I thought Bart’s friends had snowed under his enemies, “but I see there is another, so I thou ht I would take a hand in the fight. I agree with a friend of Bart's from South Holyoke, Tiger, Town, that G..W. McNeill should “go ’way back and sit down’—on a tack+and think that “F.