LARGEST WEEKLY CIRCULATION IN AMERICA ts 9 IDEAL PUBLICATION FOR THE AMERICAN YOUTH t Office by STREET & SMITH, 238 Will See aa © Pelee, Five Cone re FRANK THE Frank Merriweil leaped forward with hand outstretched, in an effort to save the man. Too late! Beneath Porfias del Norte’s feet the ledge crumbled, and with another cry of despair, the miserable wretch dropped from view. SS < eB = rl forthe , Ariérican Youth —- i727 SRY Issued Weekly. By Subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second Class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 2798 William St., N.Y. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1904, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. No. 441, NEW YORK, September 24, 1904. Price Five Cents. | FRANK MERRIWELL’S PROJECT; OR, sch fog THE MAN FROM MEXICO. By BURT L. STANDISH. CHAPTER I. A CAT ON THE DECK OF THE “SACHEM.” With Frank Merriwell’s party on board, Henry Crossgrove’s magnificent steam yacht, the Sachem, had finally dropped anchor in Camden Harbor on the coast of Maine. After Dick Merriwell’s victory in the Trolly League he and his triumphant companions of the Fairhaven team had been invited by Crossgrove to join Frank’s party on the Sachem. While the winners of the pen- nant in the Trolly League had accepted this invitation and were taken from Fairhaven by the handsome yacht of the steel magnate, on arriving at Camden Dick and Brad Buckhart were the only ones of the victorious nine who had not dropped off at other ports and departed for their various homes. The evening following the arrival of the yacht at Camden was a glorious one. A full moon shed its mellow light over the village that nestled at the foot of the mountains. The harbor was unrippled by a breath of air, and the mellow sweetness of passing summer lay over everything. During the day Frank and his friends had enjoyed a buckboard ride along the turnpike road, and, there- . fore, both Elsie and Inza were quite content to remain on the yacht that evening when Frank announced that he must go ashore for the purpose of mailing some let- ters. For a time the girls sat chatting in the moonlight, unapproached or interrupted by anyone. = “It doesn’t seem so very’ long since we were here — before, Inza,” said Elsie. “Do you remember all the strange thing's that happened then?’ Soh ok “TI can never forget them,” declared Inza, reaching out and grasping Elsie’s hand. “I can never forget your nobility and generosity, my dear friend. For my sake you tried to make Frank believe yourself shallow, fickle and false-hearted. You deceived me, but you couldn’t deceive him. He never lost confidence in you, Elsie.” “T don’t think we quite knew our own minds in those days, Inza,” declared Elsie. ‘We thought we did, but I am sure we didn’t. It’s all come right at last. There are no more jealousies, no more heart-burnings, and no more bitterness.” “Tt took us a long time to know each other, didn’t it, “But in one way you are dear?” murmured Inza. more fortunate than I.” “How’s that?” “Frank must go back to Mexico. It’s absolutely nec- essary, he says, to have a‘hand in the building of that railroad which will open up the country in which lies his San Pablo Mine. He has heard some things of late that make him uneasy. You know there’s always a chance for trouble over any large investment in Mexico. There are rumors that another syndicate _ wishes to build a railroad through exactly the same ter- _ritory and that powerful influence is being brought to bear on the Mexican Government by this rival concern. -I am almost sorry Frank has not sought a market for _ his Sonora Mine. Now that Bart has no mining inter- ests, he is at liberty to go into any business he chooses, and he may remain in the East.” _ “We have talked that over, Inza,” said Elsie. “AlI- | ready Bart has told me about this trouble Frank may have, and I have urged him to stand by Frank until it _ is settled. Instead of remaining in the East, Bart will ‘return to Mexico when Frank goes,” _ \“Oh, Elsie!” exclaimed Inza; “I know how keenly you must feel the sacrifice! You had planned some- thing entirely different, and now ie “And now I am ready to put my plans and hopes aside for a time. Bart knows how much he owes to Frank, and he is anxious to stand by him. If I were to ‘it, he would not go back to Mexico; but I have rged him to do so.’ “Just like you, Elsie!” declared Inza. “Frank may ot start for some time yet. He will have considerable york in New York with the capitalists who are going 0 a that railroad through. You know he has a WEEKLY. but Frank knows that country better than the engineers who made the survey. This he has demonstrated to the capitalists, and there’s to be a meeting in New York some time next week. It’s impossible to say how soon after that meeting he will be obliged to leave for Mexico.” > “Don’t you fear to have him go down there into that wild country, Inza?”’ “No I don’t fear,” was the immediate answer. “TI have absolute confidence in Frank.” “But the Mexicans are so treacherous. strike at an enemy’s back.” “That's true of a certain class of Mexicans, Elsie. There are several classes of people in Mexico, you know. For instance, there are the native Indians, then They often _the Creoles of Spanish descent or Mexican birth. Then there are the Spaniards born in Europe, and, finally, the half-breeds, or cross between the Mexicans and Indians. These half-breeds are the treacherous ones, Elsie. They are called Mestizos. They are the enemies to be watched and avoided.” “Do you believe, Inza, that they are really the most dangerous? Are they not in many cases the tools of others with more brains? Now you know there’s a person on board this yacht who can’t be a Mestizo, yet I am afraid of him. He is a Mexican, for he has said so.”’ | Inza laughed a little. “You mean Sefior Porfias del Norte. of Mr. Crossgrove.” | “T don’t care,” said Elsie. ‘I don’t like him. I’m afraid of him. I’m afraid of his smooth and snaky ways. I am afraid of his smile and his restless eyes.” “T am sure he is a fine-looking fellow in a way.” “In a way, perhaps,” admitted Elsie. “Some might call him fine-looking, and I have no doubt he considers himself very handsome.” ane “Yes, I think he does,” nodded Inza. “He has an way of rolling his eyes at one, and then that smile — which shows his Bones teeth—I am sure he practices : it before the mirror.’ “Hs vey strange, but I can’t pee to have nig? near me.” “It’s very strange, but somehow I juve taken = great interest in him. I fancy he has some underlying purpose in life, and I wonder what it is. I am con-— sumed by a desire to read his secret and sound the oe of him.” He’s a friend - “but excuse me! When much as you like,’’ said Elsie; he comes around I vanish.” “He’s a fine singer, and he plays beautifully on both e. the guitar and mandolin.” 4 3 . “T confess he’s a fine singer. Had I never seen him '} to talk with him, I should enjoy his singing; but now a & the very sound of his voice gives me a little shivery I feeling and I want to stop my ears.” “Why, I never dreamed you were such a prejudiced person, Elsie! You always see the good in everybody.” “That's right, and, therefore, something tells me that when I see the bad in a person that person must be very, very bad. Inza, I can’t help it, but in spite of the polish of Porfias del Norte, in spite of his politeness, his education, his entertaining manners, I feel that he is a snake, and a poisonous snake at that. _ “Of course, you may be right, Elsie,” said Inza; “but I have never regarded you as an acute student of human nature.” ce “Nor do I profess to be, f= Norte” | “I beg your pardon,” said a smooth, musical voice that made both girls start. “Are you speaking of me, ladies? I hope I don’t intrude.” but still Porfias del CHAPTER is SENOR PORFIAS DEL NORTE, _ Avslender, graceful man stepped forward with a soft footfall. He was dressed in light flannels and bowed politely, with his hat in one hand and a guitar in the other, as the two girls partly rose from their chairs. “I beg you not to be disturbed, ladies,” he said. “I _ was seeking a spot on deck where I might smoke and drum a little on my guitar when I happened to pass you. I fancy I heard my name spoken.” _ “Yes,” said Inza at once, ‘‘we were speaking of you, -Sefior del Norte. I don’t know just how it hap- _pened—perhaps it was caused by the moonlight, by the almost tropical calm and beauty of this night.” “Ah!” he said. “It is a beautiful night—a glorious night! ‘Never haye I dreamed that so far up here in the North they could have such nights. I am a child of the South, and to me the North has ever seemed ld, and sterile, and barren, and devoid of all that’s beautiful and attractive. I love beautiful things. I ost ents but darkness, TIP TOP- WEEKLY. oa 3 the flowers, the birds, the open air, the sunshire, ‘Somehow oe: eon t Tike : darkness. It oppresses me! It crowds me! In the moonlight I am happy, but let the moon go behind a cloud and I am heavy-hearted. At night I sleep always” with a light within reach of my hand. Strange, isn’t it P”’ “Strange!” exclaimed Elsie. “Yes, it is. I have known children and women who always slept with a light burning, but it’s a rare thing fora man. Isn’t it possible, sefior, that you have a reason for being afraid of the darkness?” “Possibly I have,” he admitted at once. “My father was murdered at midnight on a very dark night. My — mother heard the blows and tried to aid him. She — sprang to his assistance and grappled with his assail-_ ants. They beat her down. She was stricken uncon- — scious to the floor. When she recovered she struck a — light, and it fell on the dead body of my father, who had been stabbed nineteen distinct times. My mother never — forgot it. She told me of it scores of times. No won- — der I hate the darkness!’’ He gave a heavy sigh and then suddenly exclaimed: “A thousand pardons, ladies! I hope I’ve not dis- — turbed you by this little story. I should not have men- tioned it. It’s a grewsome thing, and I don’t like to think of it myself. Miss Bellwood led me into telling you about it.” ‘ “T am very interested,” declared Inza, immediately. “Why was your father murdered ?” i “It’s a very long story. I cannot tell you every- thing in connection with it now, but there were enemies _ who wished him out of the way. You know my familie . | has been connected with revolutions and government troubles ever since the days of Miguel Hidalgo; And I may add, by the way, that the blood of the Hidalgoes runs in my veins. I can trace my family back to Aneta — Hidalgo, the half sister of the famous priest who led the first insurrection against the provincial govern- | ment.” . “Your family history must be very interesting, sefior,” said Inza. “I should love to hear something of it.” et ’ “Perhaps you may some time, sefiorita,” he bowed “Just now it would give me pleasure to amuse you both with the guitar, if you don’t object.” “Not in the least,” Inza hastened to say. He drew up a-chair and sat down. ee “Wait a minute, he said. “How is the - There seems to be scarcely a breath. Still i think yor to leeward of me, to use a nautical term. I wi PiP TOP to the opposite side, as I wish to smoke a cigarette, to which I hope you have no objections.” He made the change and sat close at Inza’s right hand. Ina her, he was deftly rolling a cigarette. moment, having received permission from “It always interests me to watch an expert roll cigarette,” she laughed. It’s like magic.”’ “You should see a Mexican vaquero roll one,’ he said. “Some of them do it with one hand while riding at full gallop on the back of a horse.” He struck a match and lighted the cigarette, at which he puffed in a manner of absolute satisfaction and con- tent, at the same time continuing the conversation. 3) “They do it so cleverly. “Have you ever visited my country, sefiorita?” he asked, directing the question toward Inza. “Never yet,” she answered. “You have missed much,” he declared. “Old Mexico _ is the fairest land in all the world. The American who simply crosses the line and visits the northern part of _ Mexico comes away with a bad opinion of He sees deserts and a country that is both mountainous and arid. Besides that, in the north the Indians roam __restlessly and create much trouble. But let the visitor go as far south as the City of Mexico—let him go be- yond. Ah! the south of Mexico, it’s like paradise! _ The climate is perfect. Down there in many places the thermometer never reaches eighty by day and never sinks below sixty by night. ' It’s a land of peace and plenty. Ifa man is lazy, he need not lift his hand to work from one year’s end to another.” “You say it’s a land of peace and plenty,” laughed Inza. “Perhaps it’s a land of ey but I don’t think ‘it has always been a Jand of peace.” ei “By no means, sefiorita,’” he promptly confessed. “It tas been a land of many troubles. In recent years, however, under our good president, there has been great advancement. Sometimes when far from home I dream of it. I hear the songs of my country.” - He began strumming the guitar. The air was a ; soft, sweet one, and Inza listened, keenly pleased by it. _ Not so Elsie. She had been growing more and more _restless. Finally she leaned toward Inza, breathing in- a low tone these words: se | ; “He’s going to sing. I can’t stay here and listen. , a me, ee but I must g0 if he riety 5 every girl you meet is smitten on you. ee South differ from you of the North. WEEKLY. and quietly away. He sang in Spanish, his voice being remarkably clear and sympathetic. Understanding a ‘little Spanish, Inza soon divined that he was singing a love song. She saw him lean toward her and felt his dark eyes upon her. Anchored at various distances about them were other yachts, and to the girl it seemed that on board all these the people paused to listen. A small rowboat had been passing with clanking oars; but now the oars were si- lent and the boat was drifting, while its occupant sat perfectly still. Finally the song ended, and Del Norte remained quite motionless, still gazing at Inza with those deep, ~ dark eyes of his. She laughed with pleasure and clapped her hands softly. “Very fine, sefior,” singer. about.”’ - “Do you wish me to tell you?” he murmured. Suddenly she realized that they were on Cane cee ground. “TY think not,” she answered, quickly. more pleasure in guessing at its meaning.” “Sefiorita, as I sang that song I thought of you ae I thousands of miles away, far down in my own coun-— try. I have seen beautiful maidens in Mexico, but never one quite your equal—lInza!”’ ie Instantly she straightened up a little, and her voice | was cold and full of reproof as she said: oi “Sefior del Norte, only my most intimate fact. call i | me by my Christian name. We've not.yet known each — other a whole week.” “ she said. ‘You are a very fine a will have “T beg your pardon!’’ he exclaimed, with apparent — humbleness and regret. “The name slipped from my — lips before I knew what I was saying. It’s such: a) F beautiful name. You don’t know, but all alone by my- self I have repeated it over a hundred times. you can’t object if I keep saying it to myself—Inza! : Inza! Inza!”’ “T fear, sefior, that you are like most men—you fane: ished manners.’ aed “T accept the reproof, sefiorita. I presume I dese it, still I can’t repress my feelings. We people fr m You are abfe to hide ROH: onl emotions behind a placid ter But I confess I don’t know what it was all ¥ You will find Se TIP TOP WEEKLY. 8 Just as you live in houses to keep out the cold, you train eee to live in bodies that hide your real natures.” Inza laughed a little. : “You're indeed a clever talker, Sefor del Norte.” “Let me say a little more. Let me tell you that many times I have thought you should be one of my own blood. You are like my people in your dark eyes, your hair, your bearing, all save your cold exterior. Could you cast that off and be your true self—ah! what a wonderful change for the better! Something tells me your heart is not cold; something tells me it’s warm and impulsive.” “Let’s not talk of these things,” said Inza. “I don’t like it. I wish you would tell me more of yourself and your family, sefior. Do you know you have aroused my curiosity. ‘I confess: that.” “Then, at least,’ he laughed, “I am not wholly un- attractive and repulsive to you? Perhaps you will for- _ give. me if I have spoken too openly. I know you are engaged to Sefior Merriwell, and a splendid gentleman he is. 1 admire him very much. Like many progress- ive Americans, he is interested in business projects in _ my country. . Perhaps, sefiorita, you know a great deal about his plans?” - Del Norte uttered these words in a careless manner, but somehow Inza felt as if he were trying to pump hers 4 “Perhaps I do,” she answered. “He is soon to return to Mexico?” — ees, | “He has a mine in Eastern Sonora ?” That’ s right, Sefior del Norte.” _ “TI presume his title to the mine is a good one?’ “Without doubt. Frank seldom gets trapped. claimed the young fellow, who was one of the sort to We spot a horse every time if he had ever seen it before. — Bs “Yes; ” said Link, “‘this-is Mr. Herndon’s horse. t want you to ride back with me to the pasture where ! 1 exchanged horses, just for a joke, then drive the other back to Mossville.” 3 . | : aoe “I dunno—my folks expect me to get the cows.” Pore “Pll give you a dollar, Jim, and you'll have a slam- up good ride out of it,” pursued Link, who wanted to dats be in a position to enjoy the fun, without being the rele hunted hare. “But how’ll I get back home?” eae “Oh, if you'll take the horse where I say, they'll aula fetch you home again all right. Come, hurry up, or you'll lose your dollar !’”’ jae i “I suppose it won’t take more than an hour ?” drawled to be iJ ee “No, it won’t take that. This horse is a corker in to } Pe gor a ) Jim jumped into the buggy and Link followed. |, The latter did the driving back to the Herndon farm, Seles and they found Slocum’s bay feeding near the bars ) where Link had left it. ia There was no one in sight and the exchange of Pm | _ horses was soon made. ne Jim asked a good many questions, but Link an- | swered them all plausibly enough. ri he | Link had not the slightest idea that Jim would have i to drive all the way back to Mossville with Slocum’s hed | : nee. He palbslated that the constable would get another ie “team, and might arrive at the Six Corners in time to meet Jim. Just how he wold manage pes then, Link decided to leave to luck. _ They were soon back at Six Corners, and there, as ‘Link expected, he saw a team coming at a high x rate of meee along the Mossville Road. _ The dusk of evening was falling. to Sg The first glimpse of the advancing vehicle showed that it had two occupants. "Probably he has taken father along. Yes, I ica that’s father on the seat with him, Ae there will be nasty racket if they catch me now.’ ay nere reflections, it is needless to say, were not ut- a ‘Say, Jim, you. want: to get out ee this with the ‘se, and do it in a hurt ?: Constable Slocum i is com- THE ROVER BOY LIBRARY. | 15 like eating with you up to your eyes in trouble?” Bey and he’s after this vehicle, rough-shod. You drive down the Blanktown Road. ? ing yonder, I'll get out here. as if you’d forgotten something. “What in thunder!” Jim began. But Link was out of the carriage, the reins were in aa the hands of Jim, and Slocum’s team was looming tp e close at hand. “Go+-go—quick !” urged Link. He slapped the spirited horse sharply on the rump as he spoke. Jim had no time to consider, and his ideas were not especially swift at best. In a moment he was speeding down the Blanktown Road, but not until Constable Slocum had caught a glimpse of his own horse and recognized it. “Stop, you young rascal!” Link, meanwhile, had slipped into the thicket by the» yelled Slocum. roadside, and in time to see Slocum and his father go speeding by. y | Jim, with the other team, was already disappearing se in-a cloud of dust. . | “Tt’s a pity that I’ve got to miss seeing the race,” muttered Link. “But really, I feel as if I ought to be going home. Then if anybody should call to see father I could tell them that he was out on a horse trade with _ Sam Slocum.” | Link realized that he had had a rather close call, and for a few minutes the tingle of excitement had come very close to the pangs of anxiety. But now he cast off dull care, and, striking into a ee he made his way back homeward galloping trot, through the cool dusk of evening. He was feeling first-rate, except that he found him- self a little hungry. In less than an hour he was making his ae into the ‘ parsonage by the porch door. ei ioe “Link, you young rascal!” / It was the piping voice of Daddy Spellmier. “Tm glad iv s you, Daddy,” said Link. “Have you been to oe: pn $ “Been to supper !—do you suppose any of us fe 16 “Tt isn’t I that’s in the trouble just now. supper so | can go to bed. “What is it, Link?” “There's no telling when father I want my And mind this, Daddy!’ and Sam Slocum will get back. But if it is before morning, don’t you breathe a word that I’ve got home.” “But where—where are they, Link?” “IT left them driving toward Blanktown, chasing a young fellow that was running off with Slocum’s team. If they don’t you forget it.” “What do you mean, Link?” “Don’t ask me, Daddy. catch him there'll be something doing, and I’m going up to my room. You manage to get some grub up to me—a lot of cold chicken, some fresh rolls, and half a lemon pie. And— wait a bit, Daddy.” “Well, Link?” ““Where’s mother ?” “In her room, crying her eyes out, most likely, over her scapegrace of a boy!” The piping tones of Daddy Spellmier became tremu- lous with emotion. For just an instant Link Rover felt serious, too. But the next moment he was saying : “After I have gone to bed, Daddy, you go and tell mother that I’m all right.” “Shall I tell her you’ve got home ?” ““T don’t know. “What else?” “T know that ma will laugh when I tell her how I Yes, you may. And say, Daddy!’ | left Slocum and father going down the Blanktown road a-fluking !” “You'll be the death of your ma, Link!” “Don’t you worry, Daddy! Mother is a brick, and I believe if she wasn’t a minister's wife she’d be con- -_triving pranks the same as I do!” CHAPTER VI. FACING HIS FATHER. : (On AA ! Link Rover slept through the night as sweetly asa 23) i *% f c ; } 4 THE ROVER BOY LIBRARY. on his door, and for the first time he began to think seriously of what he would have to face. in a low voice. “Who is it?’ he asked, “It is Daddy. Let me in, quick!” Link unlocked the door and opened it cautiously. The hinges did not creak, for he always kept them oiled, as he not infrequently wished to go in and out under conditions when it would have been inconven- ent, to say the least, to arouse the household. “Well, Daddy, how are they coming?” “Your father has got home, and he is closeted with — your mother in the study,” said Daddy, impressively. ’ said Link, about you, all right.” “Council of war, probably, “Yes, they’re talking “Does father know I’m home?” “Probably he does. inform him this morning. Of course your mother would I tell you, Slocum is mad, Link, and if you don’t get shoved into jail to pay for running off with his horse it will be because your fa- ther puts up a big roll of cash.” We trust ‘the pages you have just read have demon- _ —_ rae Dei teal ls te. strated hoeneeatr how interesting and how different 4 from any other bide now pupurhed is our NEW ROVER BOY LIBRARY. We trust that you will be so eager to finish this tale that ‘ you will go at once to your newsdealer and get a copy of the first number now on sale. The succeeding num- ee bers will become more and more interesting as LINK | ROVER demonstrates his wonderful ability to get into” endless laughable and serious scrapes, and his facility to a get out of the difficulties he brings down upon, himself fi te ) ‘ r ee ‘ t ‘ 7 5 a : Cc. oo eo ‘ ad e* ' t /. ‘ Buy the fiest number NOW! PRICE “ROVER BOY LIBRARY*® Adventures .s Of the... AMERICAN HARKAWAY HE unflagging,interest taken in the fortunes of the immortal Jack Harkaway by young boys, and old boys as well, has for thirty years been one of the magvels of the publishing world. These stories seem to be just as eagerly sought after and devoured to-day as when first issued, and myriads of readers Idolize the Bold and Unconquered Jack in much the same spirit as they do good old Robinson Crusoe. In fact, it has become a house- hold name. And yet, there has always been some- thing like a spirit of keen disappointment among American lads because this hero. happened to be a Britisher. At last, believing the time is ripe to remedy this one defect, we now take pleasure in presenting a new series, in which, from week to week will be chronicled the wonderful adventures and madcap pranks of a genuine Yankee lad, who certainly bids fair to out-Harkaway the famous original of this type. In the energetic and restless Link Rover a unique character has been created, so bold and striking that we confidently expect his - name to presently become quite as familiar among our American boys as those of Frank Merriwell or Buffalo Bill. These Stories of Adventure and Frolic at school and abroad are written especially for this series by Gale Richards, who is under exclusive contract to devote his whole time and attention to this fascinating work. There is not a dull line from beginning to end, because Link Rover believes it his especial duty and privilege to keep things con- stantly ‘‘humming.’’ So be fairly warned that, to commence reading of his strange experiences is to acquire the ‘‘ Rover habit,’’ which clings to one like a leech and is very hard to shake off. Below we give a list of the numbers already issued or in press: 1—LINK 2—LINK 3—LINK 7 4—LINK 5—LINK | 6—LINK 7—LINK 8—LINK ROVER ADRIFT; or, ROVER IN ALGIERS ; ROVER, THE SCAPEGRACE ; or, The Black Sheep of the Family ROVER AT SCHOOL ABROAD; or, Lively Times at Old Swindon ROVER AS A WIZARD ; or, The Yankee Firebrand in an English School ROVER’S BALLOON VOYAGE ; or, Fun and Adventure Among the Clouds ROVER AMONG THE CARLISTS ; or, Playing a Bold Game With the Dons Pranks and Perils on the Mediterranean or, Waking Up a Sleepy Oriental City ROVER’S STRANGE LEGACY ; or, The Audacious Lark at Malta A new number every week. Price, FIVE CENTS, at all dealers, or by sending direct to the publishers. STREET & SMITH, 238 William Street, New York