LARGEST WEEKLY CIRCULATION IN AMERICA

 

 

AN
IDEAL PUBLICATION
FOR THE AMERICAN YOUTH

|P TOF WE

Issued Weekly t Ofice by STREET & SMITH, 238 Welitam St., N.

No. tae, eA « | _- Price, Five Cents.

 

 

 

 

 

RRIWELLS ——
_ DOCUMENT

OF  PORFIAS DEL NORTE

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Bantry Hogan tore off his coat and flung it on the floor. “I am going to give this smart young man the finest
thrashing le ever had in all his life,” he said, with a grin, “‘My Irish blood is up!”

 
 

 

 

 
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Issued Weekly. By Subscription $2.50 per year.

Entered as Second Class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 278 William St., N. Y.

Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1904, tn the Office of the Librartan of Congress, Washington, D, C.

 

No. 442.

NEW YORK, October 1,

1904. Price Five Cents.

 

FRANK MERRIWELL’S DOCUMENT;

OR,

The Pursuit of Porfias Del Norte.

By, BURT L. STANDISH.

CHAPTER I.
FRANK AND DICK.

After the unfortunate escape of Porfias del Norte,
Frank examined the scattered papers which Del Norte
had removed from the strong box and was relieved
to find them unpilfered.

- Dick had waited the -result of this inspection with

‘no little anxiety.

“Ts everything all right, Frank?” he asked.
“AIL right,” nodded Merry, closing the box and

locking it. “You and Buckhart did a fine thing in pre-

» venting Del Norte from getting away with that paper.”

- “Buckhart deserves the greater. credit,” declared

ae * Dick, modestly.

“T don’t know about that,” said Frank,

“But I do.”

“You detected Del Norte here in this: stateroom in
the act of going through the papers, didn’ t you, Dick?”

+ ee

“And promptly attacked him?”

 

“It was this way, Frank,” explained the boy: “The

chap who put us off to the Sachem told us he had ~

4

just received a dollar from a man who was in great
haste to get on board this very yacht. That aroused
our curiosity. Also the boy stated that the man was

hatless, his clothes torn, and his face cut and bruised.

Then I made inquiries that brought a further descrip- es

tion of this man ftom the fellow, and both Buckhart _
and myself decided at once that the chap was much
like Senor Del Norte.

Still we could not fancy it was”

    
      
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
 
     
       
  
      
   
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
   
 
 
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
 
  
  

Del Norte, having left him on the top of the moun-
At the
time we knew nothing of the sudden manner in which

We

were not aware of your struggle with him up there on

tain with the rest of you, as we supposed.
he descended the greater part of the mountain.

the cliff, which ended in his falling into the treetops
far, far below.”’ :

“After falling that distance he must have hustled to
get on board the yacht as soon as he did,” said Merry.
“That’s right,’ nodded Dick.

4
he found his way down the lower slope of the moun-

“T don’t see how

tain and out of the woods in such a short time. Still
I suppose he had decided to go through your papers,
and he knew the opportunity would be an excellent
one. Of course, he fancied none of us- would return
for a long time to the yacht. He must have thought
we would all take part in the search for his body, and,
therefore, he supposed he would have plenty of time to
go through your papers and get away with the valu-
able ones he desired.” . 3 ,
“You must have suspected something was wrong,
Dick, or you would not have hastened to this stateroom
so soon after reaching the yacht.”

“IT don’t know just what took me down here in
“T left

Buckhart to settle with the boy who brought us off,

such a hurry,’ confessed Merry’s »brother.

and, while he did so, I hurried into the saloon. It was
dimly lighted, yet my eye caught a gleam of light
through the keyhole of this door. I knew at once that
a light was burning in this room. I also knew no light
I stepped
Del

Norte was standing right where you are now, with

had been left burning here by either of us.
quickly and softly to the door and flung it open.

the strong’ box open on the upper berth and one of the
papers outspread in his hands. He turned instantly
and confronted me. I demanded the paper, but he
thrust it into his pocket. Then, when he tried to push
past me and get away, I grappled with him and we
had it.” |
“Buckhart says you downed him fairly once.”

~ “So I did, but he was more slippery than.a fish. I

_ couldn’t hold him. He managed to squirm from be-

'
22

”

 

i neath me, and together we rose and grappled again. —

2 IP TOP WEEKLY.

Once more I backlocked him and threw him; but as he
went down his arm and shoulder struck the edge of
the table, and we turned in the air. My head hit some-
thing that benumbed me, and the next thing I knew
he had me by the throat and was hissing: in my ear
that he would strangle me. Then Buckhart came
through the open door and landed on Del Norte’s
shoulders. He landed like a ton of brick, too, and the
wind was knocked out of the ‘onery Greaser,’ as Brad
called him. -We tied him hand and foot, and I se-
cured the paper he had attempted to steal. Where we
made our mistake, Frank, was in trusting one of the
sailors to guard him while we both hastened after yout.
One of us should have remained on guard over him.
Disinterested guards have a way of falling asleep at
the wrong time.” .

“Quite true, Dick; but I can’t blame you for what
you did. I don’t know just what I should have done
with Del Norte had you succeeded in holding him. He
has no record as a criminal, and I think it would have
been difficult to get a serious verdict against him. He
might have been fined or something of that sort, but
such punishment would have been far from satisfac-
tory.”

“You have not seen the last of him, Frank.”

“Exactly what I said myself,” nodded Merry. “Oh,
no, Dick, I have not seen the last of Porfias del Norte.
I don’t think I have ever told you the complete facts
of the case which connects that man and myself.”

“You haven’t. I felt that there must be some strange
connection between you, but I didn’t understand it.

He is a Mexican. You have interests in Mexico,

and 2
“So has Del Norte.

bound to bring a crash between us.

 

His interests and mine are

I will not make

a long story of it, Dick; I will explain in a few words.
You ‘know I have a valuable mine in astern Sonora.
You also know that I have interested capitalists, who
are forming a syndicate to build a railroad that will
open up the country in the vicinity of my mine. I .
have taken every precaution possible to make my claim

to the San Pablo Mine solid and indisputable. In .-

doing’ so, I investigated certain old records which ae

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. whom this grant was made.

Vv :

Te TOE

show that during the revolutions in Mexico, when
the country rose and attempted to fling off the Spanish

yoke, a large tract of land in Eastern Sonora was

_ granted to one Guerrero del Norte, who took part with

the patriots in these early uprisings. Guerrero del
Norte was the grandfather of Porfias del Norte, who
is his sole surviving heir. The grant of land given old
Guerrero included that portion of Sonora in which my
mine is located.”

“Why, then he is the rightful heir of the man to
Porfias del Norte has a
claim on your mine, Frank!”

Merry had seated himself on a stool and was leaning
against the partition of the stateroom.

“Not so hasty, Dick, my boy,” he smiled, lifting
his hand. ‘I have not explained this matter fully.

In those troublous times in Mexico revolution followed
revolution, and the party in power one day might be
in exile the next. Chief Magistrate Gomez Pedraza
was the one who made the original grant to Guerrero
del Norte.

When Santa Anna became president, remembering the

Pedraza did not long remain in power.

strong support of Guerrero, he reaffirmed Pedraza’s
But Santa Anna
could not retain his hold on the government, and

land grant to the so-called patriot.

Mexican history shows how repeatedly he was over-
thrown and how repeatedly he returned to office. Dur-
ing these turmoils old Guerrero became disgusted and
retired to Sonora at the head of a band of half-breeds,
Mexicans, Indians and Spaniards, all of whom had a

thirst for fighting and bloodshed.

“Guerrero built a home on the land he believed
rightfully his, but he was too lazy to make the soil
produce a living for him and his followers. As a re-
sult, he took to brigandage and led raids into the sur-

_ rounding provinces and even over the line into the

United States. He was. finally declared an outlaw by
Santa Anna, and the original land grant was revoked.
To the end of his days Guerrero remained a bandit.

* His son, the father of Porfias del Norte, attempted to

assert his right to the territory granted to Guerrero.

* In the end he was murdered.

‘Now comes Porfias, who is doing everything in his

 

WEEKLY. | 3

power to induce the Mexican Government to reaffirm
the land grant made his grandfather. He is also hard
at work organizing a syndicate to develop the country
and yet another ¢o open it up with a railroad. He be-
lieves, if he succeeds in organizing these two great
syndicates with plenty of capital, he can convince the
Mexican Government that it will be vastly to the ad-
vantage of the country to reaffirm that grant and de-
clare all other claims revoked. Porfias knows, beyond
question, that I can support my claims to the San Pablo
in a manner that will cause him considerable trouble.
He knows that by every just law my claim is unshak-
able.

papers which will weaken my defense when he attacks

For that reason he is anxious to get hold of
me. Had he escaped with the papers found in that
strong box it would -have cost me a large sum of money
to again secure the map and estimates, besides causing
a delay in my operations that might have resulted dis-
Don’t think, Dick, that I will forget
the great service done me by you and Brad.”

asterous for me.

“Don’t mention that, Frank!” cried the boy. ‘How
can I ever repay you for the service you have done
me?” :

“Repay me!’ laughed Merry. “Why, I am your
brother! There’s nothing to repay.”

*Oh, yes there is. I have not forgotten how wild
and rebellious I was when you first found me and how .
much trouble I must have given you. You were pa-
tient with me. You believed in me, and you made
I have heard Bart

Hodge say more than once that, whatever he has be-

me -believe in you and in myself.

come or may become, he will owe everything to you,
Frank.
“Which shows how entirely: generous and uncon-

I say the same.”
ceited you are, boy. I am glad to see your success at
school has not spoiled you. I feared it might have
some effect on you, for you have been wonderfully suc-
cessful, Dick. You are a leader among your boy com-
panions, just as I expect you will become a leader of
men. Still you are not high-headed or overbearing,

and never yet have I seen an inclination to take to your-

self credit that did not belong to you. You're generous |
in bestowing praise on others and giving them otk

  

     
       
        
      
     
   
 

  

4 TIP TOP WEEKLY.

Of

course, you will have enemies, Dick, who will call you

for any success to which they may assist you.

selfish and conceited, because the successful ones in
this world always have such enemies. The jealous and
envious person curls his lip at the successful one and
sneers, ‘Swelled head.’ Keep on as you have begun,
Dick. You will soon be in college, and I hope you will
make there as good a record as you are making at Far-
dale.” —

“T will do my best, Frank.”

“I have no doubt of that. I am sorry I cant go
back to Fardale with you, but I feel that I must return
to New York to hurry on work in connection with the
railroad through Central Sonora. It gave me great
pleasure to get down this way in time to see you and
your schoolfellows win the pennant in the Trolly
League. You have enjoyed yourself this summer, and
we have seen a little of each other since the baseball
season ended. I think you had better prepare to start
You

-can catch the ten-ten train from Rockland, or you

back for Fardale on the early train to-morrow.
may wait for the 1 P. M. train. That will give you
plenty of time in the morning. I did think of keep-
ing you with me, so we might make the journey to
New. York together; but Mr. Crossgrove wishes me
to stay on the Sachem until he drops me in Boston,
and I think I will do so, Let’s turn in now, Dick, and
get our sleep. I confess that sleep will be welcome to
me.” ,

“And to me,” acknowledged Dick; “although I feel
that I might dream of Porfias del Norte and my strug-
gle with him.” | ;

A short time later the brothers were in their berths,
yet Frank did not sleep until the regular breathing of
Dick told hint slumber had come to the boy. |

“Dear Dick!” murmured Merry. “May God pro-
tect and guide you and make you the manly man you

promise to be.”

CHAPTER IL.

MISSING,

SOMETHING
Having risen early ‘the following morning and con-

sulted Brad Buckhart about the matter, Dick decided

to take the 10:10 A. M. train out of Rockland, as that :

would carry them to Boston in time to catch a train
that would drop them at the Grand Central Station,
New York, before midnight.

The parting of the brothers was affectionate, al-

though not overeffusive. In the grasp of their hands

both felt an electric thrill of sympathy and complete

understanding. In the glance of their eyes there was

a tale of undying devotion to each other. Then they
laughed and gayly called, “Good-by, Dick!’ “‘Good-
by, Frank!” and that was all.

When Merry returned to the Sachem he proceeded
to his room, where he once more unlocked the strong
box and began examining his papers, one by one.

Having looked through them all, an expression of
perplexity came to his handsome face. t

‘‘T must have missed it somehow,” he muttered.

Immediately he began running them over again.

When he had finished Frank looked rather pale and
disturbed.

“Tt isn’t here!’’ he exclaimed, in a repressed tone.
“Strange I didn’t think about that document last night.
It was the one Del Norte would be likely to steal in
case he examined it and, discovered its actual import.
But, having it with me so long, | quite forgot about it.
But Dick and Brad took the other document from Del
Norte after capturing. him. How did they fail to dis-

» cover the old Spanish document telling of the original |

discovery of the San Pablo? It may be here. It may
have fallen down somewhere, and it’s possible we both

overlooked it.”

Then he made a complete and thorough search of the.
room, looking into every spot where the paper might

have possibly slipped.
He found no trace of it.

“Gone!” he bitterly exclaimed. “Del Norte must

have had that document hidden on his. person before

Dick discovered him. In Dick’s excitement he fancied ie
the other paper was the only one Del Norte had se-

 

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cured.
| What’s to be done?”

For a moment or two Frank meditated,

The Mexican was not thoroughly searched.

but it did
- “not take him long to decide that Porfias del Norte must
| be found and forced, to disgorge the stolen document.
Bart Hodge was called to Frank’s room and told just
what had happened.
“Great Scott!”
did rob you, after all!”
“He did,” nodded Frank.

must recover it, Bart, as it will aid me in maintaining

he exclaimed. ‘“Then that Greaser

“The paper is gone. I

Ce . * .
my rightful claim to the San Pablo in case Porfias

_ del Norte puts up a fight for that property, which I

expect him to bring about.

| diplomatic circles in Mexico.
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:

‘

 

 

 

 

 

  

Fle has powerful friends in
It

friends le expects to secure the reaffirmation of the

is through these
old land grant. Should he go to them and show them
this document in relation to the San Pablo they would
know my defense had been seriously weakened, and
that would encourage them to push the matter all the
harder.” — | oie
“What do you think has become of Del Norte?”
% asked Hodge.
- Frank shook his head.
“Impossible to say,” he confessed.
“How do you expect to trace him?”
“T know well enough he will turn up in New York
before many days, and, if I can find him in no other
But I do not

IT am anxious to get

“manner, I am sure to find him there.
wish to délay that much, Bart.

| my hands of him before he reaches. New York.”

“What if he has hustled right away without any
delay?”

ei that case thierg’s no chance to get at him in a

i; ee but I have reasons to believe that he has not

 
   

a jumped directly to New York.’’~

“What reasons?”

 

ae have learned that there are capitalists down this

 

  

way whom he was anxious to meet—men concerned in

 

  
 

a great land-development scheme. They are rich men,
who have been spending a vacation down this way.

some of them are over at Bar Harbor. It’s my im-

TIP POP WEEKLY.

pression that Del Norte, instead of turning his face at
once toward New York, has gone to Bar Harbor.”

“But you can’t expect to trail him on such an uncer-
tain speculation as that, Frank,”

“Not at all.”

“Then what will you do?” again questioned Bart.

“People down here are pretty observing, 1 have
noticed,’ muttered Merry, with his eyes fastened on
the floor. “They take notice of every stranger they
happen to see. Del Norte is more or less peculiar in
his appearance. At a glance he shows that he is not
a native of the United States.”’

“Well?” questioned Hodge.

“Well, I am going to see what the local officers here
can do in the sleuthing line.” ;
Immediately Hodge rose and protested. He seemed

convinced that the plan was wholly impractical.

“Wait and see,” said Frank, “I am going ashore

directly to-look up an officer and have a talk with him.

I shall also send some messages. a will have parties on

the watch for Del Norte, both in ‘Boston and in New

York.”’, :
»

Having decided on this, Merry lost little time in
carrying out the plan. He was set ashore and soon
found a local officer, who accepted a fee and profhised
to: do everything possible to find the missing man.”
Nevertheless, the day passed without any word of suc-
cess. .

That evening just before eight o’clock a message
was received for Frank Merriwell at the Western

Union Office, in Camden.

Now, although Camden is a sisi of nearly three
thousand inhabitants, to. say nothing of its summer
colony, which saebetanes ads fifteen hundred more,
The

office closes at eight in the evening, and is not opened

the telegraph service causes much complaint.

until eight the following morning. During the time
thus closed no messages are received or delivered.
A

message received just before closing is generally de-

This makes a most exasperating inconvenience.

livered, but sometimes does not reach the person for
whom it is intended until the following morning.

 

 

        
    
   
   
 
  
    
  
 
  
    
  
   
    
   
  
   
 
  

This is true in case of any mistake or uncertainty
about the address.

The message for Frank was addressed properly by
the signer, but it had been garbled in transmission so

that it was received as follows:

“Frank Merriweather, Yacht Sachet, Camden,

Maine.”’

This message came to Frank’s hands between ten
and eleven o’clock of the day following its receipt in
Camden.

He tore it open and read as follows:

“Porfias del Norte left train with me, North Station,
Boston. Registered at Touraine under name of Benito
Lerdo Juarez. Dick MERRIWELL.”’

Frank lost no time in showing the message to
Hodge. ‘
_ “What are you going to do?” asked Bart.

“T am going to take the next train for Boston,” an-

swered Merry.

CHAPTER Ii. ©
ON THE WAY TO BOSTON.

Frank caught the first afternoon train out of Rock-
land, bound for Boston. a
Hodge had remained behind to look after Elsie and
Inza, agreeing to follow as soon as he heard from
Frank.

At this season of the year the passenger traffic in
Maine sets strongly toward the large cities, Boston,
New York, Philadelphia and Chicago.

_ Frank found the train crowded, with almost every
seat taken in the regular passenger coaches and no par-
lor chairs left.

He was compelled to seek a seat in the smoker.

It happened that he found one at one of the little
card tables, and he settled down there, throwing open
his window in order to get plenty of fresh air.

Just before the train started a young man of twenty-
four or five, dressed in a gray suit and carrying a
traveling bag, stopped beside Merry and inquired:

“Ts this seat taken ?”

6 TIP TOP WEEKLY.

“No, sir,’ answered Frank, moving up toward the
window to give the other plenty of roorn.

“T would sit opposite,” said the stranger; “but it
always makes me ill to ride backward

He had an oval face, with a light-brown mustache
and rather thick, sensual, red lips. Still, unless his
features were studied closely, he seemed rather good-
looking.

“Beastly hot, isn’t it?’ he said, as he settled down.

“Decidedly so,” said Merry.

“Hate to leave the country until this hot spell
breaks,” said the stranger. “But it’s necessary, Busi- ©
ness, you know. This old train is carrying a few ‘to-
day. Looks like we might be fellow passengers, un-
less one of us drops off. How far are you going?”

“Through to Boston.”

“So am I. We might as well be sociable, My
name’s Brooks—Harrison Brooks.”

“And mine is Frank Merriwell,” said Merryy just as
the train started with a jerk.

“T did think of going back by steamer, Mr. Merri-
field,” said Brooks; “but that accident the other night
made me change my mind. It’s risky business run-
ning through the fog along this rock-ribbed coast, and
it’s remarkable in my estimation that no more steamers
pile up on the sunken ledges.. I did think of picking _
out a good night; but a man can’t get a stateroom on
any of the Boston boats now, so I gave it up.”

The talkative young man produced a cigarette case’
and offered it to Frank, ae

“Excuse me,” said Merry. -

em At nam ay

“Eh! Don’t you smoke?’

NOW:

“Not even cigarettes ?”’

“Decidedly not cigarettes,” smiled Frank. “If I
smoked I’d not use them.” | |

“Well, I don’t know as I blame you. They are foul- :
smelling things to a person who doesn’t smoke. Still
if you had traveled in Mexico, as I have, you would,
find it necessary to get used to them.” ‘

“But cigarettes in Mexico are different from cigar-,
ettes in this country,”’ said Merry. ‘“Down there each —
smoker rolls his own cigarettes.” ;

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“That’s true,” nodded Brooks. “I took quite a
fancy to them myself, but I never could just get the
knack of rolling them. Do you mind if I smoke?’

“Not at all,” said Frank. “I wouldn’t think of de-
priving you of the pleasure. You're in the smoking
car, and it’s your privilege to smoke whether I like it
or not,” '

“Well,” said the stranger, “I should dislike to annoy
you in any manner. I rather like you, don’t you know.
You're a rather interesting chap.”

“Thanks,” said Merry, with the slightest touch of

sarcasm. “I might say as much in return.”
“Well, that’s all right,” smiled Brooks. “You're
interesting to me, and I am interesting to you. Under

such circumstances we should not bore each other. I
hate to be bored. If there’s anything I can’t endure it’s
,a bore. ~I tell you Mexico is a great country. There’s
possibilities down there. It’s the place for a good,
hustling American with brains and a little money. Oh,
yes, a man needs a little money in this world. There's
no question about that.”

“Have you traveled a great deal-in Mexico?”

“Pretty extensively, pretty extensively,” answered
Brooks.

you know.’’-

“T was down there looking after investments,

“Find anything good?”

“Oh, so—so. I am concerned in 4 little scheme now
that promises to pan out big. Going back in Decem-
ber—perhaps earlier. My friend, some of those old
Spanish mines down there are rich beyond your big-
gest dreams. But not all the money is to be made in
mining. The land is fertile. You can raise almost
anything down there. I know some people who are
concerned in a rubber-tree plantation, and they are
making a fancy thing out of it. I don’t know how
business will pan out eventually. The old plantation

_may never prove profitable, but the people who started
; |

it are going to get away with a fine lot of boodle.

- 4, : ‘They made it a stock scheme and sold shares, you

know.”

_ “Qh,” said Merry; “one of those modern syndi-

cates that’s really a skindicate, eh?”
Brooks laughed a little.

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

Still

“Welt, I don’t know but you might call it that.
the scheme has the merit of possible success, Lots of
schemes are downright frauds. This may pay a fair
per cent., as the thing has not been definitely settled ;
but let me tell you it’s a colossal scheme, and I believe —
there are millions in it.”

“T .take it you’re a promoter, Mr. Brooks,” said
Frank, ;

“Oh, not exactly that,’ denied Brooks—“not exactly
that, Mr. Merrifield. I confess that I’m interested in
interesting others. But I’m ready to put in some of
my own good money, and that takes me,out of* the
category of the promoter.”

For some unknown reason Merry felt strangely in-
terested in Brooks and his scheme, yet,during all the
journey to the Kennebec Frank was unable to learn —
exactly what that scheme was. Without knowing why
he did so, he refrained from stating that he knew any-
thing of Mexico or was in any way interested in an en-
terprise down there.

After crossing the Kennebec and arriving at Bruns- *:
wick the train united with another from the Fast. It
was necessary to change cars there, and again Merry
sought a seat in the smoker. Harrison Brooks fol-
lowed him closely, and, as they walked down the aisle
of the car looking for seats, Brooks suddenly uttered an
exclamation of satisfaction and hailed two men who
were playing cards. .

“Hello, Bob Morley!’ he cried. “And Sammie
Glynn, too! By George! this is fine! Wait a minute,
Mr, Merrifield; here are two friends of mine.”

“And here are two seats,” said the man addressed as
Morley. “Just enough for you. Drop right into them
and we will have a little game.’’ :

Although Brooks introduced Frank under the name
of Merrifield, he was not corrected. Merry started to
say that his name had been misunderstood; but Glynn
did not give him an opportunity, and soon the matter
passed from Frank’s mind, 7

“Didn’t expect to, put eyes on you for a week
Brooks, old boy,” said Morley. 7
pected you'd turn up at the meeting in New York.”

“Of course, we ex-

“How have you made it?” inquired Glynn.

       
2k TOP

    
    
   
   
   
   
 
   
   
  
  
    
   
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
    
  
 
 
  

“The

thing is going with a swing. She’s all right now.

“Great! great!” cried Brooks, exuberantly.
Better double your investments, gentlemen.”
said Morley. “Why, if it’s going

so well you must have all the capital called for by this

“Double them 2”

time.”

“It’s not all in,” confessed Brooks; “but it’s inesight.
You're particular friends of mine, and, therefore, ‘I
will see you have a chance to shove in as much as you

wish. Oh, we will get plenty of dough; don’t fear

about that.’’
“Well. let's have a little game to pass away the

time,” said Glynn. “Bob and I were cutting each

other’s throats at pitch, but I’m sick of it. What do
you say to poker?”
“That’s good enough,” said Brooks. “How does it
hit you, Merrifield, old man?”

Frank shook his head.

“No poker for me,” If

you gentlemen wish to play a game for amusement,

he said. “I never gamble.

why, I will play pitch, hearts or whist.”
“Tt’ll be a little tame,”’

we can make the time pass by it.

grumbled Glynn; “but ‘then
Let’s call it whist.”
Whist was decided on, and soon they were playing.
Frank listened with interest to their conversation,
although he seemed quite absorbed in the game.

The instinct of the promoter was strong in Harrison
Brooks, and at intervals he talked of his great scheme.
Evidently the other two men knew all about that
scheme, and in time they became more open, regard-
ing Frank as one who would not be liable to pay much
attention to anything they let drop.

Keener and keener grew Merriwell’s interest as shay
iked of the great land development company that
was formed, and of the railroad syndicate that would
work in unison with the land development company.
Still he continued to mask his feelings behind a placid
countenance. |

“You haven’t told us just how ft happens that you
are hustling back to civilization so soon, Brooks,”
Glynn finally said.

“Well, there’s no particular secret about it,” larighed
| Brooks. ee had a telegram that called me back.”

F

&

portant.

 

WEEKLY.

“A telegram?”
“Yes.”
“From whom?”
“From Porfias del Norte,” answered Harrison
Brooks.

“T beg your pardon,’
gathered in a trick that did not belong to him; “‘that’s

mine, partner. I played the jack of diamonds.”

CHAPTER IV.

CARDS WELL PLAYED.

“Oh, excuse me!” laughed Glynn. “I didn’t notice,
because we’re talking too much and paying too little
attention to the cards.”

“But I thought Del Norte was cruising with Henry
: | put in Morley. ‘Hadn't

He felt confident he

Crossgrove on his yacht,”
an idea the man was in Boston.
could bring Crossgrove into the circle with a big
bundle of boodle.”

“He was cruising with Crossgrove,”’ nodded Brooks,
“and a telegram from him was a surprise to me. Nor
did I have an idea he was in Boston.”

“You don’t suppose there’s any mistake about it?”
questioned Glynn.

“Mistake ?

quickly declared Brooks.

Why, of course there isn’t a mistake,”
“How can there be? Here’s

the telegram.”

said Frank, calmly, as Glynn

He took the message from his pocket, opened it, and

spread it out before them.
Frank was shuffling the cards.
to do so, ‘he glgnted at the telegram and read the fol-

lowing message:
“Meet me Tremont Street dining room, Parker
House, 7 P. M., Wednesday, without fail. Very im-

PorFIAS DEL Norte.”

“The Tremont Street dining room of the Parker

House,” thought Frank. “Why, Dick’s message told
me the man was registered at the Touraine under a
fictitious name. Evidently he’s taking precautions.

It’s mighty doubtful to me if I can get my hands on

that document in a hurry. He’s had time to safely

stow it away somewhere.”

Without appearing

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TIP TOP WEEKLY. 9
While thinking thus Frank finished shuffling the you. Don’t go to sleep. We'll play cards pretty
cards and offered them for cutting. As he was dealing quick.” |
4” his companions continued their conversation. “Oh, that’s all right,” declared Merry, languicly.
“It must have been something important to take “We've plenty of time ahead of us before we reach
Del Norte to Boston so suddenly,” nodded Morley. Boston.”
“Tf ever I saw a man who enjoyed luxury and laziness, For a few moments their conversation slackened,

lynn

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Porfias del Norte is that man.”
“Well,
Glynn.

I haven’t seen much of him.’ confessed

“Only met him once, you know, but if he’s like

the rest of his countrymen he surely enjoys laziness

and procrastination. “lo-morrow’ is the word in

Mexico, as well as in Spain. They never do to-day

what may be done just as well to-morrow. There-
fore, it must be something mighty important to cause
Del

“Just about the way I figure it,”

Pee en dda ie eee Pe dune se
Norte stich haste and energy.

laughed Brooks,

as he picked up his cards and began to arrange them.
: Ss

“When I read ‘very important’ at the end of that tele-

gram, I lost no time in throwing my truck together and

buying my ticket.”’

“There’s still another reason why it seems to me

that something unusual must have happened,” said
Morley.

wit and do up was also a guest of Crossgrove on the

“Do you know that the chap we have to out-

Sachem?”

“What chap?” asked Brooks. “Why, you can’t

 thean——”

 

   
  

~ “Merriwell,” said Morley. ‘‘That’s right. I have
eit straight that he left Boston on the Sachem.”
Glynn whistled.
“Well! well!” he laughed. “If that’s right, Del

Norte had a chance to pump the fellow without giving

himself aw ay. There’s no reason to suppose Merriwell

is yet onto the full pagans of Del Norte’s opera-
_ tions.”
“Certainly I hope he isn’t,” put in Brooks. ‘We

want to get things moving good and lively before he
finds out just what’s doing. They say he’s a good
fighter, and it will be no easy thing to down him.”

9

“It’s your lead, Brooks,
a little as if bored by their talk.

“Beg your pardon, old man,”

reminded Merry, yawning

cried Brooks. “I sup-

_ pose this stuff we're chinning about doesn’t interest

 

while the hand was played off. Merry handled the
cards cleverly, and the result was five points for himself
and his partner.
“That was clever,” smiled Morley. “You pulled
those trumps out, and then you walked into them in
great shape. I had a bum hand myself, and | didn’t
think we could score a point. I suppose we've been

talking too much to play a good game. You're not
interested on our gab, and so your mind is wholly on
the cards.”
“T think that explains it,” said Frank.
Little did his companions dream how interested he
really was in their talk.

Already he
had decided that they were young men who had been

He was sizing them up, one and all.

successful in life, and who were inclined to speculate.
Glynn looked like a plunger. He had light curly hair
and about him there was a certain devil-may-care care-
lessness that was both attractive and repellent. 3

Morley was the oldest one in the party, having a
slight sprinkling of gray on his temples. In spite of
this his face saiditaeed he was not ruck past thirty.
Possibly he might have been thirty-five, but certainly
not more than that.

“Where did you first meet Del Norte, Brooks?”
asked Glynn.

“Met him last fall in the city of Mexico. Somehow
he found out I was down there with my eyes open for
any good thing I might find, and he sought an introduc-
tion to me. After satisfying himself that I was in-
clined to hustle and was in earnest, he unfolded before
_At first

not believe he had a claim to such a vast tract of ter-

me his great scheme. I was skeptical. I could

ritory as was covered by that grant. Then he took me
up and convinced me by the evidence of my own eyes.
Gentlemen, I am not exaggerating it one whit when I

say I firmly believe it’s possible to open up in that ter- | ss :

 

    

 
             
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
 
   
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
  
   
  
    
  
    
     

    

10 TIP “TOP WEEKLY.

ritory a dozen of the richest mines on this continent. a project,’ declared Brooks. “You know Del Norte

 

Already this fellow Merriwell has opened up one which has Byron Woodhull behind his railroad scheme.” | for
was discovered long ago by some Spanish adventurers.” “Is that a fact?” inquired Morley, “I know Bantry = » stra
“That’s all right,’’ nodded Morley; “but what’s to be Hagan is interested, but v ; a d
done with Merriwell? You seem to feel sure that he “Hagan is hand-and-glove with Woodhull. In fact, a pal
could be ousted. With his mine in sight and ready to it was through Woodhull that Hagan made his pile.”’ ‘1. of
drop like a plum into the lap of the Sonora Mining “Still Hagan sometimes plunges for himself. Of the
and Developing Company, there’s very little question course, he has been fortunate and will have much in- = can
about getting all the backing you desire. But if it’s fluence in organizing the railroad syndicate; but the | my
necessary to go down there and scratch around to lo- influence of Woodhull would be worth ten times as == WO
cate new mines and open them up, that’s quite another much as that of Hagan.” we
thing.” “Don’t worry,” laughed Brooks; “Woodhull is init.” | 10
“Don’t worry,” said Brooks. “Del Norte knows By this time Frank discovered that these friends of =! ¢
his business. He has powerful friends at work for Brooks’ were not concerned in Porfias del Norte’s — |
him, and he expects withirf a month or two to receive railroad project. They were interested in another of | Br
notification that the old grant holds solid. Then he Del Norte’s schemes, known as the Sonora Mining and ‘kn
will tackle Merriwell and shove him out of Sonora in Development Company. . eM
a hurry.” By the time Portland was reached Merry had picked
“But this syndicate scheme Merriwell is pushing— up enough information to give him considerable food . ou
how about that?” questioned Glynn. “This railroad for reflection. , tu
project of his—how about it? He must have some- ‘Still he was not satisfied, and already he had de- = &
thing good and juicy in the way of inducements and termined to keep close watch on Harrison Brooks. |
bait, else he could not have roped in old Gripper “When Brooks meets Del Norte to-night,” thought
Scott.” Merriwell, “I will be near.”’ hb DS
“Is it a fact that he has interested Watson Scott ?” At Portland there was a delay for dinner, and Mer-
asked Brooks. “I know there was such a rumor, but I riwell accompanied his ehance acquaintances into the | yw
have my doubts—I have my doubts.” station dining room. They enjoyed a square meal, and ~ 1.
“It’s a fact that Scott has stepped into the railroad Frank made himself still more solid with them by | a
deal,” declared Morley. ‘You know what that means. securing the checks and settling the bill. FP ;
He has capital unlimited. He made his money by Returning to the train, they secured their former ae
holding onto every dollar that came his way. But seats, and all save Merry began smoking. By this ”
in recent years, strange to say, he has adopted a new time they were in a free-and-easy humor, and they ee
policy and pours it out like water. Once he takes hold pecan to chaff him because he did not use tobacco. .
of a thing, he unhesitatingly dumps barrel after barrel “Don’t worry about me,” he smiled, “Close the win- ] n
Peace Ti © s0-pagh ie tirana low tlemen, if you wish. I'll guarantee to stand
“But old Gripper Scott is not powerful enough to ee be . Sb a eoaaty :
: » ... it as long as you will. I was smoked like a ham at
get ghead of the whole Mexican Government,” eat-in college. I remember the night the sophomores came [ b
eee x sneaking into my room like Indians, about two dozen > l
Hadn't we better call this game:off?” asked Frank, f them, pulled me out of bed, sat me up on a chair i
with an expression of weariness. ‘ ee ee ‘ os Ale
ighted pipes, cigars, cigarettes, any old thing that —
“Oh, no! no!” exclaimed Brooks, quickly. “We'll would make smoke, and proceeded. to entertain me. et
r play cards now all right.” They sat thick around me and blew their smoke in my
ee For a short time they did play, and Frank began to face. Every crack in the room was closed as tight as ek,
5 fear he liad made a mistake in checking their flow of — jt could be, and I tell you, gentlemen, in a short time .
conversation. Finally, however, the subject which in- you could have cut the smoke into cakes with a good, ae
terested them all popped up again, and before they sharp knife. Still they kept at it, pulling fiercer and’ © *
knew it they were talking away earnestly as ever. fiercer in their endeavor to make me squeal. Some of |
“\Watson Scott is not the only man in this country those poor fellows were no great smokers themselves. ee ;
who puts out his cash by the carloads when he tackles When anyone sits down and smokes as hard as he can, |

 
  

1
j
4
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A ORs tina Nii

 

ee

 

ey.

eee

_, strain, even though he is an old smoker.

+

for fifteen or twenty minutes, he’s liable to feel the
[ saw through
a dense haze that several of the sophs were getting
pale around the gills. Still they kept it up until one
of them suddenly began to gag.
there was an eruption, and the thing that followed
came pretty near putting me out. | had to clean up
my own room before I could sleep, and that was the
worst part of it. The next day several of those chaps
were on the sick fist, and one of them didn’t get back
to his classes for nearly a week. So you see, although
I do not smoke, I am immune. It doesn’t touch me.”

“You're a right good fellow, old boy!” cried
Brooks, slapping Frank on the shoulder. ‘I don’t
know

The next moment

vy when I’ve met a chap who has interested me so
much in a short time.”

“Thanks,” said Merry, “With-
out stretching the long bow in the slightest; I can re-
turn the compliment, Brooks. You have interested me
exceedingly.”

“Ts that right?”

“It's as true as gospel. I have enjoyed this trip
by rail more than any trip I have made in years.”

“Well! well!’ grinned Glynn. “We thought you
were bored.”

“Mr. Brooks had been telling me about Mexico when
you gentlemen came aboard the train,” said Merry.
“He had me interested at the very start. I am thinking
of going down that way myself before long. If I
could strike a good thing I might interest friends of
mine to put something into it.”

with a little smile.

Instantly Brooks was interested and, without a mo-
ment’s delay, he began angling with the most tempting
bait he could offer, hoping he might land a new fish.

“If your friend wishes to be concerned in one of the
biggest things going just let him talk to me a while.
I like you, old man, and to favor you I'll see that your
friend gets in on the ground floor. He shall have the
same chance as the rest of us, and we’re going to pull

millions out of this deal just as true as you live and

breathe. Talk about your six per cent. investments!
Why, my boy, this thing is going to pay fifty per cent.
—perhaps a hundred per cent.! I wouldn’t say that it

might not pay a thousand per cent.!”

“Oh, come, man alive!’ smiled Merry. “I have seen
a lot of get-rich-quick schemes, and anything paying a
thousand per cent.| or even a hundred per cent., must

be relegated to that class.”
“Not at all, not at all,” asserted Brooks.

“It's plain

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

 

ace

you know little of the wonderful things that have been
done in mining. Why, I’ve seen a man go out with
fifty dollars, buy a cheap outfit, stick his pick down
turn up color, and sell his claim within thirty days
for three hundred thousand dollars.”

“But that’s not an investment ”’

“He invested in an outfit.”

“And had one of those phenomenal streaks of luck
which you read about and hear told about, but seldom
actually know about. You don’t expect to go down
into Sonora and turn up pay dirt anywhere you stick
down a pick, do you?”

“Oh, no, not that; but we will open up some of the
richest mines in Mexico, to say nothing of the one
already opened.”

“But from your conversation I should judge you
may have trouble with the party now re that
mine. There’s such a party, isn’t there?”

“Oh, yes,” nodded Brooks; “but his title is a mighty
flimsy one. To tell you the plain truth, I wouldn’t give
a pinch of dirt for any of those old Spanish mining
titles.”’

“But how is it?’ questioned Frank. “Can the pro-
prietor .of the mine be driven from his property in

- Mexico by some one who happens to have a land grant

covering territory in which that mine is located? It
seems to me that the law recognizes the miner’s right
in Mexico, as well as in the United States.”

“The laws of Mexico are mighty flexible,” said
Brooks. “They may be stretched to cover almost any
case, and a little influence in the right direction pro-
duces the stretching. We'll have influence, my dear
fellow, don’t fear about that. Just give me time and
I will convince you. You stick by me after we land
in Boston to-night and I will have you converted, all
right.”

Merry glanced at his watch. —

“I have an important engagement just about as soon
as I can make it after leaving the train,” he said.

“How about you, gentlemen?’ questioned Brooks.

“Oh, I am going out to Woburn,” answered Morley.
“Sammie has agreed to jog along with me. We're
going through to New York to-morrow.” .

“Then it’s not likely I'll see any more of you after
we reach Boston,” said Brooks; “but we will meet in
New York the first of the week. I think I’ll stick;
my friend here, and, perhaps, he’ll be with us =
get together i in New ete Re

     

  
  
    

  
    
    
 

72 yif 1OP
suspected. From the moment he read Del Norte’s tele-
gram to Brooks he had been seeking to devise some
method of sticking to his new companion without ex-
citing suspicion. It was also his desire to get rid
of Morley and Glynn as soon as possible, and hence
his announcement of an important engagement that
would lead him to hustle as soon as the train arrived

at North Station.

During the rest of the trip the four chatted in a de-
sultory manner, only referring at intervals to the topic
that interested them most.

At last the train drew into North Station, and Merry
fhastened to gather up his traveling bag and light over-
coat.

_ “Tam with you, don’t forget that,” laughed Brooks,
as Frank bade the others good-day.

“Pleasant journey, gentlemen,” said Merry. “Come
on, Mr. Brooks; let's slip down the aisle and get onto
the car platform before we’re blocked in by other pas-
sengers.”

They reached the platform before the train stopped
and stepped off beneath the grimy roofing which ran
out far over the tracks.

Glynn and Morley had been very deliberate.

“What do you think of that chap Brooks picked
up?” questioned Glynn.

“Well, now I don’t know,” confessed Morley.
“He’s a rather bright-looking fellow. Still it was
strange he professed such interest in us all of a sudden.
I surely fancied he was bored right up to the time he
declared he highly enjoyed our society. You never
can tell much about a stranger, though. He had a
peculiar eye. Somehow it made me restless when I
caught him looking squarely at me. I seemed to feel a
singular unknown power in his gaze.”

“T observed that,” declared Glynn. “And then there
was something in his voice suggestive of power and
reserve force. I seldom notice such things, Bob; but
it’s my opinion that the chap would make a mighty
good friend and a mighty bad enemy.”

“He plays whist for all there’s in it.”

“That’s what he does. Say, is this your umbrella ?”

“Jove, no! it isn’t mine. It must belong to Brooks.”

An umbrella had been left in the package rack above
their heads. Morley took it down and inspected it.

“It’s O. K.,” he declared. “I'll just take it along
with me. If it belongs to Brooks, all right; if it
_ doesn’t, all right, too.”

The umbrella had a silver plate on the stock just

oe a

 

 

WEEKLY.

above the handle. This Glynn observed and called
Morley’s attention to it.

“Why, yes,” said the elder man; “it’s a name plate.
i Why, this isn’t Brooks’ name! It’s the
name of the other fellow—Frank Merrifield. No, it
isn’t Merrifield.
look here! Say, what
thundering chumps we have been! Merrifield! Why,
didn’t we tumble? That fellow was Frank Merriwell!”’

me see.

 

Great ‘blazes! Look here, Glynn—

Take a look at that name!

CHAPTER. V.

i BY A NARROW MARGIN.

“The devil!”

Sammie Glynn was aghast. His jovial face turned
pale, and his jaw dropped as he stared at the name on
the umbrella.

“Why, I never thought—I suppose—I kind of had
an idea Brooks—knew something about—the blamed
duffer,” he faltered. “Merrifield Merriwell!
Why, the names are enough alike to set anyone think-
ing! Strange we didn’t tumble.” |

“Tumble!”’ snarled Morley. ‘Why, we have been
shooting off our mouths like a lot of blockheads!
Come on, Glynn; get a jump on you and let’s catch
them. I'd take special delight in punching Mr. Merri-
well myself.”’ .

Having caught up their luggage, the two crowded
down the aisle in a most unceremonious manner,
thrusting people aside and paying not the slightest
attention to protests and angry exclamations.

Having reached the platform, they raced toward the

and

station, both looking around for the man they were

after.

The passengers were swarming along toward the
wide gate, and the two pursuers were fearful that they
might overlook Brooks and Merriwell, which pre-
vented them from running as fast as they could have
done.

On reaching the station, however, they had seen
nothing of the ones they had sought. .

“Come on!” cried Morley. “Let’s get outside and
look for them.” !

They dashed through the station to the street, which

was swarming with trolley cars, carriages, vehicles of

all sorts, and pedestrians.

Just as Morley dashed out he saw Frank Merriwell:

a short distance away in the act of entering a cab. At

the same instant Merriwell seemed to see Morley. He

 

 

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«waving the umbrella

TIP TOP WEEKLY.

spoke sharply to the driver, stepped into the cab, and
~slammed the door.
“Stop!” shouted Morley, running toward the cab

. and waving his handbag in the air.

The driver whipped up his horses, turning short to
avoid a truck, and swung across the street.

“Hold on, snatled Morley, as he
unhesitatingly followed into the street.

Glynn was slower and,

confound you!”

therefore, was some distance
behind. He saw Morley rush blindly after the cab,
heedless of all danger.

by a trolley car and knocked flat on the pavement.

Then he saw the man struck
A
pair of heavy truck horses were right upon him when

the driver pulled them up. The car was quickly

brought to a stand, and people began to gather round

the fallen man.

Glynn tore his way through the quickly collecting
crowd and reached Morley just as the latter was sit-
ting up. There was a slight cut on Morley’s cheek,
from which a little blood trickled.

“Are you badly hurt, old man?”
Glynn.

“T am not hurt,”

“Well, it’s a wonder you’re not dead, my friend!”
said a policeman. ‘You did your best to run under the
car or the truck. Let’s see if your bones are all right.”

Glynn and the officer assisted Morley to rise, but he
pushed them both off.

asked

anxiously

growled the other.

“T am all right,” “Where's
that cab?”

“What cab?” asked the policeman.

he savagely declared.

“The one I tried to catch.”

Morley looked round in vain for the cab which had
been swallowed up in the ruck and turmoil of Hay-
market Square.

Finding he had been completely battled, the man
began to sway and would have fallen had not Glynn
immediately seized him.

“Just a shock, that’s all,” muttered Morley, thickly.
“Call a cab, old man. Take me to a hotel. Let me
brace up, and then we'll go out and find that fellow,
Merriwell.’’

* * *k * *

2K *

Prank Merriwell had seen Morley and Glyn rush
~ from the station, and he observed that one of them was
Instantly Merry recalled the
fact that in his haste to get Brooks away from the
‘Knowing his

       

13

name was on the plate, he decided like a flash that it
had been seen.

Then he gave sharp words of command to the driver,
sprang into the cab where Brooks was already seated,
and slammed the door.

Apparently Frank was perfectly at his ease. Not
once did he turn to look out of the window, for he did
not wish to attract the attention or arouse the suspicion
As the cab turned into Sudbury
Street Merry carelessly rolled his eyes to one side, and
saw before the station a small crowd collected. He
did not detect anyone in pursuit, not a little to his

of his companion.

satisfaction.
“I suppose the Parker House is as good as any,”
3rooks.

said “T will be on hand to meet my friend to-

night at the time set.”

“Yes,” nodded Merry; “and I will keep my engage-
ment there. We may as well stop at the Parker
House.”

Arriving at the hotel, they entered together and ap-
proached the desk. The register was turned toward
them, and Brooks hurriedly glanced over the names
written on it the previous day.

Frank stood waiting.

“Just a minute,” said Brooks. “I expected to find
my friend had registered here yesterday. His name’s
not here. I will run over the list for to-day.”

But the name of Porfias del Norte was not on the
register.

“T krtew he wouldn’t find it there,” thought Merry.
“If he wishes to find Del Norte, let him look for Benito
Lerdo Juarez at the Touraine.”’

“Oh, well, it’s all right,” laughed Brooks, as he
seized a pen. ‘‘He’ll be around at the time set. Say,
old man, let’s you.and I have a room together. We can

find what we want, I think.” §

“T am agreeable,” said Frank. vc) OF

“Then that’s settled. I will repigess for “Bath,
What are your initials?”

“F. H.,” said Frank.

When Brooks had registered Merry glanced at the
page and saw he was recorded as “F. H. Merrifield.”

“Harrison Brooks,” said the clerk, glancing at the
name. “Let me see, I think there’s a letter for you.”

 

He tossed out one.
“T believe I know that writing,” muttered Braoks.
“It’s from my man.”

He quickly tore the letter open and, standing a little
behind Brooks, Frank plainly saw what was written on

  

 
 

_ tuck the end of a cigar into my face.

    

SF TIP TOP

the sheet of paper. Signature and all there were just
twelve words.

‘Meet me in barroom of Revere House at eight this
evening. Dev Norre.”’

CHAPTER VIL

Frank sent his luggage up to the room taken and left
Brooks ostensibly for the purpose of keeping his ap-
pointment.

He walked out of the hotel, called a cab, and was
driven to the Touraine.

At the Touraine he made an examination of the
register and soon found written thereon the name he

sought.
. “Ts this gentleman still here?’ he inquired, with his
finger indicating the name of Benito Lerdo Juarez.

“No, sir,’’ answered the clerk.

“When did he leave ?”’

“This afternoon.”

“Do you know whither he went?”
je NO, Bik.

“Just about as I expected,’ muttered Merry, as he
left the Touraine and re-entered the cab, “Del Norte
must be decidedly suspicious, or he would not register
under a fictitious name and change his hotel so sud-
denly.”’

_ He directed the drivde to take him to the Revere
House.

At the latter hotel Frank again looked over the
register, but on it he found no name that was familiar
to him.

“My only method is to get back to Harrison Brooks
and keep close to him,’ Merry decided.

He was driven back to the Parker House. In the
office he found the key to the room taken by himself
and Brooks was still gone, and a few minutes later he
was outside the door of that room. The door opened
at his touch, and he found Brooks comfortably seated,
‘smoking a cigar, and glancing over a newspaper.

“Hello, Merrifield!” said Brooks. “Through with
your business, eh? Well, that’s good. We'll have din-
ner together to-night, and then I will ’tend to’ my en-
gagements. Sorry you don’t smoke. You don’t know
_ what you're missing. Whenever I sit down 1 want to

e fomforting Ae eae

It’s soothing and |

   

  

WEEKLY.

coy

You look comfortable,

” nodded Frank, as he also

sat down. 7
Five minutes after Merry’s return to the hotel a boy
ap pees with a card for Brooks.

“Bantry ee Brooks exclaimed,

the card. “I wonder what he wants of me. Didn't
know he was in Boston. Bring him right up.”

“Hagan,” thought Frank. ‘That's interesting.
He’s one of the men concerned in Del Norte’s big rail-
road deal. I will get a good chance to look him over.”

In a short time Hagan appeared, flushed and per-
spiring, vigorously mopping his round face with a limp,
handkerchief.

“Confound hot w Reo ” he growled, as he walked
heavily into the room; “‘confound hot weather, | say!
How are you, Brooks? Confound you, too! You look
as cool and comfortable as an iceberg. If there’s any-
thing riles me up it’s to see a man sprawled out all
cool and quiet when it’s beastly hot. I want to kick
him. It’s with the utmost trouble ; repress my desire
to kick you, Brooks.”

Then he shook hands heartily. as Brooks rose to
meet him.

“Saw your name on the register, Brooks. That’s
how I knew you were here: Thought I’d come up
and ask you how your end of the deal is progressing.”

“First rate, Mr. Hagan,”
thing is going along swimmingly.
you to Mr. Merrifield.”

was the answer. “Every-
Let me introduce

“Hey?” grunted Hagan, surveying Frank. “What?
What name did you say?”
“Merrifield,” answered Brooks. “Mr. Merrifield,

this is Mr. Hagan.”
“Merrifield, eh?”
in that singular manner. “Why, that name sounds
familiar to me. Somehow your face looks familiar,
young man. Particular friend of yours, Brooks?”

“Oh, not exactly a particular friend, as you might
“T have not known him |

call it,’ was the answer.
very long. Just met him for the first time to-day.”

Frank knew Hagan was sizing him up in a most
critical manner, but he was not the least disconcerted

by it. a
“We're chance acquaintances, Mr. Hagan,”
“Met on the train, you know.”’

“Yes, yes,” grunted Hagan,

apart. “Met on the train, did you?

as he looked at’

said Hagan, still surveying Frank |

he said.

 

 

tie th Ais REE

a
t

giving his limp hand- : es
kerchief a little flop and standing with his feet wide
Had a pleasant —

   

 

      
     
   

 

 

cecil Shen ise

 

 

  

 

 

TIP TOP

journey together, I suppose? Chatted and passed the
time away, I imagine?”
“Oh,

along al

yes,’ laughed Brooks. ‘We managed to get
| right until two more of my friends came
aboard. Don’t know as you are very well acquainted
with them. Still you may have heard of Bob Morley
and Sammy Glynn.”

Oh, yes. Old
man Glynn died two years ago and left seven million

Morley ?

‘Let me see, Morley and Glynn.
dollars. Young Glynn has made a hole in it.
Why, he made his money in oil. I suppose these two
chaps are on the inside in your deal, Brooks?”

“Sure thing,’ nodded Brooks. “They are in on the
ground floor.”

“And you talked it over on the train to-day, eh?”

“Oh, we spoke of it, I believe.’’

Frank read suspicion in the voice of Bantry Hagan
and saw it gleam from his eyes. Not only suspicion
as it Seemed, but the certainty of something wrong
was in the man’s manner. He had stopped a short
distance inside the door, which was closed behind him.
His short, sturdy legs were spread and his feet planted
quite wide apart, as if blocking the way to that door.
His atmosphere breathed trouble.

“You have traveled a whole lot, Brooks, my boy,”
he said, “and I suppose you make it a point to pick up
strangers and become friendly with them. With most

men such a practice would be reckless. With you it’s

often advantageous, as you generally become. ac-

Still,

my dear fellow, it’s possible that sometimes even you

quainted with chaps who bite at your schemes.

may make a mistake.”

“What are you driving at?’ asked Brooks, in sur-
prise, glancing toward Frank, who seemed perfectly
at his ease and was regarding the newcomer with an
air of languid indifference.

“T think this gentleman knows what I’d driving at,”
said Hagan, harshly, jabbing one forefinger in Frank's
direction. ‘Called himself Merrifield, eh? Sat around
and listened to all your talk, eh? Heard you and your
friends talk over plans of the Sonora Mining and De-
velopment Company, eh? I'll wager he never blinked
an eyelash. I'll guarantee he acted bored. I'll stake

my life he yawned.”

“He did!” cried Brooks.

“I knew it!” nodded Hagan. “And all the time
he was drinking in every word. He was jotting it
down in his memory to use it against you. Yes, sir,
that’s right—-that’s just what he was doing! I happen

     

WEEKLY. 15

to know whom this chap really is, Brooks. By chance

I saw him down in Maine'a few days ago. Yes, I was
J ran down to have a word with
Well,
by the harp of Old Erin, he'll have a chance to fight

down there myself.
Del Norte. They say this fellow is a fighter.
now |”

With this peculiar exclamation, Bantry Hagan tore
off his coat and flung it on the floor.

“Why, what are you going to do?’ demanded
Brooks.

“Tam going to give this smart young man the finest
thrashing he ever had in all his life,” said Hagan,
with a grin. “My Irish blood is up, and I’ll take de-
light in thumping him good and sufficient.”

“That being the case,” said Frank, quietly, as he rose
to his feet, “I will have to prepare to take a thump-
ing.”

Saying which, he also slipped off his coat and re-
moved his cuffs, after which he stood in his shirt
sleeves, with his hands on his hips, calmly watching
Hagan.

“this won’t do
They won't

“Here! here!’’ expostulated Brooks;
in this hotel! We'll all be fired out!
have it!”

“They will have to have it, my boy,” muttered
Hagan. “I wouldn’t miss the opportunity for a thoux
Look here, that fellow called himself
Merrifield. He got in thick with you, did he? Well,
let me tell you who he is.

“Frank Merriwell!”

While Hagan was making this final speech the door

sand dollars.

He is————”
cried two other voices.

was thrown open behind him, and in the open doorway
appeared Bob Morley and Sammy Glynn. Both saw
Frank and cried out his name in unison.

“Frank Merriwell!” gasped Brooks, in dismay.

“That’s right,” asserted Morley, who had a strip of
courtplaster on his cheek. ‘He left his umbrella be-
hind him in the car, and here it is. Here is his name
on the handle.”’

“Merriwell! Merriwell!’’ muttered the dazed pro-
“Why, I thought he said Merrifield. Mighty
queer I didn’t tumble! ~The names are so much alike
I should have suspected something. But I thought

Merriwell was still on the Sachem with Crossgrove.”

moter.

Morley and Glynn now entered the room. |

ex

 

“Should have been here before, Brooks,” said Glynn ;
“but Bob met with an accident that delayed us until he
recovered.” rc
“Close that door, gents,” directed Hagan. “Turn

NPs
   
 
     
     
 

   

16 , TIP TOP WEEKLY.

the key in the lock. We have this clever chap in a
handy little trap, and between us all we ought to make
him look like a catastrophe before we are done with
him.”

“What are you going to do?’ asked Morley.
overheard all our talk on the train.”

“There's
said the Irishman; “but we can make him sorry he
listened. Come on, gentlemen, let’s get into him.”

Frank for “set into him.”
Realizing the disadvantage at which he would be taken,
With a sudden step and

“He

no way to deprive him of that advantage,”

did not wait them ‘to
he began the combat himself.
pantherish bound, he struck Hagan a smashing blow
before the man was prepared. Frank knew the Irish-
man would be the most dangerous of them all, for he
was like a bulldog that never gives up and seems to
enjoy an encounter in the same degree as it becomes
more desperate and deadly

It was a fearful blow,
fore it.

Morley and Glynn came at Merry, but he dodged the
first, tripping the fellow with an outstretched foot, and
parried the second, giving him a prod in the wind that

'
and Hagan went down be-

made him, groan and double up.

By this time Brooks felt that it- was necessary to
take a hand, and he went at Frank’s back, hoping to
spring upon him and crush him to the floor.

Merry knew another enemy was behind him, and,
having temporarily disposed of Hagan, Morley and
Glynn, he wheeled instantly, being just in time to meet
the rush of Brooks. of

The fellow had his hands outstretched in a clawlike
manner to grasp Frank’s neck.

With a single sweep of his powerful right arm, Mer-
 riwell brushed those hands aside, and then with his
left fist he struck Brooks on the neck just under the
ear. ,

ty _ The promoter was sent flying to one side and fell

dgiwling across ‘one of the beds in the room, where
he lay quivering as if done for,

Morley now reached for Frank’s
to get up from the floor,

legs without trying

Merry saw this movement just as the fellow closed
about his knees. ,

Quick as a flash
Morley’s chin and the top of his head in a peculiar
manner and gave a twist that came near breaking Mor-
ley’s neck. Indeed that twist caused the man instantly
_ to release his hold, and Merriwell sprang away. |

Frank reached down and seized

Barely in time to meet Bantry Hagan’s assault, did
Frank released himself from Morley’s clutch. Hagan

had been jarred by the first blow, but he was quite re-’

covered, and he came at Merriwell with his eyes glar-
ing in a dangerous manner.
“It’s a fighter ye are!” he growled. “But no Hagan
ever ate dirt for a foe.’’
Merry laughed outright.

ing laughter that always came from his lips in times

It was the old-time ring-
of great excitement or peril. Those who knew him
best realized whenever they heard this laugh that the
time had come to keep away from Frank Merriwell.
Sammy Glynn, his blue eyes full of tears, straight-
ened up, still gasping for breath, and saw Frank and
strike several

Hagan meet. He saw the [rishman

sledgehammer-like blows, all of w hich were dodged or
parried, and then he heard the crack of a hard fist as
Merriwell’s
fair. . a

There was a shock as the stricken man went down.

He landed flat on his back and shot in that position

under the very bed on which Brooks still lay stretched.

“One on and one under!” cried Merry.

Morley had recovered, and once more he tried to
catch Frank at a disadvantage by rushing at his back.
It was the look in Sammy’s
and caused him to make a pantherish spring to one
side.

As Morley came past Frank fished and readigde for

him. The fellow checked his rush and wheeled,
“Don’t you think it about time to quit?”
Merry. “Seems to me your crowd is not getting a
great deal of satisfaction out of doing me up.’
“Here, Sammy!” cried
“Give me a hand. We're still two to his one.’
“Keep away, Sammy,” advised Frank.
to hit you, my boy.”

yee ee

But Glynn obeyed the summons of Morley and
started forward: Instantly Frank lifted Morley from
the floor in a peculiar manner, gave him a snapping
whirl through the air and flung him into a corner of
the room.

Then he turned to Glynn, whose uplifted hands he
brushed aside, seized the fellow by the collar and a

convenient ae of the, ener and tossed him onto

£

the second bed. hl

“Now, saeccheciis®
call the affair closed.” os

“Not by a blamed sight!” grow led a savage voice ce an

Rte

knuckles once more smote Hagan full and

eyes which warned Merry

demanded

Morley, :

 

“T don’t like Sg

* said ae Tt think we'd ter

ii his Asya

ental tate ott
Ca

{
4
;
{
}
:
t

eet

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 
 

 

    
     
        
   

 
 

AtP TOP

did |
gan ) Turning, Merry saw that Bantry Hagan had backed
re-“ | “out from beneath the bed and was rising to his feet.
lar- | “You're certainly a hard man to satisfy,’ confessed

: »the fighting youth, as he instantly sprang to meet
gan | Hagan. 7

This encounter between them was even shorter than:

ng- the previous one. Hagan tried in a dazed manner to
nes. | reach Frank, but his hands were brushed aside and
um he received one on the point of the jaw that actually
the lifted him from his feet, heavy as he was, and dropped
ll. | him sprawling to the bed beside Harrison Brooks, who
ht- | was now groaning dismally.
nd Hagan was out of the fight at last.
tal Sammy Glynn sat up on the other bed, but made
°F | no move to approach Frank. Instead he lifted his
i | hand and made a gesture that was both amusing and
11

. pathetic.
“Keep away from me !" he entreated. “If you don’t
touch me, I’m blest if Tl ever bother you!”

pe AN right, Sammy,” “smiled Frank; “‘it’s a compact.
But how about your friend, Morley ?”

 

ts Ek The latter was still in the corner,

ck. hurled and, although he was sitting up with his back
ry against the wall, he seemed quite incapable of rising
He to his feet.

Without pantie a moment, Merry slipped on his
“cuffs, donned his coat and took from the wardrobe his

 
 
  
 
  
    
  

 

oo pe topcoat, hat and traveling bag.

ed : “Good-evening, gentlemen,” he said, as he paused to
a unlock the: door and saw Harrison Brooks struggling
Wes toa sitting posture on the bed. “I trust none of you
Ve are seriously harmed, and I hope you may enjoy your-
Site selves talking the matter over. I expect we will meet
ke | again some day.”

» | As he stepped out into the corridor he came face to
id | face with two of the hotel employees, who had been
m —__ attracted to the spot by the sounds of the encounter.
ie? b Besides those two a number of frightened guests
of 12 were peering from the open doors of their. rooms and

1}: asking one another what was happening.
1e “Hold on!” said one of the men Frank met; “what’s
a all the trouble in there?”

 

“Just step in and see,” invited Merry, coolly.
Sisto eentletiert 3 in there have been kicking uD a little

WEEKLY. 17

where he had been

    
  
  
   
   
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
 
  
  
  
  
   
   
 
    
   
    
  
   
  
  
 
  
 
 

them from detaining him, and a few minutes later he
was descending by the elevator to the office.

He lost no time in settling at the desk and leaving
the Parker House.

CHAPTER VII.
CLEVERLY DONE,

Merry regretted very much that he had been recog-
nized and thus compelled to abandon Harrison Brooks,
to whom he had intended to cling until Brook s met
Porfias del Norte. mS

However, Frank was aware of the place of meeting
appointed by Del Norte, and he resolved to be on hand.

He was somewhat relieved to get away from the
Parker House without being detained and compelled
to explain the part he had taken in the encounter there.

“Unless Brooks and his crowd can make pretty slic‘
explanations,’ thought Merry, “they’re sure to be
fired out of that hotel in short order. Such things
are not tolerated there.”

It did not take Frank long to decide on the course
he would pursue. Having glanced at his watch, he
hailed the first empty cab and gave the driver direc-
tions to take him, without losing a moment's time, to a
certain address on Washington Street. Arriving at
the number, Merry was relieved to find himself there
before the place had closed. It was the shop of a well- .
known theatrical costumer and dealer in theater sup-
plies. Having paid and dismissed the driver, with his
overcoat and handbag Merry entered the costumer’s
shop.

In the double window there was a display a cos-
tumes and wigs and other supplies, such as grease paint. f
and general make-up. i th

Inside the place costumes of all kinds were displayed =
on frames and on the counter and shelves. :

The man, who seemed on the verge of closing up,
met Merry and asked how he could serve him.

“See here,’ said Frank, briskly, ‘I am in need of
some supplies and must have them to-night. Can't
wait a minute. I need wigs and costumes. I will prob- |
ably desire between fifty and a hundred dollars’ worth _
of stuff, and I will pay spot cash for everything if you |
will wait long enough for me to pick them out.”

“I should catch the car for home in a few moments,”
said the man; “but I can’t afford to miss anyroing: ae
this if I’m sure’there’s spot cash in it, as you say.”

“Here,” said Merry, producing a package of bills

       
          
     
   
      
 
 

 
 

     
  

18 STP. TOP

and me off a ten, which he thrust into thé man’s
hand, Under
any circumstances, whether I get what I want or not,

‘take this as a guarantee of good faith.

the ten is yours for your trouble.”

Instantly the man was polite and suave.

“We seldom have people who do business in such
a way,’ he confessed. ‘“‘Now tell me what you want,
and I will see if I can fix you up all right.”
said Merry, tossing his coat
“Let me look your wigs and
Then I

“Just leave it to me,’
and bag upon the counter.
beards over first and pick out what suits me.
will go through your costumes.” —

In a short time the counter was covered with wigs
and beards, and Merry hastily selected a number from
among them, placing them to one side.

“I want a regular first-class box of make-up,”
said. “Put it with that stuff, please.”

he

Then, without waiting for the shopman to render
him assistance, Frank proceeded among the costumes,
inspecting one after another and hastily picking out
several that suited his fancy.

With a mass of costumes on one arm, is returned
to the counter and inquired if there was not a room
where he could try the stuff.

“Certainly, certainly,” said the costumer. ‘There’s

a room right back at the rear of the store.”

“Will you please bring along those wigs and the
make-up box?’ said Merry.

A few moments later Frank was left in the small
dressing room, where there were convenient mirrors
with lights on the sides of them.

*““Just' wait outside for me,’’ he said. “It'll not take
me long.”

“T may be of some assistance,”.said the costumer.
“No,” said Merry, shaking his head.
rather you would leave me quite alone here.

better by myself.” :

“IT would
IT can do

“Oh, very well.”

The costumer retired, straightened up his goods in
the front of the stove and then sat down to glance
over an evening paper by the rather dim light which
came in at the windows.

He had been reading the paper some little time when.
he was aroused by a footstep and glanced up in sur-
prise to see a few feet away a tall, elderly gentleman
with iron-gray hair and beard, who had apparently just
entered .by the open door. The gentleman carried a
_ heavy cane in his hand and seemed looking about the

WEEKLY.

wore dark clothes
and had a pair of gloves in the hand which grasped the

place in a searching manner. He

cane.
said the costumer,

“Good-evening, ” rising quickly.
“What can I do for you?”
“Hush !”’

quick movement with the cane. “lI

was the answer, as the stranger made a
saw him come in
here.”’ |
“You—you—what do you mean?”
He’s in this place,” as-
“Where is he?”

“T saw him come in here.
serted the man with the cane.
“Whom do you mean?”

“The young man who left a cab at your door a short
time ago. I waited for him to come out. I intended
arresting him the moment he stepped outside.”

“Arresting him?”

Se

“What for?”

“For his years he’s one of the cleverest crooks that

walks. He’s wanted for bank breaking in Omaha, a
burglary in Denver, a hold up in Chicago, and a green-
goods deal in New York. I have been on his trail
three weeks now, and at last I have run him down.”

“You're a detective?” questioned the alarmed shop-
keper. .

““A Pinkerton man,”
Where is this fellow ?”

“Hush!” gasped the costumer. “He came in here in
a terrible hurry and wished to buy a complete outfit,
including wigs and beards.”

was the immediate answer.

“Just what I thought he was up to,” nodded the
“He’s after a disguise to enable
him to give me the slip. But where is he?”

man with the cane.

“Back in the dressing room yonder. He’s trying
the stuff now.”

Immediately the stranger drew a pistol and exam-
ined it.

“Help me take this fellow,” he said, in a low tone.
“There’s a good: thing in it, and I’ll make it worth a
hundred to you if you aid me in nabbing him.”

“A hundred ?”’

“Yes, Will you help me?”

“Why don’t you call in the police?” ;

“Oh, no. Don’t fancy for a moment that I am going
to let them have the credit and a share of the reward.
It’s up to you.
weapon of some sort arid come on.’

Among the various theatrical paraphernalia in the

If you’re wing. to help me, get a

arn eye IO i ee iret

0 an necnenatnti innate
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&
?

ilies sided lajadion ani .

 

try
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place was a huge, ancient battle ax, and this the cos-
- tumer immediately seized.
“Come ahead,” he whispered. “I will follow you.
I don’t believe he will get away from us both.”

“Is there a back way by which he could escape?”

He will have to get

. *

“Not from the dressing room.
out of that room, and I know he hasn’t left it.”

“Then we've got him,” laughed the Pinkerton man,
triumphantly.

Together they hurriedly and silently advanced to
the door of the dressing room, where both paused a
moment.

“You block the doorway with that ax,”
tective. “I will go in and take him.”

: Then the door of the room was flung open and the
| Pinkerton man quickly stepped inside, his revolver
held ready

The costumer promptly blocked the open doorway,
) his battle ax uplifted.

Directly both men uttered cries of astonishment, for
the little dressing room was empty.

 

ne ahaa span

said the de-

“Where is he 2” excitedly shottted the detective, turn-
ing toward the astonished costumer.’ ‘You said he
: was here.”
' “Why—I—lI supposed he was. He came in here to
}. try the stuff he had selected. There’s a lot of it now,
and there are his glov es on that chair. Where can he
a pe?”

“You must have been asleep,’ said the detective,
: Be “with apparent disgust. ‘‘He skipped out of this place
- and escaped while you were reading your paper out
- front.”

 
  

“Tt doesn’t seem hisetle:?

g Ms “But you can see it is possible. You can see it has
happened. You've lost your opportunity to make>a
hundred dollars with the utmost ease.”

sGeniie

\-

 

ie “He may be hiding out here in the store some-
; _. where,” muttered the costumer. “It’s very strange. I
_ don’t understand it.”

_ To his surprise the elderly gentleman began to laugh.

“I think this make-up will do all right,” he said.
“How much do I owe you for it?”

* eyha—what!” gasped the astounded shopkeeper,
for he now recognized the voice as that of the young
-man who had entered the place a short time before,
although the man before him did not look in one single
particular the same. ‘‘Why, by George! I believe
you're the man. I beliéve you fooled me!”

 

 

  

  

 

  

 

TIP TOP WEEKLY. 19

  

      
  
    
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
    
 
    
 
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
      
   
  
    
   
    
  
  
 

the
“Tl believe I did fool

“Quite right,” laughed Fr Merriwell, for
elderly man was Frank himself.
you. After make-up I stepped out

quietly and s saw you pluiged in your newspaper. Then

ali
completing my
I walked forward as easily as possible, and when you
glanced up I pretended that | had just entered the
open, front door.”

“Well, I ought to be kicked!” growled the disgusted
costumer. “Say, you’re a dandy at make-up. I didn’t
know my own stuff. Your manner and voice
changed, as well as your looks.”

“The art of accomplishing that is what makes a man
said Merry.

was

successful as a character actor,”
“Then you’re an actor?”
“Yes, an actor on the world’s broad stage. We're
my dear sir, though few of us realize it.
I am willing to pay your
don’t want the rest of it

all actors,
How much do I owe you?
price. Inspect the stuff. I
there.”

Merry hastily gathered up his own clothes, made
them into a compact bundJe, found a sheet of brown
paper and rolled them up, after which he settled with
the admiring costumer.

“Good-night, sir,” he said, as he paused a minute at
“T hope this outfit will disguise me as
completely to the eyes of others as it did to yours.’

the front door.

A moment later he was gone.

The costumer stopped to scratch his head.

“By George!” he muttered, “that whole business
was mighty strange! I will bet something he really is —
a crook, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he told the truth
about himself when he declared he was wanted in
those different places for crimes committed. It’s not *
often a man comes in here and makes up and wears his
make-up out onto the street. I believe I will follow = |
him. I believe I will put the police after him.” Sa
Having arrived at this decision, he hastily sprang to se
the door and looked out upon the street, but to his dis- ta
may he could see nothing of his late customer. Ge

CHAPTER VIII.
THE MAN FROM MEXICO.

 
     

Facing Bowdoin Square, where Cambridge, Court, —
Bulfinch and Green Streets converge, stands the old
Revere House, a relic of the days when this portion of ©
the West End boasted of its fine old families. The
West End has changed and fallen into degeneracy and

     
    
 

     
 

  
 

20 | TIP TOP WEEKLY.

decay.
mary of them been converted into lodging houses,
saloons, cheap hotels and brothels. Along the ‘streets
where once fine ladies rode in their carriages now clangs

The old-fashioned houses of that quarter have

the trolley and pulses the ebb and flow of the lower
strata of city life. Where once it was punishable by
heavy fines and even by imprisonment to utter an im-
pious word may now be heard of an evening more
bloodeurdling blasphemy and profanity than in any
other quarter of any other city in the United States.
The toughs, the bums, the crooks, the loafers and the
degenerates who swarm through those streets punctu-
ate all their speeches with oaths and curses, regardless
of whose ears may be shocked or offended. And all
this in puritanical Boston, where the good people are
shocked at things which would not receive even passing
notice in many cities far less profane.

_In some manner the old Revere has retained much
of its prestige. It’s still a respectable hotel and con-
tinues to be patronized by many of its former guests,
who cling to it with a persistency and fondness that
prevents them from being driven to other more modern
hostelries,

In front of the Revere one night stopped a cab, from
which descended a well-dressed, aristocratic-looking
gentleman, somewhat past middle age, who astounded
the driver by giving him a five-dollar bill and telling
him to keep the change. The boy who carried this
gentleman’s traveling bag into the hotel received a
silver dollar as a tip.

“T’d like the best suite in the house,” said the new
guest, as he dipped his pen in the ink and prepared to
register. “My trunks have not arrived, but in case
there’s any question as to my responsibility, I will pay
in advance. I think I am able to do so.”

Having said this, he registered as “Bradbury Bow-
man, Monterey, Mexico.”

“Mr. Bowman?” said the clerk, glancing at the
name. N SSEAN

“Well, down in Central: America they call me colo-
nel, but you needn’t bother about that. My military
title doesn’t count in this country, and I have some
doubts if it will count down there two months from

now. You see, I happened to fight on the winning

side, but in that country the victorious to-day are the
vanquished to-morrow.”

“We can give you a very comfortable suite, colonel,”
said the clerk. “But, unless you have acceptable recom-

mendations, I am sorry to say we'll have to charge in
advance, as your baggage has not been brought in.”

Col. Bowman laughed.

“Take it out of that,” he said, as he flung a roll of
money on the desk. “It’s rather odd, don’t you know,
that I can put up at any hotel in Mexico or west of the
Mississippi without question, while lots of your East-
ern hotel people seem devilish suspicious. I reckon
you must have been beaten frequently.”

Having paid for his suite in advance, the colonel
found a bell boy ready to escort him and departed from
the office. Once in his rooms Bradbury Bowman or-
dered a cocktail and a pitcher of ice water and tipped
the boy with a two-dollar bill when he brought those
articles.

“Say, Jakey,” said this bell boy to another, as they
met in the office, “that gent from Mexico is lousy with
the long green. He’s giving it away right and left.
Paid the cabman five for bringing him over from the
South Station, gave Sandy a dollar to sack his grip

into the desk, and chucked two at me for delivering a

cocktail and a*-pitcher of ice water up at his room.
Keep your blinkers open for him and scratch gravel
when he calls. There’s a good thing in it.”

Col. Bowman ordered dinner from his room and
liberally tipped the boy who brought the menu card to
him. When his order was ready he entered in the
dining room and walked with dignity to his seat, his
appearance and atmosphere being sufficient to attract
the observation of most of the guests in that room.

The colonel ate heartily and seemed to relish every
mouthful. Before beginning dinner he asked for a
Manhattan cocktail and, singular though it may seem,
he did not drink it. Having ordered, to the surprise
of the waiter, a cup half filled with tea, which was
placed before him, with the cleverness of a sleight-of-
hand performer, Bradbury Bowman emptied the con-
tents of the cocktail glass into the cup. Not a person
present detected him in this, but several saw him put
down the empty glass and observed that he wiped his
lips with his napkin and appeared quite satisfied.

Later, when the waiter removed the dishes from that
table, he was astounded to find, not only had the colonel
failed to drink his tea, but that the half-filled cup had
become remarkably full, Further than that, the con-
tents of the cup had a singular odor quite unlike that

usually given forth by tea.

The man from Mexico was leisurely enjoying his

 

 

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n

eo “<S

Pe a Cea

dessert when another man appeared at the door and
looked into the dining room,
“with hasty glances. This man looked at the colonel,
but gave him no more than a passing survey.
|» Immediately Bowman called for a finger bowl,
which was quickly brought by the waiter. ;

Ere leaving the table the colonel tipped the waiter
with a bill, and a few moments later he approached the
desk, where the man who had just. looked over the

surveying the guests

es ie table in the dining room was speaking to the clerk.

“Yes, my name’s Brooks—Harrison Brooks,” this
man was saying. “I have an appointment here to meet
a friend of mine, Porfias del Norte. I didn’t know but
that he might be stopping in this house.”

te a

oe

“No such guest registered here,’ said the clerk.

— “You can see-for yourself, sir.”

aes Shoes Pres

Brooks hastily glanced over the register, running his
index finger down the page as he did so. Coming to
_ the name of Bradbury Bowman, he paused.
te “Bradbury Bowman, Monterey, Mexico,”

}?

“Why, here’s a man from Mexico!

_  “That’s right,” spoke up the colonel, promptly: “‘I
am from Mexico, and if I mistake not you have been
in that country, sir. I have been watching you for a
_ minute at least, and I am confident I have seen you
down there somewhere. Was it in Chihuahua? No?
Then it must have been in Hermosillo? Ah! ha! I
knew it! I knew it!”

he read.

See me pS Le a ee
EMEA INE Ie Det A OMe Ptah

st

“T have been in Hermosillo,’ confessed Brooks; “but
I don’t remember meeting you there.’

“Quite likely, quite likely,” nodded the colonel.
“Still I believe I saw you one evening. You know
_ Americans are not so common down there that one is
he: liable not to pay special attention when he sees one.”

ae

FAV

h “You are Bradbury Bowman?” questioned Brooks.
“You registered here ?”’

His finger was still pointing at the colonel’s name
on the page.
te “Yes, I registered there,” nodded the man from
| Mexico. “T noticed you when you looked into the din-
_ ing room. Somehow there was something familiar
| about your face., Says I to myself, ‘Bowman, you
_ know that man. Bowman, you've seen that man be-
fore. Bowman, where did you see him? Bowman,
find out.’ It’s all settled now. It was at Hermosillo.
_ Great country down there, Great possibilities. Been
~all through it. Been clean down to Colon on the Isth-
mus. Central America is a great country, too; but

 

 

 

    
      
    
  
  

 

é

   

TIP TOP WEEKLY. 23

there’s too much doing in the revolution line to make
it a safe place for the investment of American capital.
Won my title down there, you know. Got mixed up in
one of their little broils and took a leading part. They
gave me the commission of colonel. But I couldn’t
stand it, and I pulled out for the North. Mexico in-
terests me. Again | say it’s a great country. Again I
say it’s full of marvelous possibilities. I am going
back there. I am going back in the interest of Ameri-
can capitalists. Americans are the hustlers. They
make things move. I am going down there and find an
opening for some good United States coin.”

“Then I’m the very man to put you wise,” declared
Brooks. “I know where you can plant dollars which
will grow dollars. Let’s go down to the bar, colonel.
I will take satisfaction in telling you a few things that
will interest you. Besides that, I have an appointment
to meet a friend at the bar in thirty minutes.”

Together they descended to the bar, where Brooks
insisted on treating.

“Just had dinner,” said Bowman; “but I will take
some gin—Old Tom gin.”

“What! gin?’ exclaimed Brooks, in surprise. “Do
you mean gin?”
“Exactly, exactly,” nodded the colonel. “I suppose

it does seem a little odd right on top of dinner; but I
acquired the habit years ago, and I can’t shake it off.
Water for a chaser, Johnny, please.”

Brooks ordered whisky for himself.

Nor did he dream that it was the chaser that Col.
Bowman drank, not the gin he had poured out. The
crafty colonel lifted the glass containing the gin and
pretended to take some of it as a chaser, but did not
even wet his lips with it. Then the barkeeper gath-
ered in the glasses and emptied the en into a slop
compartment beneath the bar.

,

“Within two. minutes the colonel proposed to treat,
and again took gin, which was once more disposed of
in the same manner as the first.

These two drinks seemed to have a profound effect
on the man from Mexico, for-he persisted in ordering
again in a short time, and soon he had Brooks’ tongue
unloosened so that the fellow was talking freely and
fluently.

“TI tell you, colonel, old horse,” said Brooks, as he
tapped the man from Mexico, “I can show you the

greatest thing for your money to be found in all
Mexico. I am in on the inside, and I will take you

  

 
 
 
     

Rig bay
oy

 

  

22 *iP FOP

in on the ground floor if you want to come right away.
It’s the Sonora Mining and Development Company.
It, with the aid of the Central Sonora Railroad, soon
to be built by a syndicate of capitalists, will open up
one of the richest sections of Northwestern Mexico.
You wait, old boy, until my friend shows up here.
Pll introduce you to him, and he’ll tell you all about it,
too. ‘Had a little scrap to-night. Don’t mind that mark
on my cheek. It’s nothing. You should see the other
fellow. I know it would amuse you if you could just
put your eyes on him.”

“Did you do him up?” inquired the colonel.

“Do him up? I should say so! Why, I gave him
a pair of black eyes and knocked four teeth out, be-
sides splitting his lip and breaking his nose.”
said the colonel. “You must be a bad
-man with your fists. But down in Mexico the knife is
the weapon most used.” |

“Whew!”

” said Brooks. “Confound those half-
I never trust any of them.”

“That’s right,
breeds

“It’s few of the so-called straight-blooded Mexi-
cans who can be trusted,” said Bowman.

“When my friend arrives,” declared Brooks, “I'll
introduce you to one you can trust. Ah, here he is!
Col. Bowman, let me present rH to Sefior Porfias del
Norte.”

 

CHAPTER IX.
THE SURPRISING EFFECT OF DRINKING CHASERS.

Del Norte was advancing gracefully and hurriedly
toward the bar. Already he had espied Brooks, and
he smiled in that peculiarly pleasant manner of his
as he held out his hand, softly exclaiming with the
slight accent that lent attraction to his speech:

“My dear Sefior Brooks, it’s a great pleasure I have
to again clasp your hand. I beg your pardon,” he
added, turning quickly toward the colonel. “It was
my delight in again meeting my friend Brooks that
caused me to miss your name, sefior.”
-“Bowman—Bradbury Bowman, of Monterey,” said
the colonel. “I don’t know just. why I claim Monterey
as a city to hail from; but I am bound to hail from
“Mexico somewhere, as I propose to spend much of my

life in the future down in that country, and I was in

Monterey some time before coming North and made a
number of friends there. Sefior Del Norte, I am glad
to know you—mighty oat to know 1 I am glad to

    

WEEKLY.

meet you to-night—almighty glad to meet you to-
night!”

Del Norte lifted his eyebrows a bit at this effusive-
ness on the part of the colonel, for effusiveness he
found quite unknown among Northerners, and espe-
cially in New England. He decided almost immedi-
ately that the colonel’s outburst was prompted mainly
by the influence of something lately imbibed at the bar.
And he also noticed that Brooks was flushed and not a
little under the influence of liquor.

“And I,” said the promoter, “am glad it has been
my pleasure to bring you two together. Sefior Del
Norte, Col. Bowman is a man who has the honor of be-
ing friendly with many Americans of money, and he is
in this part of the country at the present time for the
purpose of interesting capitalists in Mexico and the in-
dustries down that way.”

“Is it so?” smiled the Mexican. “Then, truly, I am
still more grateful for the pleasure of the colonel’s ac-
quaintance.”

Del Norte had caught a wink from Brooks and al-
ready’ decided that Col. Bowman had been selected by
the promoter as a possible investor in the Sonora Min-
ing and Development Company.

“Well, gentlemen,” in his
bluff way, “I propose that we line up and absorb some
poison here at the bar. Not a word, Brooks, old horse;
it’son me. I’ve got some money to spend, and I’ll have
to throw it away if I can’t spend it.”

now, said the colonel,

After drinking water once more and deftly avoiding
tasting the gin in the other glass, the colonel seemed
more profuse in his manners and loquacious in his con-
versation than before. He launched into a eulogy on
Mexico, frequently slapping Del Norte and Brooks on
the shoulder, and ended by declaring that he could take

millions into the country in case he saw an opportunity

to make those millions produce millions.

As the colonel made this statement Brooks caught

Del Norte’s eye and nodded a bit with a smile of

satisfaction, while Del Norte secretly nodded back at
him, also smiling a trifle. ;

39

“That talk sounds well, colonel, old man,” said the
promoter, “and if you can make good I will guarantee

to show you how to place your money.”’

He concluded by speaking a few words in Spanish,

upon which Bowman laughed and answered in the

same language, although rather awkwardly and bro-
kenly.

  

 

 

 
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_ session of the property he holds.

TIP: TOP

“Oh, I speak the ’’ said the colonel; “but I un-

lingo,

* derstand it a blamed sight better than I talk it.”

“Then, perhaps,” suggested Del Norte, “it will be

. just as well for us if we continue our conversation in

that language. I observe that we have attracted some
attention and people are very curious.”’

After this they did speak in Spanish, although the
efforts of the colonel were sometimes somewhat ludi-
crous.

“I was surprised to receive your telegram, Sefior
~ Del Norte,”
on the Sachem until I got it.
you changed the appointment?

the Parker House.”
“Quite right,”

said Brooks. “Supposed you were still
How did it happen that

I was to meet you at

nodded the Mexican; “but it became
hecessary for me to change. I was not stopping at the
‘Parker House, but at the Touraine. I had the misfor-
tune to encounter there the young brother of this
American, Merriwell. I thought it possible he did not
recognize me, but after that I found men were shadow-
ing me, and I became satisfied that he had engaged
them to do so. I took precautions to throw them
off the track, at the same time deciding this would be a
better place for us to meet. I left a line for you at the
Parker House.”

“T received it,” said Brooks, whose tongue was
rather thick by this time, while he seemed decidedly
unsteady on his feet. ‘But why did you urge me toa
come with such haste?”

“I wished you to know, Sefior Brooks, that the last
impediment to success has been removed. You have

expressed the belief that this Merriwell might cause
_us trouble and annoyance before we could secure pos-
I have now in my
hands a document that will baffle him. It’s not here,
Sefior Brooks. I do not carry it with me, but to-night,
shortly before eleven, I shall meet two friends from
my own country at Ricardi’s saloon, on North Street,
and shall place it in their hands. They will return
with it to the City of Mexico, where it will be used
to convince my friends who are working for the reaf-
firmation of the old land grant that this Merriwell
has actually no hold upon the property he has appro-

_, priated.”

“Oh, let's take another drink!’ put in the colonel,
_ who was apparently losing interest in their talk. “It
_strains me to follow that lingo, and I don’t see the good
of it”

   

WEEKLY. 23

“Where is Ricardi’s?” asked Brooks. “Do you wish
me to be there?”

“Ricardi’s
Del Norte.

shall see the document.

answered
and you

is near the corner of Fleet,”

“You can't miss it. Come there
{ will remove your last doubt,
senor. It will cause you to enter heart and soul into
our plans.”’

hand,”

“TL will be on promised Brooks.

“So will I,” thought Bowman; but he pounded on
the bar and loudly announced his intention of drink-
ing all the gin in the hotel.

As the three men were taking their drinks Brooks
questioned Del Norte in a low tone.

“How did you get hold of this document?”

“I found it in the possession of Merriwell,”’ an-
swered the Mexican. “When I secured it I lost no
time in hastening hither.”

“Oh, that was why you came on to Boston so sud-
denly.”’

“Quite so, sefior.”

“Who are these men to whom you propose entrust-
ing it?”

“Faithful friends. I called them here from New
York, and they will arrive in time to keep the ap-
pointment with me at Ricardi’s.” .

Another drink seemed to be more than the colonel
could handle with comfort.

“Boys,” he said, thickly, “think I’ll go to bed. In.
fernally tired. Like to sit up all night, but this is a
poor town to sit up in. Everything closes like a vault
at eleven. Nothing doing after that. Be in New York
directly, Things just begin to move in that village
when they close up here.”

“Oh, but we must see you again, colonel,” smiled
Del Norte. “At, least, I hope we may. I may have
to leave Boston in the morning, but my friend Brooks
will be here a day or two longer. You should have a
talk with Sefior Brooks to-morrow. He will interest
you, and I am sure he will convince you he has a mag~ i

nificent ehiag for men who wish to invest money in. my .

ae + ee

“That’s right, colonel, old horse,” said Brooks. “See
you to-morrow, eh? Let’s make a date, colonel? Meet
.you right here at eleven. What say ?”

“Just about the right hour to take an eye-opener
with me, Brooks, my boy,” said Bowman. “T’ll go you.
Now be good children—be good to-night, for you
can't be anything else in Boston.”

 
    

5

{
mh

cLe

“That shows you’re not wholly familiar with the
town,” chuckled Brooks. “I can show you some wrin-
kles that will surprise you long after things are sup-
posed to be closed up like a vault, as you put it. Per-
haps we will go out to-morrow evening and cut a
watermelon, colonel. What do you say?”

“My boy, if you can really show me anything that
will keep my blood from stagnating, my time is yours
to-morrow evening. Sefior Del Norte, 1 hope we may
see one another again, and somehow I feel blamed sure
we shall. Good-ni’, gents—good-ni’.”

He shook hands with them both and departed with
an evident effort at steadiness and dignity.

Little did they dream that Col. Bradbury Bowman,
of Monterey, had no intention of retiring at that hour.
Little did they dream that they were both to see him
again that right under conditions both startling: and
surprising.

CHAPTER X

WHAT HAPPENED AT RICARDI’S.

Ricardi’s is an Italian saloon in a quarter of Boston
where it is decidedly unsafe for a respectable citizen
to appear alone at a late hour. Indeed it is a locality
avoided as far as possible by particular people even in
broad daylight. Many Italians frequent Ricardi’s, and
sailors are often.seen in the place. The thugs and ruf-
fians of that quarter drift in and out, and, nearly all of
them are on friendly terms with the barkeepers.

Shortly after ten o’clock that night a dilapidated-
appearing, middle-aged gentleman, with his hat miss-
ing, his clothes mussed and torn and his condition
seemingly one of intoxication, wandered into Ricardi’s
amd told a tale of woe. According to this tale he had
been robbed by some chance acquaintance, who had
used him rather unkindly when he resented their ap-
propriation of his watch, jewelry and money.
Although this unfortunate gentleman strongly re-
; -sembled Bradbury Bowman, of Monterey, he gave his
name as John Newton.
6 “Suppose I can stand it,” he said, as he fished round
in his pockets. “They didn’t get it all.
_ left, and I propose to spend it. Everybody take some-
thing. Going to meet some friends in here. They'll
all have money. Told them to meet me here. They'll

I’ve got a fiver

spend their money, too.”

keeper, sternly.

  

TOP’ WEEKLY.

Having treated everyone, Newton again related his
tale of woe and grew maudlin over it.

“Don’t care for the money,” he said; “but that watch
was heirloom. Father owned it before mé Wouldn't
take five hundred for that watch. No, sir, wouldn’t
take a thousand. ’Fi new fel’s got it I’d give up a hun-
dred to-morrow if they brought it back.’ )

“Who are da friends you meet?” inquired one of
the Italian barkeepers. “Mebbe they know-a_ this
place? Mebbe they com-a here? Mebbe they regular
costomers ?”’ .

“That’s right,”
right along.”

“What names?” asked the barkeeper.

“Jack Green and Tod Hamblin.”

“Ah-h-h, yes, yes, Hamblin I don’t know.
he com-a here often. He gone long-a time.
com-a after him.”

“How?” asked Newton, in apparent surprise. “Why
did the police get after him?”

said Newton. “They come here

Green,
Police

“Oh, all a mistake, all a mistake,” was the quick as-
surance of the barkeeper. ‘“Think-a he do something
he did not-a do. He very fine-a fel’—very fine-a fel’.”

After a time Newton seemed to grow weary of stand-

ing and found a chair in a corner of the little back room
which opened off the bar. Having pulled his chair
in the shadow of the at the man soon appeared to
fall asleep.

“Here’s a chance to clean der old snoozer out,” said
one of the loafers. ‘“‘He’s dead to der world. We
might blow it on der bar, boys.”

“No! no!” sharply cried the barkeeper. “Let-a him
sleep. Jack Green, he come-a here make-a de troub’ if
he finds his friend-a been touched in my place. I no
have-a de troub’ with Jack.”

“What’s the matter, Manuel?” growled the tough,
who had proposed cleaning Newton out. “Bet it’s a

dead cinch that Jack put up the job and had a finger.

> 99

in cleaning the old guy out of his watch and colat’.

said the bar-
If Jack no

“No touch-a him, no touch-a him,”
“Wait-a till closing time.
come—plenty time then.”

Therefore Newton remained undisturbed
shadowy corner.

After a time two dark-faced men entered and or-
dered drinks.
a table, and having seated themselves they fell to talk-
ing in. 7 ae their tones oe ght, They

in the

They asked that the drinks be served at .

5 ee &
ae

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: ie a. TIP TOP
ig were strangers, and the regular patrons of the place
i veyed them with more or less curiosity.
h 4 The hands of the dingy-faced clock behind the bar
pes i _ indicated that it was ten-forty-three when a man wear-
4 Bette a long cloak and a wide-brimmed hat that was
a- | pulled over his green-black eyes, strode unhesitatingly
into Ricardi’s and glanced around. He was self-pos-
of | Sessed and graceful, and immediately on spying the two
is | men at the table, he advanced quickly toward them. As
1 | they glanced up he made a signal with his hand and
greeted them in Spanish. Both men rose instantly
e | with words of welcome.
. “I find you here, sefiors,” said the newcomer. “It is
well.” a aii
;, “We came promptly at your call, Sefior Del Norte,”
ie , answered one of them.
€ ee “You are always prompt, Sefior Herrera,” declared
| Porfias del Norte, for the man in the cloak was none
ee “ other than the Mexican schemer and adventurer. “It
| is you and Almonte I can always trust. That’s why I
| summoned you. I have it to say in a very short time.
eg Can we not find a more private spot? The back room
” would do very well. I will speak to the man at the
9d __- He turned back to the bar and spoke to the bar-
fc tender, stating that he and his friends wished to stay in
9 _____ the little room a short time and have their drinks served
|. there. To this the bartender promptly assented and
os accompanied them into the room, where a light was
at turned on.

_ “But who is this?” asked Del Norte, turning toward

“ | the slumbering man in the corner.

¥ | By this time Newton was doubled up, with his head
| bowed on his knees, snoring steadily and_regularly.

 

 
 
 

O

_ “Tt’s a customer,” answered the barkeeper. “You
_ see he fast sleep, fast sleep. He no bother you. He
i - wait-a for friends.”
r. “Can’t we have this room to ourselves?” inquired

Del Norte. “We will pay for it.”
. eno bother you,” declared the barkeeper. ‘“Let-a
5 i him sleep..”

| “We will pay you well,” suggested Del Norte.

 

 
   
     
  
 

_ “Let-a him sleep,” persisted the barkeeper. ay
*customers, they have-a de right to sleep.”
es _ Del Norte and his companions were compelled to i
e satisfied, and therefore they sat down close together

  

in the little room, were served with drinks ae fell to
conversing 4 in Spanish,

   

 

 

 

fied as to its value.

   

WEEKLY. 25

“It’s not one chance in ten thousand,” said the ad-
venturer, “that the man could understand us were he
awake. Drink has overcome him. Pay no attention to
him, my friends.”

“We have wondered, sefior,” said Herrera, “that
you summoned us so poeins to this city. We knew
there must be a good reason.’

“Quite right,” answered Del Norte.’ “There is a
good reason. Comrades, you know those who are
working for me in Mexico. Our interests are advanced
when they can convince certain officials that the Ameri-

can, Merriwell,

influence to have the old land grant reaffirmed.”

“It’s the one stumbling block, Sefior Del Norte,”
said Herrera. “They do not wish to advocate anything
that will be a bad step.”

Del Norte smiled triumphantly.

“There’s no need that they should advocate anything
that will be a bad step,” he said, “for I now have in my
possession a paper that when shown to them must con-
vince them Merriwell has no anes from this hour
to defend the title to his property.”

“You have this paper ?”’ cried Almonte. “Senor Del
Norte, it was the one thing lacking. How did it come —
to you?”

“It came to me from amid the possessions of Mer-
riwell himself,” answered Del Norte. “I wish to get
rid of it without delay. I know I can trust you, and I
shall place it in your hands. You are to lose not a day
in starting for Mexico. Then should the American
find me he will not find the document.”

said Herrera.

Sefior Del Norte reached into an inner pocket, after
glancing around to make sure they were not watched,
and produced a leather pocketbook, from which he took
a worn and time-yellowed document. This he handled
with the utmost tenderness in order not to tear it more
as he slowly unfolded it before them.

“Here it is,” he laughed. “This is the document,
as you can see for yourselves, sefiors. Look! Ex- _
amine it! Read! It will satisfy you that I can’t be
defeated in case the old grant is reaffirmed. I shall be
able to drive out this — American and take
possession of his mine.’ eat

“We are yours to command, sefior,”

 

Eagerly they glanced over the paper, “uttering ¢ ees. fe

clamations. In a short time they were entirely satis-

has no solid claim to the mine he is aM 4
now operating. These officials will bring to bear their

 

    
 

 

   

26 ie

“You are right, Senor Del Norte,” declared Al-
monte. “Everything is now in your hands and suc-
cess must be yours.”

“It is even so,’ said Del Norte, as he carefully re-
folded the paper. I entrust this.
Take it and defend it with your lives.”

He lifted it and held it toward them.

At that moment over his shoulder brushed a hand
that snatched the paper from his fingers.

With exclamations of astonishment, rage and dis-

“To you, my friends,

may, the three men leaped up and turned to find them-
selves face to face with the man who had given his
name as John Newton. This, however, was not the
name that burst from the lips of Del Norte.

“It’s the American, Col. Bowman!” he exclaimed.
“He has followed me here!”

“Right you are,” was the answer. “I have followed
you further than you think, Porfias del Norte, and I
have recovered my property!”

“Your property ?”’

“Yes; this document.”

“It’s mine!” snarled Del Norte, his hand disappear-
ing into the folds of his cloak. “Who are you that
you dare lay a finger on it?”

“Tam Frank Merriwell!” cried the man, as he made
-a rapid movement and flung aside his false beard and
wig.

Some of the make-up remained on his face, but still
Del Norte staggered in amazement as he recognized
standing before him the American youth he had
robbed.

Frank ,Merriwell had played his part well, and the
paper was in his possession.

But he was not yet out of Ricardi’s.

Forth flashed Del Norte’s hand, gripping the haft
of a long, keen stiletto.

“At him, my comrades!’ he panted.

But in a twinkling Merriwell had thrust the paper
into his pocket with one hand, while he whipped forth
a blue-barreled revolver with the other.

“Stop, you Mexican dogs!’’ he exclaimed. ‘Take a
step in my direction and I will give you a chance to eat
lead!”

Having said this: he backed quickly to the door
which opened into the barroom.

“Stop him!” cried Del Norte, to those in the front
room.

Having reached the doorway, Merriwell made a

   

TOP

swift turn and a pantherish spring that carried him |

   

WEEKLY.

His pistol was in his hand and ready

into the barroom.
for use.
“T don’t think anyone here had better interfere with
e,” he said. ‘This gun is good for six men.”
Those thugs were not anxious to get in his way,
and he reached the front door unmolested.
“Good-night, Porfias del Norte!” he cried,
Mexican came hurrying into the front room.
He was gone even as he uttered the words.
Cursing in Spanish, Del Norte led the rush for
the street. With his two companions close at his heels,
he took up the pursuit of Merriwell, who was seen
speeding away as fast as his feet could carry him.
Many turned in surprise to look after the fugitive,
but no one sought to molest him. Indeed those who
observed the long-barreled pistol in his hand hastily
stepped aside to let him pass.
Into an alley Frank plunged. Halfway ABeen it he
turned into yet another alley and came quickly to a
street. In less than ten minutes he had baffled his pur-

as the

suers and, with his pistol restored to his pocket, he

lost little time in making his way out of that quarter nf
the city.

“I am aware the game is not yet played out, Porfias
del Norte,” he muttered; “but you have met your
checkmate, and in the end your reward shall be com-
plete defeat.”

THE END.

The Next Number (443) Will Contain

FRANK MERRIWELL DECOYED

THE CAPTIVE OF WOODHULL HALL.

a Seer mr tat tne

The House of the Secret Passage,

 

Frank in New York—A Trip to Staten Island to See a
Capitalist—The Staten Island Ferry—The Cripple.
The Fight with the Thugs—A Trip to Tottenville

on a Rainy Night—The Cabman—The Strange, .
Dark House—A Room with No Windows—Frank a

Prisoner—A Talk with Del Norte—A Snap Shot.

Out of the Room—The Secrets of Woodhull Hall. >

The Dungeon and Its Occupant—A Fight with the

Hawk-nosed. Man—The Love of a Good Woman.

 

 

 

 
  
    
 

     
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TtP “TOP

 

 

 

= 4) mw a!
forthe Ariéfican Youth .,.,
NEW YORK, October 1, 1904.
TERMS TO TIP TOP WEEKLY MAIL SUBSCRIBERS.
(PostTaGE FREE.)
Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each.

2 Months. ......5.......:.. 66¢. | One year Ser eay aes be PO
PAPERS v9 ghee Se ocr 85c, | 2 copies one year.......-.. 4.00
MSINORENE oye Foy 2 ess $1.25 1 copy two years.......... 4.00

_ How TO SEND MoNEY.—-By post-office or express money order,
registered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own
dees if sent by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary
etter.

; RecEIPTs.—Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper
ehange of number on your label. If not correct you have not been
properly credited, and should let us know at once.

STREET & SMITH’S TIP TOP WEEKLY,
238 William St., New York City.

APPLAUSE.

 

 

 

That letter signed by Emil Herdlick, in which he says he
worked in a brewery, but quit it after a time, as it was a dis-
BR honorable job, and that Frank Merriwell would not work there,
+) is curious. I beg to disagree with Mr. Herdlick on that point.

_ Working in a brewery is just as honorable as working in a fer-
tilizer, as I have been for the last three months, or any other job
for that matter. My one ambition is to work in a brewery, and
one day become a brewmaster.

The Tip Top is certainly great. Every boy in town reads it.
_ My favorite character, outside of Frank and Dick, is Cap’n Wiley.
_ I am something like Wiley myself. Everybody groans when |

come around, because I’m always telling something “fishy.” I
| guess it was born in me, same as in “Little Walter.” Well, I have

_ to say a little about I. M. Deranged, no, I mean, I. M. Disgusted.
I wonder how such “disgusting” people can live in this world.
Oh, he “disgusts” me, so I'll let him drop.

I am also in favor of the correspondence club, but I’ll say one

_ thing, and that is that I won’t be president of it. No, sir, not

by a long shot. I know the duties of a president, having been one

once. Well, I lasted about two weeks, that was enough for me.

I guess I have said enough. Wishing best luck to Street & Smith,

‘Burt L. and all the readers, I remain, GARFIELD BowMAN.
Canton, Ohio.

You are right. No labor is degrading. It is the man that
makes the work, not the work the man.

  
   
    
    
  

 

 

    
  
  
   
  
  
    
  
  

 

 

\

I would like*to say a few words for the absolute monarch of
all publications for the American youth, Tip Top Weekly. Its
success is due to Mr. Standish’s genius and versatility and the
enterprise of the publishers, Street & Smith. The characters por-
trayed by Mr. Standish ‘are true to Kfe; so true, in fact, that not
only do the readers take the keenest interest and delight in read-
ing Tip Top, but are always ready to defend their favorite char-
ae a Same as they would fight for their personal friends in
real lite.

_ In the Applause column may be found a range of character,
comparing favorably with Mr. Standish’s creations. The de-
enders of Dick are, like him, the enemies of class distinction and
snobbery. They will not permit even a mythical friend to be
daubed by such mud manipulators as the I. M. K.’s and the
“Two Can-rushers of Canada.” By the way! Say I. M.! Kick-
ing is about all a jackass is good for anyhow, so your real name
must be Ima Jackass, isn’t it? If so, flop your ears. We can’t
tell by your feet because they are always up in the air. Those
who ridicule Dick are nothing but money worshipers and the
snobs of aristocracy. They are enraged because Dick won't fall

}

     

  

  

  

  

  

 

WEEKLY. 27

down and adore their pampered pet, Chesty Arlington, and Brad’s
outspoken enmity toward their idol makes them still more vio-
lent in their abuse of this noble son of Texas.

In No. 428 we find an article written by Theodore Saphead.
He lives on a Little Rock, down in Arkansawsas. Won’t some-
body piease kick him off the rock or bump his empty think-tank
against it. Oh! how I wish somebody would kick the rock from
under you, Theodore. The fat boy’s good nature jars your
shattered nerves, eh? Wel}, quit the high-balls and cigarettes and
these little things will soothe instead of disturb you. Obed is
all right, his clumsiness serves a good purpose. For instance, he
often makes a safe hit at critical stages, when the opposing
pitcher relaxes, thinking he has an easy mark before him. The
pie-eater is also good at mpping base-runners, who thinking it
will be easy to steal second, sprint. But they generally find Obed
there with the goods. ;

It’s too bad Dick won’t let Chesty manage the team, as he
(Arlington) would make lots of money on the side selling out
games. As to Hec Marsh and Clint Shaw, they are fine fellows
in comparison with you; Theodore. If you do not like the com-
mon herd, why, get off the rock and go to London, where you
will have plenty of room to ape nobility. Don’t worry about
your blood boiling, you have none to boil.

Spring Valley, Ill. : A JUNEOCRAT.

Thanks for your praise, Juno. So'long as Mr. Standish’s char-
acters. have you for a defender they need not worry. You are
almost too severe at times. Perhaps Theodore’is not so bad as
you picture him.

 

I wish to say a few words in behalf of world-renowned Tip
Top. It is great. There is nothing like it.

To any boy who is going the route, such as smoking cigarettes,
drinking strong liquors and going with bad companions, I say,
read Tip Top and cut it out. Even I was going the route till
I began.

Now in regard to the principal ones in the books, Frank is my’

favorite. Dear, noble-hearted Frank!
blooded Jack Diamond. He is a peach!

1 hope I won’t cause any criticism when I say I don’t like any
of Dick’s friends except Darrell and Flint. That big-mouth
Texan is a big fake. fy

I notice in the latest issue of Tip Top that the Rockspur Rivals
was published with it. Now I would like to see them published
by themselves in book form, just like Tip Top, because they are
certainly swell. I close, with best wishes to all, Hurrah for the
new weekly, the Rockspur Rivals. iA

St. Louis, Mo. A MEMBER OF THE VIRGINIA ATHLETIC CLUB.

This sounds like a real reformer. If Tip Top did what you
say it did for you, you ought to. be grateful. Let us hope it does
as much for others.

Then Dick, then blue-

 

Having been a reader of Tip Top for the past three years,
I thought it about time that I made myself heard in the Ap-
plause column. The first number I read was, I think, No. 265,
entitled “Frank Merriwell’s Eyes,” and I tell you I was so fas-
cinated with it that I could not wait for the next number, but
had to go to the book store and purchase some back numbers.
Since then I have read nearly all up to the present date.

I see in the Applause column that the knockers are getting
knocked a-plenty of late, but what can they expect when they
make such outrageous remarks about the characters in Tip Top?
For what honest reader could think of saying such things about
Dick and his set.

I think that Dick is all an American boy should be, par ex-
cellence. And Brad Buckhart is just the companion for Dick,
as he has a temper that can only be controlled by one like Dick.

Shall we hear more of Frank soon? .Also his chums? I should -

like to hear from Dick Starbright, Bert Dashleigh, Benton Ham-

merswell, or rather, his cousin, Barney Mulloy, Ned Grey, Hans

Dunnerwust, Ephraim Gallup and his Mexican bride, good old

Bruce Browning, Bink Stubbs, Danny Griswold, Hock Mason

and a host of others.

I think this talk about a correspondence club is a fine idea, but

there seems to be some obstruction in the way. Messrs. Street &

Smith, could you not suggest some way to launch the ship? Vs
think we ought to make Miss Mercedes Alvarez secretary, if she _

would except. What do you think about it?

  

  
 
 
 
  

 

 
     
     
       
      
       
    
     
     
     
       
     
       
    
 

28 TIP TOP WEEKLY.

How about the pictures of Dick and his set appearing on the
back cover of Tip Top, the same as Frank’s was some time ago?
I see some one has suggested you putting them there, for we
would all, I am sure, like to see the boys we tread so much
about, and the girls, too.

Although it is much too early for Dick to decide which girl he
would have for better or worse, I think that Doris will be the
one to eventually have that honor. I say “have that honor,”
because I think that a girl ought to consider it a great honor
to get a fine young fellow as Richard Merriwell. By the way,
I. wonder where that “Hot-Headed Dorisite” is, and also Miss
Winifred Q., and the many defenders of Doris. Have they
given up, or are they all keeping quiet and plotting together to
make a final outburst for their queen and overwhelm the enemy?
But we will not call them enemies, as they are all loyal Tip
‘Toppers.

I guess I had better leave off now. Wishing the best of suc-
cess to Burt L. Standish, Street & Smith, the Merriwells and
all concerned in the glorious Tip Top, not forgetting the artist
whose skill makes Tip Top attract the eye first on all news-
stands and book stores, I remain, yours for success,

New York City. TwIstep CHARLEY.

It is high time you came in with a word. The characters you
mention may reappear. Watch close. The talk about a corre-
spondence club is still going on, but the readers had best arrange
it among themselves. Dick’s picture may yet appear. The
Dorisites, as you can see by the Applause column, are still
numerous and enthusiastic. Thanks for your good wishes.

 

Hello, boys! Here’s a chance to talk about that projected
“correspondence club.”

I think it a good idea to have one. Why don’t some of our
friends give a name? Mr. Herman J. Heuser suggested two in
No. 434, but I didn’t like the first one, the “Merriwell Pen and
Pencil Club.” I like the second one all right, “The Tip Top
Incessant Intercourse Society.” Would suggest also, “The True
T ip Toppers.”

[ also agree with Mr. Heuser in regard to the first president
being nominated, but would like to see some Southern State
represented for second place, say Tennessee, Missouri, Arkansas,
Alabama or Louisiana—in fact, any Southern State.

My favorite among the boys is Dick, Brad, Ted, Obed (the pie
ad Black, Flint, Gardner, Jolliby, Bradley, Wiley, and big

ob.

Among the girls I like June (Queen June), Felicia, Doris, Inez
and Elsie, but I don’t like Zona a little bit. Wishing ‘Street &
Smith, Burt L. and Tip Top a long and blissful life, yours truly,
Friars Point, Miss. TuHos. E. Wesss,

Otherwise “Tip Top Thomas,”

Thanks, Thomas. Your enthusiasm is encouraging.

 

_ About two and one-half years ago I contributed an article to
your Applatise column in the Tip Top, and being invited by you
at that time to write again, I take the privilege to drop you a
few lines. .

The main object of my letter is to address a few words to
Mr. I. M. Kicking. I read his confession about his little trick.
Now I read all the articles written by those who agreed with Mr.
Kicking when he slandered pretty near all charactets of Dick’s set.
I have no use for these people, including Mr. Kicking, but one
thing I will say for those who were snared by Mr. Kicking is,
they know their mind and stick to what they say. .As for I. M.
K., he has put himself in the doubtful class. We can’t, up to
the present time, tell whether I. M. K. means what he says in
his confession or not. Another thing, Mr. Kicking, you can’t
make me believe what you say regarding your little ruse. If you
want to put yourself right again, just write in your next letter,
By de enders of Dick and his chums have shown me that I
etred.

One more word to the slanderer of Brad. You say “Brad is
too loud.” If it is natural for you to eat, can you stop? No.
Well, then, it is natural for Brad to express himself in grin
_ language. If anything is done naturally it can be enjoyed. me
case with Brad. eg
Now if I did not enjoy reading Tip Top because Brad is in it,

   

I would not let everybody know that I was weak-minded by
buying something I did not like.

With best wishes for Mr. Standish, Street & Smith and Tip
Top Weekly’s future success, health and prosperity, I remain,
very sincerely yours, HoMAs WILSON.

Chicago, II.

A fine defense and a fine letter.

 

I am a constant reader of the “Tip Top.” I cannot get along
without it. I have not missed a number from 290 to the present
date. As I was born in Texas I will stick up for Brad to the
last. I think that letter from Arizona (in No. 433) gave a good
description of him. It hit the Eastern chaps pretty hard. I
think true Tip Toppers had better give I. M. Kicking a little
rest. His back is almost broken now. I think he will reform.

My favorites are Frank, Bart, Jack and the marine marvel of
Frank’s crowd, and Dick, Brad, Ted, Earl, Obed and Dave
Flint of Dick’s crowd. About the girl question, I think Frank
should have Inza for his wife and Dick, June. If there was ever
a true Juneite 1 am one. Three cheers for June. Rah! rah!
rah! A WESTERN Cowsoy.

Cozad, Neb.

That’s right.
that isn’t worth his salt.

Stick up for your State. A fellow that won’t do
You write a nice letter.

 

Will you please tell me full particulars in regard to the Tip
Top Baseball Tournament, as I would like to enter my baseball
team in the “Merriwells.” Respectfully, Joun IsHERWOOD.

New Bedford, Mass.

See the announcement in the last pages of Tip Top every other
week.

 

I cannot resist thanking you, and Mr. Standish, for the con-
tinuation of Mr. Gilbert Patten’s most interesting story: “The
Rockspur Eleven,” published in Nos. 1 and 2 of the Popular
Magazine, of which, and the same with “Tip Top,” I have been
a constant reader from No. 1 till date.

I am more than pleased to see that Mr. Standish has taken
up Mr. Patten’s story. Knowing how well Mr. Standish can in-
terest one, I know he will give us some fine, interesting reading
in this new story—“The Rockspur Rivals.” Let me suggest to
those readers who have not read the Popular, Nos. t and 2,
to do so, if they wish to understand more fully the characters in
this story. ;

I am in hopes you will make this a weekly by itself. Please
do. Anything new by Mr. Standish will be a success, and a good
seller.

Being an old “vet,” I always long to read of dear old Frank.
How I love and revere him. Dick, good little fellow, follow
your brother, as you are, and your success is assured.

I have had one disappointment; when Frank gave up Elsie,
I hope, I trust, Dick and June will, in time, be one,

I am disappointed in Arlington. I had great hopes of a
reformation. Very truly yours, FRANK H. S.

Wyoming, N. J.

Such enthusiasm deserves a new series and it may come some

day. You never can tell. Your pleasure in the work of good ©

mén speaks volumes for yourself. |

 

I quite agree with what “A Blue-Eyed Buckeye” says in praise
of Tip Top, and with C. H. Welch about the kickers. I cannot
agree with Miss Hanna, of Beaumont, Tex., in what she says
about capital, as I cannot see why a boy who happens to be born
rich should be brought tp to look down on his less fortunate
companions, and (to use a failroad expression) be given the
right of way over the poor boys. Now I will say right here
that if I were a train dispatcher and a trainload of capitalists
came over my division, I would sidetrack them for every freight
train on the line (especially if Miss Hanna happened to be on
board). If ever she gets behind a reckless engineer, I do not
think that in case of a collision, or run off, het capital will save

her from landing in the ditch along with her poorer companions.
I am in favor of a correspondence club, as I think that is a

 

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yours very truly,

 

The ave
good idea and would help to make the readers of Tip Top better
acquainted with each other. For this reason’! would be willing

2, subscribe towards the support of same when started. I am
willing to correspond with anyone on this subject, and promise

to answer all letters.

I will close now. With best wishes for Street & Smith and

Burt L. Standish, I remain, a constant reader,

Winnipeg, Man. R. R. REAVELEY, JR.

You have the right idea about capital. It cannot do everything.

A cheery faith in opportunity is better.

As we have never written a letter to you, we wish to express
our thoughts about Tip Top in the columns of Applause.

We have been reading Tip Top stories for about two years,
and we haven’t found any other weekly books that we like better.

As for a certain weak-minded creature, who writes and signs
different fake names to his letters, we wish to say that we have
decided he is not worthy of anyone’s thoughts. When we see
any such letters we just say that he is some little upstart, whose
mind has become weakened by the constant use of cigarettes, and
‘then again we know that all the fools are not dead yet.

The characters in “Tip Top” are just fine, and we don’t think
the readers of it should make too many suggestions about it,
because Mr. Standish has pleased us in the past, and we believe
he is competent of doing the same in the future.

Wishing success to Street & Smith, Burt L. and all, we remain,
Tuer East Datton READING CLUB,

Tas, President.

The opinion of so large a club is both interesting and important.

 

I write to express my thanks for the many pleasurable hours
Tip Top has afforded me. It is the king of all weekly maga-
zines. Frank represents the model American youth and Dick
tries to follow in his footsteps. I wish B. L. S. would write more
about them and their friends. Brad Buckhart has a little too
much “mouth,” but we can readily forgive him as long as he is
a true friend to Dick.

Doris is my favorite among the girls.
much of an angel. I thank you on behalf of the Tip Top readers
of this town, and I hope, also, to hear about the correspondence
club, Yours sincerely, “FUDGE.”

Hannibal, Mo.

B. L. S. will probably gratify your wish.

 

I have been a reader of your fine publication for about four

years now, but this is my first effort to write any Applause. I
fail to read any Applause from Sed. The Tip Top is the best
out. I like all the characters of the Tip Top but Percy Sapping-
ton, or Saphead. I like to read about Frank and Dick at the
same time. June is the girl for Dick. “Dern my pictur’ if she
ain’t.’
__ I would like to ask the same question that Genevieve S., “A
Missouri Girl,” asks: “What is the matter with the Missouri boys
and girls?” I’m sure that some of ’em can write a few lines
anyway. I think that Michael Beck, of 637 East Fifth Street,
New York, and Miss Lillie Smith, Capital City Com. College,
Des Moines, Ia., ought to be made officers of the correspondence
club.

Back to the breadbox and get crummy with Flankton Helt-
clash. He ought to have been on the excursion boat, Gen. Slocum.
You hear me warble. I remain, ALFRED BRYAN.

Sedalia, Mo.

There is no reason why Missourians should be backward.

‘ a4 ‘ A
Their opinions are as interesting as any can be.

 

Not having seen a letter from here, I take the liberty to address
*your Applause column.
I have read your Tip Top Weekly from No. 1 to the last issue,
and I think it is well named, for it isa corker.
In the course of the Tip Tops I missed one or two, and those
*were about blind Nell,.lame Jack and Bob Mutting, and I would
like to know what became of them and if Mr. Standish ever
intends to bring them into the story again.

N

I think June is too

   

WEEKLY. 29

In Tip Top No. 434, I notice a letter from Emma Marquette,
which expresses my sentiments of Theodore S. to a T.

[ notice several writers give their opinions of Frank and his
chums, and I also notice that they are the people that have started
to read them after Dick appeared on the scene, and their remarks
have a touch of salt and pepper. Now I have been reading Tip
Top ever since it was out, with the exception of two numbers, and
I am in a position to best judge Frank and his chums. I think
that they are O. K. from the top of their heads to the bottom
of their soles.

I will now close, hoping this will miss the wastebasket the same
way Seaslope and Rockford missed keeping Fairhaven out of
the league. Three cheers and a tiger for Burt L., Street & Smith
and Tip Top, the king of weeklies. A Tre Tor VETERAN.

Rimersburg, Pa.

If Veteran will watch closely. he will probably find that the
characters he inquires after will reappear some day.

 

Having read Tip Top for the past four years, I thought I
would send Tip Toppers my views in regard to the characters
in it. Frank is my ideal of a man, and then comes Dick as a boy,
and then Brad and Black. I have been in the Philippine Islands
for aboyt two years, and I could not get the king of weeklies
there very often. When I got to the States a few months ago
I got all the back numbers I could. This is my first letter, and
I am in high favor of a correspondence club. Wishing Tip Top
success, I remain, a devoted reader, J. E. Doncren,

Fort Mead, S. Dak. Private, Troop F, Sixth Cavalry.

The backwoods of the Philippines is one place Tip Top does
not cover very thoroughly, but we may change that yet. It is
a pleasure to hear from one who has been there—particularly a
soldier.

ne oe

Having long been an ardent admirer of Tip Top, the “King
of Weeklies,” I venture to send in a few words from Ohio.

I very much regret that I cannot find some fault with at least
one of the characters portrayed in Tip Top, but the fact is, I
cannot, as each one is all right and very interesting in his or her
particular way.

Those who admire Dick and Frank so much, and to the ex-
clusion of all the rest, should remember that every picture must
have a background, and Tip Top would not be what it is if they
were all “Merriwells.’s

Also, “Variety is the spice of life,” and without “Obediah
Tubbs,” “Ted Smart,” “Chester Arlington,” “Billy Bradley” and
one or two others, our interesting weekly would be devoid of
much that is bright and sparkling.

“A Good-natured Crank” certainly writes a good letter. And
so does “Blue-eyed Buckeye.” I also should like to see more
letters from Ohio, as that State is second to none in Tip Top
readers.

Of course I mean in the number of them it contains.

Wishing “Tip Top Weekly,” “Burt L. Standish” and “Street &
Smith” a future as successful as théir past, and thanking them
in advance for publishing this, I remain,

Ohio. A Hazet-Evep BuCKEYE.

Variety is certainly the point, as our “Hazel-eyed Buckeye”
says. Some of those who get so excited over bad characters
would do well to recall her words.

 

Thinking that the only way to have a correspondence column
or page is to have it, and have it in our book, the Tip Top, I
send this, my first letter, to the Tip Top, that weekly “king of
them all,” and the book of all books.

I wish to say that Merriwell, made immortal in the Tip Top,
cannot be equaled, will not be equaled and shail live ever in
our memory as one of the most pleasurable characters of our
experience. Yours to the last, “Unus. Poputi.”

Dorchester, Mass. al

The drawing of the electric bell which Unus Populi inclosed
was interesting, but we regret that space does not permit its use.
  

en

QUESTIONS

 

Pror. FourmMEN: Having read Tip Top for four years, I take
the liberty of asking you a few questions. I am 14 years old;
5 feet 8 inches tall; weigh 135 pounds. 1. Does short distance
running tend to increase weight or decrease it? 2. Am I heavy
enough for my height, or how much should [ weigh? Yours
truly, W. B. A.

Philadelphia, Pa,

1. In your case, increase.

2. For your height and age, yes. For anyone older, no.

 

Pror. FourmMen: I am an admirer of the Tip Top, and should
like to ask a few questions. I am 13 years old and weight &6
pounds. My records are: 100-yard dash, 11 seconds; 4% mile,
I minute 8 seconds; standing jump, 84 feet; running jump,
15% feet. 1. Are my records good? 2. What is good to in-
crease chest? 3. Is salt water good for asthma? Yours truly,

Wollaston, Mass. JoHN HUuCHINGSON.

1. Good.
2. Deep breathing.
3. No.

 

Pror. Fourmen: As I am a reader of Tip Top, I take the
liberty of asking you these questions: Measurements: Age, 15
years 7 months; height, 5 feet 614 inches; weight, 125 pounds;
chest, normal, 31 inches; expanded, 34% inches; right forearm,
10% inches; left forearm, 10 inches; right biceps, 1144 inches;
left biceps, 11 inches; right calf, 14 inches; left calf, 1334 inches;
right thigh, 20%4 inches; left thigh, 20 inches. 1. How are my
measurements? 2. What are my weak points? 3. What exer-
cises will develop them? 4. How do I compare with the average
boy of 15 years? 5. Is lawn tennis a good muscle developer?

Hoping these questions will be answered in Tip Top, I re-
main, A BUCKEYE.

1. Fair. «

2. Your arms are too small.

3. Boxing, dumb-bell exercise, weight throwing.
4. Very favorably.

5. Fair. It’s a better exercise, however,

 

Pror. FourMEN: 1. What size dumb-bells should a“boy, age
15; weight, 11534 pounds; height, 5 feet 4% inches use? 2.
How are my proportions? Yours truly, 1» Ne Ce HM,

Syracuse, N. Y

1. Three pounds,
2. Only fair.

 

Pror. FourMEN: Being a constant reader of Tip Top Weekly,

I would like to have you answer a few questions about my size
and what I should do. I exercise regularly every day, but my

_ weight always increases. How do these measurements corre-

 

AN BD

 

 

ANSW

Goireas. ey eS =}

PROF. FOURMEN

 

 

 

spond? Age, 16 years 7 months; weight, 168 pounds; height, 5
feet 834 inches; chest, normal, 36 inches; expanded, 38 inches;
right thigh, 22 inches; left thigh, 22 inches; calves, both, 15
inches; forearm, right, 11 inches; hips, 34 inches; ankle, 102-3
inches; stomach, 32% inches; neck, 15% inches; ankles, 8%
inches. Please let me know how I can develop myself and lose
weight, and how are my measurements.

Hoping to see this in print soon, I remain,

Hoboken, N? J. James McCarrtay.

Your arms and hips do not agree with the rest of your meas-
urements. Handball is the best exercise for you.

 

Pror. Fourmen: I have been a reader of Tip Top for one

year. It is the best book that I ever had the pleasure of read-
ing. I would be pleased to have your opinion of my measure-
ments, I am 13 years 1 month of age; height, 5 feet 7 inches;

weight, 120 pounds; chest, 1714 inches; left wrist, 7 inches;
right wrist, 7 inches; neck, 14 inches; ankles, 1014 inches; left
arm muscle, 11 inches; right arm muscle, 12 inches.

Decatur, Ill. Bupp Barnett.

Very good indeed.

 

Pror. FourMEN: Please answer the following questions: 1.
My right:shoulder is considerably lower than my left. How
can I remedy this? 2. I have been taking heavy exercise, but
it seems to have stunted my growth. (I am 17 years old and
5 feet 2 inches tall.) So I am going to adopt the following
plan: Dumb-bell exercises, handball, baseball, boxing and row-

ing daily, with long runs three times a week. Will these exer- —

If not, please tell me what will.
EIKLE GEORGE.

the

cises help me grow taller?
San Antonio, Tex.
1. By taking dumb-bell
left arm.
2. Avoid heavy exercises. All the things you intend doing
are excellent, but don’t exhaust yourself. You need not worry
over your height. Many people grow after they are twenty-
five years of age,

and handball exercises with

 

Pror. Fourmen: If it is not too much to ask, I would like
to find out how my measurements are: Age, 15 years 7 months;
weight, 153 pounds; height, 5 feet 714 inches; chest, 36 inches;
expansion, 4%4 inches; waist, 32 inches; shoulders, 181-3 in-
ches; neck, 15% inches. I drink nothing but water and milk.
I am not stouter than others of far less my weight.
are my measurements? 2. Am I too large for age? 3. Should

I drink anything but water, as I do not like tea or coffee and ~~

cannot bear liquor of any kind? }
Hoping to see answer in Tip Top, I remain,

1. Good.
ae ae /
3. Stick to water and milk,

A. G. W.

1. How.

Led

 

F
Z)
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ay
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SP Nw NA WE ws WE

. s. ow tea”

 

 

 

 

 

| fierce!
| shooting a good outdoor exercise?

 

 
  

   
  
   
     
  
 
 
    
  
  
  
  

a

No. 143, and I hope you will answer. :
102 pounds; height, 4 feet 914 inches; neck, 13% inches; thigh,

height, 5

~ measurements?
- striking bag, Whitney exerciser and boxing gloves.
_ like to become a fast quarter-miler.
~ would you prescribe for me?

SS EE Le nt
neg eR ae

| take the liberty to ask a few questions.
a> old; weight, 120 pounds; height, 5 feet 434 inches; chest, nor-
mal, 31 inches; expanded, 34 inches; waist, 28 inches; hips, 34

with measurements?

TIP TOP

 

Pror. Fourmen: Will you please tell me in Tip Top, what is

ethe latest date that games can be sent in to you, in time to be

published in the tournament record? Kent BrooKLyN STILEs.
847 East Thirty-fourth Street, Brooklyn.

The fifteenth of September.

 

Pror. FourmMen: I have read the “King of Weeklies” since
Age, 13 years; weight,

18 inches; shoulders, 1714 inches; biceps, 11% inches; forearm,
10 inches; waist, 30 inches. I play all outdoor sports. 1. How
are my measurements? 2. Do you think my weight is too
heavy for my height? Hoping you will put this in the physical
culture section, I remain, yours respectfully, od \\ Daan ae a < ag

1. Good.
2. No.

 

Pror. Fourmen: As I am a constant reader of Tip Top, I take
the liberty of asking you a few questions. Age, 16 years;
feet 814 inches; weight, 125 pounds; neek, 14
inches; shoulders, 17 inches; chest, natural, 3014 inches; ex-
panded, 324 inches; waist, 26%4 inches; biceps, 934 inches;
contracted, 1144 inches; forearm, 934 inches; wrist, 634

inches; thigh, 1834 inches; calf, 121%4 inches; ankle, 934 inches.

2. How can I increase my
4. 1 have a
Would
What course of training

I. How are my measurements?
3. What are my weak points?

Thanking you in advance, I remain, very respectfully yours,
E. A. H.

1. Fair.
2. By taking general exercise.
3. Chest. Legs.

4. Run the distance three times a week. Take a long run

once a week.

 

Pror. FourMEN: I have read Tip Top for four years, although

| Iam only 13 years old, so I take the liberty to ask you a few
questions.
It steady.

I use a light, 22-caliber Stevens rifle, but cannot hold
I have made good targets at the 100-yard range here
with a rest for the rifle, but at offhand shooting I am simply
1. What exercise is good to steady my arms? a2. Is
Please print this.

Dayton, Ky. A RIFLEMAN.

1. It’ isn’t your arms, it’s your nerves. Take general exer-

cises and tone yourself up.

2. Shooting is a good out-of-door exercise if accompanied by

_ walking. Target practice is mo physical exercise to speak of at
all. It is a test of nerves and sight.

 

Pror, FourmMEN: As I am a constant reader of Tip Top, I
I am 16 years 9 months

inches; thighs, 19 inches; calves, 12 inches; neck, 14 inches;
upper arms, I0 inches; forearms, 10 inches; wrist, 614 inches. 1.
How are my measurements? 2, Does my weight correspond
? 3. What are my defects? ‘
Hoping to see this in Tip Top, I remain, yours respectfully,
Canyon City, Tex. DA,

1. Good.
2. Yes.
3. Chest and arms. Try deep breathing and arm exercises.

ee

‘Pror. Fourmen: I am 16 years old; weight, 105 pounds;
height, 4 feet 11 inches. 1, I would like to know of any exercise
to increase my height. 2. How much meat would. you advise
me to take for one diet? I don’t smoke, chew or drink. 3. I

would like to know of some exercise for the back. I get the

    

 

WEEKLY. , 31

Tip Top every week now. I like Dick and Frank very much.
I take exercise every morning and night for about a quarter of
an hour. I use one-pound Indian clubs. I hope to see this in
print as soon as possible in your valuable paper. Long life to
Street & Smith and Burt L. Standish. I hope you will excuse
my long letter. Thanking you in advance, I remain, yours truly,
Andover, Mass. A Tie Top Lover.

1. Use the traveling rings in a gymnasium. Avoid
lifting.

2. A quarter of a pound of beef.

3. Rowing, weight lifting, vaulting.

heavy

Pror. Fourmen: As I am an ardent admirer of Tip Top
Weekly, I take the liberty to ask you a few questions. 1. I am
16 years 6 months of age; what should I weigh? 2. As soon
as I run about one-third of a mile I am all out of breath. Is
this due to catarrh? 3. What is the best cure for catarrh? 4.
I am a regular fiend for coffee, and have it at every meal. Is
this in any way connected with my poor wind? 5. I have often
been told to take long runs for my poor wind; I have also been
told to take long runs for reducing weight. As I am not very
heavy, I do not know whether to take these runs or not. Kindly
advise me. Hoping this does not take up too much of your
valuable space, I remain, yours truly, Cuas. A. Bonn.

Denver, Colo.

1. About 110 pounds.
2. Not necessarily.
your lungs.

3. A good doctor.
4. It might be. Anyhow, coffee isn’t good for you.

5. Take the runs. They will do you good. Sleep with plenty
of fresh air in your room,

Try deep breathing. It will strengthen

 

Pror. FourmMeNn: Please publish the number of Tip Top in
which you give instruction on how to pitch curved balls, and
oblige, NorMAN Kirk.

New York City.

Nos, 365 and 366.

 

Pror. FourMEN: I am 16 years 10 months of age, 6 feet tall
and weigh 149 pounds. My measurements are: Upper arm, II
inches; lower arm, 10 inches; calf, 14 inches; thigh, 20 inches;
neck, 1344 inches; across shoulders, 17 inches; chest, normal,
34 inches; expanded, 37 inches. 1. How much more should
I weigh? 2. If I have any strong points, what are they? 3.
What are my weak points? 4. How can I broaden my shoulders?
5. How do my measurements compare with those of other boys
of the same age? Sincerely yours, PETE THE PIKER.

Philadelphia, Pa.

1. At your age, no more. You have grown fast.
2. Your arms and legs.

3. Chest and shoulders.

4. By using the traveling rings in a gymnasium.
5. Very fair.

Pror. FourMEN: I am 15 years old, 5 feet 3 inches tall, and
weigh 125 pounds. I can expand my chest 4% inches. 1. Are these
measurements all right for a boy of my age? 2. What is a good
exercise for the wrists? 3. 1 get fat easily unless I exercise
constantly. Please tell me an exercise to keep lighter. Is my
weight all right now? 4 I can jump 8 feet 434 inches in the
standing broad jump. Is this all right? What is the record for
this jump? Thanking you in advance, I remain, ao trols

1. Yes.

2. Fencing. Use three-pound dumb-bells.

3. Any exercise will keep you light if you take enough of it.
Your weight is all right as it is.

4. Very good.

11 feet 3 inches.

  
 

TIP TOP BASE BALL TOURNAMENT

OPENS THIS WEEE...

 

 

THE PRIZES ARE:

The Tip Top All American A Full Equipment for the
FIRST Championship Pennant. SECOND Two Winning Teams.

 

 

1 PAIR BASE BALL TROUSERS
Bach Player

és tie 1 PAIR BASE BALL SHOES
bid caren. Neher 4 ! BASE BALL SHIRT

will be
Awarded the 1 BASE BALL CAP

Following: 1 PAIR BASE BALL STOCKINGS

 

The two teams which at the end of the season have the highest average, or,
in other words, play the greatest number of games, score the most runs, and have
been least scored against will be declared the winners.

Get Your Scores in Quick

Managers and Captains of teams will do well to start in at once. They will
find the coupon for entering the scores upon, below.

:

Ne

 

TIP TOP BASE BALL TOURNAMENT COUPON

Name of Team... Town. State. Opponent’s Name
NAMES OF TEAM POSITION NAMES OF TEAM

 

 

Pitcher

 

 

Catoher |

 

 

 

Ist Base

 

 

2a Base

 

 

ad Base Mateos!
Short Stop

 

 

 

 

R. Field

 

 

C. Feld
L, Paelé

 

 

 

 

 

 

Winner Final Score__._.___________.. Manager.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

: IODC BODO DODO DCI IODC DADA TE TTD SOIC TO DODO DODO IODC DODO DODO DODODODE DEF.

 

 

 

ere ; :
o
 

  
 

sRou
ewe Te

Most Fascinating Western Stories

 

5 /ssued Weekly. By Subscription $2.50 per year.
Washington, D. C., by STREET & SMITH, 278 William St., N. Y.

No. 24.

 

Fo. shay

NEW YORK, “October 1 I, 1904.

Entered eo to Act of Congress in the year 10904, in the Office of the Librarian of romabete
oes made at the New York Post Office for entry as Second-class Matter.

 

Price F tic . Cents.

 

tc .

 

ee

TED STRONG’S SIGN.

 

if | OR,

RACING WITH DEATH.

 

By NED

TAYLOR.

 

CHAPTER I.
ON COPPER MOUNTAIN.
Seven boys were stretched out on the grass in vari-
ous comfortable attitudes. It was a warm forenoon
o and the boys had taken a long ride that morning from

the town of Ceriso, some fifteen miles away. Now

  
 

_ they were stretched out, resting themselves on the
grassy summit of a high hill known as Copper Moun-
. tain, which gave a beautiful view over the surround-
K ing country.

A clump of een redwoods, centuries old, no oe

 

| ibe trees their horses, hae and tired after the long
ride, were staked out so that they could graze and roll
-wbout om the grass at will, Dhe sky overhead was

  

   

cloudless, but there was a fresh breeze blowing from
the westward and it was cool and pleasant up there
on the grassy slopes of Copper Mountain. The young
rough riders had been staying for the past week or
so at Ceriso and this morning they had gone out for
a ride. The boys up to the time that they had visited

. Ceriso, the little California town where they were now
staying, had been used to the active, hard-riding life of
a ranch, and for the past week they had been very lazy
and idle. |
This morning, Ted Strong had proposed a long ride

up to Copper Hill and the rest of the boys had assented

enthusiastically.

nih

Ted himself was stretched out on the ground, ook

   
  

2 THE YOUNG ROUGH RIDERS WEEKLY.

ing over a map of the surrounding country, which he
had bought in a store in Ceriso that morning.

Ben Tremont, big and blond and lazy, was lounging
by his side puffing drowsily away at his little, black
pipe.
grass a little distance off plaiting the loose strands at

Bud Morgan, the cowboy, was seated on the
the end of his long, rawhide quirt. Beanpole, long and
attenuated in figure, mournful 1n expression, was feel-
ing his pulse, looking anxiously into the face of a large
Waterbury watch which he carried, while chipper little
Bob Martin and fat, sleepy Carl Schwartz were watch-
ing him gravely.

“Bad,” said Beanpole, “very bad. My pulse has
gone up two or three degrees during the last minute.
I cannot understand it. I must be running into a fever.
It is very alarming. I wish to goodness that I had a
clinical thermometer here.”

‘“What’s the matter with you anyway?” growled
_ Ben Tremont, who in his half-comatose condition had
not quite heard what Beanpole had said.

“Matter enough,” said Thad; “if I am not greatly
mistaken, and if my prognostications are correct, I
am surely running into a very violent attack of yellow
fever.”

“Rubbish!” said Ben.

always imagining himself the prey of some deadly dis-

He knew that Beanpole was

ease, and he knew also that Beanpole was as healthy
and well as he was himself, and that is saying a good
deal.

“Rubbish nothing!” retorted Beanpole. “My prog-
nostications have surely some certainty about them. I
have been making a study of yellow fever in the medi-
cal books, and let me tell you that I have all the symp-
toms, every one of them.. If you felt as I do you
would be lying on your back.”

3

“That is just what I am doing,” said Ben Tremont,
placidly.
“Vos iss der brognosticationers?” asked Carl

Schwartz.

“Those are the signs by which you judge whether

you. have a disease or not,” said Beanpole; “in other
words, when you make a diagnosis you prognosticate as

to your future condition,”

- the worst at once.

 

/

“That is a splendid explanation of the terms,”

chirped little Bob Martin. “As Shakespeare says:

" > 9 a | a
‘Plato, thou reasonest well.
“Who. iss Blato?” queried Carl.
“He was a Greek philosopher,’ said Bob. “As

 

Shakespeare says
“Look here, fellows,’ said Ted Strong, sitting up

suddenly, “do you know that it is only a ride of about

twenty miles from here to the town of Salt City?”

“T don’d know id pefore, bud I know id now,”’ said
Carl; “but I don’d care oof I do know it.”

“What difference does it make anyway?” said Ben
Tremont; “what is the use of our bothering our heads | ©
about the distance? We are not going there anyway.”

“How do you know we are not?” said Kit Sum- ke
mers. “I think it would be a bully ride.” Bs

Ben Tremont groaned and puffed out a thicker cloud be
of smoke. \

“Just when I was settling down to a little, comfort- i
able rest,” he said, “you fellows start in proposing an-
other ride. What would take us over there anyway?” Ee

“Plenty,” said Kit Summers. “It is a town worth
seeing. And, besides, there is something more. Ted
knows about it.” |

Everybody looked at Ted.

“Speak up, Ted, and don’t keep me in this nerve-

racking suspense,’ said Beanpole. “You know your-

 

self what havoc it plays with my constitution.”

 

“Let’s hear it,’ said Ben Tremont. ‘‘Let me hear

en ee
ree RIS ee

I suppose it is something that I will —

 

have to get up and hustle about. I might have expected

that of course. I never get comfortably settled for a | —

 
   

nice nap but something turns up to make me jump up | —

and half sweat myself to death. You fellows are too Fs.

 

energetic. That is what is the matter with you.”

 

“Nothing of the sort,” said Beanpole; “we don’t get

 

exercise enough.” 7 |
“But what is it as Ted has ter tell us?” said Bud

  
 

Morgan, looking up from his quirt. “Jumpin’ sand-

  

hills! let’s hear it.” a
“Ves,’’ said Bob Martin.
‘Ope thy ponderous and marble jaws and tell us some;

 
 

“As Shakespeare says:

      
 

thing that will knock us pie-eyed.’ ”

   
o “Go on, Teddie,” said Carl Schwartz, “dell us all
re » apouid id anyvays.”
| “Tl read you the letter,” said Ted, drawing an en-
Ago De velope from his pocket and opening it. “It is from
Mr. Miller, whom we left back at the Las Animas
Ranch. I found it waiting for me in the post office in
a Ceriso this morning.”
| Then Ted read the letter, which ran as follows:
aid {f° “Dear Tep: The last letter I received from any of
_ the young rough riders was dated Ceriso, so I suppose
Je, | that you are still there. Mr. Rossiter and myself have
ade be planned to take a trip through to the coast, and we

|. leave to-morrow. We would like to run up to Ceriso
y- | to see you boys, but, as you know, the town is off the
im- ~ direct line of railroad and we cannot make any stop

over at it because both of us have to be in San Fran-

aly

 

sud Ke cisco on business by the end of the week. We pass
| through Salt City, I notice, and the train stops for two
ie vy hours there for dinner, as there is no dining car at-
_ tached to it. We shall be there at about three in the
a if afternoon on Monday. If you boys thought of taking
ee & a ride over there you might meet us. My daughter,
rth | Daisy, and Louise Rossiter are very anxious to see
‘ed | = youall. They are going with us, and it is at their sug-
ve gestion that I write this letter, telling you of our route.
Kate Lamont, a young lady with whom you are ac-
or | / quainted, I believe, is with us and is going through to

| the coast also. Everything has been doing very well
at the Las Animas Ranch since you boys left it. The
herds are in fine condition. You know you fellows
promised to take one of the herds northward later on
in the year, and I hope that your business will allow
you to get back to Las Animas soon. However, we
/. | can talk that all over when we meet on Monday. I
. hope that some of you, at any rate, will be able to find
“= _ time to get over to Salt City as you pass through. The
| girls send their best regards. -

“Yours truly,

 

vet “GEORGE MILLER.”

 

“timmel blitzen!’’ said Carl, “unt ve vill see der
girls again! Unt dot girl; Kade La-
mont. I dell you poys she is britty nice. Unt I tell
| you what, she vos in lofe mit me, I dinks.”

Be Dot iss goot.
id- aS

   
 

vs: ya Weegee E ;
“What makes you think that?” said Kit Summers,

 

res |S
|. sharply. i
_ “She always laugh ven I come aroundt. Dot shows

 

   

THE YOUNG ROUGH RIDERS WEEKLY. 3

how habby she iss ven I am aroundt, unt her peing
habby ven I vos aroundt shows dot she lofes me.”
“That is most excellent reasoning, in its way,”
chirped Bob Martin, “but it doesn’t weigh
That's the trouble with it. There is one defect in your
You think because she liked you

once that she will like you as well when she sees you

much.
line of argument.

again?’

“Bedder!” said Carl, confidently.

“But you must remember she has never met me.”

“Vell, vot oof id?’

“A great deal. Can it be that you have forgotten
how fascinating I am to women? Is it possible that
for the moment you have lost sight of the fact that
to the average young girl I am perfectly irresistible?
Is it really true that you are forgetful of my fatal
gift of beauty? Beauty, as Shakespeare says, “beauty
truly blent, whose red and white nature’s own sweet
and cunning hand laid on, and truly never did there
breathe a maid who could resist making goo-goo eyes
at me.’ You forget also my great charm of manner,
my gallant bearing, my lofty and distinguished cour-
tesy, my diplomacy, my personal magnetism, my won-
derful hypnotic powers, and my eagle eye. If you
remembered all this you would realize that it would
be impossible for any girl to dream of thinking of any-
one else while I was around and visible to the naked
eye.”

“You are so small that you’re not visible to the
naked eye at any distance,’ said Ben Tremont.

“You iss talking foolishness. How could der girl
like you ven she nefer seen you yet alretty? Hey, an-
swer me dot alretty yet.”

“T am famous,” said Bob, placing one hand on his
breast and thrusting out his foot; “already my fame as
a young rough rider has penetrated to all the four
quarters of the globe. Already half the girls in ~

America are sighing their hearts out over me, and

those who have had an opportunity to see my classic Se

features in a photograph are simply crazy about me.”

“Go easy there, Bob,” said Beanpole in Bob's ear;
“you never met this girl, but she is a dandy. We
knew her before you joined the young rough riders, a

  

     
4 THE YOUNG ROUGH RIDERS WEEKLY.

And Kit is very fond of her, and you know what a
hot temper he has. If he hears much more talk about
her there is liable to be trouble.”

Bob glanced over at Kit Summers and saw that his
face looked very black.

Bob’s mouth closed up with a snap. In the mean-
time, Ted had risen to his feet.

The other boys had gathered close about him.

“Who's in it for the ride to Salt City?” he asked.

An affirmative shout went up, in which even Ben
Tremont joined, and a moment later the boys’ were
busy saddling up and preparing their horses for the
journey. ?

It did not take the boys long to saddle up, for they
were experts at this work.

“We will have lunch at Salt City,” said Ted, “and
there is a fifteen-mile ride before we get to it, so it’s
up to us to hurry up. Mount!”

As one man the boys swung themselves into their
saddles and a moment later their horses were picking
their way down the steep side of Copper Mountain.

{

CHAPTER II.
TOM BUTTS.

The train dispatcher on the through line at Salt City
was a fresh young man with a high opinion of him-
self. He thought that because he happened to do a
thing, that thing was all right, and he spent the greater
part of his time admiring his own distinctive qualities.
He was laboring: under the delusion that he was a great
man and that he was being buried by being kept in an
out-of-the-way place like Salt City.

He thought that he should have been a division
superintendent on the railroad, at the very least, and
consequently he paid very little attention to the really
important duties of his office,
youth, a cigarette was always hanging out of the cor-

He was a tall, ‘slim

ner of his mouth, and his cheeks were pale and hollow.
His face wore an expression of chronic discontent, and
his finger tips were stained yellow with nicotine.

: At about two o’clock he strolled over from the rail-

it Oe

Sah

road to a restaurant on the opposite side of the street
to get something to eat. He did not feel very hungry, *
and he was standing in the bar attached to the res-
taurant, sharpening up his appetite with a drink of -
whisky, when he heard a noisy clatter of hoofs on the
street outside.

He looked up and saw that there were seven boys
on horseback, who had just ridden up to the station
and were drawn up in front of it. They were of all
sizes, some large and some small, one’ very stout and
one very slim one, but all were dressed in neatly fitting
khaki clothes and all wore large, brown sombreros.

They. all sat in their saddles as though they were
good riders, and the dry perspiration on the flanks of
their horses showed that they had been ridden hard
that day.

Tom Butts tossed off his whisky, looking at these
fellows with a weary, discontented expression of face.

“Nice-looking gang of kids,’ he muttered. “I
suppose they have come in here thinking that we will
order outa special train with a flat car for their horses.
all ready for their accommodation. They. are trying
to get some information about the starting and leaving
of trains out of the ticket agent. He don’t know any-
thing and I am not going to hurry over there to answer
their questions. I am going, to take my time at my
| People like that
seem to think that I am a sort of slave for the public.”

lunch and let them wait for a while.

Butts walked into the restaurant, sat down at a table —
and ordered his lunch.

He was just starting it when one of the fellows in
khaki suits stepped in through the doorway to the
street, | / a

“T am looking for the train dispatcher here,” he
said. “I want to learn something about a train that
is expected here this afternoon.”

The blue-eyed girl with a pompadour who sat at the
cashier’s desk favored Ted with a beaming smile.

“There he is, sitting over at that far table,” she,
said; “there is no use talking to him, however. He _
thinks he’s too good to talk much to people. Is there.
anything I can do for you ?”” : aan

Ted looked at the young lady at the cashier’s desk. —

 

 
eet I. For a moment she let her blue eyes rest on his, then
ry,‘ | %she dropped them suddenly and smiled in a self-con-
es- | scious fashion.

of: | * Ted saw that the young lady was not averse to a

the ‘ flirtation, but Ted had no time to think of such things
: at present, and he never had the inclination for it
ys | anyway.

 

on 4 # “I will go over and speak to him myself,” he said.
all | The girl looked at Ted again, dropped her eyes and
nd ; smiled and flushed. This was all thrown away, how-
ng’ f ever, for Ted had walked past her toward the table at
f which Tom Butts was sitting.
re FE Butts had been watching the young rough rider nar-
of g rowly. He saw the efforts of the girl to attract his
rd ke attention and this made him more sour than ever. He
| sometimes took the girl out himself, and he did not like
se ‘a to see her so attentive to anyone else.
e: - As Ted approached him he dropped his eyes over his
‘I | plate and appeared to be busy eating his dinner and

il | oblivious to everything else in the room. Ted stopped

es _ behind his chair and cleared his throat, but Butts never
ig looked up.

ig . “Gentleman to see you, Mr. Butts,” said the girl at
y- » the cashier’s desk, in a sharp, high voice; then she
er | broke off into a meaningless giggle.

Ly | Butts looked up with the haughtiest expression that
at ee he could assume. He stared at Ted for a moment,
” | lifted a cigarette which lay still lit beside him on the
le | table, and took a long whiff of it, After he had al-

lowed the smoke to escape in two slow streams through
his nostrils he looked again at Ted, who had been
_ standing all the while watching this performance.
“What do you want?” he said.

Ted liked neither the manner nor the tone of this

ec

it young gentleman, but he paid little attention to them.
“I want to know when the train—the through train

e bound west from Santa Fé—that is due here this af-

ternoon arrives,’ he said.

e Butts looked at him again, repeated the perform-

  

“ ance with the cigarette, took a sip from his cup of cof-
| fee, and answered:

 
   

“There's no through train from Santa Fé that ar-
tives here this afternoon.”

  
 

 

   

THE YOUNG ROUGH RIDERS WEEKLY. 5

“But I know there is,” said Ted.

some friends who are to arrive on it.”

“T expect to meet

Butts smoked his cigarette down to the bitter end
and threw it away.

“I suppose that you know more about this railroad
than I do,” he said; “I don’t know of any such train.”

Ted was getting a little hot under the collar.

“If you don’t know it you ought to know it,” he
said, ““for I am perfectly certain that there is such a
train.”

Butts was the only man eating in the restaurant, and
the girl with the blond pompadour drew near to hear
the conversation between him and Ted.

“T am busy eating my lunch now,” said Butts, with
a drawl; “I haven’t time to waste talking to you.”’

The insolent manner in which Butts said this was a
He bent over the

table at which the train dispatcher was eating and laid

little more than Ted could stand.

his hand on it.

“Look here,” he said, “if you haven't time to talk to
me and give me the information that I want you’ll have
to make time! I have a right to ask information of
you. You seem to have quite a wrong impression as
to your position here.” |

Butts looked up suddenly, his cheeks growing a lit-
He saw that the face of the boy who was

bending over him was very brown and healthy, in great

tle paler.

contrast to his own sallow cheeks, and that the hand
that rested on the table looked very strong and pow-
erful.

The shoulders and neck of this young stranger
looked very powerful, and beside that there was a big
Colt revolver hanging in a dark leather case at his
hip.

Butts felt a little frightened when he noticed all
these things, but he also noticed that the blond girl
was watching what went on very closely, and he did
He
gulped nervously and then bent over his dirmer again.

not want to appear at a disadvantage before her.

“I can’t get you any information here,” he said,
sulkily. “I have a right to eat my dinner, haven't I,
without people butting in and talking to me?”

“Certainly you have a right to eat your dinner,” said

  
  

    

6

Ted, “but you also have a right to be civil to people
who speak to you. Just bear in mind the fact that
there are a few friends of mine outside who would be
tickled to death to have the job of tossing you ina
blanket.”

Butts stared at the door and saw that the other fel-
lows in khaki had dismounted and were lounging about
outside.

He hesitated a minute, not liking to back down in
But the sight of Ben Tre-
mont’s colossal figure, which appeared in the doorway

the presence of the girl.

at that moment, decided him.
“Tf you just wait till I go across to the office,” he
said, “I'll tell you what you want to know.”

CHAPTER IIT.
UNCIVIL TREATMENT.

“Well,” called Ben Tremont, from the doorway,
“what’s the. news? Has the train been wrecked?
Something to make me work hard, I'll bet!”

“I can’t find out much at present,” said Ted, walk-
ing toward him; “there is a man in here who is sup-
posed to know all about the trains, but he is too busy
eating at present to give us very much information.”

The two boys stepped outside.
oy CS wait out here for him,” said Ted: “the at-
mosphere is pleasanter out here. This train dispatcher
here seems to be a fresh sort of customer, who thinks
he is too important tn speak to anyone.”

“Too important to speak to anyoneY” said Bud Mor-
gan, sticking his heac\ in the doorway. ‘‘Jumpin’ sand-
hills!) Let me get at him. Let me ride my broncho
around his neck a couple of times to let. him see how
jt feels to be a roadway. Just say the word, Ted, and
I’ll go in and pull him apart and bring the pieces out
on a tray.” , |
“Show me der man,” said Carl Schwartz, ambling
up to the group at the door; “led me at him. Oof he
| pokes himself mit der eye on my fist I bade you it vill
hurt me. I iss a britty goot fighder ven I gets mine

tember oop.” Pe 7 ; ig

“Let me back to him,” said Bob Martin; “let me

ea

THE YOUNG ROUGH RIDERS WEEKLY.

  

whisper a few Shakespearian quotations in his ear. I

will soon bring him around to a more reasonable attix

tude. All he needs is a few quotations from the lips of
the immortal bard.
words of wisdom.”

“What that fellow needs is a good dose of medi-
cine,” said Beanpole, looking in at the sallow face of
Butts; “he has the jaundice or some other trouble of
the liver, without a doubt. That is what makes him
so pale.”

“He has a swelled head,” said Kit Summers; “that.

is all that is the matter with him.
have him on the back of a bucking broncho for about
ten minutes. I think that would put him in an alto
gether different frame of mind.”

Butts could hear that these fellows, clad in khaki,
were talking among themselves, and he suspected that
it must be about him.

at the door, wandered over in that direction and lis-

The girl, seeing all the boys

tened to what they were saying. She giggled and

stared over at Butts.

An angry red flush came into the sallow cheeks of ©

the train dispatcher.

I am the man to give him those. |

I would just like to |

He gulped down the rest of ©

 

anc

_ off

: pre

    
  
  
 

 

 

his lunch hurriedly, and marched over toward the door.

 

 

. “Gangway for a petty officer!” shouted Ben Tre

 

 

mont, stepping to one side.

 

 

“Make way for his lordship,” said Bob Martin;
“can’t you see that he hates a crowd ?”

  
  

 

 

“Give him plenty of room to walk in,” said Bud ae |

 

Morgan; “he’s a high stepper, shore thing! Give him
plenty of room ter sling his hoofs around.” Sas

 
  

 

“He'll kill himself throwing out his chest that way,”

said Beanpole; “he may burst a blood vessel or injure
one of hi§ lungs.”

‘Keep quiet!” commanded Ted. “We don’t want to —
pick a fight with this man. Get out of his way and’

treat him civilly.” | \
The boys drifted off to either side as Butts came to
the door, but, as usual, Carl was slower than the others
and couldn’t get away in time. He made a wild scram-
ble and fell against Butts, nearly knocking him over. ‘
Butts swore volubly so that the girl with the pompa-_

 

 
      
     

   
  

  
 

       
      
dour covered her lips with her hands and looked hor-

re TD #y pified.
ae ry “Get out of my way, you fat Dutchman!” he said.
psof | “What do you mean by blocking up the passageway
those. 1 *this way?”

_ “T don’d mean noddings,” muttered Carl, scrambling
nedi- | about on all fours.
ce of Butts aimed a blow at the head of the German youth,
le of but, either by good luck or adroitness, Carl dedged it.
him

Then Ben Tremont caught hold of him by the collar

’ and dragged him out of the way.

 

 

‘that | Butts strode past. the boys and went over toward his
ce to. 5s office.

bout fx ; ps ae 3

# I am going upstairs after him,” said Ted; “he
RO fp promised to tell me something about this train when
t he got through eating.”

sya o4 iy “A nice, civil, pleasant-spoken, little maverick,” said
as fe Bud Morgan, winking at the girl with the pompadour ;
ye je “don’t you think so, miss?”

a _ The blond girl made a face indicative of the greatest
and disgust.
1s r “I think he’s horrid,” she said.
a Ee She smiled at Bud and found that the cowboy appre-
a ciated her smiles a great deal more than Ted Strong.

Phe “A feller like thet shore makes me tired,” said Bud,

 

leaning. gracefully against the counter, “but when a

 

| feller meets a young lady like yerself, why it shore
makes up for all the hard knocks in life.”

   

’

“T’m afraid you are a jollier,” said the girl, with a

  

smile, ‘but you fellows had better look out for that
Tom Butts.
has an awful temper. There’s a gang of yardmen and

  

He is mad clear through now, and he

  
 
  

- engine wipers about here who are under his orders, and

  

_ they are a pretty tough gang, let me tell you. It’s just

 

as likely as not that he’ll set them at you fellows.”

 
  

“I'd be willin’ ter fight twenty station men jest for

 

the pleasure of lookin’ at ye,” said Bud. “Jumpin’

 

After a feller has been ranchin’ it fer the

 

sandhills!
better part of his days he gets so’s he kin appreciate a

   
 

pretty girl when he see’s her.”

  

“Are you a real, shore enough cowboy?” asked the

 

girl, opening her blue eyes wide; “some cattlemen get

 

‘
4

 

   

   

THE YOUNG ROUGH RIDERS WEEKLY. 7

in here once in a while, but I’ve never met a real
cowboy.”

“I am ther real thing,” said Bud; “jumpin’ sand-
hills! I hev been ranchin’ an punchin’ cows ever sence
These other fel-

lers air ranchers, too. Thet young fellow ye seed first,

I was knee high ter a grasshopper.

he’s ther capting of the young rough riders.”

Then Bud Morgan went into a long conversation
with the young lady, telling her all about the young
rough riders, how they were a party of boys who were
originally organized to run a ranch in Dakota, and how
they had made a great success of the Black Mountain
Ranch there before coming farther south.*

In the meantime, Ted Strong had followed the train
dispatcher to the upper floor, in which his office was
He noticed that before he entered the build-

ing Butts had called a tough-looking yardman to his

situated.

side and told him something in a low voice, pointing
toward the young rough riders who were still gathered
about the door of the restaurant, but he paid no atten-
tion to this.

When Butts got through talking to this fellow he
ran straight upstairs, paying no attention to Ted. Ted
went up after him, however, and followed him across
the room until Butts threw himself into a chair be-
fore a big desk.

On that desk was spread a yellow paper, the dispatch
slip, showing the routes, starting time and leaving
time, of all the trains on that division of the road.
Butts glanced over this, lit another cigarette, and looked —
up at Ted.

“Well,” he said, “go ahead and ask your questions
now.”

“There is a train due here this afternoon from Santa
Fé,” said Ted; “a through train. I want to know what
time it gets here and how long we will have to wait

for it.”
“There is no through train due here this afternoon,”
said Butts, glancing at the slip again. “There ts no

use telling me there is. I have the paper before me

 

*The reader who is not already acquainted with these ad-

ventures of which Bud was speaking .will find them all set forth | ‘

in the early numbers of the Younc Rovcw Riers WEEKLY.
8 THE YOUNG ROUGH RIDERS WEEKLY.

here. Now you might as well go downstairs right away
and not stay here asking foolish questions.”’

He expected the young rough rider to leave when
he said this, but to his surprise Ted remained standing
stock-still in front of him.

A telegraph instrument had started clicking at the
desk alongside of Butts, and Butts, who acted as opera-
tor as well as train dispatcher when the regular operator
at the small junction was out, seized paper and pencil
and began to take down the message that was coming
in over the wire. In the meantime, Ted was listening
(o it intently. All the little clicking sounds that came
He
worked as a telegraph operator for a while when he

irom the sounder were familiar to him. had
was in the army in the Philippines, and he had mas-
tered the Morse code thoroughly, and had never for-
gotten it. He understood the message that was com-
ing in quite as well as Butts himself. It was as fol-

lows.

“Special train with President Rossiter aboard five
hours late. Delayed by washout. Arrive at Salt City
at ten. Stay overnight. Have siding ready.”

This message was signed with the code number of
an operator at a point considerably farther to the east-
ward. Butts finished taking down the message, filed it,
and looked once more at Ted.

“There is no use in your waiting here any longer,’
he said; “I have nothing more to say to you.”

“T have heard about all I want to know,” said Ted
“T see that there was a through train expected here
this afternoon, and that you refused to tell me about it.”

Butts gasped with astonishment. He had not
thought it possible that this sun-browned, athletic fel-
low, in the khaki clothes, would understand the Morse
code. *

“How do you know that?” he said.
that ?”’

“Who told you

Ted pointed toward the instrument.

“That's what told me,” he said. “I know the code.
And what I would like you to tell me now is why you
refused to give me information about this train.”

“That isn’t a regular train. That’s a special with
Rossiter, one of the directors of the road, aboard.”’

Ted was about to reply when he heard a loud uproar
outside. He dashed to the window and saw that some-
thing had happened during his absence. Kit Summers,

Bob Martin and Ben Tremont were engaged in a hand-

| to-hand struggle with several big: yardmen, while the

other boys were trying to check their horses which
had been stampeded down the street.

Ted dashed for the door and went down the stairs
two at a time.

CHAPTER IV.

THE YOUNG ROUGH RIDERS IN SALT CITY.

When Ted had left the other boys to go upstairs into
the train dispatcher’s office, the remainder of the young
rough riders had remained crowded about the restau-
rant door, glancing idly up and down the street and
Salt
City was not a very busy town, and the streets about
In fact, it was only

looking ior something to amuse themselves with.

the railway yards were deserted.
owing to the railway yards and the number of men em-
ployed there that there was any city at all at this point.

The boys had dismounted from their horses at the
station and hitched them up on a line which Bud Mor-
gan had stretched between two snubbing posts, making
it fast at each end. The horses had been used pretty
well that day, and they were tired.

“Let's go in and eat something to pass the time

away,” said Beanpole, gazing in at the window of the

restaurant; ‘‘] see some rather nice-looking pies in-

2

- other

cansi

Nh “Ty

Pat .’e

 

Look

there, and I don’t mind admitting the fact that-I am |

pretty hungry. It’s a bad thing for me to take much
exercise on an empty stomach, and I ought to.eat some-

thing right away if I don’t want to have another attack ©

of dyspepsia.’’
“I iss hungry mineselluf,” said Carl Schwartz; “I
don’d know vedder der bies iss goot vor you or not,

Peanpole. Berhaps I had bedder eat one first to see ©

vedder it does you any harm or not.”
_ “The only harm it will do me will be owing to the
fact that I won’t get it myself,” said Beanpole.

“That won't do you much harm,” said Bob Martin,
“because there are plenty more pies left in the place.

But what is the use of eating now? We want to wait |
until the train with Mr. Miller and Mr. Rossiter and —

the girls arrives. Then we will have a good dinner.
Don’t spoil your appetite by filling up on pies.”
“T have no appetite, anyway,” said Beanpole.

“I haf no abbetide mineselluf,” said Carl, “but I
dink all der same dot one oof der bies might like to be.
“eaten py me.” |
At this moment Bud Morgan came running out of |

the restaurant. He was looking over the heads of the

#
wy

 
 

 

; which
| other boys, and whatever it was he saw caused him
e stairs _cansiderable excitement. .
me “Jumpin’ sandhills!’ he cried, ‘‘ther hosses! Look
: at ’em! Somebody hes gone and turned ’em loose.
} Look at ‘em run! Get after ’em, boys, and then we ll
soak ther mavericks what done it!”
*. b “The horses!” cried Kit Summers, wheeling around
irs into | and looking at them. 4
young i As he looked two or three men were busied about the
restau- | heads of the animals. They had cut the line which
et and | Bud Morgan had stretched from snubbing post to snub-
. Salt pone post, and just as Bud Morgan had turned his eyes
s about | 1m their direction they had set all the animals free and
1s only _ were busied ee. at them with sticks and throwing’

 

   
  
  
  
 
   
  
 
  
 
   

ort to stampede shen?

   
  
  
   
   
 
  
   

; point.
2 thie ae “They are stampeding the horses!” cried Bud Mor-
| Mor. | 84m; Starting on a rush across, the street.
naking k “Stop der stambede!” squealed Carl Schwartz, tum-
pretry \ bling after them.
" | ~ “Great Shakespeare’s ghost!” cried Bob Martin, also
_ | running across the street. “This is an outrage!”
a “Catch that first one, Bud!” said Kit, While he
o sis dashed across the street.
a os “Wait till I get at those fellows,’ said Beanpole;
ae ig “they must be suffering from some mental disease to
spivie a think of doing such a thing.”
abtaslcls - Ben Tremont said nothing, but he ran as fast as any
of the other boys, for all his. great weight and bulk.
eee : He singled out one of the horses which was careering
a f. up and down the street in a panic-stricken manner and
Tas | caught it by the bridle. A moment later he had it
a RES hitched to the snubbing post and was busy pacifying
another of the frightened horses.
fo the : - Meanwhile, the five or six men, who had started all
ot | this excitement, had drawn off a little way down the
artin, track. They were rough-looking fellows, clad in rough,
place. greasy shirts, open at the neck and short in the sleeves..
» wait | Their faces were grimy with oil and coal dust, and they
: and | looked as tough a looking gang as the boys had: ever
nas encountered. .
-| -Hot-headed Kit Summers was too angry at this mo-'
nent to pay much attention to the horses, which were
but I nning wild up and down the stony street, and which
to be Bud Morgan and Beanpole were eying to catch. He

  
 

ut of

f the

  
 

 

   

THE YOUNG ROUGH RIDERS WEEKLY. 9

He ran straight toward them, although they were
all grown men and brawny fellows, and, although he
could see other men of the same class emerging from
one of the roundhouses in the yard and running to their
assistance.

“What do you mean by starting those horses off ?”
he cried.

The answer to this question was in the form of an
iron bolt that whizzed through the air in near proxim-
ity to Kit’s head.

“Git outer this yard!” yelled one of the men.
fellers hev no right in here!”

The man who gave this order started toward Kit.

If he expected the dark-eyed boy to be afraid of him
he was mistaken, for Kit never hesitated but kept
right on toward him. When Kit’s temper was up, there
wasn’t anything on earth that could frighten him.

The big fellow, who had rushed for Kit, raised his
fist to strike the boy. But Kit was as quick as a cat.
He ducked just in time to let the blow whizz past over
his head, and the next instant his fist caught the work-
man a stinging crack across the mouth that sent him
staggering back.

“Vou

“Soak him on the head!” yelled another man, rais-
ing a big monkey wrench which he held in his hand and
aiming a blow at the boy. Had the blow landed Kit
would surely have been cut and stunned, and he might
have received a fractured skull, but it never landed.

A great, muscular hand caught the upraised arm of
the ‘man in a grip such as he had never felt before. He
turned to find himself in the grasp of a big, blond

- fellow, who looked as broad as a house and as strong

as a bull.

With a cry of rage he lifted the wrench again, but
it was wrested from his grasp as though he had no
more strength than a baby, and the next instant Ben
Tremont gave him a mighty shove that sent him reel-
ing to the ground.

Kit Summers had dashed impetuously ahead of the
other boys, and a second later he felt himself in a hand-
to-hand struggle with two of the engine oilers. The
others were close behind him, however.

Bud Morgan was catching the two horses which still
remained free, and the other boys, led on by Ben Tre-
mont, were dashing to the assistance of Kit.

This was one of the few occasions when big Ben
really woke up and showed what was in him. His blue

eyes were wide open now and sparkled with the joy of =

battle. His great body plunged heavily through the

      
10 THE YOUNG ROUGH RIDERS WEEKLY.

group of mer who had surrounded Kit Summers, and
his fists shot out, one after the other, and sent two of
his opponents tumbling on the ground.

In the meantime, Kit Summers was having a hard
time of it. He was fighting savagely and silently, as
he always did, but one heavy fellow had come around
him from behind and thrown his arm around his neck
in an effort to strangle him.

Kit felt himself being borne backward, and a heavy
fist struck him full in the face. At that instant a
familiar voice sounded in his ear.

“T’m pretty sick and J need exercise, so I might as |

well have it right now.’

It was Beanpole who uttered these words, and he

sent his long arms swinging about him like the arms
of a windmill,

- One hard, bony fist landed on the nose of the man

who was throttling Kit Summers. He loosened his

hold on Kit immediately.

“Come on if you dare!” yelled Beanpole. “I am
only a nervous wreck, and I am liable to die any time,
so I might.as well die fighting.”

But Beanpole looked like anything but dying as he
plunged madly into the fray, and the railroad men
made way tor him as he charged forward,

“Hoch der Kaiser!’ yelled Carl Schwartz, who was
dashing atong as fast as his fat légs would carry him.
“Himmel blitz! Vatch der flying Dutchmans in action.
Vatch me, poys. ‘I iss der greatest fighter in der bunch.
I learned der vay mit der Cherman Army.”

“Once more to the attack!” yelled Bob Martin, in his
shrill voice, close behind Carl. “As my old friend,
Shakespeare, remarks: ‘Whenever you see a head, hit
Sots |

Carl ran along: with his head down and his eyes fas-
tened on the ground without having any particular idea
as to where he was going. Running along in this fash-
ion, he went full tilt into one of the group of men who
were gathered about Kit Summers. Carl’s round bul-
let head, clothed with a scanty growth of flaxen hair,
went into his stomach like a cannon ball, and he keeled
over with a wild yell of fright. . |

“Good shot, Carl,” yelled Bob Martin, tripping up
another of the men and sending him headlong; “I
never knew there was so much in your head. It must
be solid instead of hollow, as I thought it was.”

_ For a moment the boys were in the midst of a 1 mad

_ fight with the railroad men. \ j
Kit Summers, who had dashed forward before the

crowbar, who turned with a yell of astonishment.

others, was in the forefront of the fray. He was
knocked clean from his feet by a blow from one mah, |
but he bounced up again, his face bleeding,
for fight as ever.

who had knocked Kit down twice. | 2
The fellow said afterward that it felt as though he
had been hit with a battering ram, and he went right |
over on his back. st
It was at this instant that Ted came dashing out of be
the doorway of the train dispatcher’s office. a
“Quit that fighting!” he yelled. “Here, boys, drop he ,
back out of the yards!” je
The boys heard him and hegan to retreat slowly be- is
fore their assailants. The railroad men set up a hoarse —
cry of triumph and started after the boys. 7

“Get the horses!” yelled Ted.

At the same time he caught his own steed, hick was
still loose, and spurred it right across the station plat-
form and in among the tracks.

Kit Summers, as he was the first to rush at the rail-
road mgn, was the last to retreat. He had heard
Ted’s order, but to retreat before an enemy or show
any fear is the hardest task that Kit Summers could —
be asked to perform.

At Ted’s command the other boys began to drop —
slowly back, but Kit was the last to retire. When turn- ]
ing, he stumbled and fell. Seeing this, the railroad —
gang set up a yell of triumph. One big fellow started —
directly for the prostrate form of the boy, a heavy —
bar, which was used for setting switches, brandished in
his hand.

He was half drunk, it was evident, and in a murder-
ous mood, and in. another moment the bar would have
landéd across Kit, who was still/scrambling on all fours,
had/not Ted Strong caught sight of his position.

On the instant he sank his spurs into the sides of his
horse and the animal sprang forward in a great bound.

As it sprang, Ted leaned forward in the saddle and ~
hooked ‘one foot, clear from the stirrup, up in the
cantle. Then, as he dashed past Kit, he bent still lower

-and caught the boy by the shoulders.

Kit had all his wits about him, and he reached up his |
‘hand and caught the pommel of the saddle himself. A
moment later he had been half lifted, half vaulted to
the back of the horse behind Ted Strong, while the
pony had never checked its gallop or turned its course.

Ted let it go straight ahead for the man with the ,
For

 

but as eager |
Again Kit was sent reeling, but this |,
time Ben Tremont landed a heavy swing on the man _

 
> was |

 

' a moment he thought he was going to be crushed be-
mai, i “meath the hoofs of the horse, but Ted did not intend to
eager do this.

t this E He did intend to give the man a good fright, how-
/ man i ever, and he only allowed his horse to swerve when he
be was right on top of the fellow. As it was, the shoulde:
yh he | of the horse hit him and at the same time Ted lifted
right | his foot slightly from the stirrup and let him have it
_ | hard in the ribs as he went past.
ut of | | The man went over backwards, the crowbar dropping
Fi from his hand and clattering on the ground. Ted
drop E wheeled his horse and swung back across the station
fae platform, which echoed strangely to the steel-shod
y be- lé hoofs and out to the street again.

The other boys were all mounted and ranged up
along the street, Ben Tremont was holding Kit’s
horse, and every one of the young rough riders set up a
cheer as they saw the black-eyed boy, dusty and bleed-
ing, but as full of pluck as ever, clinging to the back
of the horse behind his young commander.

As he passed his own horse he swung to the ground
and then up into his own. saddle again, and Ben Tre-
a mont, passing the bridle over the head of the horse,
handed it to hiin,

“That was a close shave,” he grunted.

Beside Ben Tremont sat Bud Morgan. He had his
big Colt six-shooter in his hand, poised ready for a
shot, and his eyes were snapping dangerously as he
looked over toward the mob of station men who had
gathered together on the piatform.

 
  
  
 
 
  

arse —

was |
plat- |

rail-
eard ©
how ||
oni

    

drop ©
urn-
‘oad |
rted ©
avy
d in:

   
  
   
   
  

“Put that gun up,” said Ted, sharply.

   

“But, say, pard,” said Bud, appealingly, and looking
lovingly along the shiny blue barrel, “cain’t I jest shoot
up this yere place a leedle jest ter show these here fel-
“lers they've meddled with ther wrong bunch of fel-
-lers?”

“No gun Say. said Ted, sternly; “put it back,
Bud; we don’t want to start a row. Those guns are
only for defending ourselves, not for shooting up
places.”

- Bud looked at Ted and saw that the young rough
rider meant what he said, The gun slipped quickly
back into the belt.

Ted now wheeled his horse and faced the railroad
“men. They were a little startled at the fighting quali-
ties shown by these khaki-clad fellows, and their evi-
dent military discipline. They also noted the big re-
volvers that the fellows carried, and they attempted
no further hostilities.

 

der-
ave
urs,

 
 
  
 
 
 
  

his
ind.
and —

  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 

THE YOUNG ROUGH RIDERS WEEKLY.

 

If

“You fellows had no right to stampede our horses,”
said Ted. “You evidently were ordered to drive us out
of the yard and off the station. This station was meant
We are
we are going to con-
Has any-

for the public, and we are part of the public.

waiting for the train here, and
tinue waiting as long as we feel so disposed.
one any objections to make?”

But no objections were made.

CHAPTER V.

SPENDING AN EVENING AT SALT CITY.

Ted glanced around at his followers to see how much
Carl Schwartz
had a few scratches across his face, and Beanpole com-
plained loudly that he had suffered a dislocation of one
of his vertebrz and that his days on earth were num-
bered.

“T feel perfectly certain that I have suffered a serious
shock to my solar plexus. I know only too well how
much to be dreaded an accident of that kind is. Al-
ready I feel shooting pains darting up and down my
spinal column, My temperature has gone up two
and a half degrees, ' And just look at my knuckles,”

As a matter of fact, the lean and lanky Beanpole had
sailed into the railraad men so furiously that his hands
were cut across the knuckles from the force of the
blows he had struck.

“T am not hurt much myself,” chirped Bob Martin,
“but Heaven help the fellows that I hit! You know
that I ‘am a very hard hitter. I must have knocked
some of those railroad men clear out of sight: I ‘hit
them so hard that they seemed to fade away in front of
And some one has stepped on my toes and hurt
my corns. I believe it was Carl Schwartz.”

“T don’d know oof your corn stebbed on me or not,”
said Carl; “I mineselluf hit der men mit my face unt
scratched me on der nose. Oof I do dot vonce more I
will pe sorry for it.”

they had suffered in the recent mélée,

me.

It was Kit Summers who had suffered more in the
fight than any of the boys. He was the most headlong
and impetuous in the crowd, and he had dashed into it
without a thought of his own safety. His mose had

been started bleéding, and he had received a cut on the
lip.
He had wiped the blood from his face by this time
and looked fairly presentable.
He ‘smiled at Ted as he glanced at him.

  

  
THE

“IT guess we did pretty well, and we didn’t pull a
he said.
on my nose will set it bleeding, so that doesn’t count.

gun, either,” “T’m not hurt much. A tap
I guess those fellows got worse than they gave us, all
I know that a couple of men that Ben landed
And I saw Carl

butt into one fellow with his head so that I guess he

right.
on saw about twenty thousand stars.

thought he was struck by a torpedo.”

_ “T haf a hard headt alretty,” said Carl; “I iss a goot
fighter mit mine headt.”’
“That is because your head is solid bone clear
through,” said Bob Martin.
“Yah,” said Carl, proudly,
I haf a wery thick headt.”
said Bob.
Did you see how I

y

“mine headt is_britty
thick, you bade your life.

“But did you see me?”’ “Did you note
the power of my mighty arm?
picked those big fellows up and tossed them in the
air high above my head? Did you notice how they
scattered, like autumn leaves before the storm, at my
mighty approach? I tell you, boys, it was magnificent
to see me fighting those fellows. It was a wonderful
sight to see my amazing strength and ferocity. As

Shakespeare says:, ‘Like a mighty lion he raged among

his foes.’ ”’

While this conversation was going on among the
boys the railroad men had gathered in a group. Two
of them had scalp wounds, which they had received
when they were knocked down. One man, who had
been struck by Beanpole, was feeling his front teeth to
see if-they were all there yet. A fellow who had en-
countered Ben Tremont was still partially stunned
from the effect of the crashing blow he had received,
and the man whom Carl had butted into was seated on
a bench, very pale and sick from the blow he had re-

ceived 1 in the stomach.

They eyed the young rough riders in aileide for a

moment, muttering among themselves, but the line of
_ well-armed, well-mounted boys looked a dangerous

ava thing to attack, and the sample they had already tasted
of the fighting qualities of the young rough riders did

not prompt them to wish for more.
After a moment’s hesitation they went back into
is the railroad yard.

“The fight was not brought on by us.

YOUNG ROUGH RIDERS WEEKLY.

At this moment, Tom Butts emerged from the office,
lit a cigarette, and glanced about him. A scowl came
into his face as he saw the young rough riders seated
near the station on their horses and his own men re- ~
treating up the yard.

He had witnessed the fight from the window of his
office, and it did not seem possible to him that his gang
of train men and engine oilers had failed to male
mince-meat of this crowd of boys.

Tom Butts advanced toward Ted Strong, who was
sitting on his horse close to the station platform.

“What do you fellows mean by raising a row like
this here?” he snarled. “I gave you the information
you wanted. Don’t you know that this station is not
the proper place for a gang of young loafers ?”

“Loafers!” yelled Bud Morgan, in his shrill, cowboy
voice, “let me at that feller! Let me bore a few holes

inter him!
not!’

I’ll show him whether I am a loafer or

Tom dodged back instinctively at this cry. He saw
the reckless look in the eyes of the cowboy, and he
verily believed that Bud: was likely to draw and fire

at a moment’s notice. In his old, reckless days,-before —

he had joined the young rough riders and: come under

the influence of Ted Strong and the other boys, Bud
would have thought nothing of firing at a man for less
than this, but he was a good deal different now. 76

Ted gave him a signal to keep his gun in its place |
and also cast a warning glance at Kit Summers, who,
he’ knew, would like nothing better than to fight with —
this insolent young train‘dispatcher. » é

“You fellows had better clear out of here before I
ad

you think you can shoot up this town you are mistaken.

send for the authorities to clear you out,” he said.
The place for you fellows is a jail.”

“You had better stop that sort of talk,” said Ted,
quietly, but in a tone that frightened Butts somehow. |
| I have a pretty
good idea that you put those fellows up to attack dg,
and some of them got the punishment which you de- —
serve. We, 4
know that the train we are waiting for does not come

I am not going to stay here at present.

in until nine, and we are going away to get something oe

 

 
    
 
 

to eat first. But we are coming back here at about
dusk, and we are going to stay here as long as we feel
ane it. Do you understand?”
_ Evidently Butts did understand. He stood where he
was, silent and angry, while the young rough riders, at
a word from Ted, swung about and.trotted off up the
+. Street.
He stood silent, gritting his teeth together, until the
“4 young rough riders had disappeared around the corner
and until the sound of hoofbeats had died away com-
pletely.

“T must get even with those fellows some way,” he
muttered ; “I must.”’

He turned suddenly and called to a porter who was
wheeling a truck along the station platform.
: “Tell Mike Hicks that I want to see him at my
_. office,” he said. 2

He turned about, went upstairs, and sat down at his
desk. A few moments later Mike Hicks entered, cap
in hand, bare armed, covered with oil and engine dirt,
+ and with a big, black discoloration under one eye.
- Hicks was the foreman of the yard gang. He was
a hard drinker, a reckless character, and was only em-
ployed by the railroad because he was a good workman
and because he had a wonderful command over the

 

other men. He stood nearly six feet high, but his great
_ shoulders were slouched forward and he stooped so
, that he did not look anywhere near that height. He
’ 4 had a tremendous pair of arms and a deep chest that
: ; told of great physical strength. He was well known
about the yards as a bully and a bruiser, and there was
not a man about the place who would stand up to him
a ina fist fight.

  

“Whatcher want?’ he growled, glaring at Butts
_ from under his bushy eyebrows.
“T want to talk to you for a minute. Were you in

 

 

   

that scrap?”

pa “Shure.” /

_ “T don’t approve of scrapping about here, you know
sthat.” 3

pai Hicks grinned and said nothing.

    
    
 

“Those fellows have probably gone up to the Coro-

 

      

 
   

THE YOUNG ROUGH RIDERS WEEKLY. 13

up their horses.
little after dark.

They will be coming back here a
It would be an easy thing for a
gang of roughs to tackle them and beat the life out of
them, and here is a ten-dollar bill for yourself. Do you
understand ?” :

“You want these fellers done up after dark ter-
night ?”’
There

was no one near enough to see the money pass between

Butts glanced nervously around the room.

them or to hear what they were saying.

“T want them to get a ‘good beating,” said Butts,
in a low tone; “from the look of your face, I judge
that you are one of the fellows who was scrapping with

them, and I dare say you want to get even with them

‘on your own account.”

“Betcher life I do!” said Hicks. “I got poked hard
in ther face by that big mutt, an’ I ain’t ther feller ter
take that from anybody! See?”

“Well,” said Tom Butts, “get out of here quick,
and after you quit work to-night you can lay for these
fellows. They will be coming back from the Coronado
along the street a little after dark, I expect. I am
going up there for supper and a few hours sleep, for
I am going to be around here to-night. A special, with
the president of the road, is coming through at about
ten, I expect, and I want to be on hand when that
happens.
along the road for the station here about eight, and

I will see, if possible, that the fellows start
you can have your gang waiting there. Now, skip!
That’s all I have to say, and I don’t want you to be
seen hanging around here.”

Hicks ducked his head and winked.

slouched out of the room and down the stairs.

Then he |
Butts
bent over his yellow dispatch sheet again, looking over
the bundle of telegrams that announced the arrival and
departure of trains, and making the entries in his
sheet. :

By looking over this sheet he could get a comprehen-
sive view of everything that was going on on the

’ yarious lines of the division, and he could have ac-

curate ideas as to which tracks were clear, so that he
would know when and where to dispatch the trains that
went out from Salt City Junction. At present, how-
14

ever he was not in the best possible condition for work
that required a great dea] of steadiness and accuracy.
He had be@n in a bad temper and besides that he had
just entered into a plot which might land him in prison
if it were discovered. His face was very pale and his
lips twitched ctiriously. His hand shook and trembled
as he made his entries in the dispatch sheet. "He had
never felt so nervous and shaken up in his life before.

CHAPTER VI.
THE RESULT OF UNSTEADY NERVES.

The young rough riders were seated at supper at the
Coronado Hotel. | :

They had found that this was the only inn of any
size in the town, and their horses were now all unsad-
dled and munching away at their oats in the long sheds
adjoining the hotel building. The boys themselves
They had hired a

room in which they could wash and make themselves

had a big table all to themselves.

presentable, and they had all washed up and freshened
themselves before ordering the meal.

“T tell you what,” said Bob Martin, “that was a
pretty lively time we had up at the station to-day!
That was as fast a scrap as we have tackled in a long
time.” 5

“Came near being too fast for me,’ laughed Kit
Summers, whose lip was still swollen from the blow he

had received that afternoon.

“This here fist fightin’ makes me shore tired,” said
Bud Morgan; “I don’t think it’s befittin’ a gentleman,
nohow. ‘In ther good ole days up at Abilene we useter
unlimber with our guns an’ do it all in a quiet an’ gen-

tleman-like manner.”

“T nefer saw no gun dot vas kerviet ven it had der.

trigger bulled,” said Carl, supping up his soup with
a noise that resembled the sound of a rhinoceros feed-
ing.
was pulled. Did you use smokeless powder so id don’d
- make no noise, yah?”

“How would smokeless powder prevent the gun

from making a noise?” said Beanpole, disgustedly.

“All der guns made der report ven der trigger.

THE YOUNG ROUGH RIDERS WEEKLY.

“You make me tired with your talk. It gets me irri-

tated, and then I losé my appetite.” (

“T hope you have lost it by this’time,” said Ben Tre-
mont; “if you don’t lose it pretty soon you'll eat up,
everything in the hotel.”

“T am britty near finished mineselluf,” said Carl;
“ven I geds through I vill sing you a song.”

“Hurry up and sing, Carl,’”’ said Bob Martin; “I just
Everybody
You know what

love to hear you sing. So do we all of us.
who is any good likes good music.
_phakespeare says: ‘The man who has no music in his
soul, and is not moved by concourse of sweet sounds,
is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils; let no stch
man be trusted any further than you can throw a bull
by the horns, for he is a lobster and a’crook, and will
work the double cross on you, just as soon as he gets a
‘chance?’ ” >

“That’s shore a fine quote from the pote,” said Bud;
“T dunno how ye remember all them things, Bob.”

“I’ve got a great head on me,” said Bob. “I havea |
wonderful memory. I have trained it from my youth
till now. ‘It serves me well, indeed,’ as Shakespeare
says.”

“I used to have a good memory,” said Beanpole,
moodily, helping himself to a third piece of roast
beef,

“but when a man’s health is undermined his

memory will go back on him, sure thing. The brain

depends for its nourishment -on the body.”’

“Ye shore must hev a mighty fat brain,” said Bud
Morgan, “for yer body is mighty thin. Jumpin’ sand-
hills! ye takes as much nourishment as any man I ever
seed.” ~%. ;

“My appetite isn’t what it ought to be,” said Bean- — j
pole; “I.can eat occasionally, but, after all, it is very fit-
ful. ,
meal.” %

“IT didn’t think it was that bad,” said Bud; “I
thought from the way ye eat thet ye was hungry all

I never feel hungry until several hours after a

ther time.”
“Do you think you are ready to give us a song now, —

Carl?” asked Kit Summers, with a twinkle in his eye. —

All the boys knew that Carl, while he was very fond of |

singing, had no ideas of music whatever, and that, be- —
g

or 2

 

 
Sides this, he generally made hash of the words of any

 

- irri-

Song he sung.
ty i: “Go ahead, Carl,” said Bob-Martin, “we are all wait-
at ‘up, pe: The room is empty except for us.”

_ “They say that music after dinner is good for thé
Chet _ digestion,” said Ted.

_ “Then sing by all means,” said Beanpole, “and sing
| just ie soon. I am having a lot of trouble with my digestion,
body and music is good for the digestion.”
what - Thus adjured, Carl got on his feet, unbuttoned his
n his oa so as to have plenty of room to breathe, threw out
unds, “his chest and opened his mouth wide, clearing his throat
such __ Several times before commencing. Then he sang as
bull © follows: |
will 4 ‘I dreamt dot I dvelt mit marbled halls,
ets a Ps _ Mit varnish unt paint on der, si-i-ide.

Unt oof all der beobles in der valls,

_ I vas der hope unt bri-i-ide.

_ Der vas efryting der dot der heart could vish,
' Unt nobody vos to plame,

_ But oof all der dings vot bleased me most,

 

ea ; Pe You lofed me sdill der same, you lofed me, lofed me sti-i-ill
i: der same!’”

outh

yeare eu At the conclusion of this remarkable ditty the boys

© burst out into uproarious applause.

“Bully!” said Ted; “you ought to go into grand

_ Opera.” Z
| “Great!” said Kit; “you remind me of. Jean de
_ Reszke. He has a voice just like yours, just the same

 

| quality and pitch, but he doesn’t use it half so well.”
iB “That did me a lot of good,” “Sing
ao | some more. I think I will die of my diseases pretty
| b> Soon, and listening to singing like that makes death
Seem pleasant.”

- “Did you make up them there words?” asked Bud
Morgan.

Ben Tremont only grunted and lit his pipe.

“T don’d make oop der vords oof der songs,” ex-
| a Carl; “der vords iss sung of me.

said Beanpole.

Bud

 
     
 
 
 

ever

sean-
y fit-
er a

«y Dot song iss
; all | from der: obera oof der Pohemian Beer—I mean der
| Pohemian Girl.”

“Give us some more from the same opera,” said Ted.
said Bob Martin; “ As Shake-

‘Music hath charms to lift the savage

   
  
  
 

Goon,” we like it.

Speare says:

  
 
   
  

  

'

THE YOUNG ROUGH RIDERS WEEKLY. cen

  

   

15

“All right,” said Carl;
Oof I don'd sing der odef first I vould haf sung it

“I-haf anoder wery good song.

pefore. Here is der song:

“Der heart powed down mit veight of woe,
Still to der hopes,

 

Carl went no further in his song, for at that moment
the door was thrown open and two men hurried into

the room.

“Here, there is light here,” said one of.them, who
was evidently a telegraph operator at the railroad sta-
tion; “here is the dispatch sheet. You can see it for
yourself.

that track!

the special at the bridge over the Ceriso.”’
f

You have sent the freight train right up on
Look and see! s bound to crash into
One look at the other man, who entered with the

operator, made the boys gasp with surprise. It was

Tom Butts,

insolent Tom Butts they had seen that afternoon. His

but he Icoked a different man from the

face was the color of ashes. His cheeks were sunken,
and there was a look of dread and nameless terror in
his eyes that once seen was never to be forgotten. He

seemed to see nothing in the room about him, nothing
but the yellow dispatch sheet. His companion spread
it out on a table and he looked at it. His pale lips
trembled as he tried to see it, but he could not read
what was written there. He knew that, owing to his
nervousness that afternoon, he had sent a heavy freight
to meet the special on which Rossiter was coming.
He could see in his mind’s eye the bridge over the
Ceriso with the river sparkling beneath it in the moon-
light.

bend. It was a single track road across the Ceriso, and

He could see the special coming around the

he had sent the freirht through in the opposite direc-
tion. He could see the gleaming line of windows on
the palatial special train, and its headlight sending its
ray of light forward into the darkness.
the black, heavy freight coming in the opposite direc-
tion. They were to meet and crash together at the
bridge.

He could see

“We can’t telegraph anywhere to switch the train
off,” said the operator. “We have been trying all the

stations. The operators all leave at five.”

  
  

_ thought of the terrible wreck which seemed inevitable,

16 THE YOUNG ROUGH RIDERS WEEKLY

Butts knew that only too well. He groaned ‘in his
anguish of spirit.

The boys had been listening to this conversation in
surprise. Not a word of it had missed Ted Strong.
Ile knew what it meant. -He knew that the train car-
rying Mr. Rossiter, and his girl friends, Louise and
Daisy, would carry them to their death within the next
two hours unless something were done. He knew how
useless it would be trying to get any of the telegraph
stations, as the operators all left at five and closed the
stations, but another idea came into his head.

That morning he had been looking at a road map of
the country about Ceriso. It was one he had secured
from the government. There were government ex-
perts exploring the country about there and experi-
menting with the wireless telegraph. He knew that
there was a wireless station back at Ceriso, for he had
watched the government men putting it up and had
looked over the instruments himself, being interested
in telegraphy and electric work of all kinds. The road
map he had in his pocket was marked with all the
points where there were wireless telegraph ‘stations.
The other boys wondered what he was doing when he
pulled it up out of his pocket and spread it out on the
table.

For a moment he bent over it, examining it intently.
Then he lifted his head. ;

“There is a wireless telegraph station on the railroad
line twenty miles away,” he said. “We can get a
train there and signal to Ceriso to hold up the special.”

Butts had fallen forward on the table, covering his
face with his hands.

He was aroused by Ted Strong, who took him by the -

shoulder and shook him.

' “Brace up,” said Ted, “you must do something. I'll
help you to head off this collision.”

A faint gleam of hope came into the face of the train
dispatcher at the words. He evidently did not recog-
nize Ted, but he caught the meaning of what he said.

“Can you run an engine?” said Ted.

“Yes,” said Butts.

“Then come on with me. I will fire for you. We

have a run of fifteen miles to make, and we can take

one of your yard engines. We can reach the telegraph

station.”
“Telegraph station!” Butts stared blankly and

lurched forward a step. The same haunted look was _

in his eyes. Otherwise his face was a blank The

'and for which his carelessness was responsible, filled

 

     
 
 
   
   
    
  
  
  
    
   
 
  
   
   
  
 
   
   
  
    
    
   
   
  
   
    
  
 

aH his thoughts. He had sent that eastbound freight
along that single line of track. The horrible manglitig .
deaths that must occur at that lonely bridge over the
Ceriso were his fault. He could think of nothing else.

“Wireless telegraph station!’ said-Ted. “The gov-
ernment telegraphers stay at them all night sometimes.
There’s a chance. It’s fifteen or twenty miles away.
There is no use trying to ride a horse there. But if ©
you can get a locomotive and run it, I will fire it for
you—all your firemen about the yards have gone home
by this time—we may save this train. Pull yourself to-
gether. Try and understand.”

Butts braced up a little.

“There is a locomotive in the yard now,” he mut-
tered; “if you do as you say we can make it.”

All this time the two boys had been hurrying along —
the street. It was pitch dark, and they had now ©
reached the loneliest part of the thoroughfare which —
ran from the Coronado Hotel to the railway station.
The rest of the young rough riders had been taken by
surprise by Ted’s quick action. They had seen him
dash out of the room, dragging Butts with him without
understanding what had happened. The telegraph ©
operator, who had brought the news of the impending
calamity to Butts, soon explained to them what had
happened. Kit Summers was the first to understand |
what Ted had in mind.

“Come on, fellows,” he yelled, “we will run down —
to the station with him and see if we cannot help :
him!”

The rough riders dashed out to the street, but when —

they reached it the two boys they were after were far
away.

Ted and Butts were within a hundred yards of the

railroad station when two dark figures sprang out att 4
them. One of them struck at Ted and sent him tum-_
bling to the ground, and a moment later, in the dark-
ness, Butts had been knocked over also.

 

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sit iameiatibinane

Mike Hicks was carrying out the attack he had i
planned and in the darkness had taken his fellow con- © |

spirator, Butts, for one of the young rough riders!

Now, figs, we feel that you are very much interested

in the adventures of Ted Strong and his dashing com- 4 |

tades and would like to finish this story. If so, we
would advise you to get No. 24 of the Young Rough ©
Riders Weekly, now on sale at all newsdealers. This.
library contains stories of the adventures of Ted Strong
exclusively. Read one and you will read them. atl
Price only five cents per copy. Yer

 

 

 
  

    

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If to-

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Baseball

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