Se as meth aRaaaaeehaesshesteeadertsteeeereseetahiee ee Se wed ies ena Bn a ge. (nee red mle ipo es = eae sg Tssued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second-elass Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., NW. Y. Entered according to Act of Congress tn the year 1908, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. Nox 648. = By BURT L. STANDISH. CHAPTER I. ; THE' NEW .OWNER OF /THE T-BAR. The sun gleamed on the polished steel rails which ran east and west straight as human skill could stretch ae a double line until they seemed to converge and melt a into one in the distance. Where the river came down almost to touch the railroad and then curved away : ee forming an ox-bow bend, could be seen the _ small; desolate, dusty station and watering tank. The plains were arid and barren, with scarce a sign of vege- tation save occasionally a bunch of dusty sage-brush or a cluster of cactus scattered here and there. To the ‘southwest a range of mountains rose like blue mole- _ hills against the sky. j Within the building the flat-chested, thin- checked, ices sad-eyed station-agent sat rounded over a click- ing telegraph instrument. There amounting almost to hopelessness and despair in his sullen face. fortunate must find a clime suited to his weakened NEW YORK, September 12, 1908. FRANK MERRIWELL’S RANCH OR, ROUGHING IT ON ‘THE RANGE. _ a box joutside the open window of the little office, talk- was resignation The doctor had announced that this un- | aetna Price Five Cake lungs if he wished to live; but now that he was here alone, afar from his Eastern home, seemingly buried in a dead and desolate world, he sometimes wished that he had deafened his ears to the doctor’s words. Would it not be better, he sometimes asked himself, to live a brief time where there was lifé than to exist for years in the midst of desolation and death? After a time his interest in everything seemed to lapse and wane, until he performed his duties mechanically with no un-_ necessary words or attention for those whom fate might bring across his mournful horizon. . He had not even troubled himself. to saunter lates and inspect the two men who had driven up to the — station nearly an hour before and were now sitting on. ing spasmodically in a dull, half-hearted way. The Ne sound of their voices floated in to him, and he heard a of their conversation to tell him that they were” “near-by” was nearer than a hundred vent or so, wa Or In Stetson hats, “chaps,” woolens and spurts, the two nen sat ona box outside the building, against the wall One of them was a young man with gray eyes and of which they leaned. not over twenty-eight or thirty, light curling hair. The other was a bearded, weather- beaten, grizzled old fellow, who could look backward on fifty years of life. The younger man was known as “Curly,”’ while his companion, who cut his tobacco and filled his black pipe with his left hand, was called “South-paw Lem.” Both were from the T-Bar of the Buffalo Range, being the bluish mountain which could be seen Lem was the foreman of the Ranch afar in the southwest. T-Bar, while Curly was known far and wide as the champion broncho buster of that region. He likewise had some fame as a “bad man,” although under ordi- nary conditions one. would never have fanciéd it of him, The horse attached to the saddled animal which Curly had ridden were hitched in the shade of the station. These two men from T- Bar were awaiting the arrival of a train from the East. Lem Stover smoked incessantly ‘while Curly wagged his jaws over a quid of tobacco and spat riggt and left until the station platform was a half-circle before him. » “How do yer reckon this yere new man is ‘goin’ to stand it, Lem?” drawled Curly, beginning to cut notches in the edge of the box with the keen blade spring wagon and the bespattered in long of a wicked-looking clasp-knife. “Uh-huh!” gtunted the grizzled old foreman of the ‘T-Bar ; ain’t got nothin’ whatsoever to do reckonin’ by, Curly, but, judgin’ from past experiences, I should say he’d last about six months.” “Old man Butters done better than that.’ “Yep, he held on a year; but he ain't been seen HY round the T-Bar for so long that I’ve plumb forsot R the look of his phiz. Doubt if I’d know my old boss | if he appeared afore me to-day, Curly.” | Fe: — *T ¢ertain am plumb sorry for the old boy,” drawled ae Curly. “He bought the T-Bar with the;idea of givin’ his sons a chance to rtsticate and recuperate arter they’d been hittin’ the lofty spots 1n a most energetic any long green.” ‘South-paw Lem allot “That second boy o’ his Was alunger for fair,” he ‘said. “He was a nice little chap, Curly. I sort 0’ took to that kid, and i low yer didn’t treat him “quite ; right. “4 ' _ Curly grinned. WEEKLY. as he waited,’ and mee ous effort to spend a little of the old man’s “Just had to ’nitiate the youngster if he was goin’ to ’Twouldn’t ’a’ and let become a regular cow-purncher, Lem. been -right to mollycoddle him, you know, him believe that he was gittin’ to be a real tough cuss.” “Vou tushed the kid too fast, Curly. gettin’ to be protid of his accomplishments when you put him onto that thar pitchin’ devil cayuse of yours, and it’s wonder the boy wa’n’t killed. He had sand, too; you’ve got to acknowledge that. didn’t he come back arter your bronch had throwed him twice? The third time he-got a busted collar-bone and a Now he’s down tryin’ to git are all agin’ He was just For couple of ribs started off his spine. in Southern California metided up, though I ‘low the charices somewhere, him.” “I hope you ain’t lookin’ for no trouble, Lem, a-criticizing my deportment this yere way?” growled “Tf the fool boy had had any, Curly, a bit sullenly. e throwed him the furst sense, he’d quit after Spitfir time.” “Tf he. didn’t have no sense, he had sand, Curly. You’ve got to give him credit fer that. He come nearer ridin’ that pitchin’ cayuse of yours than any other man I’ve ever seen straddle the beast.” “There ain’t nobody ever rid that horse but just me, and I don’t reckon anybody will as long as I keep him. When he gits so he will let another man strad- dle him and ride him I'll give him away or shoot him, You hear me affirm. I’d made that promise to my- self afore the kid tried to ride him, and so it was nateral enough that I sort of sot still and let the youngster get his belly full, Too bad old man But- ters fizzled on his scheme of runnin’ the ranch as a recuperatin’. resort for his progeny. But he’d ought to found out how matters stood before. he dropped his good money into the T-Bar.” Lem Stover tamped down the burning tobacco -in the bowl of his pipe with a smutty index finger. “One thing,” old Butters fer.” “What's that?” “Te didn’t Jet Chilcotte bluff him or Seewvbeat him into handin’ over, the T-Bar fer a songs Chil- cotte sure reckoned he’d force Butters into sellin’ out to him, but Butters he hung on till he could find ans He told me personally he’d fever — other customer. sell a foot of the T-Bar to Seth Chilcotte.” “He might just as well,” said Curly | wisely, Bi old man mgie es will: shore git the T-Bar in C4 he said—“one thing [ sort o’ admire a i te 6 este pape eran f po ty ) iP ‘have to go some. too lazy and too innocent. ~ level, and I’ll stake my pile on that. TIP: AGP end. He'll git it at his own figger, too, and that'll be a mighty low one.” South-paw Lem frowned. “Mebbe you're right,” he admitted; “but if the T- Bar was to fall into the hands of a good fighting man who knowed his business, old Chilcotte would You hear me. He ain’t got no right to cut us off from Clearwater Crick, for the big- gest part o’ that stream is on the T-Bar.” “There’s a question about that, Lem. Chilcotte Says not, and he backs up what he says with good fightin’ men. In a dry season we've got to git to Clearwater, for it’s the only stream that we can de- pend on without fail. Now if Chilcotte can shut us off from: that crick he'll shore have us where the wool is short. That ain’t all. He says our cattle are - feedin’ on his range.”’ South-paw swore. “That shore makes me sick!” prising energy. he said with sur- “These yere times is rotten. I can remember when there wa’n’t no fences and every man had a right to feed his cows wherever there was grass. In these yere degenerate modern days they’re gettin’ so they'll soon be cuttin’ up the country hereabouts for truck-farms. If Chicago keeps on growing, Ler- amie, Medicine Bow and Sheridan will pretty soon - be suburban towns for her.” “At about that time,” cotte’ll be sellin’ chuckled Curly, “Seth-Chil- the T-Bar for suburban lots. I’m lookin’ for this new tenderfoot owner of the ranch to git his fill in double-quick time. I ‘low they know over at Rattlesnake Ranch about all what’s happened. I ‘low they know Butters has sold out to a‘new man, and they'll be inspectin’ the gent long before this time. It wouldn’t s’prise me a great deal if they was pre- pared to give him a rather warm reception.” “Curly, one thing has always seemed to me a heap peculiar. There never was anything happened on the T-Bar that they didn’t know it over at Rattlesnake / just about as soon as it occurred. I’ve sort 0’ looked our boys over, and I can’t figure out who it is that does the talkin’. I thought it might be Pickle Eye one time, but Pickle Eye certain is a plenty sore on the whole Chilcotte outfit.. It can’t be Babe, for he’s | Bil the Brute is on the I’ve meditated some over Sangaree. I don’t want to think that he’s -attaitor. It might be José; but I know for a fact that ° the Chilcotte bunch got next to a hale lot of sara WEEKLY. . 3 out. Now, Curly, it comes down to you and Mebbe I’m actin’ as foreman of the T-Bar and be- traying my boss to old Chilcotte—mebbe I be, but I’d shoot the son-of-a-gun that hinted so!’ “Well, you certain know whar I stand, Lem,” mur- mured Curly, whittling carelessly at the edge of the box. “You know Red Harper is foreman of the Rattlesnake, and you likewise know that him and me have our little difference to settle some day. And when we do settle it, there’ll be directly a job for the undertaker.” : “Well, you see, Curly, whar I am. _ I can’t figure it out that any of the boys is playing the traitor, and yet it’s a whole lot mysterious that the Rattlesnake bunch gets next in a hurry to everything that happens at the T-Bar. Somebody blows it, Curly. If I knowed the gent I’d politely pick a disturbance with him and shoot a few holes in him. That would bas the easiest and simplest way of settlin’ the matter. “It wouldn’t be no use, Lem. T-Bar because we was sort 0’ havin’ a snap thar, and you know it. 1 don’t reckon thar’s any of us that ex- pects he’ll be hangin’ onto his same job six months to come. Chilcotte will have the T-Bar afore spring opens, you mark what I say. If this yere new man is as raw as I opine he is, it wouldn’t s’prise me any if Chilcotte got it afore tlle snow caps the Buffalo peaks.” “Well, I judge we'll soon get a look at the gent,” observed Lem, as he let down his long legs and rose to é his feet. Far away sounded the wailing whistle of a locomo- tive. Against the distant sky there was a trailing smudge of smoke. Curly likewise rose. ward on his feet. lessness in his eyes, and yet he was somewhat eager ‘to see the new owner of the T-Bar Ranch. The station-agent came out, having closed his cubby: hole office behind him. the two cow-punchers, ing the arrival of the train. | There was a faint, sullen, quivering rumble ne the rails. Again the approaching shrieked wailingly. blotty black smoke against the blue heavens. Straight on it came, stopping at the station, with a snort and a wheeze. The long line of coaches were covered with dust. The passengers, some of them, looked out with idle curiosity at the little desert sta- tion and the watering-tank. A few sury eyed the two We've stuck by the He was bow-legged and awk-— There was a look of assumed care- He did not even glance at but stood there listlessly await- locomotive | Already it was in view far down that marvelously straight line of track, casting its , ® © 4 Lire tOr cattle-men as though these were the sights they most wished to see in that land of mighty reaches. Two young men, plainly, almost roughly dressed, stepped down from one of the Pullman cars. Each carried a small traveling bag. Neither seemed to be over twenty-four or twenty-five years of age. were Self-possessed, dignified, interesting-looking in- dividuals. | The station-agent exchanged some words and pa- pers with the conductor, who signaled the watching engineer. In another moment, with a hissing of the air-brakes, the train was once more in motion. Lem and Curly surveyed the two young men with They surprise and wonderment. “A couple of kids,’ whispered Curly behind his hand. ‘Now what do yer think of that?” One of the two strangers stepped forward promptly. “Are you from the T-Bar?’ he inquired. “Ves, sir, I opine we are,” answered Lem. “Good!” said the other. “I expected you would be here. I’m Frank Merriwell, the new owner of that ranch, CHAPTER II. FRESH FROM THE “EFFETE EAST.” Lem removed his Stetson, an action which Curly somewhat reluctantly imitated. “Pm foreman of the T-Bar, sir,” said the grizzled old cow-puncher. _ “Then you’re Lem Stover? Mr. Butters told me about you. He gave you an excellent character.” “T shorely am much obliged to Mr. Butters, but I “must ‘low he didn’t hang ‘round the T-Bar long enough hisself to judge in regard to my character. This yere is Curly, the slickest broncho-buster and hoss+wrangler in Wyoming.” Curly acknowledged the introduction with a nod as Frank turned toward him. It was difficult for him to repress the look of mingled amusement and disdain which threatened to creep across his face. Butters had been a tenderfoot in the full sense of the word; but he was a man of years and experience in business, and he certainly had made a success in life, having started as a poor boy and accumulated a vast fortune. Take Butters in his sphere, and Curly would have treated him with all due consideration and respect; “but Butters as the owner of the T-Bar Ranch, Butters asa cattleman and employer of cow-punchers, But- ” ters in the saddle, fifty, fat and flabby, utterly unable WEEKLY, to distinguish between a western long-horn and a New England Jersey was a person absolutely beneath contempt. Many an insolent witticism had Curly fired off at the unsuspecting Butters during the chat- ting and gossip and joking of the bunk-house. But Butters—why, he had done something worth while in making a fortune; but surely, this new owner of the T-Bar was too young, too unsophisticated, too, raw to have accomplished anything at all worth while. His face was shaven clean and smooth, and beneath one ear Curly detected a bit of white powder, which accounted for the faint, delicate, evasive, cleanly odor Why, this must be some son of fortune and heir of wealth which he had associated with the new arrivals. accumulated by industrious parents, lately out of college, who had read highly-colored and impossible stories of western ranch life, and had then became im- bued with a desire to own a ranch and be known as.a “cattle-king.” Curly chuckled inwardly as he thought how much different the stern reality would be from the fancied life of the ranch as pictured by the facile pen of the story-writer who had never been west of Jersey City. In a business-like way, Frank Merriwell now pro- ceeded to introduce his companion, Bartley Hodge. Hodge was likewise youthful and clean-cut, not quite as tall as Merriwell, looking the least bit more stocky and having black eyes and hair and a face that was somewhat grim and stern. “Whar is yer luggage, Mr. Merriwell?” inquired Lem Stover, looking around as the train melted into the distance far along the straight stretch of rails to the westward. “Right here in these grips,” said Frank. didnt’ bother with much luggage.” “Yer ain’t got no trunks?” “No trunks.” Lem and Curly exchanged glances. This was some- thing of a surprise, for every tenderfoot who had come ‘to the T-Bar had invariably brought an abun- “We e dance of luggage, not a single article of which, as it seemed, they could live without. “Vou see,’ explained Merry briefly, “I bought the T-Bar somewhat unexpectedly and. suddenly. Mr. Butters said there was trouble here with the owner of an adjoining ranch, whose name is Chileotte. He was thoughtful enough to add, when the bargain was , closed, that this man Chiltotte has threatened to cut — the T-Bar off from the only available water in a very dry season. {% . ; e/g for some weeks, and I fancied it would be a good / 4 yy F t . t } 29% We haven’t had much rain in the East ° 25 a ee, ee ee o> h go V (vo o- O pias Stee siles i tit doe ake idea for me to look my property over here as soon as possible, for if there’s a dearth of water, | must come to some sort of an understanding and agreement with Chilcotte. traveling-bag and came out to look the ranch over, bringing Mr. Hodge along.” The foreman nodded. “Arter gettin’ your message,” he said, “we had to So you see I tossed a few things into my hike some in order to be here to meet yer.” “It would have been a bit uncomfortable~for us if you had failed to get here,” observed Frank, as he glanced around. “Now if you’ll show us our horses were ready to start for the ranch.” He handed his traveling-bags over to Stover and then ordered Curly to relieve Hodge of his grip, which the broncho-buster did with an air of resentful sur- prise. . Stover led the way to the three horses and the old wagon in the shade of the station. The dejected- lookiag, branded beasts attached to the wagon seemed waiting listlessly for the next move; but. Curly’s sad- dle-horse pricked up its ears, lifted its head and whickered at sight of its master. A moment later this same animal thrust back its ears and assumed a wicked look on beholding the two clean-shaven young stran- gers. “Spitfire shore knows a tenderfoot by sight,” thought Curly. The foreman tossed Frank Merriwell’s traveling- bag into the open wagon, and Curly did the same with Hodge’s. Merriwell had halted and was looking the outfit over with a mild expression of surprise on his face. “Where are your saddle-horses for us, Stover?” he asked. “We didn’t bring none, sir,’ answered South-paw. “JT sort o’ reckoned you'd rather ride on the back seat of the wagon.” “Besides,” muttered Curly to himself, “we ain’t got no ladies’ saddle-horses on the ranch.” “What did you say?” demanded Frank, fixing his large, intense brown eyes on the muttering horse- breaker. “T was a-speakin’ to myself, sir,” said Curly. “T didn’t quite understand you.” “And that’s a very bad habit, my friend. If I were in your place I’d cut it out. It annoys me.” Beneath the leathery tan of his face and wrinkled neck, Curly flushed hotly. For a single moment his muscles seemed to contract and stiffen. He jerked his head round, and his eyes met those of the new owner “of the T-Bar. WEEKLY, Not more than ten seconds did those two men © look straight at each other, and then, to his susprisé, Curly suddenly discovered: that he had lowered his He did not 7 = do this voluntarily, but it actually seemed as if the look lids and turned his gaze to the ground. he had met in the eyes of Merriwell was so strong that 7 ™ it had thrust his own glance downward. He was not only annoyed, he was angered unspeakably by this. “Whose horse is that?” With his hand Merriwell motioned toward the sad- dled animal. “That cayuse belongs to Curly,” answered the fore- man. “Ef the critter would let anybody ’cept me throw ; a leg over him,” said Curly, with a sly wink at Stover, “vou might take him and welcome, sir.”’ wiih ty: Mim have a decided aversion to open spring-wagons of this description,” The broncho-buster exposed his yellowish teeth in a “If you don’t mind,” said Merry, faint grin. “Certain I aint’ no objections to your ridin’ Spit- fire,” he said; “but I reckon I'd better inform yer in advance that yer won't find him quite as soople and gentle as the saddle-hosses they have in them thar eastern ridin’-schools, and I ‘low that’s the kind yer used to.” South-paw felt it his duty to put in a word of caution, “Thar can’t nobody on the T-Bar ride Curly’s hoss, “Spitfire was a bad one, and He don’t like nobody else to strad- sir,” he explained. Curly busted him. dle him.” “As-long as Curly doesn’t object to my riding the animal if I can,’’ said Merry quietly, “I think I'll take a try ateit.” — As he spoke he removed his coat and tossed it to Hodge. He was wearing a light-colored flannel shirt, with a soft, wide, rolling collar attached. A scarf with flawing ends was knotted loosely beneath the collar. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled elbow high, ex- posing a pair of handsomely molded, muscular fore-. arms. His trousers were belted at the waist, and he seemed to be one of the kind to scorn “galluses.” “Loan me your gauntlets and quirt, Curly,” he said, turning once more to the horse-breaker. - Without a word, the man handed over his gloves — and the raw-hide quirt which had dangled from his ~ hip. , pie : But South-paw Lem was more or less concerned | 6 SPs. FOr over what might happen, and once more he spoke up: “Mr. Merriwell, sir,” he said, ‘beggin’ yer pardon, I wouldn’t advise yer to try to ride Curly’s hoss. It’s right dangerous, sir—it shorely is. Curly will tell you so hisself. The critter killed one man afore Curly mastered him, and he’s put another away in a bunk with a broken collar-bone and damaged ribs sence then. He’s jest nacherlly bad, that’s what he is. He’ll try to kill yer if yer throw a leg over him.” Frank Merriwell donned the horse-breaker’s gaunt- lets. “TIl chance it, Stover,” he said quietly. “Just cut your cayuse loose, Curly, so he won’t injure himself. Thank you.” With malicious satisfaction, Curly had hastened to release the saddle-horse. The animal danced expect- antly, eager to be off. Curly was at its head when, : with two swift steps and a bound, Frank Merriwell '. alighted in the saddle. CHAPTER IIL. CONQUERING A PITCHING CAYUSE. | ‘The “cow-horse” was astonished. For a moment it stood quite still, and then, as its master leaped back- ward with a high-keyed, wolfish, cowboy yell, the ani- mal answered, sending forth a shrill squeal that was like the keen blast of a steam-whistle. In another moment the beast was plunging, biting, and boiling in a perfect ecstasy of rage. ee These movements were simply amazing in their rap- _ idity and fury. Like a rocking horse, the creature _ plunged fore and aft, endeavoring to hurl its rider over its head or cast him backward to the ground. _ Next the beast leaped high into the air, coming down _, with all four feet set together and its back humped and arched. Then it whirled squarely around with another leap, turning while in the air untib its head was where its tail had been a moment before. Away it shot like an arrow from the bow, stopping with the -abruptness of a thing turned to stone. Finding all its efforts thus far unavailing, it began to weave and pitch “fence-cornered,” going to the right and then to the left with a marvelous snapping, jerking, tearing move- _ ment. i Up to this point Frank Merriwell had not lifted the . dangling quirt, the loop of which he had slipped over iis wrist so that it could not get away. To the amaze-_ } WEEKLY. ment of two spectators and the amusement of the third, Merry sat with his right arm hanging limply at his Al- though the jerking, snapping movements of the horse seemed sufficient to whip the man’s head: from his side, his left hand resting lighty on the bit rein. body, with every particle of him he seemed to be a part of the animal himself. as if frozen fast to it. in the saddle His feet were in the wooden stirrups, and, despite the fact that he was not a little hampered because he was not wearing ‘riding-boots, those feet remained there immovable. He even smiled! | Lem Stover bit his old pipe-stem short off, and then he swore. But his profanity was not the result of the ‘misfortune to his pipe; it came purely from his un- speakable amazement over what he beheld. Curly was no less amazed. He sat Again,that high-keyed, wolfish yell pealed from his lips, this time louder, shriller, more intense than before. The horse answered with a scream that ws ex- pressive of the most intense and most unbounded rage. Promptly the rawhide quirt whistled through the air and fell cuttingly upon the hide of the angry animal. , Away went the cayuse, pitching, plunging, scream- ing, a palpitant, living thing of madness. At times the beast stood straight up on its hind legs, at times it rose on its fore legs as if on the point of turning as an acrobat throws a handspring. Suddenly, without the least warning, it dropped flat to the ground. An inexperienced rider would have been caught and pinned beneath the horse as the animal attempted to roll over. But Frank Merriwell had dropped to his feet as the beast fell, and when the creature rose Merry rose with it, again in the saddle. “By the great jumping jehocus!” shouted South- paw Lem. “TI swar, I believe the mansis goin’ to ride yer hoss, Curly!” - Curly’s hands were on his touched the butt of a pistol protruding from the loosely dangling leather holster. Involuntarily his fingers crept down and closed upon the grip of the weapon. “Tf he rides that hoss I'll kill the critter!” he mut- ~ tered. “IT don’t think you'd better make such a threat as — that, my friend,” said Bart Hodge quietly. “I give | you my word that Frank Merriwell will ride that | horse and that he has ridden worse ones.” a “Then he’s no tenderfoot,” said Lem Stover. At this Hodge smiled. hips. His right hand — ert kn Cit Ga ba! aw eas all flu Ou th: pr H th de rant geese cine in th pl u d, is Aa HN Ss Ry ee Wwe rl og | Se ae } , Lie LOR . “Did you take him for a tenderfoot? Why, he knows this country from the Canadian Line to the City of Mexico, from the Mississippi to the Golden Gate.” ‘Meanwhile, the bucking horse, finding its efforts 5 5 baffled, started off furiously as if endeavoring to run snarled Curly. - “puncher. easily, so firmly, so persistently to its back. away from the strange and hated rider who clung so Gathering all the speed it could muster, the animal once more flung itself to a dead stand, with its forward legs outthrust atid plowing deep into the dry soil. Another failure. Back toward the station whirled Spitfire, through every as he ap- proached. _ going gyration and trick possible Curly’s hand loosened the weapon in the holster. His bluish-gray eyes narrowed to. two thin slits, through which shot a reddish gleam. There was a deadly expression to his mouth. “I cettain ain’t got no further use for that thar cayuse,” he muttered bitterly. But now a firm, sinewy hand grasped his wrist, and in his ear a grim voice spoke: “Don’t pull that gun, my friend. that horse, I’ll buy him of you myself. Tf you don’t. want Name your price.” “Yer ain’t got money enough to buy the critter!” “I'll make buzzard bait 0’ him!” And now occurred another surprise for the cow- As he brought forth his pistol the weapon was suddenly taken from him by a twisting wrench and a scientific, snapping movement that he did not . _means.- - the man. between them, heedless of Curly’s knife, his left hand less knife, understand. He found himself gazing in rage at the revolver held in Bart Hodge’s gt asp. “Not disputing your right to do anything you please with your own horse, Mr. Curly,” said Hodge, “I -must-ask you to refrain from casting any lead in the ~animal’s direction while Mr. Merriwell is in. the sad- ; dle” Curly was a “bad man” in a way, although he was not one of the typical old-time Western terrors, by any His rage over what had happened and the interference of Bart Hodge spurréd him to the limit. From some hidden spot he flashed forth a keen, spot- and, announcing that tenderfoot’s heart out, Hodge, It was not Curly’s pistol in Bart’s hand that stopped It was Lem Stover who promptly stepped would. cut the he made one step toward he WEEKLY, | ¥ outthrust and planted squarely against the horse- breaker’s breast. “Stop where yer are, Curly!” he commanded. “Yer won't cut nobody any to-day. I’m your friend, and yer know it. You're a heap hot under the collar be- cause Mr. Metriwell can ride yer cayuse, but yer ain’t got no right to shoot a hoss out from under a man, even if that hoss does belong to you.” don’t want to hurt ye, but that thar No man “Lem—Lem, | galoot grabbed my gun, and he’s got it now. ever done that trick to Jim Curly afore. I’m goin’ to slice his hide into ribbons!” “Curly, he could bore you in your tracks him. if. he wanted to. afore you could reach boy. I reckon he was some hasty, and so was you. We ain't Merriwell and his partner Go slow, goin’ to quarrel with Mr. right here furst thing—not much!” “I beg Mr. Curly’s pardon,” said Hodge calmly. “I’m sure he will understand that I had no desire to interfere with his actions only so far as they might endanger Mr. Merriwell.” “Why, what do ae take me fer?” raged horse-breaker. “I can shoot the buttons off a clothes without ever touchin’ ye. I wouldn’t ’a’ hurt Mr. Merriwell none if I'd filled that eda cayuse full of lead.” “But Mr. Merriwell might not have understoad your purpose, my friend,” said Hodge; “and, as he happens tobe carrying a pistol himself, I knew there was danger that something or some 6he beside the horse would get filled with lead.” “That’s right, Curly,” said Stover. zlin’ hot jest then, and thar’s no ee whar. it would ‘a’ ended had you begun shootin’.’ : He turned to Bart Hodge, at the same time stepping out from between them. “T.reckon yer’d better give Curly back his gun,’ the said. “He won't tse it now. _He’s a heap quick at gettin’ riled, but he gits over it just about as sudden. Put up that toad-sticker, Curly, an’ take yer shootin’- iron. This gent ain’t got no use fer it.” ron _ Although Curly’s wrath had not subsided, his better five : - "judgment had come to the rescue, and now he slipped the gleaming knife out of sight, a moment later ac- -cepting the pistol which Hodge returned to him with Bart once more spoke ehcsc apology, at — ; icerity that it did 'not\seem any one could doubt his only re had a bow. the same time putting into it such si been to avert trouble. ~ : Slowly Curly dropped. the nD long-berreled Te rasped the en-; “Ver was .siz- y t 8 | | Aik tee volver into the dangling leather holster. Not by words did he indicate that the apology was accepted. In the meantime Frank Merriwell had mercilessly punished the bucking horse, whose fury seemed to increase until suddenly, without the least warning, the animal gave up and was submissive and conquered. Having made sure that this was not a lull between storms, Merry began stroking the creature’s perspiring neck and talking into its ears in a low, soothing tone. Following this, Frank slipped from the saddle to the ground and was soon stroking the animal’s muzzle, all the time continuing to speak in that soft, coaxing, yet authoritative, manner. musical, In the end Merry walked slowly back to the little station and the waiting group near it with Spitfire humbly following like a dog at his heels. ) “Now, my friends,” said Merry, with a smile, “ think we’re ready to start.” CHAPTER IV. FRANK'S SCHEME. Sullen and sour, Curly sat beside Lem on the front seat of the old spring wagon, swallowing with poor grace indeed the occasional joshing of the foreman. The little railway-station had long since sunk, into the barrenness of the desert behind them; but the blue mole-hill mountains were still seen apparently as far away as ever. On the back seat of the wagon ‘sat’ Bart Hodge, trying to endure the jouncing, bounding, and rattling as stoically as possible and taking no part in the conversation of the cattlemen. To the right and a bit in advance, Spitfire loped along with an easy, swinging gait that seemed slow, yet unvarying and unbrokenly covered ground most surprisingly. Frank Merriwell sat in the saddle, ri- ding with a sort of easy, graceful slouch which was not of the Eastern or English style, but had been ac- quired during his life and experience in the West and Southwest. Such riding might seem to the eye of a _ tiding-school master as slovenly and careless, but it : was that sort that seemed to yield the body of the rider to every swaying, rocking, undulating move- “ment of the horse until man and beast were as one. It was the sort of riding that produces the least fatigue ‘in man and beast. And if occasion required, Eraak months that I've had an opportunity WEEKLY. Lem filled and lighted his black pipe with the broken stem without pulling up in the least. “What's to learn this yere new tenderfoot owner of the T-Bar, Curly?” he the next trick you're goin’ inquired dryly, Curly made no answer. “He certain seems to be a right clever pupil,” mured the foreman. mur- “Ef I remember right, you've bragged.a plenty that nobody ‘cept yerself could throw a leg over Spitfire, How’ll yer like it when the boys see the new owner come ridin’ up to the ranch on yer pet horse?”’ Curly’s eyes narrowed and gleamed, but he re- mained silent. “T opine that spectacle will jar “em some,” grinned “It'll be apt to have a fatal effect on Babe, fer his heart is delicate, yer know. Lem, puffing hard at his wheezing pipe. [I likewise jec dge that Sangaree may drop dead at the spectacle.’ Curly’s lips were tight pressed and immovable. “Bill the Brute will ask a heap o’ questions, and too, Curly,” “You'll have ter explain to the boys how yer / mighty onpleasant ones, continued South- paw. sort 0’ invited the new owner to help hisself to yer buckin’ cayuse and he promptly proceeded to do so, Say, the boys certain are goin’ to poke it inter yer a-plenty. They'll laff at ye till their sides is sore. You hear me.”’ Curly cursed hissingly. : “Really,” persisted Stover maliciously, “ef I was in your place I’d mortally hate to show my. face again at the ° At this point the inwardly writhing L-Bar burst forth into a perfect torrent of furious language, turning savagely on’ Stover. “Keep it up,” he snarled, show his face ag’in at the “and one of us never will. T-Bar onless he appears thar as a stiff!” “Sho!’ murmured Lem, ment. ‘Yer ain’t lost yer Why, I’m. plumb s’prised at mild-mannered man that I didn’t s and fly plumb off the handle this yere way. with apparent. astonish- temper, has you, Curly ? Frank Merriwell seemed to scent trouble, * for he reined Spitfire over toward ‘the wagon and spoke to the men on the front seat. ee “What’s the matter, boys?” he asked. wagon, and perhaps I’ve oo a bit selfish in riding his horse so long. But you! see this is the first time in horse-breaker | ye! Yer such a peaceful, s'pose you: 'd git riled “T suppose Curly is getting tired of bumping around on that to straddle an an er W any atten ren ‘his he ur~ ve OW ys yer re- ed ppt Ee; Op nd HT ae l- —~ ventured to ‘some proud nite - place whar thar’s a plenty. up till mornin’ ef yer think best, sir.” the ranch?” Tie SOP animal-in the free and open country. Come, Curly, Pll exchange places with you.” The horse-breaker flashed one quick, sour, vindictive glance at. Merry, but his language was courteous enough as he replied: . “T’m much obliged, sir, but I reckon I'll stick to the wagon ef yer don't mind.” “Tf you’re doing so on my account,” said Merry, “You'll certainly make me feel still more selfish and thoughtless, for | know how much the real cattleman dislikes traveling across country otherwise than in the saddle. I wish you’d take your horse, Curly.” “Once more beggin’ yer pardon, sir, I’m done with that thar critter.”’ “Done with him?” i OS, Sty “Why, what do you mean by that?” “T’ll never mount him again, sir.” “Why not?” As Curly seemed a bit disinclined to explain, Stover speak up. Mr. Merriwell,” he said, “Curly has been of ‘the fact that nobody else at the T-Bar “Ver see, could ride Spitfire, and now I judge he’s a heap dis- gusted with the critter. Yer know he did start. to shoot up the hoss some.” “Tt’s unfortunate that Curly should feel so disturbed over it,” said Frank. “I had no intention of making trouble when I accepted his mvitation to take this horse.” “T opine it’s all right, Mr. Merriwell,”’ nodded the foreman. “Curly'll forget it to-morrer. It’s shore goin’ to be plumb dark before we can hit No Water Crick.” “T presume that’s as far as we'll go to-night ?”’ “Well, sir, it looks to me as if that’ll be as much as these yere hosses can stand. ‘They're gittin’ a plenty fagged a’ready.” -, “No Water Creek, eh? Doesn’t sound very inviting as’ a camping-spot. I should prefer a place where there is plenty of water.’ “We'll find. water thar. In dry seasons the crick goes plumb dry; but there’s yet a little water left in her “long the most. of her course, and I know one That’s whar we'll hang _-*Y’m leaving this to you, Stover. TI rely on your. judgment. How far is it from No Water Creek to - “Something like fifty mile, sir.” _ “Well; I’ll be empty as a drum by the time we reach 4) WEEKLY. 9 No: Water Creek, even though Hodge and | had a square, hearty meal on ‘the diner shortly before we stepped off at Cottonwood Bend. I hope you've got plenty of grub along to stuff a couple of famishing Easterners, for I know Mr. Hodge will be empty like- wise.” ‘We've got enough fer ye,” assured Lem; “don’t worry erbout that.” “Tell me something about the ranch, Stover,” re- quested Frank as he rode along near the wagon. “Is there building-timber conveniently near?” ‘“Thar’s timber enough within thirty or forty mile in the Buffalo Range, sir.” : “Do I own any of this timber-land?”’ “I judge ye do, though old man Chilcotte might dispute that.’’ : | “It’s plain that old man Chilcotte and 1 shall have to get together and have an understanding,’ said Merry. ‘“‘Will it be difficult to bring timber down from the mountains to the ranch?” “Not so mighty difficult, sir.” “As I understand it, the ranch-house is located near some fine living springs.” “Ves, sir, that’s right. Thar are two of them springs that’s never been knowed to igo dry in the dryest season. ‘They’re shore to supply plenty of waten for the ranch-house the year ‘round.’ “Well, it seems to me that Mr. Butters told me the truth about that matter. 1 may want to put up some buildings near the ranch. That's why I asked you I have a school in the East where The idea’ of about the timber. { train boys in physical development. purchasing a ranch out here and bringing some of those boys to the ranch where they may get the full benefit of free, outdoor life, rather appealed to me, and — { hope the scheme will prove practicable.” Lem and Curly exchanged glances. For the first time the disgruntled horse-breaker betrayed signs of amusement. Ls 4! “Another blamed kindergarten!’’ he muttered under 2 his bréath, giving Stover a nudge with his elbow. — South-paw Lem seemed somewhat taken aback, “Is it yer intention, sir,” he ventured to inquire, “to change the T-Bar from a cattle-ranch into a school ?” Le Frank laughed. | “Not at all,” was his assurance. “I shall continue — to conduct the T-Bar as a cattle-ranch; but at the same time, if arrangements for their accommodation can be made, I may at intervals send out a numb ¥ 10 PEE LOP of boys from my school whom I fancy will be benefited by the climate and the life on the ranch.” -“Oh, whispered Curly. vT have a kic Stover was plainly disturbed. Although he wow!” whar 1 for breal see we WEEKLY, II “Your cows?’ echoed Lem interrogatingly. “Whar be they?” “There’s a bunch of them just over this rise here,” was the explanation. “Why, you’re on the T-Bar now. doin’?” “Drivin’ What are yer a bunch through to Newcastle for We hung up here ship- water. You'll pardon us, Lem, for stoppin’ ye so abrupt and oncermonious, but ye see we didn’t know who yer was, and we thought that it might be some gents that was interested to start our critters on the stampede. It’s all right, boys. I don’t jedge Lem nor Curly would try anything like that.”’ And yet it almost seemed suspected their intentions. In tone there was still something of doubt and accusa- tion. “You're shore - it, Red,” the T-Bar. ‘We « takin’ a drive through or that you'd stopped here- ment. to-night to be near if the speaker still his words and. his assured the foreman of didn’t have no notion that yer. was abouts. Ye understand we’re coming from Cotton- Mr. Merriwell, the new owner of the T-Bar, and a friend along to the ranch.” wood Bend a-bringin’ ‘The new owner of the T-Bar, eh?” said the spokes- man of the other party, with a slight tickle of Jaugh- ter in his voice. “Wonder if he'll carry on the ranch arter the style of the last owner?” cen “My friend,” said Merry quietly, “time and pa- tience will answer that question for vou, and let me add ys curiosity is a good thing to repress in Wyo- : ming.” Red gasped with surprise. “Waal, I'll be dodgasted!” he finally exploded. “So that’s the new owner of the T-Bar, hey? And he’s handin’ out suggestions and advice right liberal anh free at the first go-off!’’ . In the gloom he was seen to remove his hat with a sweeping gesture, making something like a rhock- ing bow from the saddle. ‘Pardon me, mister,” he said, “ef I, just a plain cow-puncher, should happen to feel some amusement over the methods of you Eastern gents who come out here and show us how to manage ranches.”’ ods The words in themselves seemed polite enough, but — there was a sneer little short of insult in the tone in- which they were spoken. ; “You mustn’t judge all Easterners by what you saw of Mr. Butters,’”’ said Frank, “and it’s possible we can teach you something in manners, if not in ranching.” This was a heavy jolt for Red Harper, foreman ELE 12 AL of the Rattlesnake. Those who knew Red expected he would resent the slap then and there. For a mo- ment or two he did not speak, but finally he burst into a roar of laughter. he admitted. “‘We don’t go much on society manners hereabouts, and the “Mebbe that’s true, stranger,” last time I saw a dress-suit was at a ball at the Brown in Denver two years ago) when | was down thar at Lookin’ on that evenin’ I picked up enough drawin’-room swagger to last me the rest of my natteral life. I didn’t venture to I did shake a hoof at the masquerade at the Windsor the next evening, you bet! Say, that was atime! All ade the fair ones was there from’ Market Street to Capi- \ Beh tal Hill. We + squirted it around the place just to hear it pop and sizzle and see the nervous ones duck.” “Never mind these reminiscences, my friend,” said Frank, ‘“You’ve butted in and stopped us on our journey to camp, and I must remind you that we're all decidedly empty.” sin “Waal, now, that is plumb keerless o’ me. You come ea right erlong with us, gents—come right erlong to our camp. The old man is thar, and I shore judge he'll be some curious and pleased ter meet up with the new ee owner of the T-Bar.” i * “The old man?” muttered Curly at Frank’s, side, “Fe must mean Chilcotte. You want to be mighty careful now, sir, for Chilcotte has a temper like a cold-chisel, and I opine he’d gladly embrace any sort _ of reasonable provocation for leavin’ the T-Bar owner- less,” the convention. dance any, but Fizz-water—why, we bathed in it! ee tha. es CHAPTER VI. THE DRIVE CAMP. The sound of monotonous singing came up out of _ the gloom of the wide-spreading valley which lay be- yond the next elevation. Both Frank and’ Bart knew that sound, for they had heard it more than once. It a was the voices of the cowboys patroling the herd and keeping them quiet by singing in that manner. Here and there were gleaming camp-fires. The light of the nearest fell on two canvas-covered wagons, a man working near them and other men sitting or ‘lying upon the ground close at hand. The man who of them all was busying himself industriously over pots and pans was the Chinese cook of the outfit. This : fel low had been brought along from the D-Bar-A, or Rattlesnake Ranch, at the special command of old WEEKLY. man Chilcotte, who declared he could not eat the provided by the ordinary drive cook. The men near the fire stirred and looked around as provender the horseman and the creaking wagon came down the trail. occasional lowing From out of the distant darkness came the of cows, which seemed to indicate that in spite of the efforts of the singing. patrol the cattle the herd could be seen bunched on the southern slope of the hill. Down there in the valley were the cottonwoods which marked the course of the stream. “Whatever quired a tremendously big man who was smoking a corncob pipe. “Just some friends from the T-Bar, Dwarf,” ex- plained the foreman, “They was hikin’ for the. crick without knowin’ that we had our cows rounded up here for the night.” “Ho! ho!” laughed the big fellow. “They didn’t’ ‘know it, hey? And they was sure yellin’ some and makin’ jthe welkin ring a plenty. _Mebbe they didn’t know it.” “Take my word for were somewhat uneasy. Vaguely was all that racket. about, Red?” in- it, Dwarf, we didn’t,” said swung out of the saddle and hands on his hips. “Ef anybody goes fer to insinuate that we was a-tryin’ South-paw Lem, as he turned to face the big man, his to disturb yer drive the gent will certainly have a mix- up with me. It’s true thar ain’t no pleasant feelin’ atween the T-Bar and the Rattlesnake and you’re camiped on our land to-night, but all the same we don’t spit our spite out on nobody by tryin’ to Meee their herd. You hear me.’ “T reckon Lem is givin’ it to us straight, Dwarf,” said Red, likewise dismounting. { He was a square-shouldered, squat, bow-legged man with a shock of fiery red hair anda rather scraggy |) beard of the same hue. He had the look of a fighting- man who would not fear anything of flesh and blood. “Pardon, Lem,” said the Dwarf with an awkward bow. “We takes yer word for it.” “Thanks,” nodded Stover shortly: “T’'ll now add that we were conveying the new owner of the T-Bar, Mr. Merriwell, on his way to the ranch, and naterally q we werent aimin’ none to land plumb and fair inter this outfit.” Immediately the assembled men displayed a sort of © mild curiosity and desire to get a look at'the new » owner of the T-Bar. The wagon was in the outer edge of the firelight and Frank was dismounting from the seat beside Curly. Bart. Hodge sprang down, and ij * 2 4 4 { A | among ‘the R attlesnake men there was some question — : h Siti ain m. & cr KH DD 3 Le hm.) fa @ Oo oOo tv ty a aE Rn a ee snail age er . Pie x bOY as to which of these smooth-faced youngsters could be the new ranch-owner. “This hayar’s Mr. Merriwell,” said Stover, with a sweep of his hand toward Frank. “’Tother gent’s a pard of his, Mr. Hodge.” The cattlemen were all on their feet now, and they acknowledged the introduction with a series of more or less awkward bows. If surprised by the youth- ful appearance of Merriwell, they cleverly concealed the fact. “T *lowed,” said Red, “that Mr. Chilcotte would be some interested to meet up with Mr. Merriwell. Whar is he?” The huge fellow called’the Dwarf lifted one big paw in a gesture for silence, pressing the index finger of his other hand to his bearded lips. A hush fell upon the gathering, and from the sec- ond wagon catne distinctly the regular, stentorian Snoring of a sleeper. ““That’s him,” said the Dwarf? “So soon?” murmured Harper regretfully. he sleeps like a rock, too.” - “And he’s wuss’n pizen ef you wake him,” observed a thin man called Shadder. “Yer’ll have ter wake him with a club,” said Red, 66 ’ . * 98 . igs ‘and he’d come up all.a-standin’, shootin’-iron in his paw. No, I wouldn’t advise nobody to break in on his -soothin’ slumber.” “Well,” smiled Frank, “as long as we’re to be de- prived of the pleasure of meeting Mr. Chilcotte to- night, I presume you'll excuse us while we choose our camping-place and get busy with a fire to cook coffee. We must admit that we’re decidedly hungry, and we'll feel much more so¢iable and entertaining after we’ve satisfied the cravings of the innerman.” “Make yourself at home hayar,” invited Red. -“Yhar’s our fire with plenty of good coals fer your coffee-pot. Ef yer ain’t supplied with grub I reckon we can furnish yer.” “Much obliged, Red,” said South-paw Lem at once; “but we won’t put ourselves under no obligations to you to-night... We reckoned on holding up here, and we've brought a supply of grub along. Ef yer don’t mind, we'll build our own fire and make our own camp.” “Not wishin’ to be onpleasant, Lem,” said Red grimly, “ef you’re goin’ to camp hereabouts, I judge you'd better stick with us. To be shore, we know you wouldn’t do nothin’ to disturb our cows, but ef by any accident they should become disturbed in the night, i WEEKLY, “And 13 it would be better for ye and wouldn’t create no sus- picion ef yer was here with the rest 0’ us.” South-paw Lem was on the point of resenting this. His weather-beaten face had flushed and his eyes were gleaming in the firelight when ‘rank Merriwell spoke up: eer That’s quite true,” he said. “Perhaps we'd better accept the suggestion, Stover.” Lem scowled and submitted. “Good,” said Red, waddling over to the Chinese cook and grabbing him by his pigtail. “And now, Chin Chin, I want yer ter make the coffee for these yere gents.” “What?” squealed the Chihaman in surprise. “Me makee cloffee flor T-Bar clowd? You clazy, Lem! Me makee cloffee flor Lattlesnake boys; no makee cloffee flor T-Blar clowd.” But as the Chinaman started away, the foreman of the Rattlesnake brought him to an abrupt stand with a sharp jerk at his pigtail. “Took here, you heathen son of a rat-eater,” he murmured softly, “if you don’t get busy and make a nice pot of coffee for our guests, so help me, I'll trim your hair close to yer wooden head! Get that? Vl cut off your pigtail!” “Oh! oh!” squawked Chin Chin. ‘You cluttee off clue? Chinaman go to—go to—badee place if you : cluttee off clue.” “Ef yer don’t want to go thar, get dnto yer job. It’s all right, boys; I insist on Chin Chin making the coffee. He’s a: lallapaloosa at it. As a cook, gents, he’s a humdinger. He can do a fancy turn with anything from beans and bacon to a charlotte russe. Go ahead, Chin Chin: | You re- ‘member the last time you refused to obey orders? I shot yer shoe-tops full of lead, and you did the most beautiful combination highland-fling, jig-step and Want me to stir yer You hear me. buck-and-wing I ever witnessed. up again?” Red’s hand was caressing the butt of his pistol. “No shootee! no shootee!”” squealed Chin Chin fearfully. “Me glitee busy.« Me clookee cloffee allee light.” With trembling haste the Celestial brought forth ¢ the huge coffee-pot of the outfit and prepared to “get. 9) busy.” 3 “That'll relieve us of a great deal of our arduous duties, Red,’ observed Stover, as he prepared to open “By the time that coffee is ready — Er _- up the grub-sack. _ I judge I’ll have the beans and bacon prepared. j ; : 1 Merriwell ?” “Beans and bacon!” murmured Frank. “Beans and bacon, washed down with good coffee! Stover, if you were to spiel off the menu of the St. Regis or Rector’s, you couldn’t name anything on the entire list that would sound as good to me.” CHAPTER VII. FORCED INTOIT. Both Frank and Bart did justice to the beans and bacon and coffee. No man among those carelessly bad sprawled in the vicinity of the cook’s camp, which was i likewise the headquarters of the drive, could sneer at the appetites of the tenderfoot owner of the T-Bar and his serious, dark-eyed companion. One or two of 5 the men seemed sleepy and inclined to spread their Nee blankets and roll in for the night, but curiosity kept the most of the Rattlesnake bunch awake, smoking / pipes or cigarettes and chatting in a chaffing, desul- tory way that was overflowing with the grim humor of the cattle-range. “hy One o fthe D-Bar-A outfit, a quiet, gentle-eyed young man whose voice was soft and musical as the voice of a girl and who seldom spoke unless addressed, _ for which reason his companions had given him the absurd name of Howling Harry, had sat a bit apart from the others since the arrival of Merriwell, in- _ dustriously rolling and smoking cigarettes while he “it speechlessly, almost reverently, kept his eyes fastened on Frank’s face. | It was Red Harper, the foreman of the Rattlesnake, _ who finally noted this peculiar behavior on the part of _ Howling Harry and fell to wondering over it a bit, been known by his companions of the ranch to regard anything or anybody otherwise than with indifference and disdain. True, he had been “put through the pace” in the early days when he came out to the cattle country a raw, somewhat sickly greenhorn fresh from some Eastern college, but he had “taken his medicine’ with the same stolid indifference, seeming utterly careless as to what might happen to him, so that in the end he won the right to be left alone, for even the worst bully in the outfit could find no sport in ' seeking to terrorize a person of so few emotions. Red Harper came and squatted near Howling Harry, begging his tobacco and papers. The leather , ’ Ped 4 EEE Pr sre - wonder ef yer can eat beans and bacon to-night, Mr. for the gentle man of the D-Bar-A had never before’ WEEKLY. pouch was handed over, and Harper proceeded to “make a nail.’ “You seem a plenty interested in this yere new owner of the T-Bar, Ross,” he said carelessly, in a low tone. “Ever see him before?” Howling Harry nodded. “College guy, I suppose?” said Red, giving the paper a deft roll and wetting it for sticking by run- ning “his tongue along the edge. Again Harry nodded. “I opined so,” said Red, feeling for a match. “He | looks it, him and his side-partner. Now won't he make a devil of a cattle-raiser?” “He ought to,” said Ross. Red paused with the cigarette in his lips and the match poised. cian Ae atal ce “Ought to?” he repeated doubtfully. “I shore judge you're some sarcastic, Howling.” “Not at all.” a: “Why, you can’t mean that this yere tenderfoot is He make a bigger failure than the last owner of the Bar.” | “If he does,” murmured Ross, “it will be his first failure.” qualified for the cattle business? will shorely - Harper struck the match on the heel of his boot and lighted the cigarette. Next he placed himself in a more comfortable position with the deliberate and os- tensible intention of carrying on further conversation with his companion. a “It’s some evident that yer know something erbout this yere gent Merriwell. Again Ross nodded. | ‘““Mebbe yer wouldn’t mind spielin’ off the import- ant points of this fund of information you've accu- mulated,” suggested the foreman of the D-Bar-A. “Whatever has this yere man Merriwell done, any- — how?” ) “T regret to say,’ murmured Ross softly, “that you betray most lamentably that you’re away behind ‘the times when you ask such questions. This man Merri- well is about as well known as anybody in this coun- — ? try. “Sho! Really, you s’prise me a heap, Howling. | He ain't much more’n twenty-one, is he? ~I certain don’t see how he can have such an extensive reputa- — tion.” fs ‘He may not look more than twenty-oné,” said f x “4 Ross; “but he’s several years past that, and I happen ef Le ee oe to know that he’s had more experience in his lifetime, © h V Tir LOY + to he’s done more things of consequence, than most men would do if they lived ten times as long.” ae “Now you've got me plumb interested. Kindly low mention’a few of these notable doings of this yere gent,”’ “In the first place, he was the greatest athlete ever the developed at Yale.”’ , ane “At jail?” grunted Red with wondering inquiry. . “Then he’s been in jail, has he?” 1 “T said at Yale. Yale is one of the greatest colleges He in America.” he “You'll excuse me, son. IJ sort o’ miscued on your pronunciation. An athlete, eh—a college athlete? 7 j Waal, I don’t reckon that accomplishment would count the fer a great deal out here.” “Perhaps not,” said Ross; “but you’d see that it lge | counted for something if you tackled him bare-handed | with the idea of spreading him out on his shoulder- blades—you or any one else in this bunch.” $8 ~ “Oh, go on, Howling! You're stringin’ me now— ely yer shore are.” Es “Not at all, Red,” Se “Yer don’t mean to assert that thar ain’t no one ead | in the D-Bar-A outfit what can put that htar gent _ Merriwell to the sod, do yer?” nil “T almost doubt if we have any two men in the ae, bunch who could turn the trick if they both tackled ie: him at once,’”’ murmured Ross, as he rolled a fresh es cigarette, his fourteenth since supper. “Quit yer kiddin’,” grunted the foreman, a trifle bit 7 Offended, “Why, the Dwarf could break him plumb in two with one hand.” Howling Harry, smiled. ar “The Dwarf would get the surprise of his life if he sg ever tried it,” 3 ee Harper turned slowly and looked Frank Merriwell wa Over once more. Both Merry and Hodge had finished 4 eating. Frank was lying gracefully on the ground, |” resting on his elbow and gazing at the fire, the light eK; | of which flickered over his strong, fresh, youthful he ) face. Harper could see that the man was well put-up, | but still, there was something almost boyish about him, oe i. : something which led the foreman of the Rattlesnake +) to believe it would yet be some time before the youth ee came to the fulness of his powers. And the mere in | suggestion that this tenderfoot who had made a repu- x: 4 tation as a college athlete.could handle the huge, A) - mighty Goliath of the D-Bar-A not only amused, but id } it provoked Harper. He rose to his feet, snapping TM |} the half-smoked cigarette toward the fire. “Gents,” he said in a tone that Attracted the at-: WEEKLY. : 15 ‘entirely onnatural with him, and, therefore, | made tention of all, “I’ve lately learned that we have with us to-night a party who is remarkably powerful as an athlete and a wrestler. Our pard, Howling Harry, informs me that the reputation of this yere gent is spread broadcast over the whole map, Now we all know that we have a little undersized runt in our bunch who can wrestle a trifle, and, just by the way of amusement, I opine we'd like to see these two gents peel off and go at each other once.” The most of them sat straight, while the ones who had contemplated rolling in lifted themselves from their By this time every man was taking interest, saddle-pillows and blankets. Without pausing, the foreman of the Rattlesnake continued: ‘Bein’ a plenty loyal to the D-Bar-A, I’m willin’ to bet my outfit to the hide that our little baby what we call Dwarf can flam this yere famous athlete from Yale College twice out of three times or three times runnin’, whichever way will suit the party who has nerve enough to gamble with me.” “Look out, Merry,” murmured Hodge, who had ~ moved a bit in order to place himself nearer Frank. “There’s trouble brewing.” At first Frank’s face had worn an expression of . mild surprise, followed by yet another look which was expressive of some indignation and resentment. “What sort of a game are you playing, Harper?” he demanded. ‘We didn’t resent it when you-held-us up in true highwayman fashion on the trail, nor did we protest when you insisted on bringing us here to your camp. Now, however, if it’s your purpose ‘to provoke a ‘quarrel, I'll ask you to be a man and come | out straight and square about it. There’s no need to © work it up by degrees. We admit that you have us at a disadvantage. You outnumber us, and we’re ap- parently at your mercy. Nevertheless, I tell you now that an effort to draw us into a wrangle under such circumstances for the purpose of putting us down and out is hardly what I’d expect of a man who holds your position of authority,” “And that’s talking right from_the shoulder, ain’t it?” exclaimed Harper. “You certain don’t hesitate — none to express yerself, regardless of the fact that — you're outnumbered, Ef yer knowed me better, young — man, I’d shore resent yer insinuation that I’m’ tryin’ 7 any underhand deal with yer. I play my cards straight and above-board, no cold-decks, no crooked dealin’, — no tricks, I happened to observe that Howling was | a-lookin? yer over with a heap of interest, which is: Be inquiry as to the cause. He informed me that you was a gent with a record longer than a six-foot man’s laig. He likewise said that yer was famous as an athlete and wrestler. I admit that this statement. on his part piqued my curiosity a plenty and made me anxious to see you in motion. Howsomever, in case you're bashful about hookin’ onto the Dwarf, I'll put Shadder up against yer, and he’s the next best man in the outfit. That ain’t fer the purpose of creatin’ no disturbance or quarrel. It’s just to demonstrate to Howling that Eastern college athletes don’t cut much ice when they. git up against real live men out here in this yere country.”’ shadder sprang to his feet like a jumping-jack and leaped into the air, cracking his heels together. “Come on!” he invited. “I’m just aching to find somebody that can make it interestin’ for me, barring the giant, who makes it too almighty interesting.” Paying no attention to the men, Frank turned to South-paw Lem, who drew near at a signal. “What is that man Harper asked Merry. “Is his statement on the square, or is lie seeking to involve us in a fight?” “Waal,” murmured Stover, ‘I don’t cal’late Red prevaricates as a rule, though he certain does love a good fight. I judge he’s givin’ it ter you straight, Mr. Merriwell. He wants to find out what yer can do as a wrastler, and incidentally it’s likely his purpose to show yer up some.”’ ) Frank had risen to his feet, and now he turned from the foreman of the T-Bar, ignored the eager Shadder and sought the Dwarf with his eyes. “If you wish to wrestle in a friendly way,’ he said, “I'll try you, the best two falls out of three to settle 7 . 5) trying to do: ti it 99 CHAPTER VIII. THE WRESTLING MATCH, Frank had realized that he was up against the neces-_ a sity of proving himself in the presence of that bunch of men, and, therefore, he had shown little hesitation. _ Given his choice, he would have declined to wrestle - with any one that night, for in a good, healthy man- ; “ner, he was tired, and having eaten heartily _ likewise disinclined to exert himself. Also he ey not relish close contact with the Dwarf, who in a land where water was sometimes a rare thing, had icine edly neglected bathing for a long time. Nor was Mexry: at - anxious to demonstrate his capes for the he was ae TOPs WEERLY. a purpose of winning admiration and applause of the gathering. Only that he knew he must prove himself, he would not have cared a whit what those men of the | 1 D-Bar-A thought of him. His judgment, however, | old him that this was but one of the several tests | he would be forced to face if he held his own on his ? | new ranch. | f The Dwarf grinned all over his soiled face at the prospect of wrestling. He was not a vicious man, al- The thing he seemed to glory in most was pitting his enor- though a creature of rather low intelligence. mous. strength against the strength of someone else nh and. feeling his opponent yield and fall-before him. “You look some delicate, son,’’ he said, cocking his head to one side and surveying Frank from head to feet. So ee soe ~ “I hope yer ain’t got no organic trouble that will make me feel conscious-stricken by killin’ yer.” “that I have any a Sian. Stet. oie “I’m not aware,’ smiled: Merry, organic trouble whatever. on Don't worry about me, my friend. What shall it be, catch-as-catch-can ?” sec “That suits me,”’ nodded the huge fellow as he began to kick off his high-heeled, spurred boots. Pai A little dry wood gathered from the banks of the | _ stream was scattered on the fire and quickly sprang | | into a bright blaze. The eager cow-punchers made a clear space over near the fire for the wrestlers) to | 4 show what they could do. een In a brief time Merry was in condition for business | and found the Dwarf likewise ready. Howling Harry was industriously accepting every wager offered on the Dwarf. He did not seem to | | . / mind when cautioned that losing meant he would be — _ stripped of his season’s earnings, and he continued betting until the men were ready to crouch as they | | circled round each other, watching for an opening |~ ° to clinch. aye The Dwarf quickly wearied of this circling and advanced boldly upon his antagonist, dently regarded with some disdain. His carelessness gave Frank a slight advantage when they finally Se “Down with him, Dwarf!’ tators. | i “Put him to the dust, you baby!’ cried another. But although the Dwarf sought to twine tired Wy. about Merry and crush the youth to the. ground by 3 eo sheer brute strength, although he seemed succeeding — for a moment, Frank took full advantage of his hold whom he evi- urged one of the spec- | and hurled the giant across his hip as they went down, — bringing the D-Bar-A man to the ground with a ter-. rific thud. «+ 1€ f, ed | ts is } 1e i e is a t a! asian tesa ae et < ~~ + < age © oO =~ es V iv ia. it, anyhow? -snoozin’ so nigh at hand. howl that woke ye. te <7 mance: and prepared for anything that might happen to him | in that land. TTP: FOP | Like a flash of lightning Merry drove his full weight into the chest of his opponent and flattened the man out upon the dust before his sluggish brain could prepare him for resistance. Howling Harry smiled serenely, while his com- panions, together with Lem and Curly, uttered a shout of astonishment. It happened so quickly that hardly could believe the evidence of his eyes. “It certain was an accident!” cried Red Harper. “He couldn’t do it again in a thousand year.” “What in blazes is the meaning of all this rumpus?” snarled a voice, and a head appeared between the cur- “What do yer mean by You quiet one of them tains of one of the wagons. Can’t a man git any sleep? down instanter, or I’ll shoot yer pins out from under yel” cop muttered several of the Rattle- “We plumb forgot he old man!” snake crowd in consternation. him!” Red had courage enough to approacli the wagon, hat in hand. “Ver see, boss,” he explained apologetically, “we've got two guests here, and we sort 0’ forgot you was One of our guests has jest put the Dwarf to terry firmy, though I "low it was carelessness on the part of the Dwarf what done it. The boys was a heap surprised, and they let out a Ef yer say so, we'll quit right whar we are. But the Dwarf and the new owner of the T-Bar will certain have to settle it in the mornin’.” All through this somewhat hurried speech Chilcotte had been threatening to burst into a torrent of pro- fane rage; but now a sudden change seemed to come over him. “The new owner of the T-Bar?’ he questioned. “What do yer mean, Harper?” The foreman explained. When he had finished Chilcotte said: “Just tell “em to hold on a jiffy till I can git out ‘thar and see the rest of it.” His head disappeared, and: in less than a minute he euekedded from the rear of the wagon. He was a ~ heavily-built, stocky, thick-necked man with a square, —undershot jaw and a bulldog expression of counte- Like his clothes, he seemed rough and ready this. new owner of the T-Bar?” “Whar’s _ manded as he approached the fire. »os"Flyar she is, Mr. Chilcotte,” said Harper, with a he de- WEEKLY. 17 gesture toward Frank. “Mr. Merriwell, Mr. Chil- cotte.”” “Huh! grunted the proprietor of the D-Bar-A § pro} ’ planting his short legs wide apart and squaring him- self with his hands on his hips as he surveyed the from head to Well, It was little short of an insult, yet Frank Merriwell beardless youth feet. and back again. “Ts that him? Pll be doggoned!” seemed fighting hard to repress a laugh. sé 7s es v ~ . Well, Vil repeated old man Chil- cotte. “Butters certainly did catch a raw one!” “Mr. Merriwell has just throwed the Dwarf the 9 | be doggoned! furst time in a wrestling-match,”’ explained Harper. | “Two throws out.of three settle the match.” “He just done what?’ snorted Chilcotte, fancying Harper was lying. “Say, Red, be careful! You can josh the rest of the bunch if ‘yer want to, but when it comes to old Chilcotte go slow.” plainly de- “The boys will back me up. The Dwarf hisself will admit that he was throwed plumb and squar’ and fair.” Sheepishly the giant nodded his head. , “That’s right,” he admitted; “but I opine I kinder onder-estimated this yere young gent, and I tell yer now that itll be different next time. I let him .git a good holt of me, for I judged he’d be some easier than he really is: Next time Vil ae him all over the ground. You hear me.’ “Well, you ought to,” said the owner of Rattle- snake Ranch. “Ef you can’t, you’d better shoot yer- self. Go ahead and do it now.”’ He had not offered to shake hands with Frank, and Merry had declined to give him a chance to over- look a proffered palm. ; * Again the two wrestlers made ready. Again they crounched and circled while the now keenly excited and interested gathering looked on. Suddenly, as if drawn like a magnet to steel, they came together and grappled. But still they fought for a hold, neither seeming to have obtained what he desired. “Look out, Dwarf—look out!” squealed Shadder. — “Ef he gits yer foul this time yer done up and I lose — “There’s no joshing about it, Mr. Chilcotte,” clared the foreman. a month’s pay.” Oa “Shut up!” commanded Chilcotte. “Yer don’t have — ter tell the Dwarf that. He's onto his job now, and — you'll see him break that youngster plumb in two ine the middle.” The wrestlers shifted holds rapidly ‘at! Vthe same time struggling and straining for an advantage. _ It fur ARE as at the Dwart ought to lift. Merry clear of the ground and lay him down outstretched without any special effort, and once it appeared as 1f he tried to do this, miscalculation, for almost instantly both men were In the attempt he made some down on their knees, still struggling, and the Dwarf had to do his prettiest to keep from being hurled to the ground. Up they rose to their feet, round and round they circled. Both were breathing heavily. It was a square and fair match, for neither man seemed to have much advantage for some time, Finally there was a shout from the spectators, for the Dwarf had tripped and hurled Frank earthward. As they fell Merry managed to twist eel-like to one side, and both men struck the ground at the same time. Somehow, the youth had broken the Dwarf’s grip. Only for amazing swiftness on the part of the giant, Frank might have got at him and attempted to flatten him out once more, As it was, they rose, fight- ing every inch of the way, and struggled again to their feet, “Waal, may I be blowed! May I be blowed!” Red Harper kept repeating, “I sure reckqned the Dwarf had him then. How did he get clear?” For at least five minutes more the struggle con- tinued. Many fancied the giant would wear the younger man down, but really, it seemed as if Merri- well grew stronger with each passing moment. In the end Frand secured a hold for which he had long been seeking. An instant later the giant’s heels actually whistled through the air as they cut a half- circle, and he was hurled over the head of his an- tagonist, When he struck the ground Merriwell was ‘on him with, the swiftness of a panther, and before he could prepare for fesistance Frank had him flat on his back, The wrestling-match was oyer, and Merriwell had won by two straight falls. 3 CHAPTER IX, STRAIGHT TALK. There was no question of accident. It was seen beyond dispute that the smooth-faced youth from the “effete East’? was the master, Never before had any man présent seen the Dwarf thrown in a wrestling- “match, i | «Dead silence followed the second fall. The fire TIP TOP WEEKLY. the half-cirele of watchers and causing their fantistic shadows to do an eery, grotesque dance upon the background of the hill slope. seemed as if no one of these men drew a breath. Forsmany seconds it Down in the gloom of the wide-spreading valley the patrol-men could be heard singing to their herded cattle. One of them had a clear, bell-like voice, and through the night the words of the song floated up to the cook’s camp: “Oh, Suzanna, don’t you cry for me, For I’m off for Alabammer with my banjo on my knee.” Tt was one of the astonished circle of cow-men, and the oath broke the spell. It was followed by a mild burst of applause for the victor. The Dwarf was the first man to offer Merriwell his hand, Somebody swore. Merry’s palm, at the same time letting his left hand fall heavily on Frank’s shoulder, and standing there, looked straight into the smiling eyes of the youthful victor, “T swar,” said the giant—“I swar, you're the big- gest s’prise party I ever bucked up against, 1 dunno how yer done it, but I must admit that yer did do it. You're all right, pard, from the ground up.” “You certainly gave me the hustle of my ‘life, Dwarf,” admitted Frank, shaking his head the least — bit. “At times when I tried to put you down I felt a great deal as I might if I found myself wrestling with the rock of Gibraltar.” “But yer done it,” repeated the Dwarf, “It certain was the most peculiar sensation I ever experienced when yer sort o’ sent me pin-wheeling through the air. Nobody ever done that thing to me afore, partner.” “You're all right ef you are a college tenderfoot,” piped Shadder, as he also offered his hand to Frank. “T’ve been sort of plannin’ on a big spree at the end of _ this drive, but [ won’t have no money now to: hit the high places with,’for I’ve lost my roll to this yere Thar likewise are some others who done the same.” . “Them’s me,” grunted Red Harper, still looking Frank over in wonderment, “I opined Howling was away off his base this time, but, as usual, he had things. sized up correct.” | . Ross came forward quietly and spoke to Frank: “IT don’t suppose you remember nie, Merriwell?” he wise guy, Howling. said, “It’s been years since we met. I played short-— stop for Princeton in ’umpty-three.”’ In another instant Frank Merriwell had seized the Extending his huge right paw he grasped t — ex he oO tir fo no Onn Ton., i ag ‘wl m c | butting inter my camp?” TIP: FOR hand of the quiet cowboy and was wringing it with the greatest enthusiasm. “Harry Ross? Harry Ross?” I didn’t know Look here, didn’t they tell me you had turned toes up to the daisies?” j Howling smiled the least bit. “Perhaps they did, Merriwell, “When » I broke down and had to leave college the doctors said Nobody This Western country, life, I’ve never been back to finish my course. Well; I’m ashamed ‘to say. he repeated. you, old chap, ”* he nodded. seemed to with there was little chance for me. fancy I’d pull through. its good, clean air and outdoor feet again. put me on my Sort of got enamoured with the country, _ understand, and I’ve stuck here.’ don’t you Ross. that contained Bart Hodge was waiting to shake hands with 4 “Boys,” a thrill of sadness, said the latter in a low tone “it brings back old times to see artsick and heartsore for you again. It makes me he those By accident I’ve sort of kept track Merriwell, You've knocked around, a heap, and I’ve noticed that you’ve always made good everywhere, There was no flash in the pan about you, old chap. But I——” He ended by heaving a deep sigh and shaking his _ head regretfully. Old man Chilcotte was the only one to refrain from good old days. oO f you, ,| expressing admiration for Merriwell. Even the Chi- } nese cook chattered his surprise over Frank’s ac- Chilcotte con- | tinued to frown and glower, until suddenly he burst | forth harshly: “Cut it out—cut out the slobbering! Why, it was nothin’ but one of them Japanese ju-jutsu tricks that -complishment in downing the Dwarf. . . fooled the dwarf, and he ain’t never before been up You make me plumb tired, the ‘whole consarned bunch of ye! What sort of a love- feast is this, anyhow? I wonder what these strangers _mean by comin’ here and spoilin’ my sleep? I don’t ‘low nobody to spoil my sleep.” aa beg your pardon, Mr. Chilcotte,’ "against them capers. said Frank, owner of the. Rattlesnake Ranch. “Waal, yer better beg my pardon. Ain’t the coun- Ain’t *stid of thunder without choosin’ this perticler spot? yer got room enough to herd by yourselves 9) AF beg your pardon, sir,” said Frank once more, is. voice dlr a bit cold; “but I hope you'll listen WEEKLY, meeting the black, antagonistical gaze of the angry try big enough fur yer to squat in and raise merry TQ “Haw! hey? Wal, ef you’ve got anything to say spit it out in a hurry.” “We didn’t butt into your camp, Mr. Chilcotte. We We were on our way to my place when half-a-dozen of Listen ter you, were not aware that you were camping here. your men held us up on the trail and brought us here. Not wishing trouble, we made no objections, although, take it from me, we would have chosen to camp by You see, sir, ourselves. you can’t blame that on us. Furthermore, we would have made no disturbance to arouse you if I had not been forced into wrestling with the Dwarf. I had no intention to wrestle, sir, but I saw that I’d have to meet your man or be sized Mr. [f I’ve not been up as afraid. Now one last point, just one before you speak again, sir. misinformed, your camp drive to-night is on my land. You’re crossing a part of my property. jections to that, but under decidedly of talk you’ve just made.”’ “Well—Tll—be—hanged!” “You I’ve no ob- the circumstances it seems ill-mannered of you, sir, to make the sort Chilcotte talk chipper for a tenderfoot. | said slowly. certain do don’t like it any.” “T didn’t expect you would, sir, and I didn’t care a. continental whether you did or not,” retorted Frank. “Well—Pl be—hanged!’’ repeated Chilcotte. Lem Stover pulled his old hat over his eyes and stroked his grizzled beard to conceal the smile of satis- faction which threatened to crack his face. The fore- man of the T-Bar was rapidly coming to admire his new employer, whom he had confidently believed he would detest and hold in contempt. He had been given his first surprise in regard to Frank when Merry — rode Curly’s bucking cayuse. During the jaunt over the trail he had taken more or less note of Merriwell, and had decided that it was to be regretted that Frank was not a person of more experience and years, The wrestling-match had astonished and delighted Stover beyond words. And now Frank’s manner of facing old man Chilcotte and giving the bullying old ruffian a “‘call,” filled the grizzled foreman of the T-Bar with such a high pressure of laughter that he seemed on the point of exploding any moment. Nev- | ertheless, he was ready for anything that might fol- : low, for he knew that Chilcotte was “nasty” and a * man who disliked back talk. More than that, for a long time the owner of the D-Bar-A had been egging his men on to make it uncomfortable for any one or every one connected with the T-Bar. Open war be- tween the two ranches had not been declared,, but. Shei sitchen thats sekcnaneie then name tmane e 20 TIP TOP nevertheless there was some skirmishing going on all the while, and hoth sides felt themselves on the verge of hostilities. “It will please us,’’ continued Frank grimly, “‘to withdraw from your camp and biyouac by ourselves.’ “Huh!”. grunted Chilcotte. ‘And we’ve got a few hundred head of cattle herded here for the night whar it would be plumb easy for some one to stampede the bunch. Even if neither you nor me cares much for ‘each other’s society, it’ll be wiser if we all camp to- gether. Furthermore, I wouldn’t advise you nor any one of your party to rise and amble away very far from the camp before daylight. That’s all Pve got to say; and now I’m goin’ to turn in again, and I want this racket stopped.” Without a single good night, old Chilcotte waddled back to his wagon and disappeared within it. CHAPTER. X. THE TERROR OF THE NIGHT. “I reckon,” said Red, “we’d better pay heed some to the wishes o’ the Woss.. Whatever inclination we may have for further amusement, I certain judge we'll repress it.” So those men settled down quietly in the vicinity of the fire. The cook had finished his labors, and he soon crawled into his wagon as was his custom, The Dwarf actually seemed proud of the fact that he had at last met one man who could “wrestle him down,” Curly and Montero, the Mexican horse-breaker of the Rattlesnake, sat on the ground by themselves ‘and talked in low tones, save at intervals when their , voices rose a bit and seemed to disclose the fact that they were chatting in a friendly way about horses, Lem Stover and Red, who for more than a year had confined their recognition of each other to noth- ing more demonstrative than curt nods, filled their pipes and talked for ten or fifteen minutes in a most congenial manner... Merry, Hodges and Ross formed a triangular group, and they were calling up reminis- -cences of the “good old days.” ‘The fire settled gradually to a mass of smoldering, lowing coals. Now and then a faint puff of wind g I scattered the ashes and made those coals send forth a reddish circle of gleaming light. There was a strange, ominous hush in the air. The stars, which had seemed dim and far away earlier in the night, now shone large and luminous directly ear te ai mt a WEERLY. overhead, while along the horizon there was a dark line of clouds that blotted them out entirely. The day had been hot enough, but as the night advanced the air grew chill and piercing. From all around rose the faint night sounds of the plains. The singing of the patrol had died away to a low, mournful murmur, which rose weirdly from the deep gloom of the valley. One by one the men unrolled their ‘blankets and stretched themselves, each with his head in the hollow of his saddle and his hat pulled far down over his eyes. South-paw Lem showed Merriwell and Hodge where to find their blankets in the wagon, and they all prepared to turn in. It was Red who sat smoking at his almost empty pipe and finally cocked his eye upward, observing as Stover prepared to hit the blankets : “Somehow, Lem, I’ve got a feeling that there’s go- ing to be something doing atween now and morn- ing.”’ 3 “What do you mean, Red?” “Waal, I dunno just what I do mean, but [’m sort of oneasy. I’ve always noticed when I gits this way something happens.’’ Hodge was enfolded in his blanket, but Frank paused to turn toward the two old cattlemen, “There’s a storm coming,” he said. “Hey?’ grunted Red, “The blazes, you say!” His words were expressive of doubt that was not unmingled with derision. “It will storm before morning,” declared Merry quietly. “Well, mebbe it will,” admitted the foreman of the Rattlesnake; “but I’m willing to admit that I don’t 9 see no signs of it whatever, and I certain “low that it’ll s’prise me a heap if she comes. You want to understand,, sir, that you can’t reckon weather here-_ abouts by the same standard that you reckon it in the East.” ; “Of course I may be wrong,” said Frank; “but if I were a sporting-man I’d certainly gamble that it would storm before morning. Good night.” In less than three minutes he was sound asleep. An hour later Red was making the rounds, awaking the men, one after another, with the toe of his heavy boot. “Turn out,” he cried. ~“There’s goin’ to be-a ‘rip- snorting old storm.” Merriwelf was awake in an instant. He perceived at once that the low line of clouds he had seen against the horizon had risen blackly until they hung omin- ously, overhead, while the thunder was muttering and roll jnin anc pea - bac age the Seen fiat 5 % irolling in the distance. Occasional flashes of light- jning shot athwart the overcast heavens. Red saw Frank rise from the blankets. |, “Beg your pardon, sir,” he said, “you was plumb |tig yht about that storm. She’s going to be a snorter.” The cook stuck his head out of the wagon. | “Whatee matter? whatee matter?’ he chattered. | “Get busy there, you heathen galoot, and hook down yer curtains tight,” advised Red. “Whatee matter? whatee matter?’ persisted Chin Chin. As if the clouds had opened in a spot overhead to belch a jagged bolt of fire, the lightning burst forth and was accompanied almost immediately by a terrific peal of thunder. With a squeal of terror, the cook jerked his head back into the wagon. Down in the valley the night-herders were singing again, and one with a beautiful bass voice rolled up the refrain: “Calm and peaceful be thy sleep, i Rocked in the cradle of the deep.” “Saddle up, fellers!’ commanded Red. “She'll be howling some Hatt long. If the cattle ever start to- ‘night there’ll be no stoppin’ ’em.”’ Frank had found Curly. “Put a price on that horse of yours, won't you, | Curly?” he asked almost beseechingly. “Whatever do you want a horse fur to-nigh it, sir?” inquired the broncho-buster curiously. “Never mind that. I want a horse, and I’ll buy Spitfire of you. Name your price.” “Take him and welcome,” said Curly. “He ain’t - Worth the: powder to blow him to pieces, as fur as T’m concerned.” “I insist on a price,’”’ said Frank. “Name any fig- ure,” “Five hundred,” said Curly. “T’ll take him,” said Frank. ‘You shall have a ‘check as soon as we reach the ranch.” Bart Hodge was at Merry’s side. “Frank, I must have a horse,” he said. “Where can I get one? “Thar’s Montero,” said Curly, as the Mexican was _ passing. “He offered to sell me a critter last night, | _ but wwe didn’t make a deal.” / “Montero,” called Hodge, springing after the Mexi- an “Sell me a horse.” hy “Si Senor,” said the Mexican. “How much you av for a horse?” “TIP TOP’ WEEKLY: | ar ‘Stover, as the thunder boomed into the distance and “Make your price, Montero, and show me the ani- mal.” The eyes of the Mexican and Curly met, and a few moments later Bart had purchased a horse and outfit which Montero was pointing out to him where it was picketed in the darkness beyond the limits of the camp. South-paw Lem came up while Bart was vainly, trying to throw the saddle onto the animal he had purchased. “Bought that critter of the greaser, eh?” grunted Stover, disgustedly. ‘Waal, that galoot ought to be shot fer sellin’ yer such a beast. He ain't no earthly use ‘cept to buck and raise blazes when you least expect it. Lemme give you a hand. We'll see if we can’t put the saddle onto his back.”’ Lem found a. blanket and flung it over‘the head of Bart’s horse so that Hodge finally succeeded in cinching the saddle in place. Bart was not the only one having trouble of that sort, for out of the darkness came the mournful voice of a D-Bar-A man. “Pitch, you bunch of buzzard bait, pitch!” Wrapped in a yellow slicker, a cow-puncher swept past on his horse, bound for the herd. Frank came up astride of Spitfire as Hodge, with Stover at the head of his new horse, managed to leap into the saddle. “You gents better keep clear o’ the herd,” advised South-paw Lem. “Thar’s no tellin’ which way the critters will run if they do break, so it’s a good thing to be mounted and ready to skedaddle. Ef you hear "em comin’, just strike out red-hot for high ground. They’ll most likely stick to the levels and low places.” “Thanks, Stover,” laughed Frank. “We're going’ down to see if we can help the men hold them.” 4 “W-h-a-t?” cried the foreman of the T-Bar in the greatest amazement. “(Now look a’ here, Mr. Merri- well, you and yer pard certain better keep away from them cows. Great scissors! she’s goin’ to be a rip~ pet,” fiom - The earth seemed to reel beneath the shock of a ter- rific burst of thunder. The lightning revealed the herd huddled down there in the valley, with the cow- men circling the edge of the restless mass, “I shore will have to git inter it miyself,” said died away; “but it ain’t no place for tenderfeet.” Neither Merriwell or Hodge paid heed to him. Bart was altogether too busy just then, for his horse 5 22 ALE ek OR had taken a furious spell of bucking, which finally stopped as suddenly as it began. A few drops of rain spattered patteringly over them. “The slickers, Frank—the slickers!” “Are there any for us?” “Vl find out.” Merriwell found the wagon and discovered Curly smoking a cigarette as he deliberately wrapped him- self in a slicker. “Any of those for Hodge and I, Curly?” asked _ Frank. “Sure thing,’’ was the answer. for you, not knowing what might happen. are.” Merry seized the slickers and soon found Bart sit- cried Bart. “We brought ’em Here they ting motionless on the back of his new horse. “Balks as well as bucks, Frank,” chuckled Bart. “A valuable acquisition in horse-flesh, I should say. Wish I had a set of spurs with teeth three inches long.” ‘Never mind the spurs now, but get into this slicker, old chap.” Less than a minute later they were riding toward the herd, Bart’s horse having taken a notion to stick by Frank’s mount. As they approached the cattle a rattling and clank- _ ing of horns came out of the darkness, The animals were pushing restlessly about, now and then uttering low, mournful, uneasy bellowings. The thunder grew more continuous, and, with a sudden gusty, rushing roar, a torrent of rain broke loose and swept in-a solid wall across the world. . In the midst of that / downpour the cattlemen con- tinued to circle the herd, singing steadily through it all. True, the thunder and the rush of the storm almost drowned the sound of their voices, yet they were there, : and when the lull came they could be heard, one and ii Frank and Bart joined them, and every man was -meeded. The rain had come like. a cloudburst and it ‘was all over with amazing suddenness, yet the thunder still boomed and the lightning played. Ay ~The lightning now was of the most peculiar char- acter, the whole air seeming alive with electricity. No longer did it tear the sky open in jagged lines, ‘but it seemed to fall in huge, blazing bolts which struck the earth here and there and burst with terrific I a WEEKLY, detonations. It even seemed to play weirdly along the horns of the cattle, still pushing and muttering and grumbling among themselves. Here and there the rim of the herd would bulge outward as some of the animals sought to make a break, but immediately the cowmen rode their horses at that point and turned the cows back... All the time, however, the entire herd was working uphill toward the cook’s camp. The frightened Chin Chin had huddled in_his wagon, heedless of Red’s advice to make the curtains fast. fiercer and wilder than that which had preceded or The wind which followed the cloudburst was accompanied it. It tore at everything, and suddenly the entire cover of the cook’s wagon seemed to burst loose with a cracking of the ropes like musketry. The rope held for a moment so that the covering snapped in the air, then it parted and the huge white thing sailed away in the blackness of the night.. The damage was done. There was a roar of rush- ing hoofs. In a solid mass the cattle broke through and went sweeping away into the darkness as a flood breaks through a dam and sweeps a valley. The stampede was on, CHAPTER XI. THE STAMPEDE AND AFTER, « . Frank Merriwell and Bart Hodge were caught in the very van of the stampede. They, with others, had vainly tried to check that sudden rush, but they soon realized the folly of such an effort. They were swept away, with the frantic, wild-eyed, maddened cattle pressing them on every hand. The crackling, thudding beat of hoofs rose in a tremendous roar. The rattle of horns was like the incessant firing of small arms. No longer did either try to guide the pony he be- | strode. From this time on the tough little cow-horses must take care of themselves and their masters also. t A misstep, a stumble, a fall would be fatal, for the | herd would roll over the unfortunate and trample man {| recognizable mass. bins ce or animal into a pulpy, shapeless, sodden, almost un- | al a al ran cc ™m rth LiL eee The thunder continued to crack and roar and boom, | while the freakish lightning kept up its awesome light looked around for his. comrade, antics. Aided by its flaring Frank Merriwell his friend of school he saw | and college days. He saw men and horses, sometimes an arm ottstretched, sometimes the flash of a pistol as a daring rider cut across the front of the stampede, seeking to turn the herd, Among them all he could not recognize Bart. It was not long before Merry came to admire the With flat back, Spitfire carried himself with a strong, steady stride, horse he bestrode. its ears the press of cattle, anon forging ahead into some lying now and then leaping to the right and left to escape he slight opening or break in the crowded mass, show- 1 ing in every action, every move, something that might _ have been instinct, but which Merry was willing to 4} Call intelligence. “Good boy! good boy!” murmured Frank, “I'll eave it to you.” On and on swept the stampede through the light- f . hing-torn blackness of that awful night. Tiles were covered by the herd, and still it seemed _ that the rush had not abated nor the terror of the - frig htened creatures lessened. Suddenly the ground gave forth a sound which in- 1 ks that it was harder and firmer beneath those ite thudding, rumbling, roaring hoofs. gy The country grew Tougher and wilder. There were hills, valleys, gul- 1 lies and ravines, and over them all the stampede a Swept, carrying horses and men who must keep up or * Perish, 1. _ A sharp, pointed hillside loomed suddenly straight ] ahead. It split the herd like a rock, one stream turn- 1: ing to the left, the other to the right. It filled the a cowboys with dismay, for they knew that this split | meant the division of the ranks and harder work for | them all, But that was not the end of it. broken region the two herds were torn into many frag- nents. In that r ‘agged, As far as possible the cattlemen divided and ollowed these broken masses in numbers apportionate © the cattle each separate group contained. Of +OP. Miles upon urse it was impossible in that darkness and storm WEEKLY. ae to do this with accuracy or wisdom; yet to some extent their success in doing the work cut out for them was most surprising. It happened, however, that one huge mass of cattle off almost became detached from the others, torn in a moment from the forefront of the herd, and sent flying down into the southwest with only two horse- men clinging fast to them in their flight. Frank Merriwell was one of the two. He won- dered who his comrade, occassionally seen by the flaring lightning, might be. Little by little Merry worked his way to the edge of the herd and crept along to- On and on they went: ward the front. His example was followed by the other man, and finally they were both on one. side and forging ahead of the cattle, at whom they shouted in an effort to turn them from their course. Merry had a pistol and he used it, firing into the very faces of the frightened cows. In this he was seconded by his comrade, and eventually they suc- ceeded in turning the leaders, gradually forcing them to run in a circle, . Even then the work was not over, the danger not past. They kept it up persistently while the thunder went muttering away in the distance and the light- They succeeded, just those two, in forcing the cattle to . ning) gradually died to faint and fitful flarings “mill,” Round ‘and round in an ever-narrowing cir- cle moved the panting, exhausted creatures. Frank was singing; “Bright college years with pleasure rife, The gladdest, saddest years of life,” The other man took up the song and his heart leaped joyously, for he knew that it was Bart Hodge. of Old Eli as they held those cattle milling there in And thus they sang that glorious sone the darkness of the night while the thunder muttered itself out in the distance’and the lightning faded and was gone. ae All night those two rode round and round that bunch of cows, singing alf the old songs, one after an- “Boola,” “Here’ 5 to Good Old Yale,” “Stars of ae other, the Summer Night,” and many others. A394 , joining with him, © When morning came two cowboys rode down from ee and inviting prospect. held in check by a few mounted men, and these, 24 TIP TOP the T-Bar, se iaaition that another portion of the herd. had run almost within sight of them, and brought into a bunch of the T-Bar cattle, which meant no end of work cutting them out. Those two cowboys looked Bart and Frank over One and hair anda with the greatest curiosity and wonderment. was tall and silent, with black eyes triangular scar on his chin. The other was a small man with the sourest pair of eyes ever set’in a hu- man countenance. “Do you gents belong to the D-Bar-A outfit?” quired the small man. “Ef so, you must be new men.” Frank laughed. “No, said; “we belong to the T-Bar.” “Hey? What? “You say you are T-Bar men?” “That’s “Well, that ranch.”’ we don’t bélong to the D-Bar-A outfit,” he How long since, mister? what.” I’m Frank Merriwell, the new owner of What the sour-eyed cow-puncher said at this will not be recorded here. In a moment he apologized, hat in hand. His companion likewise removed his hat. : “You'll excuse me some, sir,” said the small man. “My name is Turner, and this yere gent is Sangaree. We've got old man Chilcotte at the ranch a-cussin’ the air blue. I guess mebbe we'd better move this bunch over the hill yonder whar we'll be in sight of the ranch.”’ So the cattle were moved over the hill, -erest of which Frank caught his first glimpse of the _ 4{f-Bar, sitting on the southern slope of a long stretch of rising land, with its corrals and outbuildings _ plainly seen. Through the valley meandered a small BN. stream which had its course in the living springs near the ranch. To the eye of a Westerner it was a fair ) Far away were many cattle, Tur- i ner explained, comprised the bunch that had mixed with the T -Bar cows. | sir,’ addressing Frank, -erbout held up the ‘ Sa reckon, ’ said Turner, “that you and ee partner Just n= from the ° punchers bese into a WEEKLY. biggest bunch of the whole stampede. How many did you make o’ them, Sangaree?”’ hi ‘““A hundred and ninety-three,” was the answer, “though I may ’a’ missed some, Pickle Eye.” fo “Practically two hundred head,” nodded Turnet, {1 ‘and it wasn’t a big drive, either. Mr. Merriwell, . wi when thé boys learn this. they'll sure be some s’prised. lye | judge you've made yourselves solid with the bunch fir by this night’s work.” | Another horseman was seen approaching. He was | a strong, wiry, slender chap with a flat chest and a Ci, face brown as a: berry. He had a mild, pleasant D. look, and he smiled agreeably as he hailed his com- “Ww: rades of the T-Bar. th “Stover sent me out looking for our new boss,” he } . announced: “They’re some worried at the ranch | . f over the fact that nobody knows what’s become of | — ne him and his partner he brought along with him.” — He “Well, here they are, Bill,’ announced Pickle Eye ‘ae somewhat proudly. ‘‘We found them, Sangaree and § me, and we found them a- -holdin’ two hundred head | ie of D-Bar-A cows. We'll look arter the critters while | 3 n you escort Mr. Merriwell and his partner to the T-Bar | a : and inform the boys what they have done this yere night.” Bill had pulled off his hat in a hurry. He up to Frank, whom he addressed respectfully. “Mr. me you'll get to the rode Merriwell,” he said, “if you come along with ranch in time for breakfast. “You'll likewise relieve the anxiety of Lem Stover a heap.” . smiled “Breakfast sounds good to me,”’ Merry. “Lead on, Bill; we’re with you.” CHAPTER XII. CUTTING OUT AT THE T-BAR: \ Frank Merriwell’s was something like an ovation. reception at the T-Bar Ranch 4 When Bill the Brute, as the cowboy who accompanied Merriwell and Hodge } was generally called, announced that the new owner of the ranch and his friend had held something like two hundred head of the stampeded cattle, the cow- a cheer. le Lie (OP _» Old man Chilcotte came forward and offered Merry his hand. “Sir,” he said almost fiercely, “I don’t propose ter forgive yer fer disturbin’ my slumber last night, but | . We're a body, that I've got ter thank ye for helpin’ save my. cows. ‘willing to admit, the whole of us in jyou’ve shore been on the range before. ‘This ain't the first time you've seen a stampede.” Frank likewise admitted that it was not: . They ate a somewhat hurried breakfast, after which Pr eae _ the cowboys of both ranches united in cutting out the D-Bar-A ‘cows from those of the T-Bar. This work was done ina huge fenced enclosure, into which that mixed herd had been driven. Frank and Bart came out to look on, both dressed in full cowhoy regalia which they had found at the ranch. Even then, however, some of the cow-punchers < - smiled as they noted the coiled rope dangling from ys, ; Merry’s saddle-bow. or _ “Mebbe he ain’t plumb a greenhorn,” said one; “but I shore opine that rope wouldn’t be no use whatever in his hands.” A ae as a a naaae Five minutes later that same man changed his mind. - Among the cattle there was one huge, vicious D- Bar-A steer which persistently refused to be cut out from the T-Bar cattle. It was Lem Stover who went into. the thick of the herd after the ugly steer and Like a flash of lightning the horse wheeled and * ‘Started away. _. Three leaps Bart's horse made, and then the crea- ture literally snapped itself to’ one side and flung knew. WEEKLY. Merriwell’s rope was curling above his head, the loop widening with each sweep. Forth it shot, sail- ing through the air until the noose dropped full and fair over the horns of the vicious steer. Spitfire braced himself stiffly. With a turn of the rope Frank was ready, so that the steer was swerved as the lariat grew taut, miss- ing Bart by less than three feet and then going down in a heap upon the ground. Flushed, chagrined, angry, apparently too angry to be frightened if he realized his narrow escape, Hodge was up in a moment and away from the point of dan- ger. Even as he rose he cried: “Thanks, Merry; much obliged.” after his horse, he found that one Ap- not the first time that the- horse Turning to look of the T-Bar men had already roped the beast. parently this was had felt the choking noose about its throat, for he stopped promptly as the lariat tightened, surrendering then and there. | Hodge rushed to the horse and flung himself into the saddle with a reckless bound. The noose slack- ened, and, leaning forward, Bart snapped it clear and tossed it aside, at the same time crying his thanks to the puncher who had made the cast. Turning, he galloped back toward. the bunch of cattle, ready to do his part for all of the somewhat humiliating misfortune which had befallen him. When the steer went down. Merry, seeing that his old comrade had not been harmed, started, his horse forward with a word and a pressure of his knees. With all the skill of a Mexican roper, he swiftly coiled the rope, taking up the slack until he was close to the steer, which was now struggling to its feet. With a snap of his wrist, he freed the noose from the animal, and, leaning to one side, sent his horse curving ‘4 away. | 1 Even though the cowboys were all busy, the most of them had taken note of Frank’s performance, and ‘ more than one felt like kicking’ himself because he — had been fool enough to imagine that this clean-faced: _ No tender- foot could have turned that trick, as every witness youth from the East was a tenderfoot. SON ys TIP TOP i : From a distance old man Chilcotte had seen it all. At first he swore like a pirate; but after a time he grew calmer and seemed to dtop into meditation for a brief period. The cutting out went on until the cattle of the two ranches had been cleverly separated into two bodies, A brand was driven down into the valley where gtazed the two one of each, each creature beating the D-Bar- hundred held together Merriwell and Hodge. throtighout the stampede by It was near midday when this work was fully com- pleted, and by that time word had cotne back to old _ man Chilcotte from various directions tellirig him that Dwarf and Shadder and Howling Harry and one or bar two others who were not at the T-Bar, had managed to gather up the most of the cows that had been scat- tered in the darkness. The grim owner of the Rattle- snake Ranch figured over the reports and made an es- timate. His face brightened. “Well,” he said, “ but I don’t believe I’ve lost over twenty or thirty » that sure was a devil of a night; head—tebbe not so many. That’s gettin’ off a whole lot easy.” “Yes, Mr. Chilcotte,”’ his words, “I think you’re to be congratulated—you said Frank, who had heard and your faithful men. It’s fortunate indeed that nobody belonging to your outfit’ was killed in that stampede. We had breakfast together, won't you ac- cept my hospitality and dine with me?” _ Chilcotte scratched his head. “Look a’ here, culations a heap, ~~ * he erowled, “you've upset my cal- yoting man. You've been ari ‘al- _ mighty disappointinent to me—you sure have. I judge you understand there’s a little disagreement over the boundary line between the T-Bar property "and my holdings? I sort of teckoned I could force old But- ters to come to terms, but he was as obstinate as a mule and wouldn’t make any sort of a deal with me 8 nohow. When it got too hot for him around here, he piked out for the East, leavin’ word for me to x go to Hot Spritigs, Arkatisas, or some other warm : place, adding politely that he’d give his ranch away to somebody else before he’d sell it.to me. é he'd find a sucker ofa T judged tender foot who would buy the Frank accepted unhesitatingly. WEEKLY. wouldn't set me back much T-Bar; eyes on you I allowed you was. it. property, and I cal'lated it in my plan to acquire the When [I furst put I’ve now arrived at the conclusion that I fooled myself in thinking so. A tenderfoot who rides man-killing cayuses, throws wrastling giants over his head, rides with a night stam- pede and beats old punchers in the number of cows | he holds together, to say nothing of handling the rope with the skill of a greaser and the nerve of a white man—well, I don’t opine I can work the Butters’ racket on him any whatever. Besides that, I’ve been VO} ; ; ‘ “9 ies forced to accept your hospitality, Merriwell; ’ve had | — ! } Pi, O02 to éat grub under your roof, Henceforth, you andme | — , are goin’ to live peaceable, and there won't be no fenc- . ing of water to keep your cattle away from any dis-, puted crick. Dad bang it, you can water your steers” o at my kitchen faucet—thar! Yes, I'll take dinner with . ye.’ He put out his thick, hard, which grimy hand, THE END, The Next Number (649) Will Contain FRANK MERRIWELL IN THE SADDLE. OR, THE MAN FROM MEDICINE BOW. Curly Picks a Quarrel—Benton, the Horse-breaker—The. $: Horseman and the Mirage—The Tragedy—Across t the Desert—At Black Rock Springs—Who Did It?— The Knife—After the Moon Rose—Into Bad Basin— The Shot, and What Followed—Justice. | ————$——$__—_—_ SPECIAL NOTICE REGARDING EARLY NUMBERS. By a fortunate chance, we have secured a great many. | copies of the early numbers of Tip Top. This places us in a position to supply orders for nearly all back numbers — from No. 25 to date. Some of these have been handled, |. but the reading matter is all there. While they last, we 4} will send them postpaid at five cents per copy. a are worth much more. Send ina list of what. you want at once, boys! » PRICE, FIVE CENTS. te re . } STREET & SMITH, wy } ‘ ‘ s aoe “The Bell=Buoy. TOP nt atten eeegiyine_ ut at By E. Z. C. JUDSON. A ed an | It was years ago, when I was mate—first officer would sound vs better, perhaps—of the old Forest Witch, in the Liverpool trade, 44 } that I first saw a bell-buoy and knew the worth of it. | Steamships were not so much trusted in those days as they v8 are now, and we had our share of passengers in the sailing ye _ packets. Old Bill Fullscupper, our captain, was as gruff as a_ sore- te headed bear, and given to drink, so we were nevet overstocked s? ‘with passengers, especially with ladies, for they are apt to learn whether the captain is a gentleman or not before they take a long 1 yoyage in his company. id ¢ But I’m three points off mp cotirse, and will never make port in this yarn if I don’t keep “full and by,” as we say at sea. ae ; On the last voyage the old Forest Witch ever made, by luck C- we did have two lady passengers—one, a widow, fat, fair, and fifty, the other her daughter Emily, about as pretty a craft as you « | ever ran afoul of in the female line. so when she’d come up from the cabin in my watch, with her y et rs | golden-brown hair hanging loose over her white shoulders, and her eyes, blue as the sea itself, dancing with happy light. She th =f ~~ generally came alone, for the old lady was seasick most of the } time, and rather topheavy, too; so she kept below. Miss Emily used to ask me a multitude of questions about _ the ship, seagoing and all that, and her merry laugh, as I an- - swered them in my odd way, used to ring like music over the _» water, and it made old Captain Bill look black more than once, - for he never got a word from her. She told me the reason one _. day. She hated strong drink, and did not like those who used Ee it, and he just poured it down. } Here I am off my coprse again. I'll never get to that bell- _ buoy if I don’t keep my eye on the compass. - We had a rough voyage out from New York—had logged _ thirty-three days with head winds almost all the time, and when we made land, though it was blowing a gale of wind, the skipper, who was half drunk, ordered the second mate, then on watch, to shake out reefs and crowd on the ship to drive her in ‘the 4 ? faster. } _ I didn’t like it, but it would have been mutiny in his eyes all clear; and then I looked up a life-preserver that I kept in _ My stateroom, and) put it where Miss Emily could Jay her hands of it if danger called for its use. It was my watch below, but I couldn’t turn in, and so I snugged down under the weather bulwarks aft to see how things. worked. ~The ship bowled on, her lee sctippers under water and every- _ thing snapping aloft under a heavy strain, until it was near time ty to call the mid-watch. ‘Then, all at once, I heard a/sound more terrible than any other to a sailor—the hoarse roar of breakers close aboard. - The next minute, before the mate could more than sing out: “Hard down the helm!” we were on the rocks, the masts all gone by the board, and the sea making a clean breach over all. -. How I got below I hardly know, but in less than ten breaths IT was at Miss Emily’s stateroom, buckling on her that life- preserver. Then, while she was ‘bravely trying to cheer her mother up, for the old lady was wild with fright, the ship began to break up, and some way or other I got Miss Emily on deck. The crew had lowered the boats, but the sea was too high for “one to live—there seemed no hope. tI pS _ The ship was going all to pieces, and men were swept off rs every minute, and the next thing I knew Miss Emily was carried i right out of my g rasp, for I had been holding her up against ye the terrible wash as best I could. re _ JT odidn’t care after that for myself. I let go all, and went off into the boiling foam among broken spars and shattered i. anks, as helpless as they—more so, for they couldn’t sink, and could. ‘How I went through the drift I don’t know, but some way TI did, and found myself inside the breakers, in ‘water almost smooth, with one of our smallest boats, patton: up, drifting close to me =— d to right the boat, get into it, . and. to bail it out WEEKLY. At least I used to think. if I said anything, so I did the next best thing—saw the boats Nowli , or the love of life, came back to me once more, and 27 Tt had not been used, I was sure, for the oars were yet fastened to the thwarts, so I got them clear, and began to think I’d make the land after all, and if there was any one adrift on the water, perhaps I might save some life besides my own Oh, if it could only be the life of Miss Emily, what a joy it would be to me; for somehow I had got to think she was just the best and smartest craft that ever sailed the sea of life. After getting the boat on an even keel, 1 stood up and looked around. The moon shone out through a rift in the clouds, and [ thought if any one or anything was near I should get a sight of them or it. Alas! I saw nothing but a waste of there a drifting plank or spar. But I heard a strange sound. [t was a bell. Not our ship’s bell, for it had gone as she went to pieces. 1 listened and heard it plainly—toll, toll, as if swiftly rung by a human hand. It was inshore of me, that I soon ascertained, for I could hear the breakers roaring out to windward yet. I bent to my Oars as y ..“: 2s I could, and rowed in the direction of the sound. Nearer swept on, saw thing I had ever set up on a boat. I let the boat drift while I voice cry out: “Help! help!” Not till then did I see a woman’s form clinging to the frame- work, but now I did, and I bent to my oars with a will. In a minute I was alongside of the first bell-buoy I had ever seen, and the next second Miss Emily, with a cry of joy, was standing in my boat. The life-preserver had kept her above water, and drifting in with the tide, she had come within grasping reach of the buoy, attracted to it by the sound of the bell, as it was rocked to and fro by the waves. Once on it, she had tolled it with her own hands, and this it was which first attracted me. Poor Miss Emily! She was saved from the sea, but she took her ‘mother’s death to heart, got sick, when she got ashore, and two weeks after that she was buried. I wish I could tell a differ- ent story.. But this is a true yarn, and it must end as her life did, sadly. Old Bill Fullscupper paid the penalty of his folly with his life. Only six of the crew besides myself lived through the wreck, and they clung to the upper cabin that went when the vessel first broke up, and were washed ashore the next morning. waters, and here and went to it, the sound told me as f looked through the haze ahead, tf which looked different from any- of framework, and that and nexrer "| and then, as | something on the water seen before—a kind looked at it, and then I heard a HOW ARABS FIGHT. Despite their love of fighting, the Arabs are not fond of either bloodshed or savagery. Although the various tribes are constantly at war among themselves, they show an extraordinary lack’ of vindictiveness, and are very merciful toward their con- quered foes. An Arab seldom fights to kilt incapacitation, or frightening his opponent into submission. will burn villages, and ruin crops, age, but he never takes life unnecessarily. They fight, in most instances, with the lance, wise. This weapon is a light bamboo some eighteen feet in length, with a long knifelike head. A jband of horsemen, numbering two hundred or more, will viveeks down on the herds of the enemy; and while some do the attacking, the other secure the booty. In most. instances, He aims rather at capture, He immediate pursuit will cause the marauders to hustle the cattle unduly and thus lessen their value. The rules of Arabic warfare are strictly carried out. an enemy in battle is discreditable and savagé. To wound slightly is the object, and to do this with a lance requires much skill. To surrender is no disgrace; as attack; The whole business is, in fact, an elaborate form of sport. A Bedouin never speaks ill of his foes, even if he himself’ has: Indeed, ‘there is as little personal hatred between two- hereditary enemies as between two teams of Epotiiall or ericket- suffered. players. and do much material dam- used javelin- the defenders leave their revenge to a future time, knowing that an To kik: flight is as justifiable — while to attack, at night 1s regarded as most unfair. | TIP ‘ z didly advise you to immediately purchase a manual, and begin a daily course of vigorous exercises calculated to build your body up. You will find the answers to your numerous ques- tions there, too. (ret mee meee ot (A letter from Michigan.) Pror. FourMEN: Having read “Tip Top” for over two years, I take the liberty of writing to you. Measurements: Age, 16 years; height, 5 feet 5 inches; weight, 120 pounds; waist, 32 inches; chest, normal, 34 inches; expanded, 36 inches; neck, 14 inches; wrist, 7 inches; ankles, 814 inches; calves, 121% inches; thigh, 1914 inches; forearms, 1044 inches; biceps, 11 inches; ex- panded, 12 inches. What are my weak points? What branch of athletics do you think that I am best fitted for? Will I ever grow much more? I box, wrestle, punch the bag, run,- jump, skate, swim, and play baseball and football in season. Although I have never trained regularly, I take quite a lot of exercise every day. All of my measurements were taken stripped. Hoping to see this in print, I remain, yours respectfully, CLYSEE ALLEN. Only weak point is “too much stomach.” You should not meas- ure more than 27 inches around the waist. Otherwise you are in fine shape. You will grow until about 20. Pror. Fourmen: Having read the “Tip Top Weekly” for about three years, I take the liberty to send you my measurements, having improved since I started to read your advice. They are as follows: Age, 15 years; weight, 115 pounds;-height, 5 feet 2 inches; chest, normal, 3314 inches; expanded, 37 inches; waist, 27 inches; thighs, 1944 inches, right; 1934 inches, left; calves, 13 inches, right; 1314 inches, left; biceps, flexed, 11 inches; relaxed, 10 inches; forearms, 11 inches, both; neck, 13% inches; wrist, 614 inches. With long life to Frank, Dick, Brad, Hodge, and Elsie, Inza, Winnie and Mabel and Barbara, I thank you in advance. Awaiting answer anxiously, I remain, yours truly, Boston, Mass. James LuNNIN. You are in fine fettle, James, weight and chest being above the average. The only thing at all faulty is that. you measure a trifle more around the waist than an athlete in good trim would— can’t you reduce this a couple of inches by hard work and more care in eating, thus making your physical condition perfect ? wish you would kindly answer my questions and tell me what you think of my build. My measurements are: Age, 15 years; _ height, 5 feet 8% inches; weight, 120 pounds; neck, 14% inches; across shoulders, 17 inches; chest, contracted, 31 inches; wrists, 7 inches; waist, 32 inches; hips, 34 inches; thighs, 21 inches; calves; 134% inches; ankles, to inches. I am fond of all outdoor sports, especially skating, rowing, swimming, etc. Please tell me my weak and strong points, if I have any. I smoke and chew tobacco, but do not drink any intoxicating liquors. Would you advise me to get a physical-culture manual and lay out a course for myself? Yours. sincerely, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. A Tre Tor Apmirer. To begin with, you are nearly 25 pounds underweight, Your chest is at least 6 inches below what it should be. Your waist _ should be a little over 27 inches, and yet ‘you say it is 32! Ye gods and little fishes! if ever a lad needed physicaléculture ex- -ercises you do, my young friend. And between us, I -would earnestly advise you to give up the tobacco-chewing habit; even a - Pror, Fourmen: As I have read “Tip Top” for a long time, T will take the liberty to ask you a few questions. My age is years 7 months; height, 4 feet 10 inches; weight, 9114 pounds; biceps, 814 inches; chest, normal, 14 inches; expanded, 18 inches; forearms, 8 inches; upper arm, 9 inches; waist, 2434 ches; thigh, 1014 inches ; neck, 13 inches. Could I be an ath- bpd are my EN arena I was in the hospital six alae d fractured s ning before break- dar SOR Pror. Fourmen: As I am a regular reader of “Tip Top,” 1. expanded, 33 inches; biceps, 1014 inches; forearms, I0 inches; to be an athlete; so here they are: Age, 14 years; heigh kull. Could that bar’ 134. inches; weight, 108 pounds, dressed ; WEEKLY. fast. Do you think that will do me good? Hoping to see this in q print, and thanking you in advance, yours truly, New Orleans, La. Epwin A. Q. } Evidently you have not circled your chest just below the arms ¥ when measuring. You should have a normal chest of 2714 inches, which I am sure is the case, because your weight is 9 pounds } above the average. Of course you can be an athlete. The walk : } 4y is. good. (A letter from California.) Pror. FourMEN: I am 14 years old; 5 feet 2 inches high; weight, 125 pounds; calves, 1334 inches; thigh, 1914 inches; j chest, normal, 31 inches; expanded, 34 inches; waist, 30 inches. Be I am going to take: up boxing, baseball, and football. Kindly tell me if my measurements are correct. Lesiiz LANG. Measurements areWery fine, though you are 15 pounds heavier ° than necessary. You. should excel in boxing and football. Pror. Fourmen: Having read “Tip Top” for some time, I would like to ask you a few questions.. Am 16 years 9 months old and 5 feet 414 inches in height. My weight is 100 pounds. — How does my weight compare with my height? Waist meas- urement is 26 inches; chest, 30 inches, normal; 3234 inches, ; expanded. Can run 1oo yards in 13 seconds. Please let me — know what you think of the above measurements. Thanking — you in advance, I am, yours truly, ANXIOUS. . You should weigh about 112 pounds. Waist is just right, but =} chest lacks 3 inches of the average. Measurements are fair, — but if I were you it would be my greatest desire to gain that — 3 inches around the chest. is é Pror. Fourmen: I am a constant reader of “Tip Top Weekly,” and take great interest in it. I am 24 years old, and want to — know how to, broaden my shoulders and how to increase my left arm, as my right arm is twice as big, and how to broaden my hips. I remain, a true “Tip Top” reader, Frank BENNETT. © Staten Island, N. Y. ; He | You set yourself a difficult task, Frank. At your age you have attained your full stature and can hardly expect to broaden shoulders or hips that nature has built on the narfow plan. As to your arm, daily massage by a master at the work, and such exercise aS he would advise, may deyelop it considerably. ak Pror. FourmMeN: Being a constant reader of “Tip Top,’ I take the liberty of asking you a few questions. 1. Is the follow- _ ing a good program to carry out? Exercise upon arising; attend — a gymnasium in the afternoon, and U. S. Atmy exercises before bed? 2. Should I finish each course of exercises with the cold — bath? 3. Is a dip in the sea after exercises as good as fresh — water? Hoping to see this in print, I remain, ee Revere, Miss. A German Reaver or “Tip Top.” fo Yes: . 2. Not necessarily. 3. I should think so. Pror, Fourmen: Being a great reader of “Tip Top,” I am going to take the liberty to ask you a few questions. My meas-. urements are as follows: Height, 5 feet 61% imches; weight, 135 pounds, stripped; neck, 14 inches; chest, normal, 35 inches; ex- panded, 3714 inches; waist, 29 inches; biceps, 10% inches; fore- arm, IX inches; wrist, 7/2 inches; thigh, 20 inches; ealf, 144° © inches, Please state what defects I have, and how to overcome _ them. Thanking you in advance, | am, yours truly, | Tag Pittsburg, Pa. pert Tuos. Hit, Fine, fine, Thomas, _ you are a bit too stout about the waist. Overcome that tendency and your physique would be perfect. _ Reig aD \ k i? J j - \ A i f i iz Pror. FourMEeN: Seeing that I am a reader of the best weekly out, I take the liberty to give you my measurements, as I want ar t, 5 fee neck, 1314" 't ches; expanded, 3314 inches; . bice Pier Va eank ts p>? pee Sore Mf chest, normal, 31)4 in { f 4 4 peg? NEE: Wee RE Bike Per ay Bes ca ens) Semin z= } life, too well, q Tip TtOr / lbichies : forearm, 10 inches; waist, 2814 biden calves, 13%4 inches. How can I make my waist smaller? I tse a pait of skates instead of dumb-bells. Is that good? Does : arid meat make my waist large? I get a pain in my left aft ow can I stop that? Can I be an athlete? Closing with a thighs, 19 dnnches ; | Sheer for Burt L, S. & S., and Prof. Fourmen, I remain, A Tip Topper from Detrort, Micn: Your chest is above the average, as is also your weight. Waist is more than 3 inches too large. You like the good things of my boy. Slacken up a bit, choose things not cal- culated to induce fat, and begin a course of torso exercises as Tecommended in our manuals. Pror, Fourmen: I have been a constant reader of the “Tip Top” from No. 1 to date. I take the liberty to ask for your Opinion of my measurements, and how I may become a mile ff Tunner. i kh thal, 10 inches; “year I ran.the mile in 5:10, without any training, hound pattern. in this line. My measuretnents are as follows: Age, 22 years; height, 3 feet 61% inches; weight, 133% pounds; heck, 14 inches; chest, Normal, 32 inches; expanded, 34% inches} ‘waist, 28° inches | _ thighs, 20 inches; calves, 14 inches; ankle, 9 inches; biceps, not- ‘expatided, 12 inches; wrist, 634 inches, _ Last Washington, D. C. T. E. Es. Wasx. DECE. You weigh some 12 pounds too much and need a few inches thore about. your chest. Sprinters are usually built on the grey- Only constant ptactisé will bring about success (A letter from Minnesota.) » Pror. -Fourmen: Having been a constant reader of “Tip Top : Weekly” for about sixeyears, and never haying written before, I _ take the liberty of asking a few questions. am 19 years 8 months WEEKLY. 31 old ahd weigh 1§8 pounds, My meastirerients are as follows: Height, 6 feet 1% mehes; chest, normal, 35 ifichés; expanded, 38 inches; neck, 1614 inches; wrist, 8% inthes; forearms, right, 13% inches; left, 12% inches: biceps, nortal, 14% inches}* ex- panded, 151% inches; waist, 334 inches; thighs, 21% inches; calves, 15 inches, How are my measurements in acordance with the average? What ate my weak points? How can I strengthen them? Thanking you in advance for the trouble, I am, yours very truly, A. Q. Horr, Your weight should be some 20 pounds more, but that will come in time. You should worlc hard to increase your. chest measurement to at least 40 inches. This can be dorie; friend, éf vou get 4 mantial and 6 about the task with earnesttiess, _~ Pror, FourMEN: Having read the “Tip Top” a few years, | would like to have you pass on my measurements. Age, 1 years; height, 5 feet 10% inches; weight, 150 pounds ; neck, 13 inches; chest, normal, 31 inches; inflated, 3332 inches; waist, 2634 inches; wrist, 7 inches : forearm, 10 inches; hip, 30 inches; calf, 13 inches; thigh, 19 inches; arikles, 8Y% inehes, What are my weak points ? How can I remedy them? What are the chances of my becoming an all-around athlete? I play baseball and ruti a good deal. Thanking you in advance, I remain, yours véery truly, J. Y You-are a peculiarly” built fellaw, J. W., a8 you will under stand when I tell you that while your weight is about tight, you aré 8 inches-short about the chest and even. 2 inches short about the waist. I fear you have made some error in- your figures. Try again; and give exact measurements, circling the chest jtist under the arms with’ the tape-line, find what it is normally without entirely emptying the lungs, then again at their fullest extent. oem — Z. + (908—TIP TOP BASEBALL TOURNAMENT |S NOW OPEN, a declared the winners. Of the two winning team working for, boys? i . NAMES OF TEAM. | “y ‘ ‘ BONO Rd eee RE Ee CORR ROE EE EEE E es eR ROO EER ete ewww eee rede bee ew ee t } S . weer vcenecdeses ebb wee ewe ee Suwanee woteke CORR d ent eR bE eee Ee eee eee ewe Seat ee ia seseaaehesina Bede ee renhe Bectews See e eee w ee weewee eee ewe ween ee DUCO Nae RR eee mode web bem eh bee basen EEE EEE Races mn saseeseneane basi ee ‘ \ OOO SOS OOO R EOS E HS SAME ERE EEE CUE HEHEHE HERERO EEE RES E Ee Recasens h 7 BEPC OR Me H heme w ett emer w wae eee Renee eet sewn ames e see ete ee bensuneennaws OOO emer ete neeane Seem nneawt Beebbeas Bw nteane SOR a eee ee dnee SOR bebe ent —— Begecccsaeeacoesercee OO ToT TTS Ter eee eee ee reer eee ee) The two teams which, at the end of the season, have the highest average—the members of which play the greatest number of games, score the most runs and have lost the least number of games, will be s, the one having the higher average will be declared the TIP TOP CHAMPIONSHIP TEAM OF THE ALL-AMERICAN BASEBALL TOURNAMENT FOR 1908, and will receive a beautiful silk pennant bearing a suitable device. Each winning team will receive a full equipment, consisting of trousers, shirt, stockings, shoes and cap for nine members. DON'T FAIL TO SEND IN YOUR COUPON AT ONCE. No notice taken of any score not entered on this coupon. , 1908—TIP TOP BASEBALL TOURNAMENT COUPON. | NAME OF TBAM.....«.. ssudens eubddaradiai. TOWN...... Denebbecuace STATE... , POSITION: ‘ Pitcher _Ist Base 24 Base 3d Base aa “ge ewenennnnnrttnnnnaetnabeesbetbecesehae sarees tanned saves caseen seams Short Btop). ce ns acsawr cise cesses sss... ctasse. ats R. Field CG. Field L. Pleld ne 5 WINNER. sssoncnsssentesencennsadenssenics cee FINAL SCORE: Beem mbwatembatusia MANAGER He wwbeee Oven coy eucagadvn.atvdde “